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withleeknow · 3 months ago

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wishful thinking. (7.5)

chapter 7.5: limbo

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; minho's pov; non-explicit smut, kissing, grinding, implied unprotected sex; alcohol consumption, non-linear storytelling (jumps around a few random scenes before we get back to the present that picks up from the end of chapter 7), cursing, the final line :-?; not that unedited i am so so sorry lol word count: 5.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Wishing fountains, we pray for change in the dark Moving mountains, we end up right where we start The world’s not falling apart But you and I, baby we are

Wishing Fountains - Bad Suns

“What does it say?” Minho asks.

You sigh, your eyes trailing the words on the small piece of paper in your hands before you shove one half of the fortune cookie in your mouth. It seems dry; you look like you can barely swallow it.

“Bullshit,” you say simply, a little bitter before you hide behind a mask of indifference, turning to him as you ask, “Yours?”

He breaks his own fortune cookie in half, pulling out a similar piece of paper that reads, “‘Jeg elsker deg’ means ‘I love you’ in Norwegian.”

You're both lying on a fluffy rug on the floor of your bedroom, with an empty bottle of rosé sitting somewhere near your head. “That’s... random,” you say, casting your eyes to the ceiling. “But I mean, at least it’s kind of educational. Now you know a phrase in Norwegian.”

“Sure,” Minho laughs, testing out the syllables in his mouth and butchering them in the process. “Who would I even say it to?”

“Impress your future girlfriend with your worldly knowledge. Or say it to Hyunjin, I’m sure he’ll swoon and blush like a schoolgirl.”

“That’s the last thing I want. He’s already clingy enough as it is.”

“Alright. Well, your loss then.”

He only hums in response. “You’re really not gonna tell me what yours is?”

“I told you. It’s bullshit.”

“Wanna tell me why the fortune cookie is evil at least? I’ll fight it for you.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder with a playful scoff. “It just got me thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

It takes a minute for you to gather your thoughts into one semi-cohesive pile.

“Just… reminds me how I don’t really fit into anyone’s life,” you start, your voice coming out a little small and timid before you seem to let the alcohol give you enough confidence to say what you want. “I don’t feel like I’m worth anyone’s time. Everyone’s going to outgrow me eventually, if they haven’t already. Their lives will only get bigger and bigger, and they’ll have to leave me behind at some point. All that space but none for me.

“I think I’ll be stuck like this forever, in this fucking… limbo. And I know it’s dramatic because we’re still young and we’ve got our whole lives in front of us and whatever else that people say. But it feels like wherever I go and whatever I do, my life will always be this small while you all move on. Chan and Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, Felix, even Hyunjin and Jisung when they’re not too busy being idiots. Everyone’s got everything all planned out, and they have other things to fall back on if those plans don’t work out. If I fall, I think I’ll just keep falling until I hit rock bottom.

“And you… you’re gonna do great things too. You’re gonna live your life and it’s going to be a good one, and you’ll forget about me too. A few years from now, when everyone’s already moved on, I’ll just be a girl that you used to know. I’m just a stop along the way.”

Then you pause, and the laugh you let out afterward is choked up and not at all sincere. You rub your hands down your face, groaning a little when you say, “Ugh, that was depressing. Sorry, it’s the wine. Forget I said anything.”

You have beautiful eyes, that’s what Minho has always thought, the kind that holds all the universe’s sparkles and all its sadness too, a bittersweet balance. The kind that makes one want to stop and admire for a while. He loves when they light up before the joy gradually spreads across your face, like watching the sun peak over the horizon before it colors the sky with ethereal pinks and purples and blues. You’re a wonderful sunrise, his favorite part of every day.

He even loves your faraway gaze when you’re here but you’re elsewhere simultaneously, hiding in your eyes musings that are privy to nobody else. You’d stare into the distance and he’d watch you the whole time, wondering if any of the thoughts that occupy your mind are about him.

Minho has an urge to take you into his arms and hold you tight and tell you that everything’s going to be okay. That no one’s going to forget about you because you’re not someone who can be forgotten so easily, let alone be forgotten by him. That he isn’t going anywhere if it’s not by your side, that he wants to be in your life until you decide you’re sick of him, not the other way around.

He wants to tell you he loves you because that’s the truth. He was gone the minute he saw you at that stupid party years ago when you had walked in shyly with Chan and Jess. You had tried to make yourself smaller in a roomful of strangers, but you’ve always been the only one Minho could find in a crowd.

Years and years from now, when he thinks back to his youth, the highlight reel that will pop up in his mind will be of his idiot friends and the good memories they’ve shared with one another. How they laughed and cried, how they fell and got back up together time and time again.

And at the center of it all will be you. Green grass, blue skies, his golden days and you, the focal point of his youth.

He loves you. Would it help, or would it scare you?

He doesn’t let himself debate that question for long. Regardless of what the answer is, now isn’t the right time. So instead, he says, “For what it’s worth, everyone’s just taking it one day at a time, even if they seem like they have it all planned out. You’re not falling behind. You’re going at your own pace, who cares about other people?”

You turn your head to stare at him, your cheeks flushed with a rosy tint from the wine you had shared and a pensive look on your face. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but he holds your gaze anyway.

“And I can’t speak for anyone else, but you’ll always have me. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

A quiet moment passes. If Minho focuses hard enough, he thinks he might be able to hear the faint beats of your heart.

His gaze flickers to your lips for barely a second before it returns to your eyes, quick enough for it to escape your notice.

Then, you’re holding yourself up on one elbow and shuffling into his orbit until you’re right by his side. He doesn’t move a single inch; he only watches as you get closer, and closer, and closer until there’s no more space between the two of you. He blinks, and in that split second he misses the way you let your eyes shut as you lean down to press your lips to his.

He’s surprised, but pleasantly so.

You taste like rosé, like something he’s always known that he wants to chase.

It stuns him enough that he forgets to respond, his mind focused solely on the feeling of your soft lips on him, the scent of your jasmine perfume and how you’re so warm pressed against him like this.

Maybe it’s the stillness of his body that shocks you out of it, because you pull away after a few seconds with an instant look of mortification in your eyes, trying to scramble back to your original spot on the rug like you’ve just committed an unspeakable sin. Running away, he thinks, is your first instinct.

But Minho is just a tad quicker than you are. He doesn’t let you stray very far when he props himself up to cup your face with one hand and bring you back to him.

He’s kissing you again and for a brief moment, he feels like he could die.

You don’t break from him this time. Instead, you’re kissing him back just as deeply. You let him lower you back to the floor as he holds himself up above you, his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips while his thumb strokes your cheek softly, keeping you there in his loose hold so you could still run if that’s what you want to do.

But you stay with him, your hands trailing up the expanse of his chest to find purchase on his shoulders, your legs parting so he could perfectly slot himself into the space that you’ve allowed him.

When he rocks his hips into you experimentally, you bite on his bottom lip, a whining sound from your throat comes out muffled against his mouth.

He strays just long enough and far enough so he could look into your eyes, with your pupils blown much darker than they had been at the start of the evening.

He says your name, the gentlest sound in the world, then a question. “What do you want?”

Minho half expects you to overthink your answer and come back to your senses, to choose flight because it would be the easier option.

But you don’t. There’s a dazed look in your eyes as you lock onto him, and there’s something underneath the pool of lust in your gaze that leaves him breathless and wondering.

“You,” you say quietly, “I want you.”

And it’s with this simple answer that you pull him back to you again, not the other way around. You kiss him more fervently than before if that’s even possible. When he slides his arm around your waist, you let him pick you up to cross the few steps it takes to get to your bed, his lips never leaving you even after he has laid you onto the mattress. They follow the path where your jawline leads down to your neck, then where your neck meets your collarbone, and he savors every little whimper that you make for him even though he’s barely touched you yet. There’s hardly any patch of skin that he leaves unkissed, and when he reaches where your shirt begins to hide the rest of you from him, he only looks up at you, quietly asking for more permission.

You don’t give him a verbal answer. You take matters into your own hands, lifting your top over your head and flinging it somewhere on the floor.

Then your bra follows to join your shirt, wherever it may be. Minho assumes they’ve landed on the bottle of rosé, only guessing by the sound of the glass being knocked over and rolling around. He’s not sure but he doesn’t care about it enough to look, not when he’s got you right here under him, so beautiful and so willing that it makes his head spin.

He’s imagined this before, just a few times whenever he's drunk enough to let his mind wander without the guilt that comes with it when he’s sober. He has wondered before what it would feel like to kiss you breathless and have you kiss him back, to touch you in ways that no one else ever has, to taste how sweet you are and feel your warmth. None of it is appropriate, not at all platonic. He’s well aware of it.

It's been years, ever since Minho met you at that party when he was 19 and you had been too awkward to start a conversation. Years of walking with you in the rain after class, sharing umbrellas that are too small to shield the both of you but it’s okay, because he doesn’t mind leaving half of his body exposed to the harsh weather as long as the rain doesn’t get on you. Years of making sure you get home safely after nights out with your friends, years of insisting that he sees you walk inside your building and up to your floor whether it's 11PM or 4:30AM. Years of lingering glances, of pretending he isn’t bothered whenever Felix offers to introduce you to someone, of smiles sent your way that are far too endeared to mean nothing at all.

Years of loving you in silence because he’s your friend first and foremost, and his friendship with you means more to him than the feelings he has for you.

And yet...

He’s here in your bed, watching you with mesmerized eyes as you take off the rest of your clothes before helping him discard his, as you kiss him just as deeply as he’s wanted to kiss you for the longest time, as you keep pulling him into you even when he’s already as close to you as humanly possible. His lips on yours, his heart pressed against the other side of yours. His fingers intertwined with yours when he slips inside of you, and how your hands stay interlocked the entire time you’re wrapped together. You cling to him so tightly, as though it would hurt you if he were to ever let go.

It’s the way you look at him, like he’s the only person that exists in your universe. It’s the broken moans that you give him, the nonsense babbles that make his chest swell with pride at the knowledge that he’s making you feel so good that the only thing you know how to say coherently is his name. It’s the heaven between your thighs, absolutely divine and infinitely better than any fantasy that he could ever let himself indulge in.

Just for tonight, Minho can pretend that you're his, even though he knows that he’s already been yours since the first time you met. He’s been yours for as long as he can remember, even if you don’t know it yet.

Later on, when he’s collapsed next to you on the bed, there’s a safe distance between your tired bodies and a certain tension in the air that’s heavy with the consequences of your actions. When he takes your hand, the one that’s shaking as you grip the sheets between your fingers, it alleviates some of that anxiety.

“The fortune cookie, what did it say?” he asks, like you’re simply continuing the conversation from before.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Seriously?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Seriously.”

You purse your lips as you look at him for another second before you cast your eyes to the ceiling again, like you’d done just an hour ago. “It said ‘You’ll be loved.’”

You are, he thinks to himself. You’re loved.

“Open wide.”

You give him a look, to which he only responds with a shrug and a sly grin.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you say, but you take the spoonful of chicken soup that he offers you anyway. You can’t focus on the taste but it’s warm and the relief you feel is instant when it soothes your throat.

You’ve practically been on bedrest for the past three days, slowly rotting away in your apartment with a bad strain of the seasonal flu until Minho came over and unleashed his inner mama bear on you. Now here you are, wrapped up like a burrito on the couch (Minho insisted; he wouldn’t have it any other way) while he spoon feeds you homemade chicken soup.

You were stubborn about it at first, as one could probably imagine. When you told the group chat that you wouldn’t make it to movie night at Chan’s place last weekend, you were adamant that you would be able to sleep it off and bounce back in no time, despite Minho offering to make you some food and bring over some meds and cough drops.

The symptoms worsened overnight though, and you developed a fever along with a cough that’s worse than any you’ve ever experienced. When Minho called you to make sure you were still alive, you could barely even speak.

He hates your cavalier attitude when it comes to taking care of yourself. He hates himself even more for believing in your nonchalance and not bulldozing his way over sooner.

“I’m enjoying this because I was right,” he says, feeding you more of the soup. “I told you instant ramyeon wouldn’t cure you.”

He lets his I told you so triumph go easily, even though he suspects that you have much more to bite back at him if you could get through half a sentence without wanting to hack your lungs out. You make a noise, and he isn’t really sure if it’s one of agreement or protest but it’s most likely the latter. He thinks it’s cute that you close your eyes after every spoonful, lazily eating like one of his cats back home whenever they’ve run out of energy. You’re probably tired and can’t wait to get into bed.

When the soup is finished, Minho fetches you your meds and a glass of warm water. He doesn’t know if the scrunched up face you make after every pill is because you hate the bitter taste or if the tablets keep dragging against your already sensitive throat on their way down, but he strokes your hair all the while you wash it down with water, a gentle hand on your head as if to say You’re doing well.

He tucks you in bed not long after, despite your weak protests as he carries you to your bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you had managed to croak out. “I’m not that helpless.”

“I know,” came his response and a teasing smile. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

You’re pliant once you’re laid gently on the mattress though, idly watching Minho as he wraps the duvet around your shoulders and fluffs your pillows just the way you like. This is awfully domestic, he notes, and he can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to your forehead, not when he’s absolutely endeared by the way your tired eyes try to keep themselves open just so you could look at him.

When his lips leave your warm skin, he thinks he might’ve imagined the blush that colors your cheeks.

But he blinks, and you’re still flushed, your lips slightly parted as you stare at him, mild surprise evident in your drowsy gaze.

Something passes over the two of you, a kind of silence that he isn’t accustomed to when he’s with you. It isn’t bad, it’s just… strange.

One beat, then another. “Want me to stay with you?” he asks.

He knows you’d say no, and yet he can’t help the disappointment when you tell him, “You don’t have to. Go home, Min. Thanks for taking care of me today.”

“You sure? I can take the couch. It’s fine.”

“I’m sure. Chan and Jess said they’re coming to check on me in the morning.”

Minho lets out a hum, and purses his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you look like you want to.”

“Just… y’know,” he starts, gauging your reaction all the while, for any signs of physical discomfort or otherwise, “I like you like this. You’re not hiding when you’re like this.”

“You like me frail and on the verge of death?”

He rolls his eyes, pretends to flick at your forehead. “You know what I mean.”

When you giggle, it’s immediately followed by a wince, like the movement is hurting your sensitive throat. “Do I hide when I’m with you?”

“Sometimes.” He moves his hand to caress your face, gentle fingertips tracing the apple of your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him, if only for a little while. “It feels like you’re always ready to leave.”

“Are you worried I’m gonna run away?” you ask, covering your hand over his to move it away, but you still let his touch linger when you only lower his hand to your neck, where he starts twiddling your hair between his fingers. It feels like you want him close, close enough that it matters, close in a way that still lets you have control over how it matters. “I physically can’t. I’m sick.”

“Does that mean you’ll run away when you get better?”

You seem to ponder the question for a moment. You’re holding onto his wrist and Minho is almost certain that you can feel his pulse. He would do so many things for you if only you’d let him.

When you answer him, you keep things light but your tone is soft, gentle in a way that tells him your sentiment means more than the words you cherry pick on the surface.

“No, I have finals in two weeks.”

The first time that Minho gets to wake up next to you, nothing feels real. Not the pleasant scent of your shampoo greeting him the minute he opens his eyes, not your soft breath fanning his bare collarbone where you lay with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, not even the feeling of you in his arms, safe and warm, as though this is where you’re meant to be. None of it seems like anything other than a dream.

When memories of the previous night come rushing to the surface, it also brings back the annoyance he felt watching Yeonjun openly flirt with you at the party, and the bitter feeling that accompanied the reminder that Minho couldn’t even really do anything about it but stand idly by.

But you stir in his arms, and all of the annoyance and bitterness goes away. Because you’re here with him and not anybody else. There’s a certain ego boost knowing that he’s the one you kiss, the only one you allow in your most personal space. To know you is a privilege, and it’s one that you grant no one else but him.

Last night, something happened. Something changed, he felt it when you were the one who asked him to stay. You let him put his shirt on you, let him hold you as you slept, even welcomed his embrace and snuggled further into his body in a way that you’ve never done before.

How you kissed him just hours prior, how you looked at him… God, he thinks he could just spill all of his secrets if you did it again.

But when you open your eyes, Minho is already pretending to be asleep again. How would you react? He’s curious to know. Would you scramble away the second the realization kicks in that you let him break your rule? Would you leave his side and act all nonchalant about it when you inevitably have to face each other later? He’s willing to bet that you would.

But you surprise him again. He feels you watching him for a moment, then your touch ghosts upon his features. It almost makes him falter in his act, your gentle fingers tracing his temple, his cheekbones, the slope of his nose down to his lips. There’s a sigh that you exhale, and he misses your touch the very second it leaves his skin. He itches to bring you closer to him again.

So that’s what he does. Minho keeps the facade going, pretending like he’s now just waking up with his limbs stretching out. You stiffen when he hugs you tighter, but you soon relax after he starts stroking your hair.

Nothing has changed for him, but can you say the same?

“Dude!”

Minho flinches into action when a voice calls his name right by the car window, loud enough to startle him even through the thick layer of glass. When he turns his head, he finds Changbin’s face all pressed up against the window, struggling to hold three bags full of supplies that are threatening to spill out. “Help me with these!” his friend says.

It’s the week of Jisung, Felix and Seungmin’s birthdays; you lot tends to go all out for the quadruple birthday bash every year (Chan’s birthday is only 11 days later after all). Seungmin’s family has a lakeside cabin a couple hours from the city, that’s where everyone goes to unwind for a long weekend with plenty of food and even more drinks. This year, it’s no different.

Minho and Changbin are on drinks duty, tasked with picking up all of the alcohol and refreshments for the weekend ahead. He doesn’t really know what the rest are doing, just that you and Jeongin are babysitting Hyunjin to make sure the latter doesn’t deviate from the proposed budget and go way overboard when getting snacks and decorations. You sent Minho a text a while ago, a video of you facepalming and rolling your eyes before you flip the camera over to show Hyunjin and Jeongin bickering like children over a mega pack of chips.

Once everything is in the car – cases of beer safely loaded into the trunk, bottles of water and soft drinks set in their designated plastic bags in the backseat, Changbin comments from the driver’s seat, “You looked weird. You were smiling.”

Minho only stares at him for a moment, a neutral expression on his face as he blinks those typical Minho blinks, before he turns his head to the other side to lean against the window.

He was thinking about the first time your tradition started, the first year Jess had to drag you on the trip. She used to do it often; you were shy in the beginning.

He’s got a favorite memory of you, and it wasn’t you and him sitting together on the bank of the river during the sunset, while the others were in the water, splashing around and having the time of your lives (you two were the only ones who couldn’t swim, but it was okay, you didn’t feel like you missed out on anything because at least you had each other).

His favorite memory of you wasn’t running into you in the middle of the night when he went into the kitchen for some water and you were out by yourself on the adjacent balcony, sitting with your chin resting on your folded knees and the crescent moon for company. He stayed there for a moment, dazed, wondering if he was still dreaming or if it was just you. When Minho finally made his presence known, you told him you couldn’t sleep and he suggested that you break into Hyunjin’s secret ramyeon stash, because going to bed with a full stomach always made him feel better whenever he was restless. 1:58AM, you ended up almost burning your hand on the stove, too busy trying to keep your giggles down when he made a stupid joke.

Minho’s favorite memory wasn’t of you falling asleep on his shoulder on the drive back either, with you squished in the backseat between him and Felix, and your light snores reminded him of Soonie whenever the cat would doze off on his chest. It wasn’t any of these moments, even though he thinks he might’ve loved you in every instance.

His favorite memory of you was the evening before that trip had to come to an end, the last night you all spent together before you had to leave your safe little bubble. It was after dinner and some drinks, everyone was buzzed and the air was crisp, chilly every now and then. When you were gathered on the dock overlooking the lake, each holding a sparkler that Jisung had prepared, you were laughing. Everyone else was laughing too, but yours was the only sound Minho could focus on.

“Be quiet. I’m gonna take a nap,” he tells Changbin, ignoring the comment entirely as he closes his eyes. “Wake me when we get to Chan’s.”

The lights, and your friends, and the moon hanging high up in the sky like a guardian angel back then.

You were watching how it all reflected so beautifully in the rippling waters below. He was watching you.

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

His question hangs in the awful silence as you stare at him. Minho can see your nails digging into your palms where your fists are clenched, your glassy eyes and the frown between your brows, like you’re trying your hardest to hold back tears. Why else would you be so upset?

He’s known about it for a while, or at the very least, he’s had an inkling of how you feel about him. He knows he isn’t in over his head when he says there’s a certain glow that radiates from within you when you’re together, a side of you that’s tender and at peace, one that he’s never seen you show anyone else. The way you look at him, it’s the same way that he looks at you even if you don’t realize it yet, or maybe you just don’t want to admit it out loud.

It hasn’t been one sided for at least some time now, he knows it.

But it’s frustrating to watch you try so hard to fight it. He’s the only one holding on, and you’ve been willing to let go at every turn.

“See what?” you challenge.

This isn’t how he planned to ever say these words, but the moment is here whether he likes it or not. It’s staring at you both in the face even if you are doing your best to hide from it.

Minho holds your gaze for a few seconds before he steps toward you again. This time, you stand your ground.

“You asked me if things changed for me and I said no. That was the truth, I never lied to you. We’re friends but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you as something more from the beginning.”

He pauses there, watches your eyes and how you take it in. They soften a little, filling up some more as you process his words. There’s surprise in the look that you wear, sure. A little confusion, yes. But most of all, you just look sad. When you call out his name, he can tell by your tone that it’s a warning, that you’re about to run away for real this time if he presses on, and yet he can’t stop until he says his piece.

“If you want me to spell it out for you, I’ve had feelings for you since we first met. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you, and it drives me crazy that you don’t see any of it. The thing that makes me even crazier, do you know what it is? I think you feel something for me too, but you won’t admit it to yourself and you always resort to shutting down instead of facing your feelings. How much longer are you going to run away from me?”

When the first tear unintentionally spills over from the corner of your eye, Minho knows he’s struck a nerve. He wants to reach out and wipe away the tiny stream that rolls down your face but you beat him to it, wiping at your cheek in angry motions.

“You’re wrong.” Your voice is tight when you tell him, “I don’t have feelings for you.” It’s the only thing that you address.

Sometimes, he searches for your answer at the bottom of a glass, or on the other end of looks that seem to linger just a beat too long. But as he’s standing here, right now, he finds it in your hesitation to speak, in the lie you give him when you finally do.

It’s the answer he’s always wanted and yet, the knowledge brings him no satisfaction at all. It only lodges a lump in his throat, an overwhelming sense of dejection when he sees how hard you’re trying to fight this.

“I know you,” he sighs after a moment, a little defeated. “I know when you’re lying.”

“Maybe you don’t know me that well after all.”

You’re stubborn. You’ve always been stubborn.

Minho takes another step forward. It feels like it’s a step closer to the end as you both know it, because how else is your relationship going to come back from this? He sees the slight shake in your shoulders that you try to suppress, but he’ll always be the one to notice.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he says quietly, his final resort. A challenge but it sounds an awful lot like a plea. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that things can take a turn for the worse in just two weeks’ time. The last time you both were here, you’d kissed his endeared smile and held him so impossibly close to you. Now, everything is falling apart, the seams coming undone one by one. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Minho meant what he said, about how loving you drives him crazy sometimes. Even when you’re breaking his heart, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. A noticeable sting settles in between the cracks of his ribcage at the sight of your quivering bottom lip, your balled up fists and his own reflection in your glassy eyes.

“Do you want me to say it so badly?” you ask, and he can only stare at you when your voice comes out harsher than it was before, though it cracks toward the end as you try to keep up with the facade. “Fine, I’ll say it.”

It’s not what he asked, but it’s confirmation nonetheless. It’s acceptance but not how he wants it to be. Acceptance that you do love him, and yet, you say it in a way that he’s never expected to hear from you.

“I don’t want to love you.”

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twst-drabbles · 24 days ago

Text

Malleus 18

Summary: You show Malleus your form, in exchange for being able to explore his. An equal exchange. You are a danger and a tempter in turn. Malleus could never hate you, no matter how much his body wished for him to run from you.

(I had a lot of fun with this. Please enjoy, my audience!!)

Whenever Malleus looks at you, he always feels as though he's looking at the empty part of the night sky.

You occupy space, and in his vision, you color the world as anyone else does. But when he recalls those moments, when he's just about to go to sleep and dream of older days, Malleus would always remember you, your presence, and the way your very being just seemed to sap the color away.

Perhaps there was something wrong with him, because, as he so heard from wayward whispers and Lilia himself, there wasn't a spark of magic in you. There was nothing in you that would affect his memory. Maybe it was simple boredom or some illness affecting him?

…the feeling didn't fade. He finally met you in the middle of the night, outside a dorm he thought long abandoned.

He felt you more than he saw you. When he went to that dorm, he felt that comforting silence, then it was… well, not ripped away but unveiled? As though one is gently taking off a table cloth to put away. It took some time for Malleus to figure it out to be your eyes. Your attention.

Did you know that people have this odd habit of being quieter at night? They whisper in the dark, lower their voices as though not wanting to disturb anyone, even though there is no one near. People, regardless of their origins, are the slight touch different at night, and Malleus is no exception. At night, he looks not towards people, but towards the wind, to the night sky above, and to the ruins to give him that solitary comfort that's simply deeper at night than during the day.

When he met you, your voice was clear. You were still in your uniform, and there wasn't a hint of grogginess that comes with staying up this late. You didn't look to ground to keep track of your steps despite all lack of light. You walked to him, not with confidence but with a casual gait. Almost lackadaisical, as though there was nothing in the world that can bring you harm, other than death by sheer boredom.

But when he talked to you, exchanged greetings with you with all the manners befitting of him, you had felt human. Before your first words, the strangeness of you almost made Malleus forget himself, he very nearly thought you to be another fae. All his instincts point to you being something other than human, but fae you were certainly not.

And so he had said, What are you? Because, by all means, you appear to me as nothing more than a human being. But, that's not quite correct, is it?

You are, and you aren't. But, if you need a definitive answer, then the answer is ultimately yes, I'm human. At least, for now.

Then, as though some missing piece finally slotted itself into place, Malleus felt small. The moon cast you a normal shadow, but something in Malleus told him that this was wrong. That there should be more, but there wasn't. You wouldn't elaborate further, and he wouldn't give out his name.

As such, he parted.

When he walked away, he couldn't find that lonely comfort again. Sleep did not come to him that night. No matter how he adjusted his curtains, the weight of your gaze simply didn't fade.

There was fear and there was reverence when people would whisper your name. It was a strange feeling for Malleus, certainly. To think that he would find you at the center of it all, when it would normally be him. Strange caution in his gut aside, Malleus never thought your reputation would elevate itself to something infamous within this college.

Oh course, what choice did he have other than to bring it up? A wondrous topic to discuss, no? And besides, while there was this itch settling in the back of his head, it was easy enough to ignore. After all, you are a new… companion. Not quite friend, but companion.

It seems you have many of these students on edge. Mind telling me your tales? If you have any to share, that is.

There wasn't a twitch to your face, your smile ever serene, ever stable. A rarely changing thing.

Should I tell you, or should I show you?

Oh my.

Perhaps it was simply the secret veil of night, or the weight of which you place in your tone, but there was a slight thrill that went up the back of his neck. It made his scalp tingle, even.

But, at the time, he said no. A part of him wasn't quite ready yet. And, quite frankly, he didn't wish to set himself up for disappointment. But, he will admit…

There was an overblot that I took care of. It seemed I scared quite the number of people. I save them, and I damned them in turn.

Your vagueness left him wanting more. But there is this unspoken deal you both have. So long as he refuses to give out his identity, you, in turn, will only give the barest of details. He cannot make demands of you, so long as this stands.

And so all he can do is dream and wait for the next night to come.

I find comfort in you, you know?

Another night, another series of topics, with mostly Malleus recounting a particular set of ruins with the most exquisite set of gargoyles he's ever seen. Highly likely enchanted by someone to weather the natural forces of nature. How could he not talk about the clear love put into them?

Words clogged his throat. Comfort. How… warm, that tone of yours was. How fond that smile of yours was. The constant weight of your gaze turned just the slightest bit lighter.

There was only a glimpse.

A cold had broke past the natural protections of his clothing and poisonous magic, and settled deep inside his marrow. His blood rushed through his body too loudly, and the colors surrounded his view dimmed, warped, and ripped.

There was the sound of broken glass, a hiss that shot through his head and left behind a horrid headache.

Malleus pushed on, because if nothing else, his magic is more than enough to take care of anything. It was his crown, his birthright.

There was only a glimpse, and that was enough for his vision to be cut in half. Night, from a pinprick, cut out part of your back. It followed a jagged path, expanding fast past the limits of your human body, consuming the space around you as though fungus upon wet wood.

It didn't matter that it was air, all it wanted to do was consume. Consume the air, consume your body, consume the sky, and consume the mirrors.

The sounds around him rushed to you, as though unable to resist your pull, leaving behind only the mess of static in his ears.

There was only you, pulsing in the vague shape of a human being, all in swirling colors, near nauseating colors.

Malleus blinked, and all was well. Everything had settled. The students slowly got up from the floor, nursing injuries and headaches alike, but happy to be alive. And you… were untouched. Clothes not so much as wrinkled.

And when it was over, when the conversations upon the stage of VDC had settled down, Malleus turned to you and said.

Show me. When night comes for us once more, show me.

You smiled and laughed.

Of course, Malleus Draconia.

"Come on," you chuckled against his skin, breathe brushing against the little hairs on his neck, standing them on end, "aren't you supposed to be royalty? Isn't patience something you ought to have?"

"Even you--" Malleus cut off with a hiss when you wrapped your tendrils tighter around the base of his tail, lovingly stroking the side scales with your palms. Firm, your tendrils are firm as they slide and take in every little crevice in his scales. Firm, and like fluid at the same time without leaving behind residue. "Even you have to understand that I have limits. Must I keep my eyes closed?"

Your touch practically sparks his skin, and his every instinct is warning him to open his eyes and spot the danger. The stiffness in his spine tells him he's about to fall and land on the ground. All while swimming in the vast muteness of his suppressed magic.

We can't have any accidents, now can we?

"You hear that fuzziness in your ears?" you traced his neck as white noise buzzed, both far away, yet blanketing him as though a bubble, "The way I sound as though I exist in all spaces, and the way I speak as though I'm coming from your heart? Don't open your eyes, Malleus. Otherwise, you might dissolve into me."

Dissolve, in the same way your back drew in all those colors, and mixed it into yourself, became a part of yourself for a small moment. Malleus wishes to see it, even though his body broke out in a sweat at what might happen.

"Is that," he swallowed, "such a horrible thing? Didn't you say you would show me?"

"Does showing mean you have to witness with your eyes?" A tendril wrapped over his ankle and slipped through the leg opening. You caressed the back of his knee, and Malleus's fingers broke through the wood of the wall behind him. "Careful there. I'm showing you, through all your other senses other than sight."

"Other senses?" Malleus managed to breathe out, "then… what of taste?"

You overwhelm his touch with electric touches, fill his smell with the scent of you, and play his hearing. What of taste? Will he regret this? Well, it doesn't matter. Malleus is curious and he has no intention of curbing it.

"Oh, aren't you a sweetheart?" Your voice was concentrated to a single point, right over his left ear. "Well then, lift your head up, dear prince."

There was an ever-shifting noise beneath the static, like flesh constantly adjusting itself, like blood flowing and popping it's large bubbles.

"How bold of you, making demands of me like this, knowing full well who I am." There was no hatred in his tone, only heated amusement. Malleus lifted his chin, and he almost curled into himself when you pressed your lips against his. You were gentle, almost painfully so as though you were guiding him. You had almost your entire being tied up around him, and you're kissing him as though he's nothing more than faint-hearted fae.

And that makes his fingers curl deeper into the wall of your dorm.

"How," that was close, Malleus's voice almost pitched. How unbecoming of someone such as him, "How cruel of you, to kiss me as though I'm fragile glass."

"Because I know that would affect you most. You know how I am." You chuckled against his lips, stroking his neck in such a way he had no choice but to relax back into them. "Again?" you asked.

He licked his dry lips and answered, "Again. This small taste isn't enough."

"Alright, be careful not to destroy my wall, alright?" you swiped a thumb over his lips, practically hearing the widening smile on your face.

"I'll be more care--" You silence him with the blissful magic of a kiss, tenderly moving against him, coaxing him to relax into a shivering pile of scales. You pulled back and Malleus was ashamed in how desperate he was when he chased after you. "Wait--"

You tilted his chin and stole his breathe once again, fingers slipping past his collar, tendrils wrapping up higher and higher until they're poking at the scales on his thighs. You trailed a hand over his shoulder, down his arm, and guided his fingers to lock with your own.

"Is this better?" You asked, pulling away from his surely reddened lips.

"Y-yes." Malleus tightly clung to your fingers.

#twst #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #twisted wonderland #malleus #malleus draconia #diasomnia #reader insert #eldritch au

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the-badger-mole · 20 days ago

Note

Zutara prompts: Stepping in front of the other to shield them from something/someone.

Please ☺️

Zuko was shocked to see his father had actually showed up tonight. It wasn't the first time Zuko was being honored for an accomplishment, and this wasn't even a particularly big win for him. Last year, he had won a Phoenix Crown award for his work on the score of the Painted Lady movie. By comparison, a golden leaf at the Yangbaechu Awards for his tsungi horn album was the equivalent of taking home first place at a school art show. It was still an honor, of course, but far fewer people cared. Still, his uncle had insisted on throwing a party to celebrate, as he always did (though Zuko suspected Iroh had only really meant to provide an alternative to the wilder celebrity after parties that usually took place on these nights). Tonight, Ozai had surprised everyone by actually showing up.

Far less surprising was the look of disapproval permanently etched onto his face. Ozai's face was twisted as if he smelled something terrible. He cast a judgemental look around the room in such an obvious way, Zuko knew that his and Iroh's guests could tell exactly what he was thinking. Zuko could practically read his father's thoughts. So disappointing, his son. Zuko had managed to achieve his own fame and fortune separate from Ozai's political and business world, yet he wasted his time and talent on movies with no prestige, and concept albums that most people only pretended to understand. He was friends with mostly B and C list celebrities- certainly no power players who could help Zuko move up in the world. Never mind that Zuko was making a living- a very good living- doing what made him happy. Ozai had never cared for his son's happiness.

Right around the time Zuko was beginning to wonder why Ozai had bothered to show up at all, his father met his eye. Then to Zuko's surprise, Ozai came over. Zuko down the last of his lava whiskey sour and braced himself.

"You're wasting your time," Ozai said. Zuko fought the urge to lower his head. He was as tall as Ozai now. His father couldn't tower over him to intimidate him anymore.

"I've got an award that says otherwise," Zuko replied through clenched teeth. "Several of them, in fact." Rage flashed across Ozai's face, and in spite of himself, Zuko cringed a little.

"Still a mouthy little snot after all these years."

"Why did you come?" Zuko demanded. "Since I'm such a disappointment to you, why don't you just leave me to live my own life?"

"And let you keep embarrassing the family name?" Ozai sneered. "It was bad enough when my brother turned his back on the company to start his little tea shop, but now here you are making a fool of us with your antics. Your sister is poised to launch her campaign for governor, but all anyone can talk about is what actress you're dating, or what foolish little superhero movie you're making songs for."

"Well, I'm sorry Azula isn't more interesting," Zuko said. "Why don't you tell everyone what she got up to in college? I bet the people would find that a lot more interesting than what I'm doing. I know that would defeat the purpose of you spending so much money to cover it up, but it would take the attention off of me."

"I see your success has made your forget to be humble. I ought to remind you." Ozai scowled at Zuko. His hand flexed at his side, as if he were going to strike his son. It wouldn't be the first time, but would he really dare in front of so many witnesses?

"There you are!" Zuko and Ozai jumped in surprise when Katara appeared at his side. Katara had a wide smile on her face, but her sharp eyes were on Ozai in a way that Zuko knew was a warning. "You can't spend your entire party tucked up in a dark corner. At least not without me. So, catch me up. What are we talking about?"

"This is family business," Ozai sneered at her. "Why don't you go find some paparazzi to pose for."

"Maybe some other time," Katara's smile never wavered, but her eyes grew sharper.

"Do you know who I am?" Ozai sputtered, affronted.

"I do know who you are," Katara said, crossing her arms. She stepped forward, and drew up to her full height (which still left her a good half a head shorter than Ozai, even in heels), and glared at him directly. She stood in front of Zuko protectively. "I know exactly who you are, and I don't like you."

"As if I care what some tarty little slut thinks," Ozai sneered. "I'm talking to my son, so leave us alone, or I'll-" Before Ozai could finish his threat, Katara had grabbed his arm and thrown him over her shoulder. He landed on his back with a body rattling thud. The air left his lungs in a whoosh and all Ozai could do was groan weakly.

"I've taken Southern Tribe style martial arts since I was a kid," Katara said, leaning over Ozai. "I know exactly how to handle bullies like you. Now, I have on good authority that you're trespassing, so I'd suggest you leave before I really have to get tough on you."

Ozai managed to stumble onto his feet. He glowered down at Katara. She stared back at him defiantly. He seemed to be about to retaliate, but then he saw Zuko standing behind her with a dark, challenging look on his face. Then Ozai noticed that the other partiers had stopped their talking and dancing and were now watching him with various degrees of warning on their faces. Then he saw the security guards standing at the perimeter of the room as if they were waiting for a signal. For the first time in Zuko's life, Ozai looked a bit scared. Finally, he straightened his jacket and sniffed haughtily at Zuko and his friends, and left without another word.

After a few minutes, the party atmosphere returned. A handful of Zuko's friends came up and checked in on him to make sure he was okay, but after some brief reassurances, they returned to their conversations and drinks and Zuko was once again surrounded by the lively sounds of his friends having fun. Katara slipped her arm through his.

"I'm sorry if I went too far," she murmured. Zuko leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"No, you were spectacular," he assured her. "I didn't think I could be any more attracted to you, but I stand corrected."

#atla #zutara #prompt game #OTP Prompts: Protectiveness

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firestorm09890 · 1 month ago

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stray canto vii part 1 thoughts (warning: long)

so many cool new designs!! it made me realize how few of interest we got in Canto VI. Then almost everything was pretty standard (classic maid and butler outfits, lots of suits, Cathy had a fancy dress at least? and everything was brown. yes I know, T Corp color drain, but still. and Öufi came before season 3 ended so that didn’t count), but this time we have Camille, the P Corp guys, Fanghunt Office, Hugo I guess, Hong Lu’s sister, the firefist guy? if he counts? he barely appeared, Sansón, and all the fancy dressed up bloodfiends. woo babey!!

speaking of Jia Xichun, I like her! She’s cute! I didn’t expect to see anyone related to Hong Lu, but in retrospect I probably should’ve, since his turn is next and his family is massive. I hope nothing bad happens to her. I've never read Dream of the Red Chamber

also speaking of Hugo, lol. lmao. when he was talking about pressing the button to get the reward I was like “oh hopkins 2, got it” and then Ryōshū sliced off his hands so I guess… not hopkins 2

ALSO the blonde Fanghunt guy is named Romero, which is apparently the name of a character in Vampire: The Masquerade. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was an intentional reference

Sinclair cursing that one guy out was so awesome. I remember when Canto V part 2 came out and he censored himself saying “Bitch Brother” people were worried that the new translators were making him softer than he actually was, but, nah, he tries his best to be a polite boy but when he’s actually genuinely pissed off he does not hold back. Ryōshū correcting him BUT THEN SAYING HIS INTERPRETATION WAS GOOD absolutely killed me. my son demands respect

it’s a good day to be a Leviathan fan

The scripted loss encounter was so cool. They set you to level 45 no matter what level your LCB Don is, and take away all your EGO except the base (which you can’t even use), and I don’t know how far you can actually get in this fight because I flipped tails every single time and lost every clash

let’s talk about the Barber! leave it to Project Moon to look at the character who didn’t have very much of a personality who stuck around with the priest and attempted multiple plans to bring Don Quixote back home so he could become sane again (and burned a bunch of Quixote’s chivalry books, also with the priest), and turned him into an insane vampire woman with big scissors and a shrill cackle who stitches masks onto people’s faces.

interesting choice to have Sancho and Dulcinea both named in a single line and then not acknowledged or mentioned again

Sansón! so based on his story log portrait background being bisexual, the blue name, and him resembling someone in Demian’s group in the Limbus Company PV, I feel confident saying he’s part of Demian’s Group. The spot where his Sign would be is covered by his mask, though, so no one in-universe knows

I think this is why Sinclair was cast in the role of the Knight of the White Moon: he also has the sign, which Sansón (who is the Knight of the White Moon) would be able to see, and even if other sinners have it too, they’re not Demian’s special guy. everyone else, though, seemed to be cast in the most humiliating role possible: horse to be ridden for Gregor, wild animal for Heathcliff, random peasant for Rodya, presumably homeless old person for Outis

ok Sansón. in the book, he’s a young college student who read the first part of Don Quixote and, in part 2, approaches Quixote saying he’s a big fan and encouraging him to go back out and do more knight stuff. However, he actually just thinks Don Quixote’s antics are very amusing and isn’t actually an earnest supporter, and is conspiring with the barber and priest to get Quixote back home to stay. the way they (priest and barber try to bring him home in part 1 is by tricking him with an adventure that’s conveniently in the same direction as their home village, but then they get sidetracked in an inn for a long time so they just put him in a cage and drive him home. in part 2, they want to play on Quixote’s terms for a more effective result. near the beginning of the second part, they have Sansón dress as a knight (called the Knight of Mirrors/Knight of the Forest. these titles have no significance in the book but apparently the mirror thing forces Quixote to see himself as the frail old man he is in Man of La Mancha), say his lady is fairer than Dulcinea to get Don Quixote to duel him, and then make Quixote promise to stay home for a year when he loses. however, Sansón is the one who loses, because he wasn’t expecting Quixote to actually be good at jousting. Later, near the very end, which iirc is 3 months after the first encounter, another knight called the Knight of the White Moon issues the exact same challenge to Don Quixote (it’s just Sansón again, and "White Moon" has no significance in the original book either), but this time Sansón wins, so Don Quixote goes home, dejected, and then becomes “sane” again and dies.

Since this Sansón is part of Demian’s group, I don’t think his intentions will be the same- the Barber was a bloodfiend, and he sees beyond the ambitions of the bloodfiends now- but it’s fun to know how he is in the source nonetheless

I really like how he didn’t show up after the Barber’s defeat to say something cryptic and then leave, he told us quite a bit, and though his methods were… questionable, he DID force the sinners to actually finally pay attention to Don Quixote

speaking of the stage play, I like the juxtaposition between Sansón’s play and the Barber’s. in a different context, what Sansón did might’ve been framed as horrifying, and we’d be talking about how uncanny and unreal this is, but I don’t think that’s the intention here. the sinners might be playing roles, and all the enemies are cardboard cutouts, but it’s better than putting targets on real people (though I guess they’re not “people”, they’re bad, bad, bloodfiends). the cheerful music in La Manchaland is distorted and out of place, while the stage play is nice in comparison. the music for the talking sections is a bit too upbeat for the situation, but the music during the battles really immerses you. guitar! trumpet! maraca! this music is clearly composed to emulate spanish music, and it’s very earnest, which I think is important, with how easily music sets tone in media.

in both cases, Don Quixote is in a delusion. nothing in the stage play of her adventures is real, but she’s also completely wrapped up in the narrative of evil bloodfiends without the knowledge that she is one. a violent nightmare and a peaceful dream, both of which she needs to wake up from.

they both do this thing with black-and-white thinking, too. there’s a difference between the “good” bloodfiends, which you should get along with, and the “bad” ones, which you need to kill (though Don sees them both as bad), and then the bandits in the stage play are cartoonishly evil and love to bully the weak. except it seems the first is the narrative the Barber wanted to sell, while the second is Don Quixote’s reality… I mean, the play is definitely inaccurate, but we’ve seen how Don behaves

if you follow me for kingdom hearts and are for some reason reading this you know how much I love Nobodies in kh. people who used to be human, but aren’t anymore, who look close enough but are different on an intrinsic and physiological level, that everyone automatically treats as unreasonable monsters that need to die when they’re more complicated than that… I love it so much, I’m cheering and clapping whenever bloodfiend morality is brought up. Moses said that Larierre was cordial and offered her a place to sit and talk, but then also said bloodfiends are insatiably hungry and you shouldn’t underestimate them. agh I love it

also THE MUSIIIIIC every fight theme so far has been a banger. songs that were already good but with typical carnival instruments, big brass swing, the aforementioned nice spanish music, and the fucked up and evil sequel to dubstep electroswing featuring evil laughter

and finally, the helm of mambrino. in early part 1 of Don Quixote, he sees a barber (COMPLETELY unrelated barber to the other barber btw) carrying a basin on his head, and thinks it’s the amazing mystical Helm of Mambrino, so he attacks the barber and steals the basin. Don Quixote wears it as a helmet a few times and everyone thinks it looks really stupid. they did not fight a bear for it, nor did they go into a cave. idk what this might actually be in the City. either we’ll see or we won’t

#limbus company #project moon #aoaaagghhhhh #canto vii spoilers #limbus company spoilers #emil sinclair #don quixote #nobodies #<- mentioned #sanson carrasco #bluejay reading log #me post

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darkdemeter · 11 months ago

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Y/N “WOLFIE’S” PANEL

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

(Platonic) Avengers cast x GN/Female/Male Reader Feat. on the panel: Elizabeth Olsen, Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Anthony Mackie & Robert Downey Jr.

A/N — So this was delayed at first because I'd kinda gotten second thoughts, then did a bit of research (just watched some of the cast in interviews and stuff). And then I thought "fuck it, write it." So I did just that. Though I'm not counting on this being "top tier" and very well may be the only time I do this sorta thing. Because I have come to realise when writing this... I CANNOT write celebrities, so great kudos to those who can, and also they make it look so easy!

WORD COUNT — 1.7k

READER DISCRETION — Nothing that should be potentially triggering— maybe slight insecure reader? Nothing really, just that little "did I do good?" y'know? — just Y/N with the avengers cast— Y/N being a little blushing, embarrassed mess

SUMMARY— You meet your fellow cast members on the panel for Comic Con, the debut for the final instalment to Habits of Mother Nature's Will releasing that weekend at the premiere.

You can read the columns here — HABITS OF MOTHER NATURE'S WILL HABITS OF MOTHER NATURE'S WILL II HABITS OF MOTHER NATURE'S WILL II: AFTERMATH

You never thought you would hear anything louder than the sound of applauding fans and cheers as your name was announced by the panel moderator.

You swaggered onto the stage, your outfit was casual but styled in a way that could pass for formal dress easily. Your hair styled to what you favoured most.

You raised your arm up and waved to the crowd who roared with such vigour, you silently admitted to yourself it was a tad bit intimidating. But you were excited for this panel. To be beside your cast members who you had bonded with over the course of production, and to finally meet those who loved the project as well.

The Avengers series had been a cinematic hit and when you signed the contract, had anyone told you that the three part short series would have been a major hit for audiences, you would have scoffed.

Your co-stars each turned and greeted you with grins as they waved you over. “There they are!” Chris announced into his microphone with a wide grin.

You were assigned to sit between Lizzie and Chris. Anthony sat on Lizzie’s other side.

“Where you been, Y/N? We missed you,” Anthony questioned you with a pout, hands forming a heart over his chest. You chuckled and held up your other hand that held a cup of coffee.

“I needed my fix, leave me alone,” you grumbled. Lizzie squeezed your shoulder lightly with a shake of her head, ushering the others to stop picking on you.

“And you didn’t bring me one,” Anthony tutted and Seb called after him, “the betrayal.”

The crowd laughed and cheered.

“So we were just about to get to the fans' questions, Y/N, and I don’t doubt a lot of them have questions about your character in particular,” the moderator said to you and you nodded.

“Prepare yourself for marriage proposals, Y/N. There is always at least ten for each of us,” Robert said, his voice deep and calm over the mic system.

Your face went bright red. “Well…” you wanted to swear out of habit, but you held your tongue, your head fell forward. “Dammit.”

More laughs came from the audience. The microphone was set up and any fans who had questions were directed to stand in the queue.

The first fan was a young woman, probably about college age. You leaned forward, your arms folded on the table and made your clothes pull against your frame and you looked intensely focused on the fan. Engaged with what they had to say.

The very act made quite a few people swoon and scream, only your eyes flickered to your cast mates with a raised brow.

“I think the proposals have increased quite a bit now,” Chris said with a smirk. It didn’t help relieve the flush in your face when a few whistles of agreement followed his statement.

The girl giggled nervously into the mic in front of her and you refocused your attention on her. “Hi,” she said through her giggles and you nodded, hand lifting slightly to wave.

“Hey, how are you?” you asked and she nodded, “good thank you. I just want to say personally I’m a huge fan of the character, C/N, and I just wanted to ask you how you felt when you got the role to portray them?”

You raised your brows under the weight of the question. You smiled and thanked her for the question. “Hmm, well, I’m not gonna lie it felt scary that I wouldn’t be able to portray the character, but the script writer and director - along with my cast members - they really helped me where I felt I lacked in providing the performance that C/N would. So yeah, thank you for that question, and I’m glad you enjoyed my take on the character, other than that it was a lot of fun.”

She beamed from ear to ear and nodded eagerly. She thanked you profusely and expressed her excitement to see Aftermath in cinemas. Elizabeth patted your hand with a smile. “You did good,” she uttered away from the microphone and you nodded in thanks.

Another fan walked up and greeted the cast. “So I want to know, who would win in a fight against each other: Bucky or C/N?”

“Uh, the correct answer, obviously, would be Ironman.” Robert’s interjection made the crowd fall into a frenzy of hysterics. You grinned, the act natural and your own that you made signature component for your character.

“Remember who killed your parents,” Sebastian taunted and Robert smirked down the table his way. “Uh,” Sebastian began as he leaned back in thought for a moment, “I kinda want to say Bucky. I don’t think C/N could bring themselves to hurt him. So I think he’d use that to his advantage.”

When the fan inquired about your opinion, you shrugged with a tsk. “I think C/N would only win if someone hurt Wanda.” Your answer made the fans giddy, the uproar of cheers enough to bring the roof down like an earthquake.

“I have to say that the fight sequence was so intense, I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. The cinema I was in was in such a state, I thought it was gonna get shut down,” the next fan began with a giggle. You and your fellow co-stars couldn’t help but chuckle and smile. It really did make you happy to know that you had done well to provide fans with such excitement. The Avenger films were great and adored by the fanbase, your only wish was that you wouldn’t let the dedicated members of the production and the fans down.

“The fight choreography was brilliant and I wanted to ask what you could share about what went on behind the scenes? Like, how was all of that done?”

Oh, that was a loaded question. “Well…,” you chuckled, “let me first tell you that the entirety of my character fighting in their ‘wolf form’ was me. I did all the motion capture for that–” The room was filled with applaus. “Thank you. Yeah, my stunt double thought it would be funny to visit their family overseas and leave me to do all the motion capture. So I have them to thank for the harness that was riding my ass for the next couple of days,” you answered, though everyone could tell you only meant to tease, that you didn’t mean anything ill about it all.

The experience of doing all the intense choreography was actually one of the most fun aspects you’d ever done in any of your productions thus far.

Anthony laughed into his mic then. “I kid you not, we all have a video around twenty minutes long of Y/N doing the motion capture from the gag reel. And it’s hilarious,” he sighed at the end and earnt a laugh from the crowd.

“It wasn’t easy, man,” you whined, “but– but when I had to do scenes that required a more realistic build, I was saved the embarrassment and actually we had my dog, D/N, do all the motion capture for that.”

A photo of your German Shepherd appeared on the screen above, your arms encircled around them, their head tilted and long tongue hung from their mouth.

“They’re so cute!” a fan in the crowd shouted and you chuckled. “Damn adorable, I love them. I had to be on guard, I was scared Chris would take them home.”

Chris leaned over in his seat, hand slapped to his chest with a toothy grin as he cackled to himself. “I love that dog so much, what can I say?”

The fan thanked you for your time and walked back to their seat. The next fans were two girls, again around the age of college students walked up together. “Hi!” one of them greeted and the other looked incredibly shy, her friend held her close around the shoulders.

“Hey there, how are you?” you asked again. You always asked how the fans were, a habit that was just natural. Human. Kind.

“We’re good thanks. Uh, so this is my friend, Taylor,” she said and indicated to the other girl next to her. She waved and mumbled a meek hello into the mic. Your cheeks folded out into a smile, adoring the girl’s shyness. It was adorable. “And it’s her birthday and I want to ask if you could give her a little birthday present as your character, C/N, please? And with a cherry on top, add your wolf voice?”

Your tongue danced over your teeth as fans left, right and centre cheered and hollered. You could tell it was as much wanted by them as the fans asking for it themselves. “Just out of curiosity, who else is here for their birthday?” you asked and quite a large amount clapped in answer, a view yelled their response.

“Okay, so you can consider this a gift to you guys as well.” You sat forward and rolled your shoulders, getting into the mind of your character.

“Happy Birthday, Taylor.” You stopped to let the fans burn out their screams before you continued. “Told you, marriage proposals all of them,” Robert commented just as you went to speak and you broke out of character for a moment, face palming your hand.

“Go on, Wolfie, you gotta appease the fans,” Robert uttered with a wave of his hand to usher you on.

��I hope you have a wonderful birthday. Wanna play fetch some… sometime in the park?” Despite the momentary hiccup, unable to contain the embarrassed giggle in your throat as your face brightened, you finished.

Even some of your castmates imitated getting flustered, even Lizzie herself fanned her face. Taylor hid her face in her palms and her friend thanked you.

The other beauty of your performance was that the sound editors had little to do with mixing your vocals for the werewolf voices, you had a knack for making it naturally guttural and animalistic.

Anthony snickered playfully. “So I think we can agree that Y/N “Wolfie” has taken over the panel. Can we get a shout or clap if you enjoyed Y/N’s performance of C/N?”

You don’t know how it was possible, but that was the loudest you’d heard the fans.

#marvel #platonic avengers x reader #gn reader #male reader #female reader #sebastian stan x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #robert downey jr x reader #anthony mackie x reader #chris evans x reader #comic con panel #x reader #imagine #mcu

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distant-velleity · 6 months ago

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Dancing, dresses, dashing princes—this ball sure has everything, doesn’t it?

a card i drew up for @starry-night-rose's Glimmering Soirée ^^;; voicelines, concept art, and trivia under the cut!

After Summon: Big, fancy events aren’t really my thing… I’d rather just blend in most of the time. But—I guess it’s fine if it’s only for one night.

Groovification: Careful—we wouldn’t want anything going wrong on the night of the ball.

Set to Home Screen: Let’s not get into any trouble, alright?

Home Transition 1: I considered wearing a dress at first, but when I thought about it… It’s too much of a hassle. That, and I’m no princess—if I stand out, it’ll be for all the wrong reasons.

Home Transition 2: Royal Sword Academy and Night Raven College students gathered in one venue… I’d better be ready for a fight to break out.

Home Transition 3: You know, I was thinking—next year it’ll be Royal Sword Academy’s turn to host, right? If I’m still around by then, I want to see how they do.

Home, after login: Oh, don’t mind me… I was just practicing my dancing. I’m not one of the Princes, but—hey, why are you looking at me like that? Can’t a guy not want to humiliate himself in the ballroom?

Home Transition (Groovification): Don’t laugh, but… I-I think I might have lost one of the shoes that came with this outfit. Shoot, Vil and Crewel are gonna kill me…

Tap Home 1: The other Princes seem fine, but Deuce? I’ve been a little worried that the expectations of the role will be hard on him… Well, hey. I guess it takes a lot of pressure to create a diamond.

Tap Home 2: Azul’s taken to this whole hosting thing like he was made for it, basically. Like it's another business opportunity. Only… his dancing needs some work, I think.

Tap Home 3: When you think of brilliant balls and Prince Charmings, you don’t immediately think of Yue’er—I mean, Malleus… Well, I guess he is his own version of “tall, dark, and handsome.”

Tap Home 4: So stuffy… I’m glad I got Crewel to cast some temperature-regulating magic on his coat. How is anyone supposed to enjoy themselves while sweating buckets?

Tap Home 5: …H-Hey, watch it! This outfit’s way fancier than what I normally wear, you know… I don’t want to ruin it.

Tap Home (Groovification): If you want to mingle and have fun, go on ahead without me. I don’t mind too much—I’m not a… y’know, people person.

here are the sketches that i made while brainstorming (yes, i was going to put yu in a dress--he would have rocked it imo but i found these really cool suits and changed my mind)

and my references that i got from pinterest :>

in regards to yu having a mostly-black outfit, i... was going to make it mostly white (since his suitor suit is the same light blue as cinderella and i didn't want to get repetitive) but no matter what i did he ended up looking too much like an RSA student 😭 and i wasn't gonna let that happen so here we are. i think the black and gold is a nice contrast regardless... especially for someone who i rarely draw in dark colors

last but not least-- guys i remembered my taglist :,): @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @nahelenia @casp1an-sea

@boopshoops @skriblee-ksk

#my art #twst oc #yuusona #glimmering soirée #genuinely going insane im never drawing those patterns again bro 😭#plus the fact that i tried to imitate the twst style #but anyway... i think he turned out pretty cute

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lainiespicewrites · 1 year ago

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Someone to take her home

Hey guys so I wrote this a while ago! This is a Henry one shot it an OFC because I'll die on the self insert hill! LOL it gives me so much comfort. Is that weird IDK. Anyway this story is kind of heavy. I wrote this to get out some feelings about an SA that I had experienced. I've always been someone that if I'm stressed I rewrite the situation with a comforting outcome or a better outcome to release the stress or make myself feel better. I wanted to sort of write myself a way to get some comfort from the trauma. And I hope having a character like this sweet soft version of Henry may help some of you too. I never reached out for myself for help and maybe I should have but if you experienced something please talk to someone. If you need someone to talk to or just want a place to let it out my DM's are a safe space <3 Just as disclaimer this doesn't mention any of the actual situation that happened to me. Just a filler to get out the emotion. Still this is a fluff with lots of love and sweet gentle young Henry bc I just know in my soul this was and is how he is as a person!

Warnings: Light Cursing, Trauma, Mentions of sexual assault. (Please reach out for help even if it's just talking to someone about your situation. My DM's are open if y'all wanna talk after this <3)

Description: OFC goes to college party and meets Henry and they become fast friends. and he helps her when things turn bad with a guy he warned her about.

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I stared at myself in the mirror one more time. I needed to leave soon. If I looked any longer I would find something I hated and talk myself out of going. So I grabbed my bag and turned off my bedroom light. Nervous didn’t begin to describe how I was feeling. I’d never been to a party like this before. Sure I’d been out a few times in high school. But it was usually theater cast parties. And one time my friend and I stole some captain morgan from her parents liquor cabinet. But this was on an entirely different scale.

Most of my drinking was a night in with the girls with wine or movie night drinking games. God I sound so boring. It’s not that I don’t enjoy partying. I was genuinely excited to be invited out tonight. Lilly and I had worked together for a few assignments in class. And we would say hi when we ran into each other in the dorms. But, I never expected to get a text this afternoon inviting me to her boyfriend's party. Purdue was an incredibly large campus. Upwards of 40,000 plus students. Yet somehow Lilly’s boyfriend Riley Hardesty seemed to know everyone. He was known for throwing huge parties all year. They weren’t exclusive. You could just be driving through the neighborhood and stop in. But she told me a friend of Riley’s had asked her about me.

Matt Parker. I know of him. He’s in my English 204 lecture. But we’ve never talked. But he is really attractive. So maybe something good would come from all of this! I decided just to walk as my dorm wasn’t far from the house Riley and his roommates lived in. It was a cool night in mid october and I was definitely regretting the little black denim skirt I was wearing. I was smart enough to wear a cardigan but it was still cold. Thank God it's only 2 blocks down. I bit my lip nervously. Am I even going to know anyone here? Anyone I actually talk to? It’s too late now. I already got dressed and ready. I walked here. I have to go through with this.

I took a deep breath and walked inside. Things were already full swing. I could hear the music outside before I even opened the door. No one seemed to notice me and honestly I was okay with that. I looked around scanning the room. Almost everyone had a drink in hand, standing around in groups talking. The smell of pot hit me immediately as I started to walk through the house. I wasn’t the least bit surprised. I made my way to the kitchen where I found multiple drinks, alcohol and mixers available. I kept it simple and grabbed a wine cooler. Something fruity. I was definitely going to need a buzz if I was going to be here longer than 5 minutes.

I pushed my way out of the kitchen and found a quiet corner to drink and observe for a while. I was busy listening to some guys talk about last weekend's football game when I heard someone’s voice. And I realized they were talking to me. I shifted my eyes seeing a guy standing next to me. He was maybe 6’1, blue eyes, and brown hair with soft curls. I gave him a gentle smile,

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I asked. He smiled and chuckled softly. His smile was beautiful.

“I uh, Just noticed your shirt. Are you a Def Leppard fan?” He asked. I looked down. I completely forgot that was the shirt I was wearing. I just thought a band t-shirt would look cute with the skirt. But

“Yeah! Well I know a few of their songs! My Mom was in her 20’s in the 80’s and she loved them!” I said.

“She has good taste! They’re awesome! Are you here by yourself? Not trying to be creepy I just noticed you were by yourself over here and I wanted to make sure you were alright,” He rambled. I nodded.

“I look that out of place huh? Yeah, I um. I’m friends with Riley’s girlfriend. Well not friends necessarily. But I know her. Anyway she invited me because of some friend of Riley’s but I don’t know this isn’t normally my scene. Wow that was a lot,” I blushed. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“For?” He smiled, raising an eyebrow. “We’re talking. I like getting to know people! And I totally get it. This can kind of be a lot sometimes. I actually came with some friends but I needed to step away from all the crazy for a second. I’m Henry by the way.” He smiled, extending his hand. I took it and He squeezed mine softly.

“Alayna!” I said.

“It’s nice to meet you!” He smiled. “Which one of Riley’s friends? If you don't mind me asking,” He raised an eyebrow.

“Matt Parker,” I said bluntly. “You know him,” Henry took a sip of his beer and nodded.

“I do, He’s alright. We’re sort of friends I suppose. He may have good intentions. Listen, I know you don’t need my advice, but just be careful around him. I don’t know what you were expecting with him or hoping for. But he can be a little, well, if I had a daughter I wouldn’t trust him with her. But I could be wrong. I’m sorry, that was a bit much. I don't want to ruin your evening,” He said.

“For?” I smirked copying his face from earlier. “You seem to have pure intentions. Just looking out for someone. That’s really kind of you actually. I honestly don't know what I was expecting. But I can handle myself. I didn’t really come out tonight for him. I wanted to actually let loose and have fun for once. I’ve been trying to have more adventures, meet new people, make new friends.” I smiled looking him in the eyes on that last part. He gave me a big smile and held out his beer bottle to cheers me.

“To new friends,” He spoke and we clinked our bottles together. “I like you, I mean talking to you.” He said.

“I like talking to you too! I was honestly super anxious about coming tonight. I was worried I’d be too anxious and awkward to have fun or it would be too much. Because this is a lot. I’m 100% sure I saw someone do coke off the kitchen counter. But I’m actually enjoying myself. Right now anyway.” I laughed. Henry chuckled.

“Good! Well, I’m going to go find my friends but, what's your number? I’ll send you a text real quick and if you get overwhelmed or uncomfortable or need to escape all of this for a bit come find me! Or text me. I’d be happy to be there for you. And we can just chill out for a while.” I smiled and gave him my phone number. It was nice to meet someone as kind as Henry. You don’t meet a lot of people that… genuine and gentlemanly in places like this. He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before he walked off to find his friends. I wandered off to get another drink while I was standing in the kitchen waiting to grab another wine cooler. I felt someone lay their arm across my shoulder.

“Hey gorgeous,” I recognized Matt’s voice. I gave him a soft smile.

“Hi,” I spoke.

“I’m glad you came tonight, You having a good time,” He asked, clearly buzzed.

“Yeah,” I said tentatively “One hell of a party!” I laughed.

“For sure!” He smiled and moved to the side of me taking his arm off my shoulder. “What are you drinking babe?” He asked.

“Just Mike's lemonade.” I chuckled awkwardly.

“Aw come on girl you can do something stronger than that huh?” He joked. I shook my head.

“I probably could but I’d rather not get sick.” I said.

“Aw well come on at least do a shot with me?” He asked, giving me a puppy dog face and pouting. “Just tequila, we got training wheels!” He added.

“I don’t know… I don’t wanna get too crazy,” I said.

“Nah, it’ll be alright, it’ll just loosen you up a bit!” He spoke already pouring the shots. He slid one over to me. And a piece of lime. “Ready?” I picked up the shot and stared at it questioningly.

“Alright,” He smiled. We clicked the glasses and hit them against the table before taking the shot. It was super bitter. I immediately followed it with the lime. But it didn’t help much. When I looked up again Matt had gotten me another Mike’s from the cooler.

“Atta girl!” He smirked. He took a step closer and I took the drink from him. Then I heard someone call his name from across the house. They were starting another game of beer pong. “That’s my que babe, but wait for me yeah? I’ll come back to you after this game!” He smirked and left a wet kiss on my cheek before running off to join the boys.

Charming is certainly not a word I would use to describe him. But he’s nice. And he’s just trying to make sure I have fun. There’s no harm in that. I wandered around the party again. I opened up my new bottle and tossed the cap on a nearby coffee table. I thought about watching the beer pong game but I honestly wasn’t interested. I found the door leading to the backyard and saw there was a bonfire going. I stepped outside and found an empty seat by the fire. I watched it crackle for a bit and took a long sip of my drink. I felt a warmth inside me and knew it was coming from the alcohol. I started to relax as I listened to the fire and the white noise of the people chatting around me. It was a gorgeous night.

“Hey!” I heard a voice from behind me. “Funny meeting you out here!” Henry spoke, pulling up a chair next to me.

“Hey!” I said excitedly. “It’s calm out here. I like it!” I said. Henry smiled.

“I do too, I love a good fire. Fuels the soul.” He half joked.

“ I love the smell! Is that weird?” I laughed.

“No,” He chuckled softly “Not at all! So, besides the band on that very cool shirt, What other music do you like?” Henry asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swig of his beer.

“Oh all kinds. I’m a big lover of the stuff from the 70s though! Elton John, Heart, the Beatles, I guess they’re technically 60’s. I know it’s kind of old school but. I feel like they just don’t make music like that anymore.” I explained.

“Classic! I like it,” He smiled.

“What about you?” I asked.

“Oh I’m all over the place too. I’m actually a big country fan!” He smirked.

“I wouldn’t have expected that from you but I respect it. It’s not my favorite genre but there are definitely some good ones there!” I smiled. Henry and I chatted for a while. We talked about our majors. He's a history major. Where we’re from, he has an accent but I didn’t want to ask and be weird about it. He told me he’s from the UK. We talked about books, history and our friends. It was nice. A little while later I felt an arm around my shoulder again. I knew it was Matt.

“There she is! Did you think I forgot about you babe?” He asked.

“No,” I smiled blushing softly. He smiled.

“Hey Henry! Are you having a good time, man?” He asked. Henry nodded and finished his beer.

“Yeah! Actually I should go get another one. It was nice talking to you Alayna!” He smiled at me before he got up and left. I don’t know why but I could tell Henry wasn’t the biggest fan of Matt. He said they were friends earlier but I think he was just trying to be nice

I was shaken from the thought when I heard Matt’s voice again.

“Hey, follow me!” He said enthusiastically.

“Okay,” I smiled. I got up and followed him back inside. He led us upstairs and down the hall to what I assume was his room.

“Too many people out there, I wanted to be alone with you,” He smiled.

“That’s really sweet! It is pretty crowded.” I said.

“Yeah,” He said blankly. “Are you enjoying the party?” He asked.

“I am,” I said half telling the truth. I enjoyed talking to Henry.

“God you’re so gorgeous,” He said. “I always want to talk to you in class but you always leave so quickly I never get the chance.” He said.

“Thank you,” I blushed.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked. I don’t know if I wanted it or if it was the alcohol but I nodded. He smirked and leaned in kissing me on the lips. It was gentle at first but then he quickly started using tongue. I felt kind of awkward. So I backed away. “Oh sorry, you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I lied. He just nodded and went back to kissing me. I kissed him back a bit but then I felt him start to feel me up. I froze. I really didn’t want that. He moved his hand under my shirt and I stopped him.

“Uh Matt, I really don’t know about this.” I said nervously. He pulled back

“It’s fine, nobody's gonna come in, don't worry about it.” He said and started kissing my neck. Oh god this sucks.

“No I mean. I don’t… want to do this.” I stuttered.

“Come on, it’ll be fun babe, it’ll be alright.” He kept feeling me up and continued kissing me. I felt stuck. He pushed himself against me, grinding into me. He moaned. I swallowed hard. Fuck, I really didn’t want this.

“No, Matt, I really don’t want to.” I said again.

“Shhh just go with it.” he said, shushing me. “You’ll enjoy it, I promise.” He said, sliding his hand under my skirt and rubbing his fingers against me.

“No, stop Matt,” I said again, my voice quivering. He was definitely stronger than me. He used his other hand to take himself out of his shorts and he grabbed my hand putting it on him while he kept touching me, forcing his fingers inside. It hurt. I don’t know how but finally I found the strength to push him away from me. He stumbled back and fell against the bed and I ran out of the room. I could feel the tears stinging in my eyes already but I had to get out of this house. I quickly ran down the stairs and out the front door. Matt was pretty drunk so I don’t even think he tried to follow me. I walked a little way down the street and stopped letting out a sob. What the hell just happened. How did I let that happen? How could I have been stupid enough to trust him or follow him? I didn’t know what to do. I probably should have headed back to the dorm but I didn’t want to be alone right now. I took to my phone trying to think of who to talk to.

I saw I had a text. It was Henry. “Hey it’s me! Henry I mean lol feel free to text me anytime.” I sent him a quick text taking a deep breath and trying to pull myself together. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I was so stupid. He tried to warn me.

“Hey, it’s Alayna, where are you?” I sent it. To my surprise he responded almost immediately.

“By the fire, You okay?” it read.

“Would you wanna go on a walk with me?” I asked. There’s no way I could go back there.

“Sure :) where are you?”

“On the front sidewalk like 3 houses down toward campus.”

“Be right there!” true to his word about 2 minutes later I saw him walking down the sidewalk toward me.

“How are you?” He asked.

“Good,” I nodded absentmindedly.

“Were you leaving?” He asked.

I um,” I stuttered “Yeah, it was just… too much. I was gonna head home. I feel stupid I was just gonna walk home. I'll be fine, I’ll let you have fun. I don’t wanna interrupt your night.” I rambled.

“No! Please do! I’d be happy to walk you home. Talking with you was the most fun I had tonight actually.” He stated simply. I smiled weakly.

“I’m glad.” I said.

“Are you alright?” He asked me. I sighed trying not to get emotional.

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed and tired.” I lied. We walked in silence for a bit. I couldn’t believe how kind he was. The fact that he would leave his friends to walk me home. He was genuinely concerned about me. That feeling made me even more overwhelmed and finally after everything I could help but start crying. I felt like I had no control over my body as I started to sob. I felt my shoulders start to shake. Henry stopped and put his hands on my shoulders.

“Alayna what's wrong?” He asked me. I tried so hard to speak.

“He wouldn’t.. And I said… no, but he kept…” it all came out in broken sobs. Henry didn’t say anything. He just pulled me into him and hugged me tightly. After a few seconds. I started to calm down and tried to steady my breathing.

“Shh it’s alright, just breathe.” I heard him say. I slowed my breathing. “Did he touch you?” He asked gently, trying not to upset me again. I couldn’t speak, I just nodded. Henry went stiff. I looked up and saw his jaw was clenched. “Mother fucker,” He mumbled quietly under his breath. Then he spoke louder “Do you want to go talk to someone? Like report it?” He asked. Again his voice was gentle. I shook my head.

“I can’t, I know I should but I really can’t, not now.” I said. He nodded.

“Okay, well let's get you home.” He said. I started to walk again. Henry kept an arm around me as we walked. We were quiet the whole way there. He walked me all the way to the door. Wanting to make sure I got in okay.

“Thank you,” I said. But just as he turned to leave I grabbed his hand. “Wait, please don’t go.” I said, trying not to sound desperate. Not that I had the energy to care.

“You want me to stay?” he asked. I nodded.

“Yeah, no, I .. I don’t .. You don’t have to, I’ll be okay.” I said.

“Hey,” He paused, grabbing my hand. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” So I took off my shoes and slipped into the bathroom to change into some shorts. I laid in my bed and Henry sat next to me. “Do you want to watch something?” He asked. I nodded. And turned on my TV scrolling aimlessly. I stopped on some old 90’s sitcom.

“Thank you, for staying,” I said.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. And I meant what I said. I had more fun talking to you tonight than with anyone else.” He smiled sympathetically.

“I did too,” I said. I sat up going to kiss him but he stopped me.

“Not tonight, darling. Believe me I would love to kiss you. But I think you’ll regret it later if you do this now. I like you. I’m not going anywhere. Let's take this slow. You’ve been through a lot tonight. I’ll still be here when you’re ready. But I think tonight you need to rest.” he said. The universe gave me Henry tonight. If I hadn’t ran into him. I’d have been alone after being sexually assaulted by a guy I barely know. Any other guy wouldn’t have treated me like him. He was so gentle and respectful. He was genuinely looking out for my best interest when he could’ve taken advantage of my vulnerability. I just nodded.

“I’m sorry that was stupid.” I sighed.

“No, it wasn’t” he put his arm around me pulling me into his side and I naturally rested my head on his chest. “You don’t need to apologize. Try to get some rest.” He spoke gently. I could hear his heartbeat and my breath slowed to match the rhythm. Eventually so did he. I looked up to find him asleep with his arm still around me. I settled in snuggling into his side. All the noise around me slowly faded away and I finally got to rest, falling asleep in Henry’s arms.

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That’s it you guys please let me know what you think. I love you all so much! You’ve shown my writing so much love 🥰

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writtenonreceipts · 11 months ago

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a/n: Bonus points if you can point out where one of my (many) mental breakdowns occurs. She’s a bit of a disaster. I literally don’t know where this came from…

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas @aelinschild! Written as part of the @rowaelinscourt secret santa exchange. Thanks for putting up with me and my myriad of asks. It’s been wonderful to get to know you these last few weeks! <3<3<3<3

Find the companion Elorcan piece here! Set just a few months before the main events of this story.

AO3 Link here

Warnings: nothing major, non-explicit/passing mentions of trauma/abuse, very brief mention of drugs ~25k words

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Until the Dust Settles

A golden sun set behind the Oakwald Mountains, casting long shadows across the long stretch of land that made up Whitethorn Ranch. The acres were a makeup of subtle rills and hills where horses could run for ages and the flatter earth where a decent sized garden yielded a fair amount for the farmers market in the spring and summer.

The land had been in Rowan Whitethorn’s family for over one hundred years—it was the only home he’d ever known. He’d grown up racing horses through the vast fields or spending winter chasing down animals that had gotten loose in a storm. He would admit that sometimes it was a hard life to live—the constant work, the fear for the animal’s safety. But it certainly had its benefits.

The spring and summer that actually made the land worth having. Not only because there in the farther outreaches of the countryside, things seemed untouched by society—which really was the only thing worth mentioning. But it also allowed for the most tourism and when most people came to visit that ranch.

For nearly twenty years now, Whitethorn Ranch was mostly known for its outreach program for troubled teens. When kids needed time away from home where it was for depression, anxiety, trauma, misbehavior—they came to the ranch.

It had started ages ago when Rowan’s great-grandfather came to own the land and took on the runaways who were escaping bad situations. His great-grandparents accepted anyone who came by the ranch as their own and the attitude extended through the generations. By the time Rowan’s father gained the land, things had turned to be more professional.

The ranch used a mix of therapy modems and simple outreach to help those who needed it. They offered day visits for schools, riding lessons, even month-long visits and stays for extreme cases. It was careful water to tread sometimes. Recently, Rowan had been more conscious about making sure the kids who came felt safe and wanted. He never accepted anyone who was forced to come, unless he could talk to the kid first. Even then, he knew that help only helped when someone actually wanted it.

But now as Rowan stared over the golden horizon, he wondered how anyone could turn a sight like this down.

He tightened Goldryn’s reins and clicked his tongue, directing the horse back to the stables. It had been a long day of checkouts and clean up. This late in the fall, most people only came by for tours or field trips. Business wouldn’t pick back up until May at least.

For now, the ranch would rely on its usual borders. There were a few families that owned horses but didn’t have the land to keep them, so Rowan rented out stalls and charged for care. It kept him busy enough in the slower months. Him and Lorcan, his best friend from college, made things work though. It had taken a great deal of convincing to get Lorcan to come out here, but the grumpy bastard enjoyed being outside and this job presented plenty of opportunity.

It certainly helped that Lorcan had recently started dating Elide Lochan, who was a staple to the small town. And Rowan had to admit—they were good together.

As he rode down a worn path along the paddock fence, Rowan could see a shape waiting for him in the distance. He grimaced. There was only one person that would be so intent on talking to him.

He slowed Goldryn to a trot, knowing he couldn’t avoid the inevitable.

Leaning against a fence post with her arms crossed and golden blonde hair hanging in loose curls was Aelin Galathynius. Brilliant, beautiful, and a pain in his ass. She had come to the ranch almost six months ago after graduating from a top university specializing in trauma. She was exactly what he needed for what he was trying to accomplish here and exactly the right person to drive him insane.

Rowan pulled Goldryn to a stop at the fence gate and stared down at Aelin. Her cold blue eyes stared right back up. She’d long since traded her fancy clothes and high heels out for jeans and t-shirts. She even wore a baseball cap on occasion. And yet the change of close did nothing to diminish her looks.

“I need to talk to you,” she said. She didn’t flinch when Goldryn stamped her feet with a loud snort. Another thing Aelin had improved upon, not being jumpy around the animals. Though, she did eye the mare with a bit of distrust.

“It’s outside of my office hours,” he replied. “Try again tomorrow.”

Aelin scowled at him. It was the same excuse she used on him when he needed to talk to her, he didn’t see why she should be so upset to have it thrown back in her face.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” she said.

“I know what I said.” He adjusted his hold on the reins and shrugged. “It’s been a busy few days.”

He jumped off of Goldryn’s back, landing in the earth with a soft thump. He could just as easily have Aelin open the gate for him, but he was convinced she would have tried to scratch his eyes out if he’d asked. Keeping one hand in the reins, Rowan unlatched the gate and swung it open towards him. Goldryn snorted again, huffing as she backed up a few feet to make room.

Aelin too had taken a step back but she didn’t go far. She was several inches shorter than he was, even in the boots she wore, but still taller than the average woman. She had a lean, athletic build Rowan had seen put to good use. When some of the kids got restless on their extended stays she would workout with them, go for runs, turn hay bales, the whole nine-yards. She wasn’t weak by any means.

“What do you need, princess?” he asked as he led Goldryn through the gate, locking the paddock again behind him. He kept himself between Aelin and the horse, mostly because he knew she still wasn’t comfortable around the larger animals and even he wasn’t that cruel.

Still, Aelin almost stalked off right then. Rowan could see it in her eyes, the tilt of her chin. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she had. Hell, he’d never met anyone as stubborn as Aelin Galathynius. Not even one of his horses had as much attitude.

But he knew she needed something and even though it killed her, she uncrossed her arms and kept pace with him as he set off toward the stables.

“Don’t call me that,” Aelin said flatly. She flicked her hair over one shoulder as she kept her steps purposeful, even when she stepped in a small hole and nearly went careening forward.

Rowan tried to reach out and steady her as he kept Goldryn reined in, but Aelin waved him off. She straightened herself out and got on even footing before she continued to scowl at the ground. She’d always been like that too—refusing help and insisting she could manage things on her own. She was damned near worse than Farasha.

“Easy,” he said. He was talking to the horse, who was yanking on the reins a bit too hard. Aelin of course would never miss an opportunity to glare at him.

It was a shame they hated each other; Rowan decided. Because try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Between her blue eyes, the golden waves of hair, the mischievous tilt of her lips—he’d be a fool not to acknowledge it. But Aelin was also impossibly stubborn. She fought him on everything. She was opinionated. She was selfish. She was—

“I want you to open up another week for kids to come and stay over Christmas and New Years,” Aelin said. She adjusted the yellow and black flannel she wore, eyes straight forward.

She was going to drive him to an early grave.

It was Rowan’s turn to stumble as he spun to look at her. “You what?”

Goldryn snorted, pulling on the reins again. Oh she was mad at him. They were a few minutes late to dinner now and she knew it. Damn horse.

“An extra week for kids to come stay over the holidays,” Aelin repeated. She didn’t flinch from the way he turned his own glare on her, only kept walking with that insufferable tilt to her chin.

“Why?” he asked.

Christmas—any of the holidays this time of year really—always made for a quieter time on the ranch. People were more content to stay at home and put off their problems a little longer. It wasn’t until after that people realized how much they hated their circumstances. Even then, they didn’t seek out his ranch for anything more than daily horse rides. Nothing to actually problem solve.

“It’s a hard time of year for kids,” Aelin said.

They reached the stables and she helped slide the great door open. Immediately, the heating system blasted them with a warm gush of air accompanied by the scent of hay, manure, and feed. It was a scent Rowan had grown used to and, strange as it was, he took comfort in.

Rowan handed Goldryn off to one of the stable hands who took the mare to her stall. Turning to Aelin, Rowan crossed his arms over his chest, taking her in. She had a fiery determination about her and he knew he wouldn’t be able to brush her off easily.

“Open up an extra week so these kids can have a safe place to come,” Aelin insisted. “There’s a program with the city—”

“Please, Aelin, I know what that means,” he said, already walking away. She could trail him and make her case if it was so important. “I won’t actually get paid for the extra costs. The city pretends to take care of all the funding but doesn’t actually give me what I need.”

“I’ll take care of it all,” Aelin said, indeed following right after him as he moved to the feed barrels. She even managed to dodge the droppings from the lone pig that wandered the stables. “I’ll keep up the communications with the program. I know the director, she’s not a flake.”

Rowan had heard things like this before. Sellene had tried to get him to take state funding before too, all that resulted in was mounds of paperwork and audits.

He opened the feed barrels and started scooping portions into waiting buckets that would go to the various horse stalls. Aelin took one of the buckets as soon as it was filled, her manicured fingers wrapping around the handle.

“The Cavarre Foundation wants to help kids,” Aelin continued. She grabbed another bucket. “They’ve already got a list of kids they can send over.”

“Then they can wait til after the holidays,” Rowan said.

He hefted his own buckets and went to the first stall. A yearling named Quinn was already waiting for his feed. His owners were aiming for the colt to be a stallion and show for congress. Quinn had a bit too much attitude to take to that sort of training, he’d be better as a rodeo horse or in the fields, but Rowan wasn’t being paid for that commentary.

“Watch it buddy,” Rowan warned the colt as he opened the stall and eased toward the trough in the corner. Quinn nickered and pranced a bit, but ultimately didn’t give him any issues.

Aelin waited outside the stall, the tension in her body obvious. She should just go and catch up with him later. He would have suggested it too if she didn’t immediately start talking again.

“What if their home lives aren’t the best? These kids have been selected from a few of the foster homes in the area and recommended by psychiatrists that this would be a beneficial healing opportunity.” Aelin dodged around a worker moving hay, this time landing one foot in a pile of pig dung. She didn’t flinch. “Isn’t that what this ranch is about?”

No it wasn’t.

Rowan opened the door of Hessina’s stall. The mare was pregnant, due in late February, and had to be the sweetest horse he actually owned. Rowan offered her a nose rub that she eagerly accepted.

“Are you even listening to me?” Aelin asked as Rowan closed the stall again.

“Hard not to when you won’t shut up,” he muttered. He couldn’t tell if she’d heard him or not--her scowl remained perfectly etched on her face and she betrayed nothing as she walked with him to the next two stalls.

It didn’t take long to get most of the horses fed and ensure they had plenty of water. The night wasn’t set to get too cold, so they wouldn’t bring out the blankets. The heating system worked well enough to keep things warm but not freezing and these horses were all conditioned and bred for the chilly winter weather as it was.

By the time Rowan was ready to head back to the main house it had almost darkened completely outside. Another long day done only for it to continue tomorrow and the day after. He’d only been officially running the ranch for five years and he was ready to be done with it.

After making sure everything was set for the night, and checking in with the shift leader, Rowan decided he could leave everything as it was. Lorcan would be in tomorrow to do a once over. As the lead stable manager, he oversaw the functioning of the workers and the horses. He even did a bit of training on the horses. Not that Lorcan would ever admit to doing so.

“You still here?” Rowan said to Aelin as he headed back to the cold night. It was a twenty-minute walk, but the weather had been decent enough that he hadn’t wanted to bother with his car.

“You never gave me an answer,” she said.

They walked across the long drive that led straight to the main house. The road wasn’t paved, only gravel packed dirt that wound it’s way around the property. When kids were staying in the cabins, Aelin had a room designated for her in the house, but she usually just went back into town where she rented an apartment. As far as he knew, she was still planning on leaving when they reached her car.

“I already told you no,” he said.

It wasn’t an easy decision to make; opening the ranch up for a week. Especially over the holidays. He knew that Lorcan didn’t care about this time of year and there were a few ranch hands that wouldn’t mind the extra time to work. But if the city program never paid him, he could never pay for the extra work. And while he knew he could handle the work on his own if necessary…well, Rowan just didn’t see the point of approving this.

“It’s a lot to take on without much warning,” he added, before Aelin could rise up in a defensive retort. “Give me a day, alright?”

They finally reached the main house with its large wrap-around porch, the whitewashed wood, and three-story windows. His cousin was probably inside already cooking up a meal that she’d filmed for her Instagram page. It was the kind of house for a family, for someone with more to their name than Rowan did. Sometimes he really hated coming home.

Aelin car, a small two-door Audi, waited from where she’d parked it that morning. Rowan would be very interested to know how she planned on getting around once the snow started.

“I’ll take on any extra work you need,” she said, “cooking, cleaning, I’ll care for horses—”

“You hate the horses,” he said.

Her mouth twisted to the side. “I’ll do what I need to do. Please, Rowan. I think this would be a really good opportunity.”

Rowan didn’t know what surprised him more: the fact that she said please or used his first name. He made the mistake of meeting her gaze, the gold undertones of the blue bright in the porch lights. Shaking his head, Rowan muttered a curse.

“I’ll let you know in the morning,” he told her.

Aelin nodded once. “Thank-you.”

It was the most civil they’d been to each other in a long time. Usually their exchanges ended in accusations, shouting, and name calling. Aelin too seemed caught off guard by it. She stepped back, digging for her keys in her pocket. She nodded again before returning to her car.

Rowan remained outside as she made a quick U-turn in the large gravel drive. She disappeared into the night quietly, the taillights soon lost as she curved down a bend in the road.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

Rowan already knew the answer he would have to give Aelin. It was one he’d have to give his entire staff. And he knew no one was going to like it. Come new year he was going to sell the ranch to someone new. And just like that the legacy his family had left him would be gone.

…

As she drove down the highway into town, Aelin found herself wringing the steering wheel of the car while imagining it was Rowan Whitethorn’s neck. She knew, she knew, he was going to tell her no. He would text her first thing in the morning and tell her that her request would be denied. That the thing she actually cared about wouldn’t see the light of day.

He was a bastard.

She’d known it from the first day she’d met him so many months ago.

It was her first full day in Oakwald, having left everything behind in Terrasen, and she was ready to start anew. She’d expected things to be hard. But she hadn’t expected Rowan Whitethorn to look at her with such contempt and tell her that she really had no business being there in the first place. As if he hadn’t hired her just a week ago to fill a vacancy in his staff.

Not to mention the look he’d given her clothes, her car, everything about her was some big cosmic joke.

Aelin sighed and turned off the highway to the bar where her one real friend worked.

Her little Audi was out of place among the trucks and SUVs. She just needed to make it another two weeks without any bad weather and she’d have access to her new car. Locking up, she hurried into the bar, already relishing the warmth awaiting.

In the span of one minute, the cold November air nearly sucked the life out of her. The bar was a welcome reprieve as it was always kept at a decent heat. Even with the scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the air, it had a comforting air about it.

Aelin went to the counter and slipped into a stool right next to Lorcan Salvaterre.

“Seriously?” he growled at her with a malicious side eye.

“It's the best of both worlds,” Aelin said with a cheeky smile. “You don’t like sharing your girlfriend, but she’s my best friend. You still can talk to her and freely ignore me.”

Lorcan was not impressed by the explanation. Back in the city, Aelin would have done everything in her power to avoid a man like him. He was massive with long black hair and enough scars to indicate bad news. His leather jacket strained with his broad shoulders and thick muscles. And while Aelin would admit she had a thing for guys of a certain physique there was something dark about Lorcan that she couldn’t explain. Which made it all the more surprising that he and Elide had started dating.

“Hey, Aelin!” Elide appeared from the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, carrying a tray of appetizers for another table.

“Hey!” Aelin called back.

Just a few months ago, Elide had told her about the confession she’d overheard where Lorcan admitted his feelings for her. It had led to a heated kiss and a night that Elide said was the best of her life. It was the only explanation Aelin needed or wanted. She was glad her friend was happy, even if it was with Lorcan Salvaterre.

“Glad to see you’re still grumpy as ever,” Aelin told Lorcan. She snagged a few pretzels in one of the many bowls set up along the bar. She’d long gotten over her germ contamination worries.

Lorcan grunted and sipped his beer. Aelin rolled her eyes.

“You’re just like Whitethorn,” she said.

Another grunt. Well, it was better than utter ignorance she supposed.

Elide appeared a minute later. She leaned against the counter and raised a brow.

“Wow, you actually chose to sit next to Lorcan,” she said, “I’m proud of you.”

“I figured it would be better than making the old man upset that you would choose me over him to talk to,” Aelin explained. “Besides, I think he’s warming up to me.”

Lorcan cut her a look that only had her grinning.

Elide snorted a laugh. “Yeah, besties the two of you. What would you like to drink?”

“Just a coke,” Aelin said, “I should get home soon.”

“Coke and mozzarella sticks coming up,” Elide said with a wink. She glanced at Lorcan. “Babe?”

Lorcan stared at his girlfriend for a long moment before registering what she said. The corner of his mouth picked up in a smile and he shook his head.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Elide only smiled fondly as she got Aelin her coke and went to put in an order for mozzarella sticks.

It was strange to Aelin just how enmeshed she’d gotten into this small town just in the past few months since arriving. She never thought she’d find a place to belong more than in Terrasen, but there was something about Oakwald that she couldn’t deny enjoying. It certainly helped that she and Elide had become such quick friends.

But really, Aelin was glad to be out of Terrasen. She needed a new start. A new life. Here, no one knew her history, her parents, anything beyond the fact that she was the new therapist on Whitethorn Ranch. And she liked it that way.

Elide returned a minute later, her thick black hair piled in a new bun atop her head. She often worked doubles all week long without much time for herself, let alone to date anyone. But Aelin had learned a long time ago that Elide was as good as they came. She worked hard, cared harder, and was one of the most genuine individuals she’d ever met.

“How was the ranch?” Elide asked. She set another beer on the bar for Lorcan without his needing to ask for it.

“Good,” Aelin said, “it’s been slowing down. But if Whitethorn wouldn’t be such an ass, it would pick up. I pitched him my idea for the extra week over the holidays. He’s just going to say no, though.” Beside her, Lorcan made a noise. She shot him a glare. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, “it doesn’t matter.”

He looked up when the bar door opened and a few of his friends came in. He rapped his knuckles on the counter before standing to go join them.

Aelin looked back to Elide. “How can you like him?”

“Because I do,” Elide said simply. She leaned across the counter with a sigh. “I’m sure Rowan will approve your idea. It’s a good one and he knows it’s what his ranch is for. Take him the numbers and notes you came up with. He can’t say no to concrete evidence.”

Aelin nodded absently. When she’d come to Oakwald it had been in part to get away from Terrasen. But it had also been a beckoning call from her cousin and his wife.

Lysandra Cavarre-Ashryver had been a close friend of Aelin’s for years when they’d grown up together in Terrasen. They’d lost contact when Lysandra’s foster family took her across the country. Aelin too had lost contact with her cousin after a series of messy family drama. It was only after Aelin’s��accident a few years ago that they’d slowly reconnected.

And to be honest ever since talking with Lysandra and Aedion again, Aelin had slowly started feeling like herself. It had only taken six years.

“I just…I really think it’s a good plan, especially for those kids,” she said. This entire thing was the only thing keeping her afloat right now. A job that gave her purpose, a chance to reunite with her cousin…it was better than being left with the reality of potentially going back to Terrasen.

Aelin shuddered at the thought and sipped her coke. The carbonation danced on her tongue as she swallowed.

“He’s going to say yes,” Elide said. She gave Aelin another look of assurance before going back to the kitchen to check on orders.

Aelin didn’t know what to think. Elide had to be on her side, that’s what friends did. But Elide was also not the kind to cling to false hope.

“Yeah,” she said to herself. She had to believe that this would go right. Because the alternative…well she didn’t want to think about that.

…

“What do you mean no?” Aelin asked.

She stared across the desk at Rowan who looked utterly passive as he sat in his chair, fingers steepled before him.

They were in the office of the main house where most of the “on paper” business of the ranch was taken care of. Aelin had spent a bit of time here over the last several months. Mostly to force Rowan to listen to her on a subject. And just like all the other times before it was proving to be hostile and unproductive.

The office was simple in decoration with only a few framed pictures of Rowan’s dad, granddad, and great-granddad, a few knick-knacks on the shelves, and medals and certificates of recognition that the ranch had received over the years for various horses that had made nationals and other such things.

Aelin didn’t like the room very much. The rest of the house had a homey feel, but she believed that was because Sellene lived on site while she went to school at the local community college and hosted an online cooking show with Instagram. It was Sellene that added the feminine touch to the main concourses. Rowan hardly seemed like the domestic type. If things were his way the entire house would be empty save for a display of guns.

“I mean no,” Rowan said. He didn’t even look apologetic as he delivered the news. “It’s too much work for the ranch in this season. Most of the workers are already leaving until things pick up in the spring. And if you can’t guarantee payment then I’m not putting in the risk.”

She pulled out the binder she’d curated with Lysandra and dropped it on the desk with a thunk.

“I have the costs and benefits listed, what the program will offer in payment before and after, they have releases all lined up, the programs director is willing to come down and help with whatever is needed supervision wise for the kids.” Aelin flipped the binder open to the different graphs and spreadsheets. “If you’d just look it over.”

She was trying desperately to keep her voice even, to keep from shaking and revealing too much, but Aelin could feel a familiar sense of panic rising within her. This was happening. He was going to turn her down and she would be left with the solid evidence that she couldn’t even do something as simple as start a therapeutic program on her own.

“Aelin,” Rowan said. He leaned across the desk and placed a hand on the open binder. He didn’t even bother to look at the pages of carefully crafted data. Instead, his stupid green eyes bore into her with what Aelin could only describe as pity.

The bastard was pitying her?

She slid the binder away from him, protective of it and all the work she’d put into its contents.

“Fine,” she said. She shouldn’t have been surprised. In the last seven months of knowing him, he had always been cold and heartless. The kind of person that Aelin should have known better than getting into business with. He wasn’t any better than—

“I have three conditions,” Rowan said suddenly.

Aelin snapped her eyes back to his. He couldn’t really mean—

“First, you’ll be expected to pick up extra slack from the workers who already have approved time off for the holiday,” Rowan said, “and you’ll have to convince Lorcan to work over time.”

Aelin blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No strings attached?”

“Well, I doubt you’re going to get Lorcan to help.” Rowan shrugged, leaning back in his chair. He paused as if considering what his next words would be. “He doesn’t like helping people very much.”

“I know he doesn’t like me,” Aelin said, her body still thrumming with excitement. “No need to sugar coat it. What was your third condition?”

Rowan adjusted the cuff of his shirt. “The program director needs to have at least a quarter of the payment to me by tomorrow afternoon.”

“She can have it to you by today,” Aelin said automatically. She knew that just like her, Lysandra had been waiting for an opportunity like this to come along and had made sure she had sufficient funding all lined up. Plus, there was Aedion who would go to hell and back if it meant getting Lysandra something she wanted.

Rowan didn’t seem convinced that her words held much weight but he only nodded. “Alright. Then from the twenty third to January second you’re in charge.”

“Deal. Done.” Aelin agreed automatically. She would have given him the twenty in her wallet and her library card if it would make a difference. Which it should. Her library card was worth gold.

Despite his agreement, displeasure was plain to see on Rowan’s face. He still didn’t like this plan. Well he could just suck it up. By the time Aelin was through and was able to execute all the ideas she had—he would see. This was going to be a brilliant idea, one that could easily become a new tradition for the ranch.

He held out a hand toward her and Aelin stared. Did he want to shake on this?

“The binder,” he said, one silver brow raised.

Aelin felt a bit of heat rise in her cheeks, but she forced it back. This binder was her baby. Quite literally the thing that had pulled her through her master’s program, and hopefully to a doctorate.

“You’re going to be mean to her,” she said.

“It’s a binder.”

“It’s my child.”

Rowan’s lips parted in surprise. Well, it wasn’t the first time she’d caught him off guard. It was his turn to stare at her, those green eyes boring into her with such intensity Aelin would have thought he could actually see into her soul.

“I need to know what you’re going to put my ranch through,” he said.

Aelin pursed her lips. She knew she’d have to relent, but handing over the binder felt like handing over a piece of her and she didn’t think she was ready for that. Rowan’s hand still wanted expectantly and she glanced down at it. His palm was upturned and she could see the roughhewn calluses on his fingers and knuckles. His skin was clean though, the nails neatly trimmed and no dirt tucked in the nail beds. She’d never quite realized just how big Rowan actually was, in all these months. And here he was holding out a hand to her and all she could do was stare.

Like a maniac.

She dropped the binder into his hand. He barely twitched.

“I’ll just wait to hear from your…friend?” he asked.

“Lysandra Cavarre,” Aelin said. Technically Lysandra Ashryver, but Aelin really didn’t want to go into the complications of last names and what they meant. She’d made it this far without any association to her past, she could keep it up a while longer.

“Lysandra,” Rowan repeated, committing the name to memory. He nodded and accepted the binder onto his desk. “I’ll leave you to it then. You’ve got a lot of work to do if you think Lorcan’s going to agree to this easily.”

“Oh, he’s even more of a bastard than you,” Aelin replied quickly. She smiled as sweetly as she would if she were talking with someone she liked. “But I’m best friends with his girlfriend.”

With that, Aelin rose from her seat, collecting her bag as she went. When she reached the door, she turned back and smiled again.

“You won’t regret this.”

Just as she was pulling the door of his office shut behind her, she could have sworn she heard the soft murmur: Mala save me.

Aelin smirked to herself as she walked back through the house. If she was adding just a little bit of extra misery to Rowans day, she didn’t suppose that would be an issue. The grumpy buzzard deserved it.

She passed the kitchen where Sellene was sitting at the counter, a pile of books for school in front of her. Pausing, Aelin rerouted to just say hi to the Whitethorn cousin.

Sellene, a few years older than Aelin’s twenty-five, had always been a staple of the ranch. Even when she was doing her schooling, she’d taken time off to help raise her younger brother Endymion after their parents passed, she was almost always at the ranch. Now that Endymion had gone to his own college of choice, Sellene was now able to pursue her own desires.

“Hey, Sel,” Aelin greeted. She went to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle.

“Hey Aelin,” Sellene said. “Rowan giving you a hard time?”

“Has he always been so cranky?” Aelin asked. She sighed and leaned against the counter as she rested her elbows on the granite.

Across from her, Sellene chuckled. “I guess you could say that. Just be glad he likes you.”

“Please.” Aelin rolled her eyes. “He hates me.”

“If he hated you, do you think he’d keep you around?” Sellene raised a brow in question. “He’s an ass, but he knows you work hard.”

Aelin wasn’t so sure of that. Really, she was convinced the only reason Rowan didn’t kick her off the ranch was because there were no other options for therapists to come out into the area. It had only taken half a day for Rowan to call her in for an interview when she’d first applied. The job offer came the next day.

“Whatever you say,” Aelin said. “You want to help me piss him off even more?”

Sellene sighed. “I would love to, unfortunately I am going to be headed out to visit Endymion during his break. It’s harder for him to leave his job.”

Aelin shouldn’t have been surprised. In the few months she’d been a part of the homestead she’d learned quickly that the Whitethorn cousins were a tight knit group. Still, it would have been fun to pit Sellene against Rowan at least for a little bit.

“That’ll be fun,” she said. “I’m sure he misses you.”

“Oh, I plan on embarrassing him to no end,” Sellene replied seriously. “He’s eighteen and thinks he’s the smartest person alive. The boy’s gotta learn some humility.”

Aelin snorted a laugh. Honestly, it was the same thing her own cousin would have said about her.

Sellene shut down her computer sighed. “But I am going to miss this place. It’s always the best being here during the holidays. It’ll be weird not to see it all.”

It was a strange sentiment to share and Aelin didn’t quite know how to respond. But she didn’t have time to ask about it. It was already getting late in the day and she needed to call Elide to enlist her help. And then tell Lysandra to send a deposit Rowan’s direction.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Aelin said, she’d have time to get more information from Sellene later.

“Yeah, good luck, Aelin,” Sellene said, smiling softly.

Aelin offered a wave before she hurried out of the house, phone in hand.

It only rang once before Elide answered.

“Elide?” she asked. “I need your help.”

…

For some reason, Rowan had thought that Aelin wouldn’t succeed in meeting the three conditions he’d set out for her. Because, really, how would she be able to convince Lorcan of all people to work over time?

He supposed this was his first lesson in not underestimating her because not half an hour after Aelin left his office the morning, he’d approved the project then he got a call from one Lysandra Cavarre asking for routing information that she could send money to.

By the end of the day, he’d gotten a text from Lorcan.

Your girlfriend’s a menace.

Rowan had stared at the message for entirely too long.

Not my girlfriend.

Lorcan’s brief response said more than anything else could: right.

The brief exchange caught Rowan off guard. Not only for the fact that Lorcan didn’t insult Aelin, but the mere idea of calling her his girlfriend. She was the bane of his existence. In the entirety of her time on the ranch she’d demanded change, created chaos, and riled him up with all her little remarks.

Aelin Galathynius sought to drive him insane. Even when he tried to return the favor, nothing he did seemed enough to deter her. She only rose to the challenge. He guessed he could respect her for that.

Three days after striking the deal with Aelin, Rowan woke early, as he usually did, and headed to the stables. They still had two weeks of preparation before the holidays but there was still plenty to do.

Rowan dressed quickly before heading to the kitchen where Sellene had left a smoothie and protein bar in the fridge for him. When there were kids or other guests staying in the cabins, there was a bigger fanfare made for breakfast. For now, this was usually what he got. He’d much prefer making his own food, but he always appreciated the effort from Sellene.

He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl as well and headed out to his truck. It was barely four-thirty in the morning but that was the life he’d set out for himself. He’d barely made it down the deck stairs when he noticed the other car sitting in the drive next to his.

Aelin was leaning against the side of her tiny car, wearing a large flannel and jeans tucked into a pair of boots. In her hands she held two thermoses.

“What?” She called out to him. “Did you sleep in?”

Rowan crossed the yard toward her. “The sun isn’t even up.”

“Yeah, I hate it.” She took a long sip from one of the thermos’ before thrusting the other at him. “Here. Black like your soul.”

Rowan stared at the thermos for a minute before he accepted it. “Thanks?”

The morning was dark, not even the horizon had started lighting, yet Rowan could still see the amusement playing in Aelin’s eyes as she watched him. Her hair hung in a long braid over one shoulder, a few tendrils escaped around her temples. She didn’t wear any makeup and still there was something so striking about the way she looked.

“It’s not poisoned,” she prompted.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a sip of the coffee. It was strong and bitter, just as he liked.

“You said I’d need to help pick up the slack,” she said, following him as he walked to his truck. “So here I am.”

If he were being honest, Rowan was surprised. Aelin had never stuck him as the type to do manual labor. Or really work for that matter. Her wealth and status had been obvious the first time he’d met her. Then there was the car, the designer clothes, the manicures. When he’d hired her, all he’d received were glowing referrals. Another surprise. Even now he was still trying to reconcile his initial impressions of her to who she really was.

“Here you are,” Rowan agreed. He gave her another once over, unable to help but notice the curve of her hips beneath the open flannel. Dammit.

Shaking his head, he unlocked the truck. He could practically hear his mother yelling at him for not opening Aelin’s door for her, but his hands were full. Besides, Aelin didn’t seem to notice. She hopped up into the front seat. Her movements were graceful and easy as though she’d done so a hundred times before.

Rowan settled into his own seat and started the truck up. There was a small layer of frost on the windshield waiting for them. His least favorite part of the day was waiting for the heater to get into gear and finally warm up.

“Are you always up so early?” Aelin asked suddenly. She was huddled in her seat, staving off the chill which was the only thing about the early hour that seemed to be bothering her.

“Yeah,” Rowan said. “Unless Lorcan’s going to be in early. But I told him to take the later shift until he comes in for your event.”

Aelin hummed at that as she took a long sip of her own coffee. “Interesting. You should get more sleep. It’s good for you.”

“I’m in the wrong business for that, princess,” he muttered.

“Don’t call me that,” Aelin said. She cut him a glare, her lip curling slightly.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because.” Another sip of her coffee.

Rowan said nothing and tried clearing the windshield. It cleared well enough. He at least wouldn’t be out on the open road, so a few skiffs of remaining ice weren’t the end of the world. Putting the truck in gear, he backed up a bit before turning.

“Are you always such a morning person?” he asked as they headed down the long drive.

“Hell no.” Aelin made a face. “If I had it my way I wouldn’t get out of bed until noon. This is my second round of coffee. Do you have any idea how much I am not looking forward to today? It’s going to be miserable. The worst. I hate mornings.”

She spoke with such vehemence that Rowan wondered if there really was a way for morning to be such a real entity for someone to hate. It was also amusing, especially the way her nose crinkled in disgust.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” he said, clearing his throat. “You can’t hate that.”

“It’s pitch black and I can see my breath,” she deadpanned. Sighing she adjusted in her seat. “C’mon, buzzard, you wouldn’t rather be in bed still? All warm and snuggled up?”

“No,” he said.

Aelin chuckled in that nonsense sort of way she had. “Hmm, right. Even you have to admit a lazy morning in is fun. With the right company.”

Rowan stared staunchly forward. Though, he could still see that insufferable grin of Aelin’s out of the corner of his eye.

“Ignoring me now?” she pressed.

The sight of the stables had never been more glorious.

“No, you’re just impossible.”

“Thank-you.”

Rowan parked the truck in its usual spot and tried hard not to smile. He settled with an eye roll.

“Let’s go buzzard,” Aelin said. She threw the door open and hopped out of the truck. “Show me the ropes.”

If there was one thing Rowan knew to be true—it was going to be a long day. Though as he clambered out of the truck himself, the thought didn’t seem as heavy as it once may have been.

…

In the end, the day wasn’t bad. In fact, things ran far smoother than Rowan had been expecting. He’d thought that by having Aelin shadowing him things would go a lot slower and he’d have trouble getting everything done, but she was a ready student.

She handled feed buckets with ease, tied perfect knots on the first try, she even mucked stalls without complaint. If Rowan didn’t know any better, he’d have said she’d spent time in a barn before. A lot of time. She seemed to know her way around the equipment, knew the terms, and sometimes reacted before he even needed to give instruction.

When he tried to ask her about it, she told him he was insane.

It wasn’t the first time someone had lied to him, but he figured it wasn’t worth trying to needle the information out of her.

The routine continued for the rest of the week. Aelin would be at the ranch first thing in the morning with coffee and they’d work all day together until dinner when they’d return to the main house.

“You know you still have a room in the house, right?” Rowan asked one morning. “You don’t have to do this back and forth.”

“Oh,” Aelin looked out her window as they passed familiar pastures. “I guess…I figured you wouldn’t want me there? Sellene’s gone and all, why not have the place to yourself?”

It was true, Rowan often enjoyed his time alone unless he went into town to have a drink with Lorcan, Fenrys, and Connall. A recluse, Aelin had called him on occasion.

The strange thing about it was…Rowan didn’t think he would have minded Aelin being around more. She drove him mad, more often than not, but even in the last few weeks (days really) there had been a subtle shift. One that he didn’t know how to identify.

“Your friend is coming with the new group of kids, right?” Shifting the conversation seemed the safer option so he didn’t hesitate.

“She and her husband,” Aelin agreed, he didn’t miss the look she gave him. “They were planning on staying at the house, if that’s still alright?”

“Yeah, we’ve got plenty of space,” Rowan said. The house was enormous with five separate rooms and four bathrooms. His great-grandfather had always wanted a home to welcome as many guests as possible so new additions were added on continuously in the early years. His own parents had hoped to keep the house full of children. In the end, it was only Rowan who waged war upon the floorboards.

Aelin nodded absently, her fingers drumming on her thermos absently. “I’ll come up with them and stay the week before and during.”

“Alright,” Rowan said. The drive to the stables that morning was the same as ever with only another light dusting of snow falling from the sky. As late December encroached, it wouldn’t surprise him if they were due for a storm.

“They’ll be coming tomorrow, I think,” Aelin said, “Lys and Aedion.”

Rowan started. “Aedion Ashryver?”

In her seat, Aelin visibly flinched. She covered it almost seamlessly as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sat up a little straighter.

“He’s an ass,” Aelin told him. “Though, very good looking.”

Rowan could only stare. The Ashryvers were practically celebrities in the world of horses and ranch work. Evalin and her sister Andra made waves when they were young for their work in showing horses, not just in contemporary riding, but racing, and rodeo. They’d set a standard for those that would come after as they changed the equestrian world for years to come.

He didn’t know much of what had happened to either woman after they’d aged out. Only that they continued to run a ranch out in the countryside of Terrasen for breeding and training. He knew there had been a scandal of some sort five or six years ago involving a rider and a trainer, but the story evaded him.

When they got to the stables, Lorcan’s own truck was already there and he’d turned on the floodlights to help beckon in the rising dawn. They were still a week out from when the Christmas group of kids would come, so Lorcan shouldn’t have even been there.

Rowan glanced at Aelin who didn’t seem the least bit surprised at the sight.

“How did you get him to agree to this?” Rowan asked.

“I can be very convincing,” Aelin replied simply. “And Elide.”

Not sure he wanted to know the full details in that, Rowan let the rest of the conversation drop.

As always, Lorcan remained in his quiet way. He went about his usual duties without comment, only nodding in acknowledgment as Rowan and Aelin entered the stables.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping in?” Rowan asked. He rested his keys on the rack beside the doors, not yet ready to take off his coat to the morning chill.

“Couldn’t,” Lorcan replied with a shrug. He nodded to Aelin. “Regretting your choices yet?”

“Nope.” Aelin smiled brightly. She took a long sip of her coffee and went to the row of shelves reserved for personal items.

Lorcan shot Rowan a look that he ignored. They’d had plenty of conversations about Aelin and the week she had planned for the holiday. Besides, if Lorcan couldn’t say no to Aelin (even if Elide wasn’t a factor) they were both idiots.

Knowing better than to try and tease Lorcan about how quickly he’d fallen for Elide, he crossed the stables to where his friend was working on preparing some equipment.

“What’ve you already taken care of?” He and Aelin had gotten a slightly late start for the day--a mix of him waking up late and the frost and Aelin needing to steal breakfast from him.

“Not much,” Lorcan admitted, “everything’s pretty much good. The vet’s coming around for check-ups this afternoon.”

“Do you know how the cabins are looking?”

Lorcan shrugged. “Probably about the same as when the last group left.”

That shouldn’t have surprised him. “We’ll go take a look then come back to help prep for the vet visit.”

“Sure,” Lorcan said. He glanced to where Aelin was kneeling before the ranch pig, dubbed Ex because it had been Endymion’s turn to pick a name. The finalists of names fell between Frank and Excali-wilbur and Endymion did not disappoint. “Have you told her yet?”

Rowan scowled. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure,” Lorcan said, scraping off a bit of dirt from an old bridle set. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The words sat heavy with Rowan the rest of the day. He knew that Lorcan just liked screwing with him on occasion. But there was also a part of him that worried if there was truth to Lorcan’s ominous words. He really didn’t see what it mattered though--whether he was going to sell the ranch or not was his own business.

He really didn’t see what the difference was if he continued to owned the ranch or not. Sellene and Endymion hadn’t expressed any in taking the land over for themselves and they were the only living relatives Rowan knew about. Theirs were the only opinions that mattered.

Still, by the time he and Aelin finished getting the cabins ready for the guests in the coming weeks, he couldn’t help but feel a niggling sense of guilt. He kept tamping it down of course.

It wasn’t until mid-day that the vet came around that Rowan was finally able to turn his thoughts in different directions. They had two pregnant mares in the stables that year which was the biggest concern Rowan had. They’d both foaled before but there was still plenty of room for things to go wrong. Besides them, there were six other horses to be looked over. It was usually a two-day affair, especially when weather got a little dodgy, but the vet seemed confident they’d finish up by the end of the day.

While the vet was in with Farasha, Rowan realized he hadn’t seen Aelin for a bit. He might have had his misgivings about her, but she’d proven herself to be responsible and attentive in all her recent duties. Even if she didn’t like horses.

Rowan glanced around the main floor of the stables before heading to the back stalls where the two pregnant mare’s were settled. It was the warmest part of the large barn with the largest stalls. His boots scuffed in a bit of hay as he went and he almost missed the soft voice talking to the horses.

Diana and Hessina, thankfully got along alright. Sometimes pregnant mares could get a little feisty with each other, but the two had been inseparable when they’d been born the same season almost six years ago now. Rowan remembered the day.

He stopped just outside Hessina’s stall and what he saw made him question just about everything he thought he knew.

Standing in Hessina’s stall with a set of brushes and other items was Aelin. She carefully ran a curry brush over Hessina’s coat in methodic movements. All the while she continued to talk softly to the mare.

“Alright, mama,” Aelin said, “let’s get you cleaned up. You deserve it don’t you? Especially before baby gets here, huh? Look at you so pretty standing here for me.”

For a minute, Rowan thought he’d wandered into an alternate reality. In all the months of her being on the ranch, Aelin had never approached one of the horses so willingly. She’d kept her distance from the barn and the animals beside the pig and the goats. He’d never have expected her to spend time with any of the horses, let alone grooming them. And doing so with obvious practice and ease.

“I thought you hated horses?” he found himself saying.

Aelin froze. It was the first time he’d ever caught her off guard.

“I never said that,” she replied. She traded out brushes and ran a shedding blade over Hessina next.

“You’ve never spent more than a minute with any of the horses in all the time you’ve been here,” Rowan said.

He entered the stall and grabbed a brush to use on Hessina’s mane. Somehow, no matter what he or any of the stable hands tried, the long hair always got tangled even if they were careful to brush it the day before.

“That doesn’t mean I hate them,” Aelin said. Her voice was soft, lilting in that way she’d used when she was addressing Hessina specifically. “Not when they’re such pretty girls.”

Her long fingers ran over Hessina’s sides, pausing over the swell of the mare’s belly. It seemed as though she knew exactly how to handle a horse. Or at least where to massage a pregnant mare’s muscles effectively or how to run a flat brush over the coat to leave it gleaming. Truth be told, he’d never seen Hessina looked as relaxed as she did now under Aelin’s ministrations. No matter what Aelin said, she was a natural.

Rowan tugged at Hessina’s mane with as much care as he could. But he noted the twitch of her ears.

“Sorry,” he murmured, knowing he’d pulled too hard. He glanced back to Aelin. “Seriously, you’ve never spent this much time with the horses before. You know how to care for them. And you can make a decent knot. I thought you were a city girl?”

Aelin shrugged, walking to Hessina’s other side. “I am a city girl.”

“No.” Rowan shook his head. “There’s more to you than that.”

They stood across from each other now, more or less. And Aelin wouldn’t meet his gaze as she brushed out Hessina’s other side. Her lips thinned and Rowan knew she was thinking deeply on something.

“I used to read all the horse books I could,” she finally said, “made my mom buy them all for me. I had a whole bookshelf devoted to them. And then I grew up.”

Her hands paused, fingers grazing over a few stray bits of Hessina’s mane. A stray thought took her mind far away from that place. Far enough that she stopped brushing entirely. Hessina took offense to that and nickered, dipping her head back towards Aelin.

Chuckling, Aelin reached out and scratched the mare’s nose before she continued brushing.

“What about you, Whitethorn,” she asked, blue eyes sparking with delight as she finally looked at him. “Were you always in a horse boy phase or did it come suddenly?”

He rolled his eyes. “I grew up on this ranch, it’s all I know.”

Aelin paused at his words. She looked as though she wanted to something, but the words were lost on her. Instead, she shook her head and nodded at his work.

“You’re making that worse, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said defensively.

No matter what he said though, Aelin came over to take a look at the work he was doing on the mane.

“A girl’s pride is in her hair,” she said, whether to him or Hessina, Rowan had no idea.

He could only watch as Aelin took over detangling and brushing. Her hands were soft as she tugged and brushed. Occasionally she would murmur something and give the mare an affectionate pat on the neck.

What he didn’t notice was how close he and Aelin were standing, not at first. But the second he realized it; it was all he could think about. He could feel the warmth radiating off of her and he could still smell the lemon verbena of her shampoo in her hair. Even with the bit of sweat and dirt that lingered on her skin.

There was something about watching the methodical way she worked that was mesmerizing. Nothing seemed to frustrate her as she went even when something didn’t detangle immediately or if she had to make a bigger mess in order to get things right. She would only hum under her breath and continue.

“Do you—” she began to speak and spun almost directly into him. She made a small noise of surprise and stumbled just a bit before Rowan reached out to steady her. “Hell. Sorry.”

She blinked up at him with those bright blue eyes and he noticed a ring of gold around the pupils adding to that light that always seemed to illuminate her.

Gripping her arms, he waited until she regained her footing before slowly pulling away.

“You good?”

Aelin nodded; mouth parted slightly as though she were about to say something.

The illusion shattered when Lorcan called out from the main stable.

“Whitethorn, get out here!”

It was probably better that way—for Rowan to leave Aelin there. She turned back to Hessina and kept talking with those soft words and gentle inflections. Whatever spell had been over them was long gone. Though that was for the better. Rowan didn’t need to get close to Aelin. Not now.

So, he tried to forget about the last ten minutes and went to help Lorcan with whatever it was he needed.

…

When she was eighteen, Aelin had her first serious crush.

It was different than all the other little sparks she’d ever gotten before. It was different, new, and completely reckless. Oh, she’d never acted on it, not exactly. And maybe it was better that way. Because in the coming year (and several years after) Aelin would come to realize that boys, men, would never treat her well. Especially not the ones that had country written into their bones.

So when she came to Whitethorn ranch at the beginning of the summer, she’d told herself it was for the experience. It was for the work she loved. It was for the kids who needed help.

And then there was Rowan.

They’d clashed the entirety of their working relationship and Aelin really didn’t know how she’d lasted as long as she did. And here she was now, on the brink December and the New Year right around the corner.

She sighed and straightened the small room designated for her at the main house. Rowan had let her off for the two days leading up to the main camp days when Lysandra and Aedion would be arriving.

The room was the next biggest aside from the master suite that Rowan slept in. With its own bathroom and the large window that overlooked the back western side of the ranch with the mountains in the distance—Aelin loved it.

It was already decorated with a few things of the Whitethorn family. A few black and white photos from the early days, hand embroidery frames, and a few porcelain figures in the inlaid shelving. It was simple and homey and for whatever reason, Aelin didn’t feel the need to change anything. Except for the piles of books and a few pictures of her own family.

As she straightened things up, and prepared the bedroom across the hall for Lys and Aedion, she couldn’t help but think of the last few days with Rowan.

She didn’t know how it was possible, but they hadn’t killed each other. There weren’t even any attempts. Sure, their words held just as many barbs as before, but it felt different. Or maybe she was just hoping there was something different.

For as much as she complained about how small Oakwald was and how difficult working on the ranch and the therapy work here was--she wanted to make this home. She wanted this to be a place she could put down roots. Here, no one knew her past. No one knew who her family was. No one knew every little detail about who she was other than simple being Aelin.

Her phone started ringing at the same time a series of honks echoed from the front of the house. Grinning, Aelin answered the phone already knowing who was on the other line.

“Are you here?” she demanded.

“Bitch, what do you think?” Lysandra said on the other line. In the background Aelin could hear Aedion: stop honking the horn, Lys. She knows.

“I’ll be down in a second,” Aelin chuckled.

She flew from her room and down the stairs of the house. She barely bothered with the slippers waiting by the front door before she threw the front door open.

The SUV hadn’t even come to a full stop before the passenger door opened and Lysandra got out. Her long dark hair hung loose and she wore a simple gray sweater and jeans. She screamed when she saw Aelin and ran across the yard toward her.

Aelin met her halfway, pulling her friend into a hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Lysandra was saying as she continued to hug Aelin. “It’s been so boring without you.”

“I’m sorry I left you alone with Aedion,” Aelin teased. She pulled back, grinning.

Aedion huffed as he came around the SUV. His blond hair, so similar to Aelin’s, long enough to just barely fit into a low tie, his handsome features slightly distorted with a scowl.

“I love you too, Aelin,” he said, trying and failing to hold his disapproving look.

Aelin launched herself at her cousin. It had been a while since they’d seen each other between work and distance. But she was grateful he had chosen to come and help both her and Lys.

“You do love me,” she insisted, “I introduced you to your wife, after all.”

Aedion pulled back with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, I’m forever in your debt.”

“I know,” Aelin said seriously. She then turned and linked arms with Lysandra. “C’mon, I’ve got a room ready for you.”

Her friend didn’t immediately follow through, instead turning in the cold morning air, taking in the sweeping blue skies and acres and acres of land surrounding them.

“Seriously, Aelin, where are we? This feels like a step out of time.”

She’d thought the same thing when first arriving. “It’s better in summer and you're not freezing your butt off.”

Indeed, during the winter the sun could be out and bright and happy like it was now, but it was still cold enough to want to literally crawl into a fireplace and never come back out like some sort of dragon.

Aedion offered to get the bags, letting Aelin and Lysandra head up to the house.

“So,” Lysandra said as they went to the kitchen. “Where’s Rowan?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “He’s at the stables finishing things up.”

“But he’ll be here later?” Lysandra pressed; one brow raised.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been sleeping under the same roof and nothing’s happened?” Lysandra scoffed and accepted a proffered glass of water.

“Please, Lys, he’s my boss. And an ass.” Aelin turned to find snacks or something else to offer while her cheeks flushed at Lysandra’s words.

“Mm-hm,” Lysandra hummed with obvious doubt. “I’ve looked him up, he’s hot.”

“Lysandra!” Aelin spun on her friend who let out a cackle.

“You should see your face,” Lysandra laughed. “You know I’m right.”

“He’s made my life miserable,” Aelin said, “and, like I said, he’s an ass.”

“Right.” Lysandra merely sipped her water and sighed. “You keep saying that.”

Much to Aelin’s appreciation, Aedion entered the house, bags in hand. She left Lysandra in the kitchen and showed Aedion to the room she’d set up for the two of them. It was the one room just a little more isolated than the others, but that just made it feel a little cozier. Which she didn’t think they’d mind.

From there, the rest of the day was relatively nice. Even with Lysandra’s continued teasing about Rowan. Thankfully, she kept most of it up when Aedion wasn’t around.

Aelin gave them a tour of the house and immediate grounds before heading out to the cabins reserved for the kids that would be arriving in the next several days.

She and Lysandra were able to go over the various activities and group sessions and plan out where each would take place and how transport would work. Thankfully, the main house was a good central point and should the weather stay nice, walking wouldn’t be an issue.

“There’s supposed to be a storm,” Aelin said at one point, “but they’ve been saying it would happen for two weeks now, and nothing. I think it’ll just hit Denver and move on.”

That was the hope. But Aelin wouldn’t let herself worry about a snow storm right now. They had a contingency plan in place, but the weather had been cooperating thus far that she doubted it would be an issue.

Later that night as they were fixing dinner, Aedion broke out his excellent cooking skills with a chicken and vegetable skillet, Rowan finally returned home.

“Welcome back, Buzzard!” Aelin called when she heard the door open and shut. She also heard the way he paused while trying to decide if he could get out of being social. “We just made dinner, come join us.”

Lysandra shot her a look, but Aelin ignored it. Instead, she got an extra plate ready as Rowan slowly trudged into the kitchen.

“This is Lysandra and Aedion,” Aelin said, “Lys founded the group that we’re hosting next week. And her husband, Aedion, is the muscle.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t mention that Aedion was her cousin, but the admission just felt off. Aelin had spent so long distancing herself from her mother’s name and the attention that it got that it just felt natural not to bring it up. Besides, that wasn’t the point of this visit or the event they’d worked so hard on.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Rowan said, he didn’t smile, but Aelin supposed him joining them all for dinner was good enough.

“We’re just running through the week,” Aelin said. She handed him his plate which he accepted. “Is there anything you wanted to talk about with the itinerary I gave you?”

Rowan didn’t answer immediately. He settled in his seat next to her and took a bite of his food, thinking. Or just avoiding talking.

“Nah,” he said after a minute. “Everything looks fine. There’s going to be ten kids in total?”

“Maybe eight,” Lysandra spoke up, “it’s a little hard to get exact numbers right now. Some kids are being shuffled so close to the holidays and their guardians are being…difficult.” She made a disgruntled sort of face. “But I know for sure eight of them are ready to go. The other two we’re waiting on some consent forms.”

It wasn’t anything surprising to Aelin. But they would make the best of it and hopefully all the kids they’d planned for would come.

“There’s plenty of room no matter who chooses to come,” Rowan said, “so that’s not a problem.”

“You said you’re not going to be around on the Friday after Christmas though, right?” Aelin asked. He hadn’t told her why or what he was doing, just that there was business on the ranch that needed taking care of. She thought better than asking for more details especially when he was so guarded about the affair in general.

Rowan paused for a heartbeat in his ravenous eating and Aelin almost wouldn’t have noticed if not for the way his eyes skirted to hers and dipped away just as quickly.

“I’ve got a meeting planned most of the day,” he said, “but if anything goes wrong—”

“They’ll be fine.” Aedion spoke up with a wave of his hand. “If there’s anyone who knows how to embrace chaos to her advantage it’s Aelin.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, passing the water pitcher around the table. “I stole my dad’s truck once and it worked out fine.”

“I’m talking about the time you set off all those fireworks and nearly set the house on fire, but thanks for proving my point.” Aedion grinned at her glare.

Rowan only shook his head from beside her. “What the hell kind of childhood did you have?”

“Normal, perfectly normal.” Aelin said. Desperate to keep the conversation moving and away from any revelation of how she and Aedion were related, she kept talking. “Besides, none of that will be happening this week. I didn’t have time to find any fireworks.”

“Please,” Lysandra said, “you don’t even try not to cause problems. Remember in college you stole that frats keg?”

“Because Archer Finn plagiarized my report on Edgar Allen--you know, he was an ass that’s all that matters.” Aelin had done a lot of questionable things in the name of justice. But stealing that keg was damn near the top of the list considering the fact she nabbed it in the middle of the biggest party of the semester. Truly remarkable. “So it was less of a problem and more karma calling his name.”

“So,” Rowan said, glancing over at her, “you really have been a menace all these years?”

She should have been affronted by his teasing but with the way he was actually smiling with amusement burning in his eyes and the levity of the night—Aelin found she couldn’t be mad. Because here, for this small moment, Aelin wasn’t scared about what the future might hold.

…

Despite the teasing of her cousin and Lysandra, Aelin really did exist best in chaos. She wasn’t at all intimidated when the week officially started for the outreach program. She didn’t even have panicked stress dreams about it either. Everything had been planned out in detail. It was going to be a success.

And everything her friends had done to help make it possible just warmed Aelin all the more. Between all that Lysandra and Aedion did on their end, to Elide volunteering her days when she wasn’t needed at the bar, and Lorcan willfully helping out (through whatever bribery Elide had offered), everything started off without a hitch.

The thing about therapy that Aelin loved the most was the breakthroughs. The understanding that came with trauma and healing. It was often a long hard journey, but it happened. And when you worked with kids? It made the work all the better.

The week wouldn’t be focused on the talk therapy of it all though. Mostly they’d be going on hikes, cooking in the main house, learning about the horses and caring for them, and then a little of the therapy side. This week was about feeling safe and finding joy in an otherwise hard spot of life and Aelin was determined to help offer that bit of peace.

After all the kids arrived, twelve total and ranging from twelve to seventeen years old, everything continued as expected. The kids were paired off closer to their ages into the two different cabins and it all seemed to be working for the best.

Aelin found that two of the younger kids, Evangeline and Luca, were the more hesitant of being there. Despite Luca’s outgoing nature, Aelin could tell there was a bit of worry in his attitude as he always seemed to look to her for approval in any of the activities they did. Evangeline always sidled over to Lysandra. It wasn’t a strange occurrence, just one they needed to be careful with.

Though, if Aelin knew Lysandra like she did, her friend had done work with Evangeline before and was fiercely protective of her now.

“How many s’mores can these kids eat?” Rowan asked one night.

They were having an outdoor campfire with s’mores and other treats while Elide of all people told scary stories.

“Sugar is an essential food group, buzzard,” Aelin reminded him, “especially for teens.”

They stood just a bit away from the fire pit outside two of the cabins, just far enough away to not be distracting. It was Thursday meaning the week would officially finish out on Monday and the ranch would be able to return to its usual winter hours and day to day functions. Aelin was a little upset by the idea, but she was sure Rowan was as giddy as he could be over the prospect.

“I thought that was just you,” Rowan said.

Aelin kicked him with the toe of her boot. If her hands hadn’t been stuffed into the pockets of her coat, she might have flipped him off.

“Ha, ha,” she said.

“Seriously,” Rowan continued, “I’ve seen the stash you think you’re hiding in the kitchen.”

“Chocolate is good for the soul,” Aelin sniffed, “and I recommend the occasional indulgence as a therapist.”

Rowan shook his head, looking out over the fields behind them. A ghost of a smile fell across his lips and even in the flickering shadows of the fire, Aelin thought it was the most beautiful sight.

“Occasional indulgence, sure,” he murmured.

“We can’t all love kale as much as you do,” Aelin said. She’d seen what he came home with from the store. Kale and zucchini and any myriad of health foods.

He only smiled at her and Aelin felt it like a punch to the gut. She had no idea what had happened in the last few weeks, but somewhere along the way the loathing had simmered away to…appreciation? Admiration? Whatever the feeling was, she didn’t know where it came from, but it was here all the same.

“Thank-you for agreeing to this Rowan,” she said, before she could lose her nerve. “For agreeing to let us host this week and letting these kids come here. I know it’s not the most convenient thing. But I know it means a lot to them.”

And me, she added silently.

His smile fell just a touch. “Aelin—”

Whatever else he was about to say was swallowed up by Lysandra announcing it was time to head off to bed. The quiet contentment of the night disbanded as the kids all voiced their complaints and pleads for another story. Apparently Elide’s tales about bloodthirsty witches were all the rage.

But it was well nearing eleven and they’d all been up late enough as it was and Aelin herself was exhausted. They rounded everybody up and had them filter off to their cabins. Elide and Lorcan would serve as chaperones that night, giving Lysandra and Aedion a break.

Hopefully it would put a stop to a small issue growing between Luca and one of the other boys, Aelin didn’t know all the details as Luca refused to talk further about it, but she was worried nonetheless. And even if she wasn’t sure about the idea of Lorcan as a chaperone, Rowan assured her that he was surprisingly good with kids. Aelin decided she would trust Rowan on that front, and let the issue slide. For now.

…

Friday dawned dark and chilly. The sky was full of gray clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see. It made Aelin feel boxed in even if there was still just as much open air as before. But those clouds hung low and didn’t budge.

She tried to not let it bother her, it was bound to happen eventually. And in this area the weather was always changing. By the afternoon there would be a break in the clouds and the sun would return. Or else they’d just get a light skiff of snow.

The day was being treated as a small rest day, of sorts. The kids had helped cook breakfast for everyone, played a few games outside, and they were now headed out to the stables to help build a shed for the goats.

It was less of build and more of a supervision. If the kids wanted to help they could, if not, Aelin had it on good authority the goats enjoyed chasing people as a game. Plus, one of the stable hands that had volunteered to help out was a master sling-shot expert and could take the kids to the side of the barn to practice their skills (on non-living targets).

They got to the stables just after lunch and clean-up. This was going to fill most of the rest of the day and then lead into a few individual sessions with the kids. No one had mentioned that it was Christmas or anything of the sort and none of the kids seemed to be having any major issues. But Aelin wanted to have a chance to talk with them and see if this week had helped them at all. From what she could tell it hadn’t done any irreparable damage, but kids could be excellent at masking their emotions if they really wanted to.

As the building commenced, Aelin took note of Rowan’s truck outside the stables in its usual spot. Beside it was another car, a Tesla of all things. She’d thought Rowan was supposed to be in a business meeting, not at the stables.

She made sure the kids were all occupied doing what they were supposed to, or at least just having fun, before she walked over to where Lorcan was exchanging water for one of the troughs.

“Is Rowan here today?” she asked without preamble.

Lorcan raised a brow and leaned against the fence, balancing the empty blue water barrel beside him. “What?”

“Rowan,” she said, gesturing to his truck. “I didn’t think he would be on the property today.”

Looking away from her, Lorcan ran a hand over his jaw. It was obvious he was trying to decide what to say exactly and that made trepidation rise in Aelin’s throat.

“He’s here, I can’t tell you more than that though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Lorcan said, pushing off of the fence, “that you can talk to Rowan about it.”

He walked away then, leaving Aelin to mull over the words that she already didn’t like. She watched him trek back to the stables and a part of her expected to see Rowan walking out as though waiting for that exact moment.

It was foolish, she knew. Whatever worry was gnawing at her gut was unfounded and she didn’t need to get caught up on this.

Aelin forced herself back to where the kids were helping out with nails and plywood, a few had wandered off to stack crates together which the goats started climbing on with ease. She came to a stop beside Lysandra, stuffing her hands into her coat against another stiff breeze. The air smelled cold, if that could even be a scent. But she didn’t know how else to describe that stiff, clean sterility.

“What’s up?” Lysandra asked, leaning into her.

“Nothing,” Aelin replied, glancing one more time at the stables. “Nothing, it’s fine.”

Lysandra didn’t look convinced. She remained quiet though as she returned her attention out to the paddock of goats and kids.

Aelin did her best to try and pay attention to the kids and offer encouragement and commentary where needed, but her mind was elsewhere. Which, she knew was stupid. She shouldn’t be thinking about Rowan and what was going on with him and his “business meeting” if that’s what was really going on. And she shouldn’t even care whether or not it was for business. Right?

A part of her did care though. A part of her wondered what his meeting was about and why he hadn’t gone into detail about it with her. She knew they weren’t technically business partners, but she did a lot of work for him all the same. And the things that she did were specific to the business and therapy modem that Whitethorn ranch was known for. Shouldn’t she be at least a little involved?

Half an hour later, Aelin had almost completely distracted herself until she heard the sound of Rowan’s low voice. She spun towards it, already knowing what she would say to him. But the second she turned it wasn’t Rowan that caught her attention. It was the well-dressed man walking beside him.

Aelin felt her entire body seize up as a cold numbness swept through her. Static crackled in her ears and her mouth went dry.

Because there beside Rowan was the man who had ruined Aelin’s life.

With auburn hair hanging loose around his face and gray suit that never seemed to wrinkle or stain--Arobynn Hamel looked the same as the day Aelin last saw him. She still hadn’t been released from the hospital after the accident, still unsure if she’d be able to walk again, and still unsure what her life would look like. But she’d held on to hope. She’d held on long enough for him to come and place blame directly on her shoulders before sauntering away as though he couldn’t have cared less about what happened to her.

She’d been nineteen then. Nineteen and convinced that he was supposed to be the answer to all her problems. That was the thing about glorifying people when you were a kid, you never understood just what a dangerous game that was.

She tried reaching out for Lysandra, but her friend had entered the goat paddock to help hold a few boards in place. She was alone. Alone and watching the second Arobynn saw her. He immediately made a b-line towards her.

“Well, well,” Arobynn said as he approached. Just as he’d always been, he had that cold arrogance about him. It was the same sort of swagger than everyone in their circles had. The kind of money and stature, that he was better than everyone else around him. He had to be in his mid-thirties now. Though, he didn’t look it. He was just as handsome as ever. “Aelin. What a pleasant surprise.”

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. Swallow and look past that perfectly charming smile he wore. “Hamel. What are you doing here?”

Arobynn merely smiled, stretching his arms. “You don’t know? Rowan and I are in the midst of a business deal.”

Behind Arobynn, Rowan appeared. He looked just the same as he always did: brooding, stoic, and pissed to hell and back. His green eyes flicked between Aelin and Arobynn, scowl deepening.

Aelin felt the pit in her stomach grow and she swore she was going to vomit. She did her best to remain in control of her emotions as she looked at Rowan.

“What deal, Rowan?” she asked. Though, she already knew the answer, didn't she?

“I’m buying the land,” Arobynn answered before Rowan could. “I’ve been expanding my business, didn’t you know?”

No, she didn’t. Because Aelin had done everything in her power to avoid anything that had to do with Hamel in the last several years.

As though sensing her distress, Arobynn flashed another sharp smile. “I look forward to working with you again, Aelin. Just like old times, isn’t it?”

There was nothing she could say. She couldn’t trust herself not to yell or scream or cry or any combination of the three. That would be showing weakness. And she was not weak.

“I’ll have my attorney look over your offer,” Rowan said quietly, drawing Hamel’s attention again. “We’ll be in contact.”

“Good,” Arobynn said, “I’d rather see this done sooner than later. Whitethorn.”

Without any semblance of pleasantries, Arobynn left them and returned to his car. That stupid silver Tesla that looked like a box and had no business being out on a farm. For all Aelin cared it could go crash in a borough and get waylaid by hay and snow. It wasn’t until the car silently pulled away and back down that Aelin felt her own voice return.

“You’re selling?” It was more of an accusation than anything.

Rowan straightened; arms still crossed over his chest. “Yes.”

“Why?” At least her voice wasn’t shaking. At least she still sounded somewhat in control.

“Because I have to,” Rowan replied, but he looked away from her and Aelin knew that wasn’t the truth of it. “The why doesn’t even matter Aelin, you wouldn’t understand.”

A laugh escaped her. Of course she wouldn’t. Because she’d only been here a few short months, she wasn’t really a part of the life here or any of where the ranch had come from. But she’d still put her blood, sweat, and tears into the ranch. She’d wanted to see it succeed, that’s why Rowan had even hired her as a part time trauma specialist, wasn’t it?

“I know enough about this place,” she said, “it’s a staple of the community, of honest good work that no one else does, Rowan. I know that much. I understand that much. That it’s helped more people get unstuck from life than just about any other program I’ve seen.”

He only shook his head, hand running through his hair. The silver locks fell over his brow and for a moment, for one brief moment, Aelin thought she saw a part of him that she could reconcile with. A softer allusion of the hard contours that Rowan often displayed.

“My reasons are my own,” he said firmly. His eyes sparked with anger as he watched her. “And it doesn’t really matter beyond that. I can't keep doing this. And--why do you even care? It won’t even affect you that much. Hamel’s going to keep it as a horse ranch mostly, and agrees with the work going on. I don't think he'd change much. He obviously likes you, so you can do whatever you want.”

Aelin couldn’t hide her flinch. She tucked her arms around her middle more as an effort of protection and hiding than anything else. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please, Aelin. You don’t need me here,” Rowan said, “this place will do well enough without me.”

“So you’re giving up?” She could only stare at him. This wasn’t the Rowan Whitethorn she’d come to know, the one that she fought with on a daily basis. This was someone else entirely.

“It’s none of your business, Aelin.”

“I’m a part of this ranch, aren’t I? I’ve been here for months, and for what?”

“I never asked you to stick around.” Rowan let out an exasperated huff.

“He’s not a good man, Rowan,” Aelin said. Most of the fight had gone out of her, replaced with dread and pain. “You don’t want him buying this land, your home.”

“He’s rich, what does it matter?” Rowan pressed. “He’ll be able to do more with this place than I ever could.”

Aelin could only shake her head. Yes, Arobynn was rich. Rich enough that he could whatever he wanted, consequences be damned. She tilted her head up just in time to catch a snowflake on her cheek. The small chill was electrifying on her hot skin. Slowly, more flakes continued to fall, fat and thick it looked like the forecast had finally chosen to be right.

“I can’t do this,” she finally said, “I’m going to check on the kids.”

She didn’t wait for Rowan to try and call her back. She didn’t realize until she was entering the goat paddock that she had wanted him to.

…

It wasn’t until later that night as the kids were eating that Aelin had a moment to talk with Lysandra. The snow had picked up and continued to fall throughout the afternoon driving them all inside, which after a week full of activities and being outside continually--it was a welcome break.

They were inside one of the cabins, pizza and soda spread out for the kids to enjoy. Almost everything about the day had gone well. If you didn’t count the Hamel matter. The distraction and reality of what her life was spiraling towards wasn’t the best way to head into individual sessions, but Aelin had learned long ago how to compartmentalize.

Now, she was able to feel a little more relaxed as she and Lysandra were able to sit back while the kids started a terrible round of UNO.

“He’s so lucky I didn’t see him,” Lysandra said around a mouthful of pizza. “I would have kicked him in the balls then dragged his ass around from the back of a tractor, you know I would’ve.”

“I know,” Aelin assured her.

She picked at her pizza, appetite long since gone. All she could think about was the fact that she’d seen and spoken with Hamel. And she’d survived it.

It was strange, being faced with a reality you thought was finally put behind you. But that was life, wasn’t it? You just kept learning the same lesson over and over again. She just wondered what she was supposed to learn this time around.

“Did he say anything to Rowan?” Lysandra asked. “Does Rowan know anything?”

“I hope not,” Aelin said. That would just be icing on the cake.

Her past was a mess as it was. Rehashing it and telling her side of things after someone had already been exposed to the lies of the story—well it wouldn’t do any good.

Still, Aelin didn’t want to think that Rowan knew about what had transpired. Or if he’d think any different about her over it. Most people did when they learned the truth and even if she was mad at him, Aelin didn’t think she could bear Rowan looking at her any different.

The story began back when she was sixteen. Sixteen and in the throes of series equestrian training. And she wasn’t the type to show in the dressage. Aelin was a competitive rider in barrel racing, jumping, and the grittier events. Her former trainer had just moved and who was to fill the position than Arobynn Hamel.

His methods were brutal and his words were cruel. But young as she was, Aelin could only see what he could make of her. And her parents had been none the wiser either.

Even after the drugs and borderline abuse.

Aelin shook off the memories. “It doesn’t matter if Rowan knows or not, does it? He isn’t going to stick around. He made that clear.”

“Are you going to stay,” Lysandra asked. Her voice was painfully soft and Aelin had a hard time meeting her friend’s eyes.

“No. I can’t…I can’t be around Hamel again, Lys.” Aelin set her uneaten pizza aside. “After everything…I thought I finally had a place, you know? That this was a good fit for me. Even if Rowan’s an ass and doesn’t like me. I liked the work.”

“Maybe if you talked—”

“No.” Aelin shook her head, cutting Lysandra off before she could even begin. “Rowan won’t talk it out. He’d just sell the place faster if it meant getting rid of me.”

Lysandra sighed. “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

Lysandra didn’t answer, instead waving as Elide walked through the door, leaving a blistering trail of snow outside behind her.

“I hope it’s alright to stop by,” Elide said with a smile. She grabbed a piece of pizza and settled between Aelin and Lysandra. “Lorcan’s still finishing up at the stables.”

“Good,” Lysandra said, moving over so Elide had plenty of space. “We need to talk sense into Aelin.”

“I’m not a miracle worker, you know,” Elide replied. She grinned all the same and nudged Aelin’s leg with her foot. “What kind of sense are we talking?”

Aelin groaned, shaking her head. One of the counselors took a few of the kids to the other cabin to prepare for bed. It was nearing that time where they would all turn in. The growing storm outside made the night feel sleepy and dark. Not that Aelin minded. Sometimes a lazy night was just what she needed, especially when she could curl up with a book.

“Lysandra thinks I’m being too hard on Rowan for deciding to sell the ranch,” Aelin told Elide, careful about how loud she spoke. She didn’t want to risk upsetting the remaining kids or the other counselors.

Elide’s eyes widened at the news.

“You can’t tell—” Aelin said quickly. She shouldn’t have even told Lysandra about Rowan’s plans. Even if Lorcan already knew about Rowan’s decision, it was just in bad form for Aelin to be gossiping out it.

“I won’t,” Elide assured her. “I promise.”

What Aelin had done to deserve friends like Lysandra and Elide, she didn’t know. As she tugged on the end of her braid she didn’t know where to begin.

“I know I don’t really have a hand in this ranch or can’t tell him what to do,” Aelin said, “but I’ve put so much work into it that…”

Aelin let her words trail off. Did it really matter what she’d done? He obviously didn’t care enough to listen to her. She couldn’t care. She shouldn’t. Because in the end, she always came out alone.

She was going to tell her friends that she was fine and it didn’t matter when the shouting started from the other cabin.

Back at the main house, Rowan and Aedion were settling everything in for the night. After baking four giant pizzas for the kids (delivery drivers refused to drive all the way out to the ranch and the weather had taken a bit of a chilly turn) they settled in to watch the latest football game.

What he didn’t expect was for Aedion to strike up a conversation.

“You know,” Aedion said as a commercial break started, “I’ve never seen a place like this ranch before, it’s pretty remarkable what you’ve done.”

Rowan really didn’t know if that was true. All he’d done was come in after his grandparents and parents established everything for him. The last few years it felt like he’d barely been treading water. Until the last few months when Aelin had swept in with her binders and her plans and damned conspiratorial smile.

“I haven’t done much,” Rowan replied. Mostly kept everything afloat as best he could. “It’s mostly been Aelin bringing things back to life.”

It really was an apt description of the woman. She was vibrant in the way she approached everything she did. Never did she let anything pass by that was half-hearted or untended. Rather, she made sure it was taken care of properly. It was probably what made the fall season so successful. No…no probably about it, it was what made the season one of the best in several years.

“She does tend to do that, doesn't she?” Aedion laughed. “It’s annoying as hell, because then she thinks she’s always right. Which, I mean, technically she is always right, but she can’t know that. She’d be insufferable if we told her.”

Rowan shook his head in agreement. Though, if he thought about it, Aelin had enough confidence that even if she were wrong about something she would make things work in the end. She had the faith and the sheer force of will to see something accomplished that an obstacle was merely a stepping stone to what she wanted.

“So,” Rowan began, a thought occurring to him as he thought about his own understanding of Aelin. “How do you know Aelin? I never got that story?”

That earned him an amused look from Aedion who sat up straighter.

“She’s an Ashryver, you know,” Aedion said slowly, “as in Rhoe and Evalin Ashryver Galathyinius.”

Rowan froze at the pronouncement and slowly, painful understanding washed over him. “What?”

In the chair across from him, Aedion shook his head, blond hair falling in his face.

“Doesn’t surprise me that you didn’t know,” Aedion chuckled wryly. “She doesn’t use her mom’s name very much, considering...But yeah. Ashryver-Galathynius. We’re cousins, were raised together through just about anything. I was there in all of Aelin’s training when she really got into the horse scene. She was the national champion in racing and show three years in a row until the accident.”

Rowan could only stare blankly at Aedion. He didn’t know how he’d missed the similarities, hell, their eyes were even the same. Why wouldn’t Aelin say anything? Especially when he had given her so much crap about being a city girl. She could have shut him up without any effort.

Though, at Aedion’s mention of an accident, he remembered something vaguely happening in the world of showing and competition. That side of the horse world was something he’d never stayed completely caught up in. Especially not years ago when he’d been so busy with taking the ranch over.

“She was nineteen, it was going to be her fourth year in a row of winning that championship,” Aedion explained, “and she’d put herself through hell for it. She kept herself in the best shape, hardly ate. Was always training. Her trainer—” a sour look flashed over Aedion’s face— “her trainer wouldn’t leave well enough alone and always pushed her further than anyone should go, not at that age. It was never proven, but I’m pretty sure they slipped her drugs and the horse too because they were racing barrels which is Aelin’s best event and next thing you know the horse gets spooked and Aelin goes flying.”

Aedion paused, running a hand over his jaw as he stared into the fireplace. “It’s a miracle she wasn’t paralyzed. Or worse. Arobynn never even got a slap on the wrist for it.”

Rowan’s gut churned in a sickening way. “Arobynn Hamel?”

The dark look in Aedion’s eyes was answer enough.

Rowan remembered all the times in the last several months of how he’d berated Aelin for her lack of knowledge on a ranch, how she shied away from the horses. He’d accused her of so many things that he just hadn’t known about.

“She recovered eventually,” Aedion said, “but I don’t think she was ever the same. She never got on a horse again after that. But she volunteered a lot at various stables back in Terrasen or at those camps for kids with autism, y’know? Kinda like what you do here. And then she got her degree and has talked about applying for a doctorate. Damn. She was always going to become something.”

“I didn’t know, about her past, I mean,” Rowan murmured. His fingers tightened on the drink in his hand, long forgotten in the conversation.

“It’s why she tends to drop her mom’s name,” Aedion said, he shot Rowan a wry smile. “She doesn’t want that to be all people associate with her. Her parents love her, don’t get me wrong, but they always put so much pressure on her. Rhoe and Evalin practically raised me too and I got the same treatment. The Ashryvers aren’t known for weakness.”

If there was anything Rowan had learned in the past week, it was the truth of that sentence. Aelin was so much more than the city girl he’d first thought her to be. Everything she had done in her time on the ranch had been to help the kids and families that came through. She had worked so hard to turn this place into a functioning therapy ranch and she’d done a damn good job at it.

And he’d gone on to sell the ranch.

Not that he really owed the explanation to anyone. Sellene was guilt-tripping him enough as it was. But he’d found the last few months to be more bearable. Somehow. Impossibly. Even with Aelin being as difficult as she was sometimes. But that was what he liked about her. She challenged him. She made plans and got things done. She was fearless.

And he’d gone on to sell the ranch.

The one place she’d said made her feel like she was coming home.

“I need to--” Rowan began, already reaching for his phone so that he could call her.

He didn’t get far though when the front door opened with a loud thud. Rowan was on his feet in an instant, for some reason thinking it would be Aelin. Instead, it was Lysandra and Elide with a very distraught Evangeline. The young girl had tears streaming down her cheeks and snow was still melting in her hair from the storm raging outside.

“What happened?” Rowan demanded, already sensing the trouble afoot.

Evangeline shrunk back into Lysandra, shaking slightly. Rowan doubted it was from the chill. He cursed himself for adding to the girl's distress. If he remembered correctly, Evangeline was in between foster homes as the last place was unsuitable. That scar on her cheek was fresh enough that Rowan could guess what unsuitable meant.

He softened his voice. “Is everyone alright?”

Evangeline squeaked, her hair falling in her face. Behind her, Lysandra made a soothing sound as she gently brushed Evie’s hair back. Her glare cut right into Rowan making it clear what she thought about him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Lysandra said, “you’re not in trouble. Just tell Rowan what happened.”

Evangeline sniffed loudly and nodded. “It was Luca. He and Derek got in a fight when we were playing a game and Luca left and I told him not to but—” Evangeline forced a shuddering breath “—but he left anyway out in the snow. So I went and got Aelin and Lysandra.”

“Aelin went out looking for him,” Lysandra finished quietly. She gave Evangeline’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “But it’s turning into a blizzard out there, I don’t know how far either of them will get. We left one of the other counselors to keep an eye on the rest of the kids.”

All Rowan could register in that moment was Aelin is out in the blizzard. It took his remembering that they were all looking to him for answers for him to snap to attention. He turned to Elide.

“Lorcan?” He asked.

“Finishing up in the stables,” Elide said, “he’s probably still there. And probably let her take a horse.”

Rowan doubted that. Even if Lorcan wasn’t fond of Aelin, he wouldn’t let her go out in this weather.

“Try calling him,” Rowan said, “see what he knows.”

When Elide nodded and stepped away, he looked back at Evangeline who was still shaking against Lysandra.

“It’s alright, Evangeline,” he said, “you did the right thing by letting us know what happened. Are you still cold?”

“N-no,” the girl stuttered softly.

Rowan held out a hand to her anyway. “Come have a seat by the fire, I’ve got hot chocolate in the kitchen too.”

Hesitantly, Evangeline accepted his offer. He got her settled in the chair he’d vacated and found one of the many fleece blankets Aelin had left lying around. After wrapping her up, Aedion had his phone out and played a Disney movie to distract the girl.

The adults huddled together in the kitchen while Rowan readied the promised hot chocolate.

“Lorcan said that Aelin took off on one of the mares,” Elide said quietly. She still held her phone to her ear, the call with Lorcan active. “He wants to know if he should go after her.”

“I’ll come out to the stables now, have him wait for me,” Rowan replied. He pulled a freshly heated mug from the microwave and dumped in a cocoa packet. It wasn’t the best but it’s do in a pinch. Besides, knowing that Aelin spent so much time up here there was bound to be whipped cream in the fridge and marshmallows in a cabinet. “I’ll ride out with him.”

Lysandra took the mug from him. “Then go. I’ll finish this. I don’t know about riding horses.”

Rowan looked at Aedion who shrugged.

“I mean,” the other man said, “I know how to stay on.”

“Good enough,” Rowan said. He turned to Elide next.

“I’ll wait at the barn with blankets and flashing lights,” she said before he could get a word out. “Now let's go, the snow is only going to get worse.”

It was more than enough to kick the rest of them into action.

After finding all the spare coats, socks, and blankets they could, they piled into Rowan’s truck and made the quick trip across the drive to the stables. All Rowan could focus on was the snow.

It no longer fell in thick innocuous fluff, rather it had turned to tiny flecks of ice that could cut skin. The heavy wind didn’t help anything either. The weather had quickly dissolved from mediocre to abysmal in the span of an hour. The snow was no longer sticking to the ground, instead billowing in icy white clouds all around them. Any semblance of being on an actual road was lost.

Rowan tried not to let it bother him. He tried to remind himself that Luca wouldn’t get far in this weather. Aelin was an experienced rider…even if she hadn’t been on a horse in nearly ten years. His gut still churned in trepidation and a mild sense of panic set his heart to racing. It was fine.

They reached the barn to find the side door open and Lorcan’s outline waiting with two horses already geared up and ready.

Piling from the truck, Rowan threw on his coat and grabbed the thick goose down parka for when they found Luca. He wrapped a scarf around his face as best he could to protect from the wind.

Aedion had the same idea. He’d also found a hand to pull down over his hair and ears.

“No,” Lorcan said as soon as he saw Elide’s smaller form emerge from around the truck. “Absolutely not. Go back to the main house.”

Had her arms not been full of blankets and spare coats, Rowan expected Elide would have flipped her boyfriend off.

“Make me.” She gave him a look that offered no room for argument and slipped into the stables.

Lorcan turned to Rowan, fury clearly written in his face.

“She’s going to stay back and keep the lights on for when we make our way back,” Rowan told him. “She’ll be fine.”

In any other situation, Rowan was sure Lorcan would have argued further. Instead, he passed off the reins to Goldryn.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said. He then turned to Aedion to offer the other horse. Rowan had no doubt a third was already saddled and bridled just inside the doors.

Rowan made no promises as to what sort of decisions he would be making. He merely got one foot in the stirrups and hauled himself up. They’d wasted enough time and he wanted to get out there and find both Aelin and Luca.

“Rowan!”

He turned to see Elide running towards him. She waved an object in one hand, a flashlight.

“Phones will be useless,” she explained. “And I can’t find any walkie-talkies. Morse code, yeah?”

Smart. He accepted the light and clicked it on and off again. “Thanks.”

“Just find them.” Her dark eyes were pleading but nothing else about her smaller stature betrayed any of her worry. When Rowan nodded in assurance, she turned back to the stables. Rowan tucked the flashlight into the front of his coat before finally turning towards the direction he thought Luca would have gone from the cabins.

As the wind picked up and sent another cloud of snow to wash over them, Rowan tensed for a moment before urging Goldryn on. They had some ground to cover before they made it to the cabins. But it had been at least twenty minutes since Luca had run off. Even with the terrible weather, a determined kid on the run could do a lot of damage.

“C’mon girl,” Rowan called, nudging Goldryn into a canter.

He knew this land better than anyone. And he wouldn’t let anything happen to Luca or Aelin if he could help it.

…

Ice cut into Aelin’s skin as she and Farasha continued through the snow. She hadn’t thought to grab a scarf or face covering, hadn’t thought to find a thicker coat. The best she’d grabbed was a thin lap blanket. All she’d heard was that Luca ran off into the storm after an argument with one of the other kids. She would have thought about strangling Luca if she weren’t so worried about him.

“Luca!” she called out, wincing at the cold wind nearly choking her own voice.

She hadn’t even let her own panic take over at the thought of riding again. She’d saddled up the large horse in record time and told Lorcan to ready two other horses for him and Rowan to come search with her. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Rowan may not come, may not care as much as she did. But even if she was pissed off at him, she couldn’t imagine that he would stand idly by when a kid was caught out here in the weather.

Her fingers were stiff as she gripped the reins, grateful at least for that bit of distraction. It had been ages since she’d been on a horse and ridden. After breaking her back in a nasty fall and dealing with the repercussions from Hamel, she had sworn she would never get on another horse. She had sworn she would never return to this life. But here she was because all she wanted to do was help the kids who needed it.

She shuddered and not just from the cold.

The terrain wasn’t terrible, even with the way the rolling snow covered the ground and how dark the night had gotten. Even in the last seven months Aelin had grown used to the land. She’d spent hours walking, running, and just enjoying the ranch. Between walks with the kids she worked with or helping with moving the small herd of goats from pasture to pasture—Aelin felt like she knew the ranch as well as anyone.

Yet, as the wind continued to howl and the snow beat relentlessly against her side, Aelin had the sickening feeling she was getting lost. She fumbled for her phone and pulled up the flashlight. It hardly made a difference, in fact, the light was swallowed up almost as soon as it left the phone.

Aelin bit her lip to keep from cursing. She didn’t want any more cold air in her mouth finding its way down into her lungs.

How long had she been out here? An hour? Two? How long would Luca last with just his pajamas and simple coat?

Beneath her, Farasha grunted. It would only be a matter of time before the horse had had enough and would insist on turning back.

With numb fingers, Aelin patted the horse’s neck. They would find Luca. They had to.

The only logical direction Luca could go from the cabins was the main house. But if he were too embarrassed or upset, he may just go in the opposite direction. But all there would be was darkness. Empty and heavy. Or…or maybe…

Aelin thought back to the first day Luca had arrived and when she’d showed him the old homestead. It was an old cabin that Rowan’s great-grandfather had first lived in upon buying the land. She’d told Luca the same story Rowan had told her: with hardly any money his great-grandparents made that tiny cabin a home until they could till the land and make a living come spring. They’d survived against all odds and used it as a sign of a new beginning.

Spurring Farasha on, Aelin took off for the cabin. Luca had been enthralled by the story, asking question after question, he even asked to visit the cabin a second and third time.

Okay, okay, okay. It was the only thing Aelin could think that wouldn’t send her into a different sort of plummeting thoughts.

Even as the icy wind and sharp snow continued their assault, she told herself that everything was okay.

Aelin was beginning to lose hope, letting the soul wrenching feel of dread rise up within her. It had been too long. There was no sign of the cabin nor of Luca.

This was her fault. It was all her fault.

A flicker in the distance caught her attention. A shadow mingling with the already thickly cloying shadows and manipulations of the storm.

“Luca!” Aelin yelled. As Farasha continued diligently on, the small old cabin came into view and there, trekking towards it was a small hunkered shape. “Luca!”

The shape stopped and Aelin heard a voice in the wind. Hope rose within her, beating against the dread and panic.

“Hold on!” Sensing her urgency, Farasha pressed on, though Aelin could tell it was with reluctance.

It took several agonizing minutes to move the few yards closer to the cabin but they made it. And there, trying desperately to reach the old cabin was Luca.

Aelin let out a string of curses as she slid off of Farasha. She gripped the lap blanket in one hand, keeping it close as she ran to Luca. The boy couldn’t reach out to her, his arms wrapped tight around him. His coat was too thin for this weather, his old boots unlaced. Aelin swore his skin was blue, not just his lips.

“A-a-aelin?” he stuttered, the sound of her name was too soft from his mouth.

Aelin threw the blanket around him. She pulled him against her and wrapped her arms around his middle as she tried to rub warmth into his limbs.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, unable to curb her own panic. “Luca. Luca. Luca.”

The boy trembled against her. He was trying to talk, to apologize, but Aelin kept him tugged against him so tight his words were muffled.

Ice stung Aelin’s eyes as she pulled away and knelt before him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, speaking over the sound of the wind.

He nodded even as his body still shook. Hell.

Aelin drew Luca back against her side. “It’s going to be fine. I’ve got Farasha and we’re going to get back to the house. Everything’s fine.”

She wasted no time in leading Luca to the horse. She boosted him up into the saddle, helping him scoot as far up as he could. Aelin braced herself as she scrambled up on the horse behind him. The motion wasn’t as smooth as it could have been. Combined with lack of practice, cold, and, admittedly, fear, Aelin didn’t let it bother her.

Once settled, she pulled Luca against her chest and reached for the reins.

“We’re alright,” she told him. What else could she say? “We’re going to go back to the house and get you warmed up.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Luca chattered. “I knew I shouldn’t have left.”

Aelin shushed him gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

Luca trembled against her chest but fell quiet as he tucked his face into the blanket, she’d given him. The wind had picked up and snow swirled around them. Aelin squinted, trying to keep ice from pricking her eyes. It only made tears start to well and track down her cheeks. In a matter of seconds, she could feel her skin freeze. Aelin dared not blink for fear of her eyes freezing shut. Instead, she tapped her heels against Farasha’s side.

Even with the added load of Luca, the horse surged forward. Aelin had no idea if they were headed in the right direction. All she could do was hope that the horse had a better sense of where they were than she. But with how dark the night had fallen and the increased snowfall, Aelin couldn’t help the panic welling within her. She had found Luca, sure, but that was only half the problem.

Now they had to trek back through the storm to the stables. Aelin guided Farasha as best she could, but the sheets of snow that swirled around them certainly didn’t help.

To ease her own worry, she wrapped an arm around Luca, keeping him close. He was still conscious, which was good. She tried asking him questions to make sure he stayed that way but after a few rounds of feeling like her throat was freezing and Luca’s continued shudders--she stopped.

Come on, she thought to herself. She was strong enough to do this. Strong enough to get Luca back safely. Even if no one else thought much of her--she could see this through.

And then what? She’d be out of a job. Likely forced to move back to the city and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to stay here either if what Rowan said was true.

If Arobynn Hamel took over the ranch Aelin knew she couldn’t stay. Hamel was cruel to say the least. Vindictive, arrogant, abusive. He had pushed Aelin beyond her limits and was the reason her life had changed forever.

She wanted to hate Rowan for what he had planned. But how could he have known? She never talked about her past as it was. It wasn’t even any of his business if she did leave.

Damn him. Damn him for giving up on this place in the first place. And damn him for making her think that she almost had a home here.

A shiver rolled through Aelin’s body. How could she still feel the cold? Everything was numb at this point. She didn’t even know how she could remain upright in the saddle, let alone hold the reins. But the cold had settled in so deep that it was simply an extension of who she was now.

They passed by a fence post that Aelin didn’t recognize. Or did she? Was it the one along the easter paddock? That meant they were near the stables right?

The top of the post only had a thin layer of snow on top, the barbed wire extending along to the next post already had icicles forming.

As if sensing her unease, Farasha moved a little faster. But, really, there wasn’t much the horse could do. Not in these conditions.

Aelin tilted her face up to the sky, as though that would do anything. All she could see was the mass of snow and ice continuing to fall. The gray sky overhead a mass of terror and pure power. Never had she felt so insignificant until that moment. She was a small speck in comparison to the universe overhead.

She dropped her head again and stared forward, willing herself to see some chance of hope.

There was nothing. Nothing but white. Nothing but gray. Nothing but--

A flash of light.

Aelin straightened in the saddle and stared at where she’d seen the flash. She hadn’t imagined it. She couldn’t have.

There it was again!

A quick flash followed by a longer one. The flashes continued in somewhat the same manner, like morse code.

Aelin’s fingers were too stiff to try for her phone. She would have dropped it before managing to get it unlocked. All she could do was guide Farasha towards the light. Aelin had never learned morse code beyond SOS. But she’d been out on this land plenty of times and she knew there weren’t any strange flashing lights around. And these flashes seemed too deliberate in any case.

It was the only reassurance she could hold on to. That and keeping Luca in one arm.

Another few minutes passed on until Aelin could hear a voice on the wind. She didn’t register it at first, but it was familiar. The shout came again; long and steady.

“Luca! Aelin!” Their names were drawn out into multiple syllables but it was someone shouting for them.

Not just someone. Aelin would have recognized that voice anywhere.

The flashlight beam grew stronger the closer they got and Aelin could soon make out a shape sitting astride a horse.

“Rowan,” she whispered, more to herself than anything. Because who else could it be. “Rowan!”

It was only a minute later that had Goldryn loping toward them with Rowan. He still had the flashlight in one hand, beaming brightly against the night.

“Aelin!” he yelled. He drew in close, close enough to grab her shoulder.

The flashlight helped illuminate him enough that Aelin could see the taut lines of his face, his eyes wide in panic. The scarf around his lower face had fallen away and snow was building up in the creases. But it was him. He was here, staring at her like she was the greatest damn thing he’d ever seen.

“We’re fine,” she said, loud over the storm. “But we need to get Luca warmed up.”

Rowan dropped his gaze to the boy who was still pressed against Aelin’s chest.

“Let's go,” he said, “it’s not that far.”

Aelin could only nod as he turned Goldryn and led the way to the stables. Farasha, blessedly brilliant beast that she was, followed without any prompting.

The tightness in Aelin’s chest loosened with each step made. They had made it. It really was going to be alright.

Quicker than Aelin realized, the stables came into view. Bright light from the floodlights broke through the storm and she could see the doors were cracked open just a bit. Two other horses were by the doors being tended to. It took Aelin several moments to realize it was Lorcan and Aedion waiting there. They soon disappeared into the barn, taking the two horses with them.

When Rowan and Aelin reached the stable doors, both men had returned. Lorcan wasted not time in coming to Aelin’s side. He grabbed Luca from the saddle, hauling the boy into his arms and taking him inside. Aelin could only stare after. She had no idea if she could move, let alone blink.

It wasn’t until Rowan appeared in her line of sight that she did blink, miraculously without frozen eyes. She had no idea when he’d gotten off his horse but here he was right beside her. He reached out, one hand going to her side as he gently tugged her off of Farasha.

She fell into him. It was an accident, really. But her body was still numb and she might have been in shock, but she went tumbling off of the saddle in as inelegant a dismount as could be imagined. Rowan’s arms stayed around her, keeping them both upright.

“I got you,” he murmured into her ear. He kept a firm hold on her as she slowly regained her balance.

Somehow, he still had warmth to share. As he kept her tight in his grasp, Aelin could practically feel her own body leeching it off of him. She was desperate to feel anything other than the raging cold threatening to freeze her entire body.

Lorcan appeared in another minute and helped with Farasha, Aedion took control of Goldryn.

Rowan led Aelin into the stables that were already infinitely warmer than the storm outside. There seated on a few bales of hay was Elide, well at work with getting Luca wrapped in a fresh blanket and tugging a hat over his head.

“You’re half frozen,” Rowan said. He kept walking Aelin away from the opened doors of the stables. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Aelin could only stare at him.

The familiar scowl was in place and his brow was furrowed as he worked to get her out of her wet coat. A thin and useless coat, he pointed out. He replaced it by draping a thicker one over her shoulders, holding it in place when she didn’t take it herself.

All she could do was stare at him. He had come for her. He had gone out into that storm and came to find her. Luca too. But with the way he was staring at her and brushing the messy strands of hair from her face--all Aelin could really process was that he was here for her.

“You’re fussing,” she managed to whisper.

“Of course I’m fussing,” he said, incredulity spreading across his face. “Aelin, you’re freezing.”

Of course she was. She’d spent the better part of an hour (more?) searching through a blizzard on a horse looking for Luca. Her entire body shook with cold and a mild panic of what she’d just accomplished.

Rowan tugged the coat tighter around her as he kept talking. But Aelin couldn’t hear what he was going on about. A shrill ringing started in her ears blocking almost everything else out. And then the shivers wouldn’t stop. Her entire body was shaking and it was all she could do to stay on her own two feet before she pitched forward straight into Rowan, vision going black.

…

When Aelin woke, she found herself surrounded by a thick warmth that engulfed her. It was far welcome from the dreams of freezing snow and wind that she’d had all night. Grateful for the thick blankets tucked all around her, Aelin snuggled in deeper, breathing in a familiar scent of pine.

Her eyes snapped open with sudden awareness.

She wasn’t in her own bed.

Pain lanced through her head as she tried sitting up. The sheer weight of the blankets piled on top of her was enough to keep her down though, for at least a minute longer.

What the hell had happened? Her body ached as though she’d run a marathon and she was certain her toes were frozen solid and—

And there had been the blizzard. And Luca. And she’d gotten on a horse and rose out into a blizzard to find him.

That thought alone spurred her on. She shoved the thick quilts aside, pausing only at the patchwork of the top blanket that was a blend of greens and silvers in a pattern she couldn’t quite make out, but it was handmade. She could tell that much.

Aelin then realized that she was in Rowan’s room. If not for the scent of pine and the obvious splashes of green throughout the decoration, then the picture on the bedside table. It was of a boy no more than ten with a shock of silver hair standing on a dock that overlooked a lake. In one hand he held up a fishing line with a giant fish dangling from the hook. Beside him was an older man, his father, who had a proud grin on his face as he wrapped an arm around the boy. And there was another picture of a woman with tan skin and brilliant green eyes smiling down at a bundled baby in her arms.

She was in Rowan’s room.

The thought shocked her enough that she remained seated on the edge of the bed right up until the door opened. Mind still reeling, Aelin could only watch as Rowan himself slowly stepped into the room.

He stopped immediately upon seeing her awake and sitting up. Dressed in his usual attire of jeans and flannel she almost would have guessed she hadn’t been asleep that long. If it hadn’t been for his disheveled hair or the stubble on his chin and cheeks.

“You should be asleep,” Rowan said. He held a cup of water in one hand and slowly walked it over to her, setting it on the bedside table she’d just been examining.

“I was,” Aelin replied, even with the short words her voice rasped with disuse and exhaustion.

Rowan who now stood just before her, his knees brushing hers, reached out and brushed a few messy strands of hair from her face. His fingers were warm against her skin and the calluses rough as they scraped gently along her cheek. The expression in his eyes held something Aelin wasn’t sure how to read. She’d thought she’d gotten decent enough at interpreting Rowan that it unsettled her just a bit.

Instead of the depthless sea of green she was so accustomed to, he was now guarded and hesitant. Compared to his usual assurance and confidence--Aelin was at a loss of what to say.

“Drink this,” Rowan said, filling the silence. He pushed the glass of water into her hands along with a few pain pills and the granola bar. “And eat. The pills will settle better with something in your stomach.”

Aelin set the items aside. “I’m fine.”

“Aelin.”

The warning in his voice had Aelin’s hackles rising. She set her jaw and glared right back at him.

“I’m fine.”

They stared at each other, neither budging. And they could sit there all day for all Aelin was concerned. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep or of any of the other details of her passing out, but she did know she was still pissed Rowan and she would hold out for as long as--

“Please,” Rowan said, voice uncharacteristically soft, “just eat something.”

The breath stilled in Aelin’s lungs. When had she ever heard him say please? It was such a strange word coming from him that Aelin automatically reached for the granola bar and unwrapped it. She took a few bites before swallowing the pain pills with some of the water.

“Happy?” she asked, placing the water back on the bedside table.

Rowan, as expected, remained silent. When he turned aways from her, Aelin thought he was going to give her some peace and quiet, but he was only putting a little distance between them. Which was probably for the best considering Aelin was having a difficult time breathing normally when he was so close. She would blame it on nearly getting hypothermia. That was it.

“Do you have any idea how stupid it was for you to go out like you did?” he demanded. He’d stepped back closer to the window, pale light filtering through the thin curtains to illuminate him enough that Aelin could better see the outlines of his face and the stiff way he held himself.

“I was trying to find Luca,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Get help,” Rowan said, “it was a blizzard Aelin, what if something had happened?”

“Exactly.” She rose to her feet, blinking back the fuzzy blackness along the edge of her vision. She wasn’t going to let him berate her. “I couldn’t let something happen to Luca. He was my responsibility. It’s a miracle I found him at all.”

Aelin waited expectantly for him to say something else. To continue to tell her how stupid she was, how upset he was. That she’d made mistake after mistake.

But he didn’t.

Rowan stood before her, hands on his hips and lips pressed tight together. Silent.

“I wasn’t going to leave him,” Aelin said, and she was shocked to find emotion beginning to clog her throat. “I couldn’t.”

And then Rowan did the absolute last thing she expected. He hugged her.

One moment he was two feet away looking as mad as she’d ever seen him, the next he was pulling her into a bone crushing hug. His arms wound around her, one hand buried in her hair to keep her close. It took Aelin a few seconds to reorient herself but she carefully returned the hug.

Several different questions and emotions swam through Aelin’s head. Most of which dealt with the variety that Rowan was actually displaying affection of one sort or another. He wasn’t a stone wall of silence in that moment but someone who cared. At least, that was how she chose to interpret this display.

“It’s alright,” she found herself murmuring. “Everything’s fine.”

She realized belatedly that the anger she’d felt rolling off of him was actually fear. That he’d been scared for her. She marveled at it really, that Rowan Whitethorn would be worried about her.

Aelin gently eased back, just enough that she could look at him with a bit more clarity. Her entire body was still brimming with exhaustion, she could feel her own tiredness thudding through her bones with every beat of her heart. It was only a small, dull ache though in comparison with the unyielding depths of Rowan’s dark eyes.

She didn’t go far though. The warmth radiating off of him was welcome, feeling almost as though she were back in bed and wrapped in the many blankets. Being so close to him was strange, different. She’d never allowed herself to get so close to him before that now, being held by him--she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so safe and secure.

“Sorry,” Rowan said, though he didn’t release her entirely as one hand trailed softly along her side.

Not knowing how to navigate any of this--Aelin avoided a direct response.

“How’s Luca?” she asked.

“Fine,” Rowan said, “he woke up twenty minutes ago and is perfectly fine.”

“Good,” she said, genuine relief flooding her. “That’s good.”

“We had him and Evangeline stay in the house, Evie stayed in your room,” Rowan went on to explain. “Because the weather was so bad, Lorcan and Elide stayed the night too. They’re with the rest of the kids down at the cabins.”

“Rowan, I,” Aelin began, knowing that she did at least owe him a little of an apology. In part for her recklessness (though they would both know she wasn’t really sorry) and for the way she acted after learning about Hamel.

“Don’t,” he said, quick to cut her off. His fingers dug into her sides grounding her right where they stood. “You don’t need to say anything.”

“I’m sorry,” she said anyways, he gave her an exasperated sort of look that made her smile. “Not about Luca, I stand by going after him, but Hamel. There’s more to that than I’ve told anyone.”

Rowan cleared his throat, eyes flicking away for a brief moment before resettling on her. “Aedion might have told me a little about that. And about…”

He trailed off when Aelin turned away. She didn’t know why she did, why she wanted to ignore her past and lock it back up again where no one, not even she, could find it. But she did. Because she knew how it sounded, how it looked. The spoiled rich girl from the good background with everything at her beck and call falls into a mess of drug use. Even if she hadn’t known about it.

When the backs of her knees hit the bed, Aelin collapsed onto the mattress. She was exhausted anyways and really just wanted to sink back into the blankets and fall asleep. Maybe pretend none of this had ever happened.

“I ended the deal with Hamel,” Rowan said. “Literally just got off the phone with him to tell him I wasn’t selling anymore.”

Aelin felt her jaw fall open as she stared up at him. “You what?”

If there was anything he could have said to shock her, that was it.

“I’m not selling,” Rowan repeated. He looked as serious as he ever did, not a fleck of emotion on his face. It was a strange beauty he held, Aelin thought at that moment. The hard planes of his face, his sharp jawline, and the full curve of his lips—all of it combined together in such a way that nearly stole her breath away.

“Why not?” she whispered. “Not to him or not at all?”

He swallowed, throat bobbing. Aelin thought it curious, why would he care about this so much to end the deal that, as he’d said, would bring in a great deal of money? And why would he care enough to not want to talk about it further?

“No deal at all,” Rowan said, “my attorney’s processing a formal citation for it now.”

“Why?” she asked again. Why did she care so much? Was it her own love for this ranch that has somehow developed over these brief few months? Was it no more than the desire to know that Hamel was getting screwed over?

This time when he came towards her, Aelin didn’t move. She only watched as he slowly drew closer until once again, his knees knocked against hers. He hovered over her, his broad frame blocking out the light from the window. But he wasn’t imposing, wasn’t a cruel thing engulfing her. It was just Rowan.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he said. The admission sent shivers running along her arms, racing down her spine. “Not after, everything.”

“Everything,” Aelin repeated, trying hard to ignore the way her heart was hammering in her chest and how her stomach dipped at the low timbre of his voice. “It was the binder, wasn’t it?”

She couldn’t help the teasing words. The binder that had outlined this week of kids coming to the ranch had included a brief plan of continued action to take on seeing more progress made for various revenue opportunities for the ranch. Really, Aelin hadn’t expected Rowan would read much into it.

Rowan snorted a soft laugh, head tilting up as though he were looking to the heavens for help.

“Yeah, I guess that was it.” His words weren’t convincing. Not even in the slightest. Especially not when Aelin saw that small spark in his eyes, the way he was so close yet still so far. And Aelin, despite everything that had happened, wanted him closer. Rowan, she knew, was too chivalrous and wouldn’t do anything to push her over whatever line they were toeing.

She reached up, fingers grazing the hem of his shirt, the fabric soft against her skin.

“I told you it was—” Aelin never had the chance to finish teasing him further when he swept in to kiss her.

It was a soft brush of his lips against hers, barely anything at all. And still it made her breath catch, caused goosebumps to race over her skin. She arched into him, eagerly seeking out of his touch. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so wild in her own skin.

Rowan cupped her cheek with one hand as he drew her closer. The deepening kiss nearly drowned her. He paused only once, hovering before her in a silent question. Aelin responded by fisting her fingers in his shirt and dragging him to her. His lips turned insistent against hers, drawing a small sound from her throat.

In all her time at the ranch, Aelin had never known Rowan to be so gentle or careful. But the way he treated her as though she were something to be cherished, something to be loved—it had her heart seizing in her throat.

She wanted more, needed more, and given the way Rowan’s hands ran through her hair and down her sides she knew he did too.

Which, of course, was when a soft knock came at the bedroom door.

“Aelin?” It was Lysandra come to check on her.

She and Rowan broke apart, putting just enough distance between them. There was no guilt or regret in Rowan’s eyes, rather a promise just for her.

Aelin straightened, adjusting her mussed shirt. “Come in.” She reached for the half-eaten granola bar and started to finish it off, just so she could have something to do with her hands and maybe detract from what she and Rowan had been up to.

The look on Lysandra’s face said she wasn’t convinced. She raised a brow, fixing her look solely on Rowan before turning to Aelin.

“I told him not to bother you,” she said.

“I was already awake,” Aelin said honestly.

Lysandra hummed, her mouth curving into a smirk. “Sure. Well, there’s a real breakfast downstairs. And Luca wants to thank-you in person for finding him.”

“Thanks, Lys,” Aelin said.

Her friend waited a moment longer before turning to leave. She left the door open behind her.

Aelin waited until Lysandra disappeared down the stairs before she rose to her feet. She was tired and still a bit achy but she knew that if she and Rowan remained up here any longer it would only result in an embarrassing call out. That or Aedion would be sent to collect them. And for her cousin's health and Rowan’s own sanity, Aelin thought it best not to avoid the inevitable.

Automatically, she reached out for Rowan and took her hand in his. She laced their fingers together and gave him a small squeeze.

“I never did thank-you,” she said, stepping closer to him, willing to snatch just one more moment.

Rowan arched a brow. “For what?”

“You came to find me,” she said, “even after everything.”

His face softened and Rowan brought their clasped hands up between them, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

“I’ll always come if you need me,” he promised.

Aelin smiled, unable to help it. For the first time in ages, she felt a small bit of joy begin to kindle deep in her chest. Where once it might have scared her, now it was a welcome feeling, one that she would keep close deep within her.

“C’mon, buzzard, before she sends Aedion up to get us.” She tugged him to the door with her so they could join the fray awaiting downstairs for them.

And over the next few days, Aelin wouldn’t know what the future would bring. She didn’t know if anything would happen between her and Rowan or if this was some strange moment shared together. She didn’t even know what would happen with her career.

What she did know was that she wanted to fight for it, whatever may come.

…

Epilogue—Six Months Later

It was the howling of a dog that woke him at six in the morning, not his usual alarm. At first, Rowan was keen to ignore it and instead try to fall back asleep. But the dog howled again, mostly out of need for attention than anything else. He rolled over in bed, one arm reaching out to the warm body beside him.

“Your child is calling,” he grumbled.

Aelin cursed from where she was tangled in the blankets. “You’re the one that bought her.”

Indeed, Rowan had purchased the dog that let out another howl outside. He’d figured if he were going to keep the ranch, they should have a dog. What he hadn’t planned on was the little demon to end up being almost exactly like Aelin. He should have known.

Snorting a laugh, Rowan tugged her closer, ignoring the way Aelin’s blonde hair was splayed out messily, nearly engulfing him. He wrapped a hand around her waist, keeping her close. She was soft against him; curves and angles fitting perfectly with him. No matter how many times they woke like this, he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

Aelin rolled over in his arms so they were face to face and she could hook her leg over his hip. Already she had one hand buried in his hair as she settled down again. Rowan cracked an eye open to watch her.

Eyes closed and a look of contentment on her soft features, Aelin still remained the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The nightgown she wore was a poor excuse for covering. The thin straps had fallen down her shoulders and left her chest almost perfectly exposed. The hemline rode up far along her thighs. And he was well aware she wasn’t wearing underwear beneath.

He had no idea how they’d come to this point—no idea how he’d managed to not screw things up beyond measure. Given the way they’d started—they by all means should still hate each other. But here they were, tangled together in a mess of limbs.

He realized too late that she’d opened her eyes.

“Staring?” she asked.

“Always.”

Aelin grinned in that delightfully bright way she did. It was enough to strike any man dumb. Taking advantage of his distraction, Aelin swooped in for a quick kiss.

“I’ll take care of the dog if you make me pancakes,” she said, already climbing out of bed.

Rowan, however, had another idea. He snatched a hand out, catching her wrist to pull her back down on the bed. Aelin yelped in surprise, nearly falling on top of him. She caught herself though, one hand braced on the mattress next to him. Golden hair fell around them as a curtain, a tangled, messy curtain.

Leaning up, Rowan caught her mouth in another kiss. This one far more than a simple peck. Aelin sighed against him as one hand trailed along his bare chest, her fingers working in soft caresses at his side.

As he deepened the kiss, Rowan sat up and wrapped an arm around Aelin. He pulled her fully into his lap, fully intending to have a proper morning together when the alarm clock finally went of and that damned dog started another round of howls from outside. Groaning, Rowan tried keeping her close for just a moment longer.

“Sorry cowboy,” Aelin said breathlessly as she pulled back. “Our child is calling. And you’re going to be late.”

She brushed her fingers through with a fond smile before getting out of bed. This time Rowan let her go, though he wasn’t happy about it.

Aelin threw on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt before she ran downstairs, calling for Fleetfoot the entire way.

In the six months since the blizzard that brought them together, many things had changed. Normally Rowan would have shied away from it all. Change never meant anything good. It meant things would be different, that there was a new reality set forth before him. And, always one to stay the course, he’d never pursued much beyond what he already knew.

But he supposed the change Aelin wrought within him was just what he needed. And not just in keeping the family ranch. But she made him want to be different, to be better.

After he changed, Rowan headed downstairs. Aelin was outside with Fleetfoot, the golden lab that was supposed to be a herd dog but much preferred human company than goats. He watched them through the kitchen window as Aelin threw a ball for Fleetfoot to chase.

The golden sun already illuminated the sky setting everything alight. Spring came swiftly and full of new opportunities. And for once, Rowan didn’t dread it.

Even though he was running behind, Lorcan would kick his ass for it, Rowan whipped up a batch of pancakes and already had a few on the griddle by the time Aelin and Fleetfoot scampered back inside.

Fleetfoot pranced around happily and dashed into the kitchen to make sure Rowan knew she was there.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rowan said as the dog rubbed against one of his legs. “Go ask your momma for treats.”

Aelin instead fixed Fleetfoot’s food dish with the allotted portion of kibble. Though, Rowan knew the dog would get at least one treat before the hour was out.

While Fleetfoot attacked her breakfast, Aelin came and wrapped her arms around Rowan’s middle. She pressed her forehead into his back and sighed as she rested against him.

“You didn’t have to make pancakes,” she told him quietly.

Rowan flipped the few that were on the griddle before turning to accept a full hug. He brushed the escaping bits of hair that flew from her bun out of the way and shrugged.

“I wanted to.”

“Hmm,” Aelin hummed and pressed up onto her toes to kiss him. Chaste and sweet, the kiss still held a lingering promise of what exactly she wanted to do to him. “Well, thank-you. But you should go. Lorcan’s going to be pissy enough as it is.”

“Yes dear,” Rowan said.

He let Aelin take control over the pancakes and grabbed a protein bar from the fridge before heading out for the day. He paused when he reached the door looking back at Aelin as she pulled the batch of pancakes from the heat.

“I love you,” he said.

She looked up, blue eyes dazzling with her smile. “Love you, buzzard.”

The door closed softly behind him as he hurried down the porch to his waiting truck. Beside it was the SUV Lysandra and Aedion had left behind, taking Aelin Audi with them once the snow let up. The chrome silver was spattered with mud and dust looking as though it perfectly belonged where it was. The sight brought a small smile to him.

His truck rumbled down the road to the stables where they would already be preparing for the first spring camp of the season. They were expecting fifteen kids in total with another week planned for the wait-listers that hadn’t gotten in the first time.

The day after the blizzard, Rowan officially terminated any agreement with Hamel that had been talked about, just as he’d promised Aelin he would. They’d faced some backlash, but it was remarkable just what a few loyal names could do to help make things right. Though, Aelin’s own determination in not letting the man have any more control over her said enough.

Now she worked in town at the singular therapy office, providing help to those who wanted. When she wasn’t there, she was at the ranch helping him and continuing to plan and host events for more kids and individuals seeking help and comfort for their traumas and other mental health concerns. Just like she’d always wanted.

Rowan drove past the wide-open field of the ranch his family had called home for over a hundred years. And when he glanced in the rearview mirror at the ranch house fading into view behind him, he hoped that it would remain that way for a few more generations after.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

<3 reblogs appreciated.

#rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #throne of glass #fanfiction #tog #throne of glass fanfiction

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redrage71890 · 10 months ago

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HEY NANBAKA FANS!!! Has anyone ever thought about the linguistic skills everyone has? Concerning the fact that the cast is largely international with the inmates primarily besides the guards since majority of them are Japanese (except for Building 5 that's mainly Chinese).

Big Note: I'm not fully caught up in the manga and just basically started it, so this is all coming from an anime watcher. If its somehow explained in the manga then someone tell me please...

Though staying with the primary cast of Building 13, 3/4 of cell 13 are foreigners from specifically English speaking countries being America and Britain. So are the three of them fluent in Japanese? I guess they would because Nanba Prison is in Japanese waters with majority of everyone being Japanese. I understand that the foreign guards would have to know Japanese for obvious reasons.

So here are my personal headcanons/thoughts for the each of the primary characters in the anime (because I haven't finished the manga):

Inmates

I think it depends on the pasts and learning abilities of the inmates for them to have a better understandings of learning another language and retaining that.

Jyugo: I find it hard to believe he would be able to learn another language easily or even moderately. He probably tries to copy how someone pronounces something but he struggles with reading and writing. From all the prisons he's been to internationally, he probably has basic English that was kind of refined from Uno helping.

Uno: Out of everyone in cell 13, Uno would most likely be bilingual with English and Japanese. I don't think he would be completely fluent however, he might struggle with more complex sentences or words he's unfamiliar with. (Also who doesn't think Uno might slip into some angry British English or something...)

Nico: I think Nico would be able to speak more Japanese than English because of watching anime. He can't read so he's going off hearing, so he might have picked up on words from how they're used in phrases and puts them in his everyday. Along with all the guards and Jyugo probably teaching him in some way.

Rock: Honestly, I see Rock using more English than the other three. Using it more emotively especially when he's angry or frustrated, mainly to himself. His Japanese I'd say is decent but not as fluent.

Tsukumo: Definitely bilingual and possibly trilingual. Japanese and English and I'll say Chinese that his 'mum' encouraged him to learn because of possible roles. Probably maintains them by trying them with English and Chinese speaking inmates.

Liang: Japanese and Chinese straight up. Doesn't know English well at all because of the environment and situation he grew up in, but he probably doesn't care about learning another language and just keeps Japanese and Chinese. Too busy training anyway.

Upa: Same thing with Liang. Don't really care and too busy training. English? I think he'd be really competitive against like Liang to see who's better at English.

Qi: Trilingual. Qi is pretty smart so I'm not surprised he would know three languages or so. He might've had foreign clients before he went to prison so he'd have to know English at least. Its Japanese, Chinese and English he knows to spell it out.

Musashi: Most likely the most knowledgeable out of the inmates, considering Musashi went to college so I'm saying trilingual. For all I know he might not be fluent in Japanese but he’s certainly fluent in German and English for obvious reasons (he’s German if anyone forgot).

Honey: Bilingual. He’s half Japanese and American but we don’t know anything about his family so who knows if he was actually taught Japanese at a young age. But Honey is quite smart with his bullets and the thread so I’d say he knows English and Japanese well to near fluency.

Trois: Most likely also bilingual but possibly trilingual. Trois is very intelligent considering his somewhat sadistic self with machinery, in my mind he probably has enough brain space for two at least languages. French is one and the other is Japanese, I said trilingual because I'm not sure if he would know English somehow.

Guards

They gotta be smart in a way and physically strong enough to keep these inmates from escaping. Not to mention the foreign guards having to learn another language to work at Nanba.

Hajime: Strikes me as a man that at least knows decent English but not fluent. I think he's very knowledgeable in other languages but he's too busy to study them or learn them.

Yamato: I don't think Yamato knows a lot of English or any other language besides Japanese. I'm not sure how he met his wife since she's Russian but I think she's bilingual while he isn't really.

Seitarou: Shy English speaker and isn't that confident in his skills, but he knows it decently. Though he doesn't give a vibe that he knows anything other than Japanese or English.

Samon: For obvious reasons he's bilingual with Japanese and Chinese. I like to think that the Chinese inmates and guards talk to each other in Chinese as a way of retaining the language. I see Samon helping some inmates retain their Chinese if some happen to forget like writing.

Inori: Again, bilingual. Highly doubt he would try to learn another language. Would he speak it at Nanba with anyone else? Honestly, he might but probably not often at all yet he somehow still remembers his Chinese.

Kenshirou: I'll be honest here, Kenshirou most likely knows the basics for a bunch of languages from his years in the police and he might of had to pick up basics for other languages for situations or so. Currently, I see his linguistics being a bit broken from not using it and or he forgets because of his work.

Hitoshi: Probably really knowledgeable on linguistics and other cultures but might have trouble speaking. Is very curious about other cultures and actually wouldn't mind learning from the people and feeling a great amount of appreciation for them. Considering the fact that he remembers that Hajime told him that Germans like beer a lot so I think Hitoshi wouldn't mind learning about other languages.

Kiji: This is hard. But I don't think Kiji would be extremely good with learning another language but I think he would know a few words. Like random words he can use and say in the correct times, though he probably would be too busy with his duties

Mitsuru: Ironically, probably knows many languages and surprisingly doesn't butcher any of them. Most likely favours English the most and is most likely fluent. Reason I'd say is from music he listens to or just saying shit for the jokes and memes.

Momoko: Relatively knowledgeable on other languages but isn't fluent in those languages. I'd say as the warden she'd have to encounter many foreigners so she'd know other languages for conversation and what's necessary.

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alaskan-wallflower · 5 months ago

Note

I really do hope that more evidence is coming forward soon because I do admit, the fact that both Brody and Trevor are out for the week does seem sketchy. But so does the way that all of these allegations came out. It only seems to be talked about on Instagram and Reddit and nowhere else.

that’s what i’m saying-all of this is so sketchy. maybe it’s inconvenient timing? but there’s so many things wrong with this that point me to believe it isn’t true

First off there’s so many inconsistencies within the posts. Nobody has shown any actual proof other than someone claiming they know where Brody went to college. But since I’m a bit of an ‘I need evidence’ kind of person, I figured I’d check it out. They claim he went to UF but I found nothing about him going to UF online. Second, why is it JUST Brody they’re going after? They’re claiming the cast is “full of r*pists” but they aren’t focused on anyone but Brody.

Second, you think that there would be a news outlet talking about this. I mean, rape allegations are serious and should be handled as such. So it’s weird that Instagram is the first place this all came out. The night after the Tony’s nonetheless. There was no concrete proof either. This chick just said that she ‘knew it and that everyone else did too’ when she was contacted by the actual musical themselves (at one of the producers at least)

Third off is the accuser’s response to any form of criticism. Normally in a case like this, it would make sense to show evidence when faced with criticism and skepticism and be like ‘okay, yes, this is why this happened’ and instead she doubled down and said shit like ‘oh where’s your address so I can mail you a clown suit’ and ‘everyone knows it’ without proving anything.

Fourthly Angelina Jolie is the producer of this. She stands with victims and is fairly open about it. If there was even an inkling that Brody did this don’t you think she’d fire him on the spot? There are also claims of police involvement and investigation but I’ve found no such thing. The original accuser fails to provide sourcing-which is also suspicious. You’d think she’d provide sourcing on where she gets her information but she doesn’t. You’d think she would have solid concrete evidence rather than just doubling down and saying ‘that’s what happened’. That’s the kind of shit you do when like-your sibling hits you and they’re lying about it by saying ‘oh it happened everyone knows it’ without providing solid evidence.

Fifthly, there was another post that the cast was talking about how they were gonna win best musical and everyone else could leave-you saw the video of Brody ripping his shirt off and speed changing into his tux for the Best Actor Award. There was no way he had any involvement in that at least. And secondly, I seriously don’t think any of them had time for that. I really don’t.

Sixthly, I met some of the cast when I went. They were all super nice and when they saw me with my cane they asked me if they could do the face touching thing and were perfectly okay when I said no. And from what I’ve heard Brody is like that too and asks for consent before touching a fan. Heard this from a few people.

It’s really suspicious that this all only comes to light after they won best musical. It’s more suspicious that they’re only going after Brody and nobody else. They say the cast is full of r*pists but then refuse to provide names other than Brody Grant. And there were people that were super pissed that Suffs and Hell’s kitchen didn’t win the Best Musical Award. So it could be plausible that people are trying to take them down for whatever reason. Maybe because they’re men and won. I dunno.

I’m of course not saying it didn’t happen. I was SA’ed when I was younger by my late grandfather. I know how hard it is to want to come forward about these things. But it’s extremely sketchy the way these things played out. I do admit that Brody taking a step back is awfully suspicious too. But I don’t have insight on that and I don’t feel like stalking this poor man’s whereabouts. He could be taking a break-I mean, it’s been a few months. He could be on vacation. Who knows? And there have been many, many times that people have lied about rape for clout. Like the Kwite situation a few years back. Now am I saying this didn’t happen? No. No Im not. Am I saying this is extraordinarily sketchy and that there’s no solid evidence this girl provided? Yes. Yes I am.

I’m not saying anyone did or didn’t do anything until it’s been proven by an actual news source and not some girl on IG. But if these allegations are true, of course I hope Brody gets fired and serves prison time for what he’s done. If not, I hope her IG account gets taken down and she serves time. Accusing an innocent person of r*pe should be just as illegal as the crime they’re being accused of. That could ruin someone’s whole life.

This whole thing is sketchy. That’s where I’ll leave it.

[EDIT] I’ve been looking into it. It’s not uncommon for actors to take breaks after the Tony Awards. I don’t blame him for taking a break. I can’t say much about Trevor though. Apparently Shoshana Bean is taking a break too.

#the outsiders allegations #the outsiders musical

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twst-drabbles · 1 year ago

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Scarabia 6

Summary: Jamil was cleaning the dinner table and you had to pick him up by his shirt to get him to stop. That’s your job. And also because you wanted to vent and mess around with him a little bit. Grudges are not easy to get rid of.

(Hehehehehe Janitor is bullying Jamil this time.)

“Buddy,” you quite literally picked Jamil up by the back of his collar, forcing him to drop the dinner plate back on the table, “I’m being paid to clean up this mess. Just leave it there. I’ll get it done.”

You didn’t have to pick him up like a wet cat but there’s just something about Kalim’s buddy that makes you want to egg him. His expression was always on the solid side, but wasn’t quite as true a stone as he wanted it to be. It reminded you of cracked clay plates on the ground, or layers of paints that were wrinkled and aged by time. Just made you want to dig your fingers in there and see what lays deep beneath.

You’ve seen the amount of times Jamil hissed under his breath and strained out a smile towards the oblivious crowds. That fake and poorly done vision of innocence that he gives to the bright Kalim. It’s different to Jade’s, as he was never one to pass up an opportunity to unnerve others. Jamil and Jade may both be calm, but one of them was certainly not composed.

You don’t like to butt into people’s business unless it affected your salary or health in any way. You generally leave stuff well enough alone since it always brings about trouble, however…

However, you have a certain amount of pride, a confidence in your mind and senses if you will. Those were the things that you had to use to survive without much injury. The few things you had, you kept a grip tighter than anyone, making sure they were always at full peak so that no one can push you around without you winning in the end.

You suppose the reason why you liked messing with Jamil as much as you do was because he violated one of those things that you took great pride in. That Snake’s Charmer of his, making you say things you never want to, having your head be filled with a dream-like fog until he was done with you. You have an ironclad grip on your sense, so much so that you never confused your dreams for memories. Of course you would notice this unique magic.

And you hated it.

You hated it, because how dare he wrangle you into something you don’t want to do. How dare he treat you like a puppet to say what he wants to hear. How dare he be the same scum that has festered in this college, so engorged on their own magic and pride that he thinks nothing of taking control over your words and actions.

So you couldn’t help the sneer on your face when Jamil said with a smile, “Oh there’s no need. It’s my duty to do at least this much. I’ve been doing this for so long that I get uncomfortable if I don’t this.”

“Ah, but Jamil,” dear, dear Kalim leaned from around the corner, wet rag at hand to assist in drying the forks and spoons, “I’ve noticed you’ve been stressed out lately, so you have to take a break.”

Courtesy of you, of course. Compared to the regular campus, cleaning Scarabia was absolutely heavenly and left Jamil with little to nothing to do. He’s not lying about being stressed when he’s not doing everything.

“Kalim, what did I say about being in the kitchen?” Jamil sighs as he reaches for your fingers, trying to pry them off but to no avail.

“It’s okay! I’m not cooking. I’m just drying like the Janitor told me to,” you cast Kalim a glance complete with a raised eyebrow, “Oh right! Jamil! You need to sleep! And that’s an order!”

Good boy. Now will Jamil follow suit in being a good boy as well?

The force of Jamil’s turning head had him swinging from your grip, “What? Kalim, uh, wait a moment!”

“Go to bed!”

“I’m taking you to bed,” you set Jamil straight with a shake of your hand, gripping Jamil’s chin to force his eyes forward, “And close those eyes and mouth of yours. Wouldn’t want to strain them now, would you?”

You can feel the way his jaw tightened, forced to swallow his pride to continue seeming innocent in front of the other students you’re passing by.

Honestly he could just kick you out at any time. Sure you have connections with the faeries and the staff members, but you can’t be worth it by this point. Is he hoping to find a way to break you down? To taste a victory that he constantly holds himself back from with that act of his?

It's almost cute really, like a school boy trying to beat his rival because he has a crush on them.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #scarabia #kalim #kalim al asim #jamil #jamil viper #janitor au #reader insert

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minnie--verse · 2 months ago

Text

Pen Pals -- A Park Sunghoon Fic

!!PART 5!!

(link to pt. 1). (link to pt. 2). (link to pt. 3). (link to pt. 4).

Summary: You, Ren, are a college student, taking what you thought would be a normal composition class- until you're assigned a pen pal with your professor's second class. What happens when you fall for someone you know... but dont?

pairing: sunghoon x f!reader(ren)

genre: strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include possible angst//comfort, slow burn.

general warnings: college students!me, slow burn, love square, swearing, possible adult content in future chapters.

word count: ~6.7k

this is not proof read!

thank u for reading< 3

— — —

Sunny,

I’ve read over your letter more times than I care to admit to you, and each time the weight of your words felt heavier. I understand the need to know, to bridge that gap between us and finally put an end to the mystery and guessing. I want you to see me as badly as I want to see you. It’s kept me up at night, thinking about how nervous I am for you to finally see me for who I was physically rather than who I was through words. I want to match your expectation to the person you’ve come to know in your words.

I’ll be honest—I’m nervous. Nervous that when you meet me, you’ll find I don’t live up to my words .It’s a strange thing, to feel so connected to someone and yet fear that the reality might be different than expectation. I think part of me has been hiding behind anonymity because it’s been safer that way. I didn’t have to risk letting you down or fumbling my speech when I saw your beautiful face.

Despite my fears, I want to meet you. I want you to know me more than my words, and I want to share myself with you even if it’s scary. I find that the artist on the other side of my letters has brought color and depth into my life in a way that I have never expected.

The park. Outside Miller Hall. 4pm.

Yours, Snow.

— — —

The snow crunches beneath your boots as you make your way to the park bench neat Miller. The air is sharp with the cold, but you barely feel it—your nerve so on edge you didn’t notice it. The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the campus in a soft, fading light, the kind of light that seems to make everything stand still. It’s one of those short winter days that disappears into the evening before you’ve even been able to catch your breath.

The snow falls family around you, each flake landing on your coat and melting almost immediately, while others settle on the bench in soft layers. You’ve chosen this spot specifically—it was the same spot you had mentioned in your first letter to Snow. It feels fitting to meet here, at the same park that you shared with him. The bench, now covered in snow, looks almost untouched, like it’s been waiting for you specifically.

You sit down, glancing around nervously. The world is eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that only comes with heavy snow. No one else is out, at least not here. Just you. And somewhere, maybe close, maybe still on his way, Snow.

What are you going to say? What will you do? What will he look like? Will you know it’s him? What if you can’t recognize him? What if he’s waiting somewhere else for you? A lump forms in your throat at the thought, shaking your head to dismiss the thought of it. No—Snow said he would be here. He will be here.

You tuck your hands deeper into your pockets, feeling the letter there—his last one, the one that agreed to meet you. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about his words, about how much it felt like he’d been there all along. It was like he knew you—no, he does. Snow knows you, deeper than anyone… besides Sunghoon. But maybe Snow will prove to be the right choice, he has to be the right choice.

The sky darkens further, the snow keeps falling as the street lamps cast a warm light on the sidewalk and turn the white snow slightly orange. You check the time. 4:07. He should be here soon, but every minute felt like an eternity. Your heart rate is higher than it had ever been before. Snow is coming. He’ll be here.

The minutes begin to tick by. You sit, eyes scanning every figure that emerges from the falling snow, hoping it‘s him. The street lamps grow brighter as the sky turns into dusk, painting the snow in hues of blue and white in the darkness. But no one stops. No one looks your way.

Your breath catches in your throat as you open the letter and reread his meeting place and time, hoping to God you didn’t get it wrong—but you didn’t. It’s right. You’re in the right place. Your chest tightens, and despite the cold seeping through your layers, your face felt warm from the deep breaths against your scarf as you tried to calm yourself down.

Maybe he’s late. Maybe he got held up somewhere. He wouldn’t leave you here in the cold like this. He couldn’t. Right?

You tell yourself that over and over, but the longer you sit the more that your hope starts to slip through your numb fingers. You glance down at your boots which had left an impression in the snow from where it had fallen around them. The park is silent, save for the occasional wind whistle between the branches of the trees and the crunch of distant footsteps that aren’t Snow’s.

You pull your coat tighter around yourself but the cold is relentless. Your fingers, despite your gloves are starting to go numb, a dull ache spreading from your knees to your inner body. Your toes are frozen and tingling uncomfortably, and you try to wiggle them inside your boots but it doesn’t help. The cold finally settled in.

A knot forms in your throat as reality begins to settle in. He’s not coming.

The excitement and nervousness that had built up all day feels cruel, turning into something more hollow and aching. You were just someone used for attention. You stare at the snowy path ahead, your vision was blurry as tears started to fill in your eyes, your breath hitching with each attempt to hold them back. But you can‘t anymore. Not when the park, the snow, the bench—both settings from each of your first letters coming to a combination—was empty. So silent.

A hot tear slips down your cheek, quickly followed by more. You swipe at them with your gloved hand, but they keep falling, hot against the cold air. You duck your head, wrapping your arms around yourself, but it does little to help. The cold has seeped into your bones through every layer you wore, making your body ache and stiff from sitting too long.

Your fingers felt like hard blocks of ice, completely numb and now damp in the gloves, and you curl them into fists inside your gloves but the motion only sends a sharp ache into your arms. The snow keeps falling, heavier now, and you can feel it gathering on your shoulders as you think back to Snow’s first letter to you.

Why didn’t he come?

Maybe he got lost? No, he came to miller hall every day just like you did. Maybe something came up? If he truly felt the way he did, he would have come no matter what. Maybe he realized he didn’t want to meet you after all. Maybe… maybe you were never meant to meet.

That thought stings you the most. The person you’d poured your heart out to, the person who nestled in between every thought you had, the person you had rejected your best friend for, the person who listened to your most inner thoughts through words alone—what if it was never supposed to leave the pages of those letters.

The tears come faster now, spilling freely as you sit alone on the bench, the old biting deeper into your muscles. Your legs, your arms, your face—everything felt frozen. You can barely feel your fingers anymore, and your nose was cold as you sniffled. It felt deserving—for being so foolish and stupidly naive. You should have fucking known better than to get your hopes up. That something this perfect could fall into your hands and work out.

You take a deep breath, the air stinging as it fills your lungs, but it doesn’t help. You sit there, feeling small and alone on campus.

Finally after what feels like an eternity, you stand. Your legs felt stiff, almost painful from sitting so long in the snow, and your heart feels heavier than when you first sat down. You look around one last time, hoping—begging—for some sign that he’s coming. But the world sat still, the only sound was a quiet hum of lights and the occasional car passing in the distance.

With a sniffle you stand up from the metal bench and pull out your phone, your fingers moving achingly slow as you slide your thumb across your screen as small wet spots from snowflakes fall on it. You wipe your tears with your sleeve, but it only makes the stinging worse from the brash material of your coat.

You swallow thickly, scrolling through your contacts, your hands shaking. The only name you can think of—the only person you want right now—is Sunghoon.

Your heart hammers against your ribs as your thumb hovers over his name, your breath hitching as you try to hold back another hiccup. You were anxious to call him—having run out of his apartment after blatantly rejecting him the last time you saw him. You finally press the button as you start walking to his apartment.

The dial tone rings and rings in your ear, each second he doesn't answer makes you feel more and more alone, making your hands shake more violently. It rings again, and you’re about to hang up, already regretting the decision. But just as you go to end the call, you hear his voice.

”Ren?” Sunghoon answers, his voice was slightly breathless. You find yourself locked up, not sure if you can do this, but the words come out before you can stop them.

”Ah—uhm… Can I come over?’ Your voice wavers as you sob through them. It was a miracle he could even understand you.

There’s a brief pause on the other end, “Yeah—Yeah, God of course,” He says quickly, his voice softening. No confusion in his tone, no shock. He sounds flustered, “Are you alright?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out before you wince and look down at the pavement before a strangled sob escapes your throat, and you quickly cover your mouth with your free hand, trying to hold yourself together.

”I—“ You sigh, wiping your eyes again, your skin irritated and swollen from the cold and the tears, “I’ll be there soon,” you manage to choke out, hanging up before he can question you further.

You drop your phone to your side as you shove your balled fists into your pocket, pushing through the snow as the salt on the pavement crunches under you. You were in a whirlwind of confusion and heartbreak. Snow—he—was supposed to be here. He promised. He said he’d meet you. But nothing. Were you not important enough?

The snow fell heavier as you trudge through the streets, but your mind was elsewhere. Every step felt weighed down by the disappointment and confusion. By guilt.

By the time you reached Sunghoon’s apartment you whole body aches. You feel like you had been walking so long that your feet feel like they’re no longer attached to you, just frozen blocks of ice at the ends of your legs. Your hands were numb, trembling violently as you knock weakly at his door.

It opens almost instantly, Sunghoon standing there with wide eyes and furrowed brows as his dark eyes look across your whole body. “Ren…” His voice is soft, slightly worried, but not surprised. The concern was etched into his face with a soft wince at the sight of you, “come in.”

You shuffle past him into the warmth of his apartment, barely registering the shift in temperature. The heat hits your skin, but it doesn’t seep in—not right away. You’re still numb, inside out.

”Are you okay?” He asks again hesitantly, closing the door behind you. He stepped closer to you, his eyes scanning your face, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You shake your head You shake your head, your lip trembling as you pull your frozen hands into your sleeves, trying to thaw them out.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, your voice shaking. You’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore. Your mind is a blur, filled with too many conflicting thoughts. Snow. Sunghoon. Snow. The one who didn’t show up and the one who did.

Before you can say anything else, Sunghoon steps forward and pulls you into his arms. His embrace is warm—so warm compared to the cold you’ve been drowning in all night—and the moment you feel his chest against your cheek, the dam breaks.

A sob rips through you, and you cling to him like he’s the only solid thing left in the world. Your fingers, still half-numb, grip the fabric of his shirt, and you bury your face into his chest, your whole body trembling.

He holds you tightly, his arms wrapped securely around you as his chin rests on top of your head. He doesn’t say anything at first—just lets you cry, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back. His breath is still slightly uneven, but his presence is steady, grounding.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and calming. “I’m here.”

You nod against him, but you don’t feel okay. You feel torn, confused, like you’re caught between two worlds that are slowly starting to collapse. The person you thought you loved through words didn’t show up. And now, the person you’ve grown to love in reality is the only one here, holding you together.

But how can you explain that to him? How can you tell him about Snow when you’re still trying to make sense of it yourself? How could you tell the person who has loved you openly this whole time that you’re crying over someone else?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, your voice muffled against his chest. Your breath hitches as you try to pull yourself together, but the warmth of his body against yours makes it hard. You don’t want to let go. You don’t want to face the cold again—literal or metaphorical.

“Don’t apologize,” Sunghoon says softly, his hand still gently stroking your back. “You don’t have to explain right now. Just… stay here. With me.”

The words are so simple, but they hit you hard, and you close your eyes, trying to calm the storm inside you. His warmth is comforting, and for a moment, you let yourself melt into it. You let yourself feel the safety of being in his arms.

But even as he holds you, the guilt gnaws at the back of your mind. You’ve shared things with Snow—things you’ve never told anyone else. You’ve fallen for his words, his soul, without ever knowing who he truly was. And yet, here you are, in Sunghoon’s arms, feeling something real and tangible.

How can you choose between them?

Sunghoon pulls back slightly, just enough to look down at you, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. His gaze is soft, but there’s something else there, something deeper that makes your heart ache in a way you can’t explain.

“You don’t have to be alone in this,” he says quietly, his voice steady. “Whatever’s going on… I’m here for you, okay? Always.”

His words make your chest tighten, and for a moment, you forget about everything else—about Snow, about the letters, about the disappointment. All you can see is Sunghoon, his warm eyes searching for yours, his touch gentle and steady.

But it only makes things more complicated.

You already confessed everything to Snow. You told him how you felt, and he told you the same. And even though he didn’t show up tonight, those feelings are still there. But now, standing here in Sunghoon’s arms, you feel torn—between the words on paper and the person standing in front of you.

You finally stand back up, pulling away from his chest just enough to meet his eyes, your heart still heavy as you struggle to find words. His warmth lingers on his skin, but the skill from outside makes your fingers and feet feel like pins and needles as the feeling returns to them. You swallow hard, sniffling as Sunghoon gently pushes your jacket off of your shoulders and hangs it up by the door.

“I--” You look down as you peel off your wet gloves, “I was supposed to meet someone,” you start, “At the park by Miller, but… they didn’t show.”

Sunghoon freezes, his grip on your momentarily tightening. His expression doesn't change much, but you notice a flicker of something in his eyes as his brows twitch tighter together--something like guilt, or maybe recognition. It’s so brief that you almost miss it. He recovers quickly, shaking his head and looking down at you with concern etched on his features.

“Someone?” He repeats quietly, his tone gentle, though you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady.

You nod, biting your lip. “Yeah. We’ve been… talking for a while. Through letters… pen pals from our mutual composition class-- We were finally going to meet in person, but…”

Your voice trails off, and you glance up at him, unsure of how much you want to share. Sunghoon’s expression remains calm, but you can feel the tension radiating from him. His eyes search yours, like he’s trying to piece together everything you’re saying without giving away too much of his own thoughts.

He stays silent for a moment, then gently brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and careful. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “That must’ve been hard.”

You blink up at him, surprised by how genuine he sounds. There’s no teasing, no jokes—just quiet understanding. It catches you off guard, especially considering how Sunghoon usually acts so aloof and sarcastic. Right now, though, his gaze is earnest, and it makes your heart ache even more.

You nod again, swallowing back another wave of tears. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I… I waited for a long time… an hour maybe? I don’t know why he didn’t come, but… I thought…”

You trail off, feeling stupid for even saying it. You don’t even know why you’re telling Sunghoon all of this. He loves you too and you know he does. And it was unfair for you to cry to him that someone else broke your heart. On top of that, he couldn’t possibly understand what you’re going through. And yet, the way he’s looking at you now, the way his arms are still wrapped around you, makes it feel like maybe he does.

Sunghoon’s thumb gently brushes the back of your hand, and his voice is soft when he speaks again. “They should’ve shown up,” he says, his tone sincere. “Whoever they are… they made a mistake not coming.”

Your chest tightens at his words, and you glance up at him, biting your lip. He’s looking at you with such intensity, his eyes filled with something deeper than just sympathy. You can feel it radiating from him--there’s unspoken emotions he’s holding back. Something that makes your heart race even faster.

“You think so?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon nods, his gaze unwavering. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know so.”

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the silence between you growing heavier. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but something about the way Sunghoon is looking at you feels… different. Like he’s trying to say more than just words. Like he knows something you don’t.

You’re about to say something—anything to break the tension—but Sunghoon speaks first, his voice quiet and almost hesitant. “Ren, whoever that person is… they don’t deserve you if they didn’t show up. You shouldn’t have to wait for someone like that.”

His words hit you harder than you expect, and you swallow, feeling another tear slip down your cheek. He clenches his jaw as he reaches up and gently wipes it away, his touch lingering on your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

“I just…” You hesitate, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. “I thought they felt the same way I did. We’d been writing to each other for so long, and… I guess I just thought it meant something.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightens, and for the briefest moment, his gaze flickers with something like pain. “I’m sure it did,” he says quietly. “But maybe… maybe they were scared. Maybe they didn’t know how to face you.”

You blink, taken aback by his words. “Scared?” you echo, confused.

He nods, his eyes softening as they meet yours again. “Yeah. Sometimes, people build things up in their heads, and when it comes time to face the reality of it… they panic. It doesn’t mean they didn’t care.”

His words sink into you, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. There’s something about the way Sunghoon is speaking—like he’s trying to explain something without really saying it—that makes your heart race. You wonder, briefly, if he’s speaking from experience.

You can’t help but think of Snow—of the person who promised to meet you tonight but didn’t. Was he scared? Was that why he didn’t come? The thought gnaws at you, making your stomach twist uncomfortably.

But then there’s Sunghoon, standing here with you now, offering you comfort when you need it most. His presence is steady, solid, and you can’t help but feel safe with him, even though your heart is still aching.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “For being here when he couldnt.”

Sunghoon’s lips press into a flat smile, and he nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “You shouldn’t thank me, Ren.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten again, and for a brief moment, you forget about everything else—about Snow, about the disappointment, about the confusion. All you can focus on is Sunghoon, his warmth, his steadiness.

Sunghoon’s thumb lingers on your cheek, his touch warm against your cold skin, and for a long moment, neither of you say anything. The weight of everything that had happened—everything unsaid between you—sits thick in the air, almost stifling. But then, like he always does, Sunghoon breaks the silence with a soft smile.

“How about we put on a movie?” he offers, his voice light but gentle. “Something terrible, you know, so we can laugh at it instead of… all this heavy stuff.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh. “Something terrible, huh?”

He nods, his smile widening a little, and the tension eases, if only a bit. “Yeah. Like… one of those bad dinosaur movies? You know, the ones where they didn’t have the budget for CGI, so everything looks like a cardboard cutout.”

You can’t help but smile at how ridiculous he’s being. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds awful.”

“Perfect, then.” He gives you a little wink. “Exactly what we need. Laugh it off a bit.”

His lightheartedness pulls at something inside you—a warmth, a comfort. He’s always been able to make you feel like this, like things aren’t so heavy, like the world doesn’t have to be all complicated. Even now, after everything, he’s here, trying to make you laugh, to make you feel better. And you’re grateful for it.

But before he turns to grab the remote, his smile fades just a little, his eyes flicking back to you with something more serious. He hesitates, and you can see the shift in his posture, the way he suddenly looks a little more awkward, as if he’s weighing his words before he speaks.

“Hey, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck, his voice softer now, more uncertain. “About last time—when I almost, you know…”

You feel your chest tighten, the memory of that almost kiss flashing through your mind—the way he had leaned in, the warmth of his breath, the tension crackling between you.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Sunghoon says, his tone sincere. “I crossed a line. I’m sorry if it made things weird.”

You look at him, unsure of what to say. Because the truth is, you don’t really know how you feel about that moment. Part of you had wanted him to kiss you, and part of you… well, part of you had been thinking about Snow, about the confession you had shared with your pen pal.

“It didn’t make things weird,” you say, even though you know it’s not entirely true. Things have been weird since then, but not because of Sunghoon. It’s everything else—Snow, the letters, the way your heart seems to be pulled in two different directions.

Sunghoon’s lips pressed together, and he gives you a small nod, though you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot. And I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you into anything. I mean, I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, and I just… I don’t want to make it harder.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. Instead, you find yourself moving closer to him, your body acting on instinct rather than thought. You lean into him, your head resting gently against his chest as you close your eyes and let out a soft sigh. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, and for a moment, you just let yourself be held, grateful that he’s here, that he’s willing to show up for you when someone else didn’t.

Sunghoon’s arms wrap around you, almost hesitant at first, but then he relaxes, pulling you in a little tighter. You can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, and it’s grounding—soothing in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

“I’ve missed you these last few days,” he says quietly, his voice rumbling through his chest. “I didn’t realize how much until you were here again.”

“I missed you too,” you murmur, and it’s the truth. Despite everything, you’ve missed him—the way he makes you feel safe, the way he’s always there when you need him. But more than that, you missed this—the quiet moments where it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure, just being together.

You stay like that for a while, neither of you speaking, just taking comfort in each other’s presence. But eventually, you shift in his arms, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

“Can I borrow a hoodie?” you ask, your voice quiet. “My jacket’s wet from the snow, and I’m freezing.”

Sunghoon blinks, surprised for a second, but then he smiles, nodding. “Yeah, of course. Grab whatever you want from my room.”

You sit up, pulling away from him, and he gestures toward his bedroom door. “Top drawer,” he says with a grin. “That’s where all the comfiest ones are.”

You give him a small smile in return before getting up and heading to his room, your footsteps soft on the floor. The warmth of his apartment feels even more welcoming now as you enter his room, and you quickly find one of his hoodies, the familiar scent of him clinging to the fabric as you pull it over your head.

You moved quietly across Sunghoon’s room, your fingers grazing over the soft fabric of the hoodie you just pulled on. The familiar scent of his cologne clung to it, wrapping you in an odd sense of comfort as you let out a slow breath, feeling just a little bit more at ease.

But as you made your way back toward the door, something on his desk caught your eye—a stack of papers, some crumpled, others neat, and at the top, the unmistakable loop of purple cursive. Your heart skipped a beat as you squinted at the writing, your footsteps slowing.

Curiosity gnawed at you, pulling you closer to the desk. you leaned over, your hand reaching out before you could even think to stop yourself, lifting the top sheet of paper. As soon as your eyes scanned the words, your blood ran cold.

It was your letter.

Not just any letter—it was Sunny’s letter. The one you had written only a few weeks ago, tucked into your purple notebook, sent anonymously to someone you had never met face to face. You stared at it, your mind reeling, unable to process how on earth it was sitting there, on Sunghoon’s desk.

You flipped through the papers, your hands shaking slightly. One after another, your letters stared back at you, each in your unmistakable purple ink, each one addressed to Snow.

Your stomach twisted in confusion. Why did Sunghoon have them? Why were they here? How did he get them? Your mind raced with a hundred questions as you stood there, frozen in shock.

“Ren?” Sunghoon’s voice echoed from behind you.

You jerked around, the papers slipping from your hands and fluttering back onto the desk. Your throat tightened as Sunghoon stepped into the room, his brow furrowed in concern.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, his eyes scanning your face. “I found a movi--”

“Why do you have these?” you finally whispered, your voice trembling.

You stay silent, your eyes locked on the letters in your hand. Sunghoon’s footsteps stop, and you know—he knows. The air shifts, and it feels like time is slowing, the weight of the truth crushing down on both of them.

Finally, slowly, you turn around to face him, your expression a mix of quiet shock and growing hurt.

“Hoon, why do you have these?” your voice is barely above a whisper, but there’s a tremor in it, a note of betrayal you can’t suppress.

Sunghoon’s eyes flick to the letter in your hand, and in an instant, you see the recognition in his face—the guilt, the way he winces ever so slightly, the way he suddenly can’t meet your gaze. His throat bobs as he swallows, struggling to find the words.

"Ren, I—"

“These are mine,” you cut him off, your voice trembling more now as your grip on the paper tightens. “This is my handwriting. This is my--” Your voice broke, dropping the paper and reaching up to cover your face for a moment before meeting his eyes again, “I wrote these to Snow.” your breaths come in shorter, sharper. “Why the hell do you have them?”

Sunghoon takes a step closer, his hands half-raised as if to calm you, but he stops short when he sees the hurt in your eyes. He opens his mouth, then closes it, struggling for an explanation that could possibly make sense of this.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” he says quietly, his voice strained. “I— I was going to tell you.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest now, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—hurt, confusion, anger, and something else you can’t quite name. “You knew,” you say, your voice barely a whisper now. “You knew you were writing to me this whole fucking time,” your eyes search for him, pleading for answers. “How long?”

He hesitates, and that hesitation is all the answer you need.

“How long, Sunghoon?” your voice cracks, and you can feel the sting of tears behind your eyes, your fingers clutching the letter like it’s the only thing tethering you to the ground.

“A while,” he finally admits, his voice small. “Since you dropped off my jacket.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. “That was fucking weeks ago. You’ve known, and you—” you cut yourself off, taking a step back as the realization fully sinks in. “You stood me up.”

He flinches at your words, his face tight with regret. “Ren, I—”

“That’s why you tried to kiss me,” your voice is hollow, the weight of the truth settling like a stone in your chest. “You knew I was Sunny, and that’s why you—” your voice cracks, and you shake your head, your eyes burning with unshed tears. “You tried to kiss me because you knew it was me. You fucking knew everything.”

Sunghoon’s expression crumbles, and he takes a step toward you, his hand half-extended as if to reach for you. “Ren, no, it wasn’t like that—”

“But it was like that, Sunghoon! It was exactly like that!” You snap, your voice louder now, thick with the betrayal coursing through you. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me. You let me sit there, waiting for you in the snow, in the fucking cold, alone!”

His expression crumbles, and he takes a step toward you. “I didn’t know what to do, Ren. I was going to go, I just—”

“No,” you snap, your voice louder now, thick with emotion. “You stood me up, Hoon. You let me sit there in the snow, waiting for you, thinking that I was fucking stupid and naive for thinking I could have something this good. You knew I was waiting for you.” your voice falters, breaking. “And then you… comforted me. Like—like you were some goddamn hero, like you hadn’t just broken my heart.”

“Why didn’t you show up?” You pushed out, your voice breaking again as the tears finally spill over, hot and blurring your vision. “Why didn’t you just come to the park? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared,” Sunghoon says, his voice raw with emotion. “I was scared you’d be disappointed, that you’d see me and… it wouldn’t be enough. That I wouldn’t be the person you fell for in the letters.”

Your chest tightens painfully at his words, the mixture of hurt and confusion overwhelming you. “You didn’t care to even give me the chance to decide that for myself?” You whisper.

“You didn’t even give me the chance to know it was you. To tell you I loved you--as Sunghoon. My Sunghoon. You knew I loved you as Snow. I have been so torn up about who to choose and you knew it and didn’t even… God--Hoon,” you sigh out with a wince and pull off his hoodie and throw it aside to his bed.

Sunghoon’s face crumples as he takes another step toward you, his hands reaching out, desperate to close the distance between them. “Ren, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted this to happen.”

You shake your head, your tears flowing freely now, and you step back again, creating more space between them. “But you did, Sunghoon. You hurt me. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth, and now… I don’t even know what to think.”

Sunghoon’s expression is filled with regret, his eyes glistening as he watches you, helpless to fix the damage that’s been done. "Just let me explain, please," he repeats softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stand there for a moment, your heart aching as you look at him—this person you thought you knew, this person you thought you trusted. And now, everything feels broken, shattered by the weight of the truth he had kept from you.

"I... I have to go," you turn and walk out of the room, leaving Sunghoon standing there in silence, his heart breaking as he watches you leave him in his bedroom. Alone.

-- -- --

author's note: I really hate to be that guy who says angst is their favorite, but it is?? Something about writing it makes me bleary eyes and sad but!! THERE'S A HAPPY ENDING IN STORE PLEASE WAIT FOR ME!! I love you and thank you for reading my little corner of tumblr<3

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