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sturchling · 5 years ago

Note

aft hawkmoth is defeated, paris banned any outside superheroes from entering bc lb and cn said that they had asked the superheroes (e.g justice league, up to u) for help, but all they got was a message saying that they should not be faking this for attention. soon, said superheroes try to come into paris to help aft hawkmoth was alr defeated and theyre arent allowed in. lb and cn show up and the superheroes insult then abit bc they arent allowed in so paris and lb and cn go off at them

Here you go!! Hope you like the story! Let me know what you think!

Ladybug and Chat Noir were very worried when they first became heroes. They had no experience as heroes, nor any idea how to track down Hawkmoth. They knew that people could request aid from the Justice League for their cities if something was wrong. Of course, it was mainly used to ask for just humanitarian help, typically after some kind of natural disaster. But Ladybug and Chat Noir didn’t know what else to do. So, they sent in a request, asking for their help. They never received a response to their initial request. As time went by, they kept trying to reach out to the Justice League. After their fifth message, they received a response, but not the one they were hoping for. When the two young heroes saw a message from the Justice League help line, they felt excited. They thought they would finally get some help and maybe this nightmare would be over soon. But the message didn’t say that help was on the way. Instead all it said was:

This help line is for real emergencies only. You two should not be clogging the line with these ridiculous jokes. This is not the kind of thing to fake to get attention. Please do not contact this help line again. -Justice League Assistance Requests

Ladybug and Chat Noir were disheartened. They had truly hoped that these heroes would help them. How could they think this is fake? It is true that there is no apparent damage, but Ladybug had explained that was only due to her powers.

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Ladybug and Chat Noir did not listen to the message and kept sending messages that became more and more desperate as the akumas grew stronger. Eventually though, it became too dangerous to keep asking for help. Ladybug and Chat Noir both realized that if the Justice League came to Paris, they ran the risk of the League becoming akumatized. If any member of the League became akumatized, it would be disastrous. Ladybug realized that they couldn’t risk the heroes coming to Paris anymore. So, her and Chat Noir went to the mayor. After that day, foreign superheroes were banned from entering Paris.

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After three years of fighting, Ladybug and Chat Noir had finally defeated Hawkmoth. His capture was international news. Paris was finally telling the full story. The mayor finally told the world all about Hawkmoth and his reign of terror. The world was shocked that they hadn’t known what was happening. None were more shocked than Bruce Wayne. He remembered those messages from all those years ago in Paris. Those kids had been telling the truth? He could hardly believe it; their messages had seemed so ridiculous that they had to be fake. Magic jewelry that is powered by tiny gods did not sound real at all. Batman knew it was time for damage control. He called a meeting with the other founding members of the league and went straight to the Watchtower.

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When Bruce arrived, he saw that most of the other members were already present. Several of them were confused and were asking Bruce why they were there. Bruce just played the news clip from this morning. Several of the other leaguers were shocked. Green Lantern spoke up, “These kids again? They were actually telling the truth?” Bruce turned to him, “Yes it appears they were. This is going to look bad on us, that we didn’t help. Whether we believed them or not, it is important that we go to Paris now. Offer our apologies for not helping sooner and help them re-build. I imagine there is a lot left damaged after fighting such a powerful foe.” Bruce had clearly already forgotten that in the original messages Ladybug had said she could fix all the damage. Shows how much he actually listened to the original requests. With that settled, the different members prepared to leave for Paris. They tried using the zeta tube they had set up, but they got an error message saying the tube in Paris was too damaged. The leaguers assumed it had been damaged in one of the fights and decided to zeta to a different location in France and then fly the rest of the way to Paris. They had no idea about the cold greeting they would soon receive.

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Marinette had been at home for the day when the news was announced. She may not have revealed her identity to the public, but she did tell her parents finally about her being Ladybug. They were so proud, and had agreed that Marinette deserved the day off from school, considering she had just saved Paris. Marinette was just planning on spending a relaxing day at home when she got a message. She had set up a website with a way to message Ladybug back when Hawkmoth was still active. This was so citizens could inform her of akuma attacks quicker. She wasn’t expecting to get a message on it today, but around noon, there was a new message. This message came from the mayor’s office. It read:

Ladybug, we have spotted different members of the Justice League approaching the city. Since the ban on superheroes is still in effect, we will turn them away. However, we would feel more comfortable doing so if you and Chat Noir were there to help. Please hurry to the Western border of the city.

Marinette was shocked. The Justice League was coming now? Why the sudden interest in Paris? Regardless, she quickly pulled out her phone and called Adrien, who was also staying home for obvious reasons. They had revealed their identities to each other after the final battle, and were ecstatic to find out they had been that close to each other all along. The rest of the miraculous team also revealed their identities, and everyone was shocked to see that Ladybug and Chat Noir were Marinette and Adrien. Adrien picked up quickly, “Marinette? What’s up?” “Can you talk privately right now?” Adrien knew that meant that Marinette needed to talk about superhero stuff, so he made sure the door to his room was locked and then said, “Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?” Marinette replied quickly, “We have guests coming to the city. Apparently, someone spotted members of the Justice League heading this way and are worried they will try to enter the city. The mayor asked both of us to be there to help when they turn them all away. He asked us to meet at the western border of the city as quick as we can.” Adrien was shocked. Why was the League coming? They hadn’t cared before. “I’ll be right there milady. Let the rest of the team know, we may need the back up. See you soon.” With that, he hung up and transformed. Marinette quickly sent a message in the group chat for they had set up for the members of the miraculous team, telling everyone to meet at the western border quickly. She then transformed as well and went to join Chat. He quickly rushed to the border of the city where he saw the police force, the mayor, and Ladybug all waiting. He joined them and watched for the Justice League. They didn’t have to wait long before the Justice League members appeared on the horizon. Officer Raincomprix used a megaphone and ordered all of the heroes to land before they entered the city. Chat Noir got ready to face the Justice League and tell them to get lost.

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When the leaguers arrived, they were expecting the citizens of Paris to be glad to see them. But instead, they were glared at and ordered to stop at the border of the city. The leaguers were confused, this is a very different reception than they were expecting. They stopped and Batman stepped forward, “We heard about your defeat of Hawkmoth and have come to offer our help in rebuilding your city.” Then a younger girl in a ladybug themed outfit and a boy in a cat outfit stepped forward. Batman recognized them as the kids from the videos, what were their names again? Oh right, Ladybug and Chat Noir. Behind them he saw other kids in similar outfits, however he didn’t remember seeing any of them in the videos sent to the league. He was expecting them to thank him and the other heroes for the help, even if they were still upset from the earlier rejection. But that was not what happened at all. The two kids were very calm, but he could tell they were still angry. The girl called Ladybug took the lead, “Your help is not wanted, or even needed. The city is perfectly fine. Regardless, you are not welcome in Paris. None of you are. Foreign superheroes are banned in Paris. Only the miraculous team is allowed to reside in this city.” The Justice League were shocked, to say the least. Batman tried to argue with them, “The city can’t possibly already be prepared. Fights like what was discussed on the news cause massive amounts of damage. They couldn’t possibly be fixed overnight. And how could you ban superheroes?” Chat Noir rolled his eyes, “Shows how much you actually listened to our original request for help. We told you back then that the reason there was no damage to speak of is because Ladybug is able to reverse all damage caused by the akumas and other miraculous. In other words, the damage from the final fight was fixed immediately. And we banned heroes after you all refused to give us any aid. We needed to make sure that you didn’t just storm in later and try to take over or get akumatized. That would have been disastrous. You can’t just suddenly decide to come and help after ignoring us for three years.”

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Superman stepped forward at this point, “We didn’t mean to ignore the situation. But you have to admit it sounds pretty far-fetched. Magical jewelry that is powered by ancient gods and evil butterflies possessing people doesn’t sound reasonable.” Ladybug got angry hearing that, “Why doesn’t it? You have several magic users in the Justice League, like Zatanna. You even have Dr. Fate who is a sorcerer that inhabits a magic helmet and possesses people who wear the helmet. That isn’t much different from the miraculous. Are you all seriously so close-minded that you didn’t even consider the possibility?”

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That comment made several of the leaguers angry. They didn’t want to admit that they were in the wrong, but Ladybug was right. They had several magic users, and the Helmet of Fate is pretty similar to a miraculous. But these kids couldn’t possibly know what they are doing. The Justice League needed to step in and help get things back to normal. They were sure that they could get the city to listen. Batman turned to the mayor and said, “That ban is hardly necessary anymore. It wasn’t even necessary in the first place. These second-rate heroes just convinced you of it because their pride was hurt. Don’t you think it is time to lift it? I am sure we could help get your city back on track quicker than these children playing at heroes.” Ladybug and Chat Noir’s blood was boiling after hearing that. How dare Batman act all high and mighty and talk above them like he was superior. He had spent the last three years ignoring the problem and now wants to suddenly come in and take over. This is exactly why they put the ban in place. The mayor seemed just as angry as Ladybug and Chat Noir, “Sir, like Ladybug and Chat Noir said, you are not welcome here. They have done a fantastic job in not only dealing with Hawkmoth, but also helping the citizens return to normal.” Batman was furious, they were still going to deny them entry? The Flash stepped forward now, “Surely, with the focus being on Hawkmoth, crime rates have risen. That isn’t the fault of these kids, they wouldn’t know how to juggle dealing with Hawkmoth and also petty crime. But we can help you get that handled.” Mayor Bourgeois shook his head, “Actually, they handled both responsibilities well. Even though we told them not to worry about petty crime, and that the local police would handle it, they still patrolled every night to help. Crime rates are at an all time low here. Now I am not going to tell you again. You are not welcome here. Leave at once.”

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The Justice League couldn’t believe it, Batman exploded, “You would seriously leave the security of your city in the hands of these wannabe heroes?” Green Lantern added, “Yeah, they are just little kids with some fancy jewelry playing pretend. You need real heroes!” The mayor and police were furious. How dare these people belittle their heroes. The mayor was now yelling as well, “Do not speak about them so rudely. They are more heroic than you seem to be. Now get out of my city.”

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The Justice League still refused to leave. They hurled insults at the young heroes and demanded to be let in to the city. They even tried to force their way past the blockade of police officers. Ladybug turned around and gestured to Pegasus. The leaguers did not see any of this, they just heard someone call “Voyage!” They saw a giant blue portal open and then swallowed them up. When the light faded, they saw that they were in the middle of a field somewhere. Batman used his GPS and saw that they had been moved all the way to a corn field in the middle of Nebraska. He was furious, how dare they force him away through a teleport. Paris needed more competent heroes than a bunch of children playing pretend.

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Over the next several weeks, the league continued to try and enter the city. None of their attempts worked though. They tried just flying through, entering covertly as their civilian identities, and a bunch of other plans. Somehow, the leaguers kept getting teleported right back out of the city, in increasingly strange locations. Eventually, the leaguers just decided to abandon Paris completely. They would not help Paris with any situation. Their plan was to watch the city fall to pieces and not offer any help unless they lifted that ridiculous ban. But that never happened. It irritated Batman and the others to no end that those second-rate heroes were doing a good job and that the ban wasn’t lifted. So, the leaguers resumed their attempts to break into the city. They did not count on the young heroes putting their actions in the public eye.

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Ladybug and Chat Noir were still furious at how the leaguers behaved. They had thought that the Justice League was full of good and kind people, but the members they had met were certainly not good and kind. They were forceful and insulting. And even once they were told that they were not welcome in Paris, they kept trying to come into the city anyway. Poor Pegasus was exhausted from constantly having to teleport them away. Ladybug knew they had to do something or those leaguers would keep coming back. So, they made a video. This video told the whole world that the Justice League had ignored their calls for help all those years ago and had left young heroes to fend for themselves. It also talked about how the league had shown up after the fact and tried to bully their way into the city they had previously ignored, despite the fact they were told about the superhero ban. The video ended by talking about how they were fed up with the league members having no respect for the laws of Paris and still trying to sneak into the city. The miraculous team posted the video online and sent it to all the major news networks they could get a hold of. The public was outraged when they saw the video. The heroes they trusted were trying to break the laws in Paris? The video and public outcry seem to have worked. It had been several weeks since the video was posted, and no leaguer had tried to break into the city since. The miraculous team was ecstatic; they didn’t have to keep forcing the heroes out of the city. At last, the miraculous team and all of Paris could finally enjoy peace.

#ml fic #ml fanfic #ml salt #maribat #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug x dc #miraculous fanfic #miraculous salt fanfic #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous salt #hawkmoth defeated

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years ago

Text

picking out the stitches.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: after letha’s death; peter’s departure; shelley’s disappearance; and a brutal fight with subsequent break up with roman; you escape to the empire state for college and a fresh start. though, after thinking you have been given the space to move on with your life, your father’s unexpected death sends you back to hemlock grove. there, you are forced to confront the reason for your pained departure.

word count: 14.1k (oopies)

warning: mentions of an abusive father

a/n: this is a long bitch, with a possible part two (?) if this is enjoyed by you all! (: i hope the length of this makes up for it taking so long lol. also prob ooc roman bc i love him just being soft

please if you read this and like it, know that feedback is greatly appreciated and i’d love to hear any thoughts you have!! also im bad at editing

Tuna, turkey and swiss, BLT.

No option offered sounded particularly tasty. You had come in search of egg salad sandwich, a surprising delicacy from the Hemlock Grove Grocery Deli that you had been craving since your departure months ago. It felt like comfort food, a way to make being back in town bearable.

But the stockboys seemed to be sending you a message: there was no good reason to be back in town, and no sandwich was going to remedy your pain.

“(Y/N)?”

You flinched at the sound of your name as sweat prickled the back of your neck. The last fucking thing you wanted was to be recognized the second you got back into town. Being forced to interact with any of the waspy bitches or rednecks that attended your high school, especially now, seemed like a personal affront punishable with only your meanest of glares and most backhanded of compliments.

But, who you found had called your name was not only a surprise, but a pleasant one. Not a bitch or mouth breather in sight.

“Peter?” Your eyebrows perked up as you said his name, no doubt unable to hide your complete shock at his sudden appearance.

“In the flesh.” He smiled. That same boyish smile that he always gave especially when you needed to see it.

Your body worked on it’s own violation as you shot yourself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He thankfully returned the gesture, gripping the fabric of your dress in his fingers to keep you close. Peter pressed his nose to your temple and you buried yourself deep into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t until a voice cleared behind you that the two of you pulled apart.

“Excuse me,” A man holding a wire basket interpreted, seeming less than pleased to have been forced to witness your reunion.

“Sure, after you, sir.” Peter said, theatrically waving the man past.

“Stupid fucker, couldn’t even go through another aisle.” He watched the man leave with a scowl.

“Shut up about inconiquestional people and tell me what the hell you’re doing back in town!” You said with a wide smile while slapping his chest playfully.

“I think that’s a better question suited for me to you, don’t you think? Last I heard you fucked off to N-Y-C.” Peter said, leaning against the display of sandwiches.

“Yeah? And who told you that?”

“Destiny.”

You smirked and rested your shoulder against the display, “She’s got a big mouth.”

“Big mouth? Who cares if she does! New York is a big deal. NYU, even bigger.”

You roll your eyes at the compliment.

“Hey, no, I’m serious! You always were the scholar out of us. Fucking valedictorian while Roman and I barely managed C’s.” He continued.

At the mention of Roman, you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, eyes breaking from Peter’s only long enough for him to see your pain at his name.

“You still haven't answered my question, you know?” You said, trying to seamlessly change the subject, fiddling with the ends of your hair to keep your hands busy.

“Yeah, well, it isn’t a happy answer.”

“Enlighten me anyway.”

Peter gives a heaving sigh, a signature of his, “Lynda got pinched for some shit and was transferred out here... I followed.”

Your heart sank. Lynda had always been exponentially kind and understanding. To you, Shelley and even Roman.

“Shit, Peter. I’m so sorry. How’re you holding up?” You placed a comforting hand on his forearm.

“As well as I can given the circumstances. I’m staying with D, so at least that’s good.” He gives a forced smile.

“I’m glad you’re with family at a time like this.” You drop your hand and slouch against the display, matching his relaxed posture.

There was a brief pause between the two of you, before Peter spoke again.

“Usually, when one party enlightens the other, they are obligated to do the same.” He leans in ever so slightly to emphasize his point.

“That is usually the deal, yes.”

“So?”

“My dad croaked a few days ago. Heart attack.”

“Holy shit, (Y/N/N),” Peter interrupted, face falling into a concerned frown.

“No, no. It’s fine. He was a piece of shit,” You shrug.

“Still, he was your dad.”

“Yeah, he was my dad who hit me and my mom and loved booze more than either of us.”

“He still was your dad, (Y/N).” He reiterated.

You purse your lips and sigh.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to be all fucking weepy about the whole thing.” You say, grabbing a turkey and swiss from the display and pushing off to walk toward the register.

“No one said you had to be,” Peter appealed as he followed behind you, “But don’t let everything get all clogged up in there.”

He motioned to his chest and you roll your eyes, setting your sandwich on the conveyor belt for the cashier.

“I promise you, the moment he is six feet under I will let all my emotions out. Mainly rejoice and relief.” You sent Peter a smile as your sandwich rang up.

“Four forty, even.”

You reach into your purse, but Peter beats you to it. He hands the cashier a crumpled up five dollar bill.

You give him a glare, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. It’s gonna be my lunch too.” He snatched the sandwich from the bagging area and saunters to the exit, leaving you to gather the nickels and dimes.

Parked in a gravel parking lot looking over the lake, you and Peter sat in the cab of his tow truck. Both eating a half of the mediocre turkey and swiss while sharing a warm cherry Coke from the center console in silence. After a brief session of catch up on your lives over the past few months, you were both happy enough to just sit quietly in each other's company. Simply enjoying the comfort of being in the presence of someone you love.

“You ever hear from him?” Peter spoke up, mouth full of bread and slimy meat.

“Who?” You at least have the decency to cover your mouth as you spoke.

“You know who. Don’t make me say his name, you got all squirly last time.”

You sighed as you finish chewing the food in your mouth, savoring what you could of the cheap flavors as you avoided Peter’s gaze. Once you swallowed, you took a long gulp from the Coke can before answering.

“No. He’s been out of my life since that night. Really prefer to keep it that way, too.” You replied clippedly, not wanting to talk about him any more than necessary.

Peter belows a raspberry in response.

You looked over to glare at him, “What?”

“I just find that hard to believe.”

“That I don’t want to see the man who broke my heart?” You snap.

“No, that Roman has been able to keep his distance from you.”

“I thought we weren’t saying his name.” You abruptly look away and out the windshield once more.

“Apologies.”

“You don’t have to sound so sincere about it.” You scoff.

“What happened between you two, anyway? Before I left I could practically hear wedding bells.”

“Destiny didn’t tell you?” You press your lips together firmly, hoping Destiny had just made up a lie on your behalf to tell her cousin.

“All she said was that you and Roman supposedly got into this huge fight and you left a few days after. Nothing more, nothing less.” He explained.

“Yeah, well huge fight is an understatement.”

“Then what happened?”

You sigh deeply, reclining against the headrest and wrapping your arms around your middle for some misplaced search for security.

“It happened a few days after you skipped town. It was his birthday…”

Music echoed around you as you placed gentle kisses along the expanse of Roman’s neck. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, collecting grease and pomade on your fingertips and under your nails as you did. He had an arm securing you tightly to his side, the other had been holding you too, but he had retrieved it to light a cigarette.

After the traumatic week you two had undergone, you didn’t fight Roman much when he insisted all he wanted to do for his eighteenth birthday was drink, watch a movie and have you sleep over. You were happy he at least let you buy him a cupcake to commemorate the day, but wouldn’t see to any more festivities. He told you that now more than ever wasn’t a time to be merry. You didn’t blame him, no matter how much you wanted to celebrate him today.

So, you let him share his birthday cupcake with you in the bottom of an empty swimming pool and hold you in an uncomfortable lounge chair for as long as he wanted. Fortunately, this was as calm as you’d seen him in days and you hoped that continued; at least until midnight.

Roman lulled his head on top of yours and placed his hand on your hip, making sure every part of you that could be touching was.

The sound of a door opening resounded in the distance and the distinct tap of heels on tile followed. You felt Roman deflate next to you as you both recognized who the sound belonged to.

In sauntered Olivia, in a beautiful floor length gown with a sparkler in hand, painting patterns in the dark with the fire illuminating her wicked smile.

“Happy Birthday, my darling.” She chimed, looking down at the both of you.

You and Roman both shifted under her unwelcome gaze, neither responding. You turned further into Roman’s neck and you felt his fingers press harder into the flesh of your hip.

“It can’t be a party with just the two of you, can it?” Olivia said, dropping the sparkler to lay by her side.

“Well, three’s a crowd. So if you’ll excuse us.” Roman waved his hand that held his cigarette dismissively.

“One is the loneliest number, but two can be just as bad.” Olivia replied in a musical lit.

Again, neither of you respond. You busy yourself fiddling with the collar of Roman’s tank top.

“(Y/N), darling, you do look beautiful tonight.” She turns her attention to you after the silence she received. Something Olivia knew Roman disapproved of her doing.

“Thank you, Mrs. Godfrey.” You reply politely, glancing at her briefly before going back to Roman’s shirt.

“Is that the dress Roman bought you some time back? I remember hearing you tell Shelley about it over dinner.” Olivia continued.

“What is it that you want, again?” Roman snapped, making you flinch at his volume increase.

“I have a surprise for you. In the attic.” She gestured using what’s left of the dying sparkler at the ceiling.

“Can’t it wait?” Roman said, wholly disinterested.

“No, it cannot, Roman. It is your birthday surprise and I would like to give it to you now.” Her voice became more stern by the word.

Roman moves to look at you and you do the same. His eyes are inviting you to a conversation Olivia isn’t privy too. An almost psychic communication you’ve had together since the day you first met.

Do we go with her? Or wait her out until she leaves?

Just see what she wants. Once she’s shown you we can get back to doing whatever you want.

Roman pursed his lips before letting out a dramatic sigh, “Fine.”

He got up from the chair before offering you his hand to help you up.

Olivia watched as you both climb the ladder out of the empty pool and onto the landing.

“Let’s get this over with.” Roman gave his mother a firm glare.

He placed a hand on the small of your back and started for the door when Olivia stopped him.

“I’m afraid, this gift is for Godfrey eyes only.” She looked at you with weakly masked distaste.

You felt Roman’s fingers once again probe into your skin, “She is a Godfrey.”

“Not in name or blood.”

“But she will be so it doesn’t matter.” Roman retorted, harshly.

This wasn’t the first time he had alluded to your future together, and at the time, you didn’t think it would be the last.

“Well, she isn’t yet, is she? When she is, then she will be welcome to engage in all Godfrey birthday present exchanges.” Olivia sneered.

“There is nothing you could show me that she can’t-” You placed a gentle hand on Roman’s chest before he could continue.

This fight certainly wasn’t worth it. Especially not over a fucking birthday present.

“It’s fine. I’ll wait in your room.” You offered.

“Off the premise.” Olivia chimed in curtly.

“Excuse me?” Roman spat.

“(Y/N) can go home and see you tomorrow. This gift needs much explanation and discussion.”

“This is beyond fucking ridiculous!”

“Ro, it’s OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile up at him.

You didn’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever, but never with Olivia.

“I’ll see you later tonight.” Roman stressed.

“Tomorrow would be-”

“Let’s just call it a see-you-soon, then?” You cut off Olivia, never taking your eyes off Roman.

He just tightens his jaw, so tight you’re afraid he might crack a filling. But he nods.

“Fine. I’ll call you.” He says. And he says it with such sincerity that you know without a doubt he will, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses your forehead and you kiss his cheek, not overly keen on giving him the proper goodbye kiss you wanted to infront of Olivia. As you walk away, you spare Olivia a last glance and the look on her smug face is one so self satisfied it made your stomach churn.

Roman never called you that night, or even the next morning. The calls you gave him were left unanswered; texts and voicemails the same.

You would have called Peter, Shelley or Letha to see if they’d heard from Roman at a time like this, but all were depressingly dead ends.

Under the circumstances that you left under the night before, you took it upon yourself to drive to the Godfrey residence and find out what the hell was going on yourself. You didn’t trust Olivia as far as you could throw her, and you didn’t put any heinous act past her.

Your worry beat out any common sense you had to stay away and wait for Roman to come to you.

When you arrived and knocked on the door, several times to be exact, it seemed no one was home. Though, both cars were in the driveway and you knew neither Roman or Olivia would take a cab anywhere. With balled fists you slammed against the wood of the door, kicking your foot against it as well for good measure. You had been in your knocking rhythm so long, when the door finally opened you stumbled forward.

You caught yourself on the knob and looked up to see who answered.

Roman stood above you with expressionless features and down turned lips.

“What?” He asked.

“Don’t ‘what’ me! ‘What’ you! You never called and you haven’t been answering.” You said, straightening yourself out.

“You’re not my fucking keeper,” Roman scoffed and turned his back to walk down the hallway.

Your face screwed up in confusion as you stepped over the threshold into the mansion and slammed the door, then followed him through the house.

“Excuse me? What is up with you?” You exclaimed.

Roman had stopped in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator while trying his best to seem unbothered with tense shoulders.

“Nothing is up. I just didn’t want to call you.” He spoke into the crisper drawer.

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

“What the fuck did Olivia show you? Must have been really messed up for you to be acting like this.” You let a humorless laugh through your nose.

“Or maybe I was just happy to be rid of you and now that you’re back, I am pissed.” He slammed the door to the fridge, its contents rattling inside.

Your surprised expression hadn’t wavered as Roman glared at you, his eyes dull and unfamiliar.

“Ok, so, yesterday you’re talking about marrying me, and today I am some parasite you’re happy to be rid of? Is that right?” You took a step toward him.

“I was never going to marry you, you delusional whore.” His first real hit, chipping away at your weak armour. The armour he had weakened himself with his love and care for years.

“If I’m whore, I’d hate to know what that makes you.” You spat.

“It makes me the fucking billionaire who mistakenly kept around some boring girl with a mediocre cunt.” His second hit.

“Wow. You’re right, Roman. I am a whore, but I must be an idiot too! To stay with such a man who calls my pussy mediocre when he can’t even fuck me right.” You provoked.

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you? Because for as long as I can remember I’ve been faking my orgasms just to get your pathetic little prick out of me. Is that why you cry after Roman? Because you know about that weak excuse of a dick between your legs?”

You were being cruel and frankly, spinning lies. But he was hurting you and you wanted to hurt him back.

“No, I cry thinking about all the other guys you let between your legs. Maybe that’s why daddy hits you, huh? Hoping that one day he hits you hard enough to rattle that whore brain so hard it kills you? So he won’t have to live with the shame? Or maybe he hopes if he hits you enough you’ll finally drop to your knees and show him that head everyone in town talks about.” The last hit, and the one that broke you.

You close the last few steps between you and strike him as hard as you can muster across the face, cranking Roman’s head to the side with the impact. The slap rings loudly through the room, so do your sniffles.

“How can you be so cruel? How could you ever say that to me?” You scream through tears.

“Just speaking the truth.” Roman said smoothly, his head still rotated.

“What is going on with you? What happened last night?”

“I came to my senses, that’s what happened. I realized that I was sick of wasting all my time on a miserable little bitch when I could be out fucking real women.” He says through gritted teeth, “Real women who don’t need so much tedious validation from me.”

“Are you done?” You snapped, your throat thick with tears.

“With you. Yes.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Malicious words spun in your head, ready to fire off your tongue and tear him apart, but you knew you would never be able to get them out in one piece. You would stutter and sob and shake and it would give Roman even more satisfaction at seeing you crumble. So, you turned on your heel as fast as you could, holding your hand over your mouth to silence your cries and fled the Godfrey home.

“Shee-it.” Peter said, looking sick.

“Shee-it, indeed.” You nod.

“So, that was it?”

“That was it. I was there barely five minutes when it was all said and done… then I went home, cried my stupid eyes out and packed my shit. It was always the plan for me to do online courses and stay here with him, but, y’know, things changed... So, I left.”

“I know that feeling.” Peter says, giving the river a thousand mile stare.

“I know you do. Let’s not forget you abandoned me, too.” You said, far more harshly than intended. The topic of the break up having brought old wounds to the surface.

A pained expression crossed his face, “(Y/N)... Fuck, I’m sorry. I am. I just… after Letha,”

“You don’t have to explain. I’m sorry I snapped. I forgave you the minute you left, for the most part, anyway.” You shrugged.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You sigh and look over at him, “If I had been in your shoes I would have hightailed it the second I could have.”

He offers you a sad smile, “But you needed me, and I left.”

“It’s really OK. Because you’re here now. And it all worked out.”

“New York that good, then?”

“Better than good. I’m alone and broke-.”

“And that’s better than good?” He chuckles.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I’m learning and figuring things out on my own. I’m finding things that make me happy without having to worry about anything else. It’s just nice.” You smile as you speak.

“That makes me happy. Man, it really does. All I ever wanted for you was happiness. I thought I had left you with the silver you had left of it.” Peter says, resting his temple to the head rest.

“You did what you had too and so did I. I’m sure Roman did too, in his own twisted way,” You reply, “I don’t want to focus on the past anymore. I am purley looking forward to the future from now on.”

Peter dropped you off at home after hours of milling around the streets of Hemlock Grove in his truck. You kept asking if he had to go back to work, but he would dismiss your concern each time. Telling you that he was spending time with you and he’d worry about towing later. As much as you knew you should pressure him to take you home, you were happy for the company, especially when that company was Peter.

His reappearance in your life was unexpected, but wholly accepted and appreciated. You didn’t know the next time you’d be able to see him again, so you were going to enjoy his companionship while you had it.

Hopping out of the truck and brushing residual crumbs from the turkey sandwich from your dress, you shut the door. The window rolled down and Peter leaned over the console to look at you.

“Don’t be a stranger.” He smiles at you and you can’t help but return it.

“Never again.”

“If you have time, come by Destiny’s before you head back up north. I know she’d love to have dinner.” He proposes and your smile widens.

“I’d love that, I’ll keep you posted.” You start to back up toward your front door.

“And let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I know losing someone is tough.” His smile falls slightly as the funeral is mentioned again.

You knew Peter was worried about you and he had good intentions, but he didn’t know your father like you did. You were going to this thing for appearances and to make your grandmother happy, if you had had a choice you would have rather stayed at school.

“Got it. Thank you, Peter.”

You wave him off and you watch as he double takes to look at you until he is out of sight, only then did you enter your house.

The house isn’t much and it wasn’t the home you grew up in. When your mother finally left your father, she promptly moved you both into a smaller place on the west side of Hemlock Grove that was better suited for your new family dynamic.

It was a dated burgundy one story, with bland beige carpets and no overhead lighting in the bedrooms, but with two bathrooms. That was helpful down the line when your mother began dating again and her multiple suitors would stay for weeks at a time. You never wanted to be alone with any of them, so that meant crossing the boundary into her room to use the en suite was always out of the question.

Your bedroom was somewhere you always found solace and comfort, even now it felt more like home than anywhere in the world. It had a small excuse of a bay window that looked out over a small and shallow creek. One of your mother’s more involved boyfriends had built you a window bench years before underneath it, upholstered in red velvet. You had run your fingers over the soft fabric so many times, certain places were now rubbed raw and threadbear.

Roman used to sit on your bed while you sat on the bench, reading to him from a litany of novels, some for pleasure and some for assignments. He’d look at you and tell you the light from the window haloed you like an angel. You’d tell him he was just talking out of his ass to get you to stop reading and fool around. Then Roman would smirk and shrug, like he wasn’t sure who was more right. His memory seemed to be etched into every detail of your bedroom, unfortunately.

There was the small heart he had carved into your headboard with an unclicked pen, your initials carved around it. There was your small Ikea vanity, that was stained with nail polish from the time Roman insisted he could do your nails better than you could. There was your closet, just big enough to hold you both inside; where you would steal kisses when you first started to sneak him into your room at night. There was the faded paint on the wall in the shape of a rectangle, where a picture frame of you and Roman at your first homecoming together had once been. There was your fucking duvet cover, that you and Roman would hide underneath on bright mornings. Where he’d hold you and kiss you softly, whispering sweet affections until the muggy air between you became thick and he’d push your noses up over the edge of the blanket to take in giggling gulps of breath.

Roman Godfrey had left painful reminders of himself everywhere. There were too many for you to erase fully. His memory was like a Hydra, repress a recollection of his and two more would pop into your mind in its place.

Now, all the bench held your small suitcase that you had packed early this morning for your short trip down to Pennsylvania. Just some toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a black cocktail dress and a few textbooks. Just because your father died didn’t mean your school work would lighten because of it.

While it wasn’t very late, you had been up early to catch your train and hadn’t expected to be out all day with Peter. You excused your premature exhaustion and decided it was best to take a shower, have a snack and then go to bed. Tomorrow was to no doubt try your nerves, so a full night's rest was likely your best option.

After your shower, you slipped into a pair of pajamas and went down the hall to see if your mother had left you any suitable food. She was still on vacation with her current boyfriend and wouldn’t be able to make it back until Monday, a full day after you were set to leave. So, all you could hope was that there was something edible left in the pantry.

Tussling your damp hair in your hands, you padded through the kitchen to try and make something with the odds and ends your mother had in stock.

As you settled on a half eaten bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa, there was a knock at the door. Your mother’s car was missing from the driveway and anyone who would drop by unannounced knew she was out of town. Assuming it was a solicitor or a package delivery, you ignored it and continued on with your pre-bed snack. But the knocking didn’t let up.

Begrudgingly, you made your way to the door in the hopes of shooing off whoever was bothering you. Though, when you opened it, you debated simply closing the door like it nothing had happened. To just shut the door tight and pretend that you hadn’t seen who was standing on your doorstep. All six feet four inches of him.

With his back to you and a large bouquet of roses in hand, Roman glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door open. He looked about as startled as you felt when he laid eyes on you.

“(Y/N).” He blurted out, his body swiveling like an owl to face the same direction as his head.

“Roman.” You gave him a forced smile, cursing that you had lost your opportunity to run and hide.

“I, uh, well, wow. I, these are for your mother,” Roman whipped out the bouquet from behind him, “I heard about your dad. I just wanted to see how she was holding up. I know they aren’t close or anything, but y’know, it’s still the father of her child.”

You took the flowers from him carefully, making sure to avoid where his fingers lay on the stems.

“She’s not here, but thanks. I’ll make sure to let her know you stopped by.” You continued your kind facade before moving to shut the door.

But Roman was quicker as he placed a large hand on the wood to keep it ajar.

“I’m sorry for you too, you know? I know how it feels to lose a father. So, I’m sorry.” He said, like he was trying to keep you in his company as long as possible.

“Wish my dad would have eaten a bullet when I was a kid. You got lucky.” You joke, once more trying to shut the door.

And Roman continued to keep it open.

“Well, I know things ended… bad- But! I’m still here if you need me. For anything. Have all the preparations been taken care of?” He asked.

“Yeah, my grandma and grandpa took care of it. Nothing to worry about. But thanks, Roman.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his mouth puckered, the way he always did when he had a million things to say and no idea how to say them.

You began to notice his attire as he loomed over you, with no seeming intention of leaving you or your front stoop alone.

He wore a thick winter coat over a black three piece suit, tailored to perfection. His hair was parted on the right and smoothed down with gel. It certainly wasn’t your favorite look on him, but your input hardly mattered anymore. He wore Oxford dress shoes that were spotless and without a crease. You realized just then that he must have come right from The White Tower to bring the flowers to your mother, and these were his work clothes. These were the clothes and fifty dollar haircut of a fresh faced CEO.

You had known that he was set to secede the throne of Godfrey Industries once he turned eighteen, but you never gave it much thought after you moved to New York. The Roman who haunted your dreams and took residence in your thoughts was always your Roman. The boy who wanted to smoke and dance and kiss and laugh. Not a business tycoon out for blood.

“I didn’t know you would be in town. I would have stopped by.” He said, finally finding words to give him a reason to stay.

“You already have.”

“I know, but I would have made it more deliberate. More to see you and not to just give my condolences to you mother.” Roman explained, his hand still on the door.

You snort, “Yeah, well I don’t know why you’re giving her flowers anyway. She doesn’t like you. Not after I told her everything.”

“Yeah, uh, I didn’t know that.” He laughs uncomfortably, finally taking a step away and relieving your door of his hostage.

“Well, it was nice of you to come by. I’ll see you around, Roman.” It was clear from your tone that this incommodious conversation was over.

Though, Roman still was outwardly ignoring your brusque attitude, “Could I come in? I would love to catch up for a moment? For old times sake?”

“I don’t know if that is such a good idea.”

“I won’t be long, I promise.” He bargained

You watched him for a long moment, debating on what to do. On one hand, you craved his presence. You craved him after just one sighting and wanted him to come in, to talk, to listen, to heal. Because like you said to Peter in the car earlier, you did believe that Roman had done what he had for a reason, it was just no doubt a fucked up and selfish one. You couldn’t hate him forever, you didn’t want to. It would destroy you before it did any good.

On the other, all you could do was hear his voice echoing in your mind, explaining his disgust for you.

But, you wanted to look to the future. You wanted to free yourself of the burden of grudges and hatred. You wanted to forgive Roman, the best you could, and leave him and his faults to fester in the past while you moved on with your life.

So, you pushed the door open wider with the tips of your fingers and walked back to the kitchen, while Roman eagerly followed.

“I’ll have to find every vase in the house for these,” You quietly joked.

“I could buy a big vase to hold them tomorrow and send it over if you’d like?” He was following closer than you would have liked as you searched the cabinets for vases and empty jars.

“No, it’s alright. I think I’ll like how eclectic they’ll look in mismatched glasses.” You said, “And then I could put them all around the house. It’ll be a nice surprise for my mom when she gets home.”

You undid the thick satin ribbon holding the bouquet together and found a pair of scissors to cut off the ends.

“Want me to fill these with water?” Roman asked, nodding to the empty vases.

“If you don’t mind.”

Roman nodded, shedding his wool jacket and blazer, depositing it on a chair. Then, rounding the island to stand next to you to begin filling each receptacle from the sink.

He was closer to you now than he had been in months. You could smell his woody cologne that clung to his skin, mixed with cigarette smoke and the night air. He must have been driving with the top down. You hated that only his scent could send your heart into somersaults and make your hands quiver with need. All you could think about with him in such a proximity was looking up into his green eyes and him looking down into your (Y/E/C) ones. Looking down at you with that stupid fucking smirk. Then with that smirk, Roman would place a hand on your cheek and gently press it to your lips and you would be in heaven.

Anything Roman did to you was heaven.

Expect when he was hurting you. Which you had to remind yourself, he very much did.

“So, where’s your mom?” Roman asked, placing a mason jar next to faux crystal vase.

“In Florida with her new boyfriend.” You commented.

“Yeah, I heard she was seeing someone.”

“You know if he’s any good?”

“Nah, just that she was seeing someone. I keep an ear to the ground to make sure she’s doing alright.” Another glass filled.

“You don’t have to do that, Roman.” You paused cutting stems for a moment to glance up at him.

He was already looking at you.

“I know. I want to. It’s the least I can do.”

You hold eye contact for a few beats, Roman’s eyes boring into yours in that hyponic way that always left you weak in the knees.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” And you both went back to your tasks at hand.

It was obvious that you were more than willing to work in silence, and it was clear that Roman wasn’t.

“So… how’s NYU?” He prompts.

“Good. I really like it.”

“Enjoying your studies?”

“Very much.”

“And the city? Is it treating you alright?”

“Yes, I think after I graduate I’ll stay for a while.”

Roman only hums in reply. Like that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re doing well.”

“Thank you.”

The conversation lulls as the sound of water and sheers fill the room.

Roman is chewing his cheek and bobbing his head, and you know he won’t let up his chatter anytime soon.

“I’ve been working at The Tower. I took over a few months ago.” He says, eyes darting to you like he was looking for praise.

“Oh,” You reply like you hadn’t already figured it out, “How’s that going?”

“Fine. I mean, it’s a lot of work. A lot of stress, but I’m glad I’m doing it.” He sounds unconvincing as he rambles on about Godfrey Industries and Pryce’s lab while you focus on the flowers.

“Do you ever wonder what you would be doing if you hadn’t been told your entire life that you would take over Godfrey?” You ask, somewhat out of the blue.

Roman stops talking abruptly, his hands pausing under the tap.

“Not really.”

“Isn’t there anything else you would have wanted to do? Like in a dream scenario in a perfect world?” You elaborate.

Roman seems unsettled by your questioning, like these were things no one had ever asked him. Things he had never even asked himself.

“I think in a dream scenario, I would be rich beyond my wildest dreams. And I already am, so why waste time dreaming?” You can tell he isn’t even satisfied with his answer.

You don’t reply, leaving the subject where it lay in the air to go back to working in silence.

“So...” Roman begins again, refusing to let the conversation die down.

“You seeing anyone?” Roman tries to sound blase, but you know this question lays heavy on him.

You barely withhold a scoff as you set your scissors down to look at him once more.

He double takes in your direction, not wanting to look at you for fear of your answer, “What?”

“I’m just surprised you held off this long without asking the question we both know you wanted to ask the second you saw me.”

“Not really an answer…” he murmurs.

“Not really your business.” You counter.

“So there is someone?” You could hear a twinge of anger in his voice.

“Not that it is any of your business, because I want to stress that it really isn’t, but no. I am not seeing anyone.”

“Oh.” Roman’s lip twitches into a smile that he tries to conceal from you.

“Yeah, oh.” You roll your eyes and finish with your clippings and begin to arrange the rose into glasses.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Roman, with his work now over, turns to look down at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Ask you what?”

“If I’m seeing anyone.”

“I don’t care, Roman.”

“Really?” He leans closer to you.

“Well, what constitutes seeing someone, to you? A one night stand? A hooker? An actual multiple date relationship? What is your definition?” You jeer.

“How would you define it?”

“Different from you.”

“Oh come on,” He pokes, “Tell me.”

He was becoming far too chummy with you for your taste.

“I guess I would define it as multiple dates.”

“By that definition, then no. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“But if I defined it by hookers and one night stands?” You inquired.

Roman doesn’t answer.

You can’t help but laugh, “And you said I was a whore.”

The air between you changes, then. It was calm, if not slightly awkward before then, but now it felt tense and uncomfortable.

“(Y/N), I…”

“Don’t.” You reply before he can say anything else.

“But I want to say this, I need to.” Roman persists, reaching out to grab your shoulder.

You shrug off his advance quickly and take a few steps back from him. Roses and vases completely forgotten.

“I need to apologize to you.”

“You need to apologize to me for what, Roman?”

“For that night, what I said-!” Roman starts.

“No. What I mean is, are you apologizing because you’re actually sorry? Because you think that’s what you’re supposed to say to me? Or because you want what you did off your conscious?” You raise a single eyebrow.

“Are you kidding? I’m saying this because I am fucking sorry! I hate what I said to you, it fucking eats me up!” Roman throws his hand in the air as he yells.

“So it is option C.” You replied.

“Jesus fucking- no! It’s not! It’s A! It’s fucking A. You think I wanted to do what I did? Huh? You think I wanted you to leave?”

“Yes, I did. I do.”

“Then fuck you if you think that. Fuck you if you think that I wanted to say all those things. Maybe you don’t really know me at all.” Roman sneers.

“I already concluded that.”

He scoffs.

“Is this why you wanted to come in? Force me into conversation? Ask me if I’m dating anyone, give me a half assed apology and insult me?” You crossed your arms.

“No! No, that’s not why I asked to come in.” Roman shot back.

“Then why?”

“Because I fucking missed you, alright? I fucking missed you and I needed to be near you, even if only for a moment.”

Roman’s voice echoed in the kitchen, his words hanging in the air and ringing in your ears. You could hear them dance in your mind and slide down your back with a chill, taunting you and making your emotions tear in a million different directions.

“Roman, I think it’s time for you to leave.” You say, running your tongue over your teeth.

“No! I’m not fucking leaving. Tell me you don’t miss me too.” Roman took a step toward you as he ran a hand through his slicked down hair, ruining it’s perfection.

“I have to get up early, so I just really think you should go.”

“(Y/N), tell me you don’t miss me and I’ll leave right now. You’ll never see me again, I swear.”

You don’t respond, just cross your arms over your chest. You rub your hands over the skin of your arms, peaking your fingers beneath your shirtsleeves and gripping the fabric tightly.

“Just tell me.”

You meet his gaze as Roman closes the gap between the two of you. He was close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin and the warmth he radiated. An unwarranted chill set through you.

All hope of forgetting the past and moving on was gone, you didn’t care anymore. All you wanted was for Roman to leave. You wanted him to leave so you could wrap yourself in blankets and cry until you couldn’t see anymore.

“Roman, just go.” You whispered, your vocal chords straining to even do that.

“It’s because you can’t say that you don’t.” Roman raised a hand a single finger tracing the features of your face and causing your eyes to drift shut.

He traced your orbital bone and the angle of your nose and your eyebrow and ear. He traced your jaw and your chin and the shape of your ear and stopped to caress your lips.

With each swoop of his finger tip, he was erasing hurt and anguish and pain. He was soothing you and giving you an old form of intimacy that you had craved. He was regaining his sense of self in your mind, reminding you that he could act like he had before that night. He was twining his roots back into your mind.

When his finger finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw tears had gathered in Roman’s. They were threatening to breech from his lash line as he stared at you with a drumming heart.

“Tell me why you hurt me first.”

And Roman dropped his hand and said nothing for a long moment.

“It’s a long story.” He replies, sniffling loudly through his nose.

“I’ve got time.”

“It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t care.”

You had moved to the dining room for Roman’s story. You both sat on opposite ends of your mother’s old mosaic table that you had both eaten many meals at. It was covered in vintage tiles and you picked at the surrounding grout as you listened to him. You ground your fingernails between the titles, filing them into powder as Roman told you about his birthday and everything that had happened since the night you left him.

Of Letha. Of the child. Of the razor blades embedded into his arms. Of his mother’s tongue. Of the bloodlust.

Of the loss.

“This is some fucking Twilight bullshit.” You said once Roman had gone quiet.

“This isn’t fucking funny, (Y/N).” Roman replied, bouncing his knee and pinching his chin.

“No, it’s not fucking funny at all, Roman. Not even a bit, but it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life.” You snort a laugh from your nose.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you. After all that shit with Peter, of course I believe you. Doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.”

Roman raises his eyebrows in understanding with a slight nod.

“So, what? You saying all that shit to me was because you thought you were going to suck me dry, or something?”

“Stop making jokes.” He growled.

“I’m being fucking serious, Roman! What was it?” You stood from your chair to impose over him.

“You deserved better. It would have been too much for you.”

“Oh, don’t be such a martyr, Roman!” You fumed, “Since when have you ever got to decide what was good and what was bad for me?”

“You don’t understand!” Roman pushed up from his chair with such force it tumbled to the floor, “I could barley fucking handle this, OK? I had been living a lie, I had become a monster overnight! I was fucking scared for you- scared for me. What I could do-”

His voice began to quiver and his palms shook as he wiped his clammy palms on his slacks.

“You would either have left me or I would have killed you. I don’t doubt that for a second, and I couldn’t lose anyone else. Not after Letha, not after Peter and Shelley. I just couldn’t.”

“So, pushing me away was the answer?” You asked.

“At the time, yes.”

You just shook your head, and collapsed back into your chair.

“I did it because I loved you.” Roman said, tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

“Stop, Roman...”

“I fucking loved you so much so I made you leave. I fucking love you more than anything.”

He spoke like he was taking his last breath and collapsed to his knees like a dying man, his bones smacking loudly against the linoleum as he crawled to you, tears still leaking from his eyes.

“You have to believe that I’m sorry. I am, I am, I am.”

Roman rested his head on your lap as he wept, his hands clutching your calves.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or speak. All your mind could comprehend was Roman’s deep and encompassing sadness and his wayward soul.

You could barely grasp the story he told, so it was unimaginable to you how it must have felt to live it. Your heart ached for him so profoundly.

Of course you didn’t agree with what he had done to you, not for a moment. He had resorted to cruelty out of fear and you hated it. It was inexcusable.

But, you folded yourself in half and covered his body with yours anyway, and let Roman cry in your lap. You let him cry out the fear and sadness and the exhaustion he had felt these past months.

You had let Roman cry himself dry before escorting him to the door. He held your hand on the way and you didn’t stop him. When you reached the door, Roman was the one to open it and step out into the cold Pennsylvania night. Though, his hand stayed intertwined with your own as he walked out onto your porch.

“What time is the funeral?” He asked.

“10 AM.” You replied.

His skin seemed to glow against the night sky, his milky complexion contrasting beautifully to the dark nature behind him.

“I’ll be there.”

You shook your head, but squeezed his hand, “You don’t have to, really. It’s going to be long and boring.”

“(Y/N),” He looked at you with a crisp sincerity, “I’ll be there.”

You didn’t know what to say, because you weren’t entirely sure what you should say. You wanted to beg him not to come and make a spectacle at his attendance. You wanted to beg him to come and hold your hand and ward off the demons your father had sewn into your psyche.

“Please, Roman, it’s not a big deal. I swear. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

He pursed his lips back at you, like he was deciding if arguing with you on the matter was really worth it. Or if he would win or not. In the end, he said nothing. Just nodded and glanced over to his bright red Jaguar in the driveway.

When Roman looked back to you, you both knew a goodbye wasn’t needed. Your love-telepathy coming back just for a moment to bid each other adidu for the night. An intimacy you didn’t even know you missed until now.

Roman was the first to step away, pulling your hands apart as he did. You felt each finger detangle from his own, until your pinkies were the only things tethering you to each other. When they detached, your hand fell listlessly to your side and Roman watched you intently as he walked to his car, got in, and pulled from your drive away. Only looking away when he finally drove into the night.

You smoothed the dress over your hips as you smiled politely at guests entering the church. They offered you watery smiles and condolences as they spread out into the pews.

You wanted to spit in their faces and scream. Scream and sink your nails into your skin and tell them that he had painted bruises on your skin and installed his hatred for you into your heart before you were old enough to know it was wrong.

He wasn’t a good man. He was far from it.

But no one who was crying tears for him and shaking your hand knew this, and if they did they didn’t care. He was good at hiding what he did, what he had become.

You felt like your head was in a fish bowl with the more people who entered. Their faces blurring and distorting before you, their words muffled and useless. You began just nodding at everyone’s words, refusing to listen to anything else they had to say about Heaven and God’s good will. You wished you had a good excuse to leave and never come back.

It wasn’t until someone wheeled in the casket that you found your escape from the line of mourners and made your way outside. Because the second you laid eyes on the box of shiny mahogany, your stomach dropped to your feet and bile threatened to spill from your lips.

The man you had hated your entire life, the one who had hurt you, the one who struck you, the one who had belittled you, the man who hurt your mother. That man was dead. He was in that fucking box, seperated from you and the living by a few inches of wood.

That man was your father and he was supposed to love you and now he was filled with stuffing and had waxy skin covered in blush and a heart that would never beat again. A mouth that was sewn shut and would never speak again. To never yell, to laugh, to tell you he loved you.

It was over.

Then why were you so sad?

Maybe Peter was right... maybe you’d even tell him.

As you made your way outside, you sucked in as much fresh air as your lungs could take. You let the cold air chill your exposed skin and the grey skies calm your overstimulated senses. While gulping in the breeze and pressing your fingernails to your palms to ground yourself, you gazed out over the parking lot. It was then, that you shed your first tears of the day.

Because there, all in black leaning against his car was Roman Godfrey, looking right back at you.

He’d come.

Because he cared.

Because he loved you.

You didn’t think twice as he ran down the church steps as fast as your heels could take you to him, needing to feel him. Roman did the same, rushing across the asfalte to you, wrapping you in his arms immediately as you collided with his chest.

“You came,” You sobbed into his button down, “You came, you came, you came.”

“Of course I did.” He cooed, nuzzling close to you.

“I needed you and you knew and you came.”

“I’ll always come, even when you don’t call.”

As you both went back to the church, Roman stood with you to greet people coming in. His hand on your lower back and his grandiose stature and expression keeping people from dawdling too long to speak with you.

The service was bleak and full of lies, but you mustered through it without a scoff or outburst for your grandparents sake. Roman sat next to you the entire time, his arm over your shoulder and his temple resting against your head. He’d occasionally place a gentle kiss to your hairline or stroke his fingers over your arm as a reminder that he was with you.

And you loved him for it.

When it was all over and your father’s casket was being rolled away, everyone dispersed. Some to follow the hearse to the graveyard, some to just go home. You and Roman stayed in your seats. You had decided you didn’t want to see your father put in the ground. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t sure exactly all the reasons why, maybe Peter would know the answer to that, too.

You both waited until no one was left in the church, just watching the sun gleam through the stained glass windows at the ceiling and enjoying each other's company.

“You alright?” Roman asked once he was sure everyone was gone.

“I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out, I guess.” You said with a half hearted shrug.

“It’s OK. You have time.”

You gave a nod before leaning closer to him, resting your head underneath his own, letting Roman sit his chin on your crown.

“I thought I would be overjoyed when this day finally came… but I’m not. I’m not really happy and I’m not really sad. I’m just here.”

“I think that’s just fine.” Roman replied, rubbing gentle up and down your arm.

“Thank you for being here.” You remove yourself from under his chin to look at him, “It would have been so much worse without you.”

Roman offered you a soft smile and placed his unoccupied hand on your cheek.

You placed your own hand over his and shut your eyes, reveling in his soft touch.

It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of your heart in your ears and Roman’s rhythmic breathing.

“What now?”

“I’m not sure,” You open your eyes to see he’s already looking at you, “Where are you going?”

“Wherever you are.”

You smile, “Then take me there.”

As you walked through Roman’s front door, you tried to hide a frown. The old Godfrey mansion had been so intricate and full of character. With crown molding and warm golds and rich browns, and history in every nook and cranny. Roman’s new home… it was sterile and bland and grey. It felt cold even with the hum of the radiator. It felt large and imposing, much like it’s owner. It was the type of home that echoed with loneliness.

“So, what do you think?” Roman asked from where he stood close behind you.

“I like it,” You said, “It’s very…”

“You hate it.”

You turned to face him and he was looking at you fondly.

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.”

He nods and takes a step forward, “Yeah, I sort of knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You always loved the old house. Said it felt like you were in a victorian novel.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his memory, “And you always hated it.”

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” He grins at you and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“So, you decided when you moved out you’d make your new place the antithesis of it?”

“Something like that. Anything to erase the memory of my mother.” Roman says this with the cadence of a joke, but his eyes darken at the mention of Olivia.

“I can’t say I blame you.” You reply before he quickly changes the subject.

“Have a seat and I’ll make us both a drink,” He says, gesturing toward his large loveseat in the living room.

You do so, and as you sit down, you admire him standing over the wet bar. He had shed his blazer from his suit on the kitchen table, and through the fabric of his button down (an expensive silk blend from the looks of it) you could so the movement of his broad shoulders and the expanse of the muscles in his back.

The memory of running your hands across the peaks and valleys of his back stuck you. The memory of his smooth skin under your palms made your fingers burn with yearning and twitch with need to reacquaint yourself with the velvet that was Roman Godfrey’s skin.

Roman had finished making your drinks. Both crimson in crystal tumblers. He walked to you and handed you the beverage, which you accepted with a thank you. As you took your first sip of your drink, you couldn't help but smile as Roman sat down next to you on his couch.

“Vodka cranberry?”

“Like I’d forget your favorite drink,” He says, smiling against the rim of his tumbler, “Well, second favorite. I don’t really have the ingredients for a Long Island iced tea.”

“I think this works better under the circumstances, anyway. Drinking a Long Island iced tea after a funeral feels a little morbid.”

“Yeah, but your dad would’ve hated that you were drinking one.” Roman pointed out.

You chuckled, because he was right. Your father hated drinks where the alcohol was masked by chasers and sugar. He deemed them feminine and embarrassing for anyone to drink, ridiculing anyone (no matter their gender) if they ordered one.

“That is true,” You take a pull from your glass, “He would have hated that you went to his funeral, too. Because, well he hated you.”

Roman gives a wide smirk, “I can’t say that doesn't bring me some joy.”

You could count on one hand the number of times your father met Roman during the years you dated. Though, everytime he had, he made his distinct dislike for your boyfriend overwhelmingly obvious. He thought of Roman like most other people in town did. A spoiled, rich, entitled, sauve asshole. But, for your father, he felt like he had a personal stake in hating Roman. He masqueraded like he didn’t like Roman simply for dating his daughter, but he didn’t give a shit about you or your well being. Your father, the pathetic drunk that he was, was threatened by Roman more than any man you had ever met. He was the one person who he couldn’t intimidate and feel superior too, because Roman didn’t feel intimidated or lesser to anyone in the world.

“Me too.”

You both drink in silence for a moment, and you pretend not to notice Roman as he inched closer to you on the cushions.

“Do you remember,” Roman says, swallowing a gulp of his drink, “that time we snuck into that club in Philadelphia? And you and Letha, just got, like absolutely abliderated on Long Island iced teas?”

You smiled at the memory, your lips parting with glee the more you remembered about the night.

“Yes! Oh my God, I had totally forgot about that.”

Roman had paid off some bouncer to let the three of you into some club downtown and it had been a spectacular night. You and Letha were guzzling drinks like it was the end of the world. Roman was only encouraging your recklessness with jokes and bankrolling the bottomless teas. Letha had danced on the bar top while singing you an off key Elton John song while you drunkenly squealed with glee in a hysterical Roman’s arms. You had never seen Roman laugh so much until that night.

You all danced and drank and laughed and smiled. You had all hid in a corner as you had fished out cocaine from a baggy with your pinky nail, and held it to each Godfrey’s nose like you were giving them communion, before blessing yourself.

You distinctly remember hanging off Roman like a kola most of the night. Giving him sloppy kisses and groping him in the crowd with whispered promises of more when you were alone. You remember him smiling down at you and always having a hand on your ass. You remember Letha’s happy screams and giggles and how she was twirling so much on the dance floor she tumbled.

“That was a really good night.” You said.

Roman nodded, “It was. It was one of those rare times I could get Letha out of her shell.”

The mood dipped from happy memories to grief as his cousin's untimely death was remembered. It was written clear as day on Roman’s face that he was far from healed from her passing.

“I miss her, too.” You placed a hand on his.

“Yeah. Life isn’t far, huh?” You saw he was trying to ward off a wash of emotion, not wanting to wallow in her death, because it wasn’t an easy pit to push himself out of.

“No, it really isn’t.”

If life was fair, Olivia would have been long deceased. Roman wouldn’t have ever been coerced to do any heinous acts. Letha would be alive. Shelley would have never vanished.

You didn’t dare bring up his missing sister to Roman, because that pain was almost worse than the wound Letha’s death had inflicted. For the both of you.

You had learned from Peter the previous day that Shelley was still missing with no leads in finding her. You had nodded but said nothing else and he had let you.

You had always been close with Shelley. She was so kind and sweet, and incredibly understanding and thoughtful. You were the only two women Roman truly loved and that bonded you in a way, to be the only ones to have his unfettered devotion. The thought of Shelley, out in the world alone, scared and labeled a fugitive made you sick. You couldn’t think about it for long without your nausea sparking and tears forming in your eyes.

“What I said to you… that night? That wasn’t fair either. It wasn’t fair of me to hurt you like that.” Roman says, his eyes cast down.

“Roman, we don’t have to do this again. It’s fine, no worries.” You said as casually as possible.

“No, but it really wasn’t,” Roman shakes his head and rotates his body toward you.

“I said those things because I was scared, not because they were true. You have to know that.”

You swallow thickly and nod. Rationally, you knew that was true. After Roman had explained to you yesterday the reason for his vicious one-eighty toward you, you knew that he was only being cruel to push you away. But the words still hurt, they were still brutal enough to feel like there was an ounce of truth to them.

“I was wrong, I can see that now, yknow? I was really wrong for all of that,” Roman lamented, “I fucked up.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). That’s what I really want to say, what I really want you to know. And you know me, probably better than anyone in the world, maybe even more than I know myself,” He huffed a laugh, “And you know that I don’t apologize. Because I’m not wrong. I’m just not. I don’t say I’m sorry, not to anyone… but this, I gotta own up to. Because I was wrong for hurting you, pushing you away.”

You listened to Roman with baited breath.

“You were the only person who ever really saw me. Looked into my eyes and saw past the bullshit and accepted me, loved me… and the idea of you hating me forever killed me, fucking killed me so much. But it was better than you sticking around and seeing that all that bullshit was true, and maybe I was even worse.”

“Roman,” You rasped, gripping his hand tighter, your fingernails biting into his skin.

“I promised to never hurt you, to protect you, keep you safe. And I failed.”

Roman had always been protective of his loved ones. He hoarded them like a dragon with gold, prowling in front of them with bared teeth and spitting fury. You still remember the first time he pledged his devotion to you, his undying protection and loyalty.

It was after the first time he had met your father. A dinner at the Godfrey mansion with your parents, Olivia, Shelley, yourself and Roman. It was an evening requested by Olivia to meet the parents of the girl who had bewitched her son.

She had been her typical elitist self, turning her nose up at your middle class parents with joy. You were sure she was vibrating in her seat with happiness that she could feel so superior to your average parents. Likely hoping Roman would see this too, and kick you to the curb.

You mother had been aimable, mostly quiet. You always thought of your mother as a very charming woman, who could talk to anyone no matter the circumstance. But, Olivia would barely let her get a word in, so she took the hint. Though, you could tell Shelley liked her, and that warmed your heart.

The night’s conversation was dominated by Olivia for the most part, regaling the Godfrey wealth and stories of her privileged life. When she wasn’t boasting about herself, your father would be the one to chime in. Either with an offensive comment or with his poor table manners. It was like having a wild boar in the Shangri La and you felt your face heat with consistent humiliation. You could see your mother twitch uncomfortably across from you whenever he would act, and you knew she was in the same boat.

You were already planning your apology to Roman when your father spoke up. You had been too busy stewing in your mortification to follow the conversation being had at the time.

“Well, I tell you something, Roman. This one over here,” Your father stuck his fork over to you, “Isn’t gonna be a good little wife, not like your mother is.”

Your father threw a smarmy grin to Olivia.

“You’re gonna have to wipe her into shape. Always wants to back talk and cross her damn arms and stomp her damn feet at you.”

Your father laughs and nuges your mother with his elbow, like he had made a joke. Like he thought this joke about you as Roman’s meek little wife would please Olivia and your boyfriend.

Olivia laughed along and made a comment about her predisposition to wifehood because of her upbring, while Roman seethed. You could see his jaw flexing and hear the sound of his ragged breaths through his nose. You discreetly placed your hand on his lap, doing your best to calm him, but it did nothing as your father continued to make comments about your disrespectful personality, all with the cadence of a joke.

“Why don’t you go out for a smoke?” Roman said to your father through gritted teeth.

“Excuse me?” You father said, stopping mid sentence and glaring at Roman.

“I said, why don’t you go out for a smoke and cool off? And when you come back, be a little fucking nicer?”

Roman’s eyes bore into your father’s as he spoke. Your father looked furious at this teenage boy’s demand, and you were sure there was going to be a fight. Both men were incredibly hot headed, that this evening might even end in a physical altercation. But, your father just pushed up from the table and left the five of you in awkward silence. Roman relaxed once your father was gone, taking your hand from his lap and intertwining your fingers together on the tabletop. Your mother soon struck up a conversation with Olivia about the antique chaise lounge in the living room.

Roman held your hand for the rest of the night. When your father returned, he stayed silent.

When it was time for your parents to leave, Roman offered to drive you home. Though, the minute both you were out of sight of his home and your parents, he pulled over.

“Roman, I am so sorry about-” You began, but Roman stopped you by placing his hands firmly on your cheeks.

“Don’t apologize. Not for that fucking man.” He said, his tone turning venomous when he mentioned your father.

“The fucking nerve of him,” Roman spat, his hands tightening on your face, “The fucking nerve of him to speak like that about you. And to me! To me in my fucking home. I’m going to kill him, I’ll fucking kill him.”

Roman spoke sincerely and you wondered for a moment if you asked him to kill your father, would he?

“He’s not worth it, he’s not even worth your anger.” You sighed, placing your hand on his wrist and stroking his skin with your thumb.

“He isn’t worth shit. That fucking cunt.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched your boyfriend speak obscenities.

“What?”

“You look very sexy when you’re this mad.”

You could see Roman’s face visibly relax. You knew he was still angry, but your comment had placated him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You grinned at him and began to lean in for a kiss when Roman stopped you.

You looked into his eyes again and you saw this serious demoaner was back.

“I will never let him say anything like what he said tonight to you again, OK? Never. I’ll never let him fucking touch you again,” Roman came to rest his forehead to yours, “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I will keep you safe forever.”

And you believed him. You believed him more than you had ever believed a single person in your life. There wasn’t an ounce of you in that moment that could argue with him. You trusted him fully.

“Ok.” Was all you could say with the emotion that was brewing from his confession, before he finally pulled you to his lips.

It was the first time you realized you loved him.

“All I have ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said it with the same vigor and sincerity that he had in his original vow to you in his car on the side of the road.

And again, you couldn’t help but believe him.

“I forgive you.” You really did.

He was swathing you with the salve of love and honesty, healing the wounds he carved into your skin with his earnest.

“You were scared, you had just had your life turned upside down… I get it. It��s OK. I’m not blameless either. I said some nasty things.”

Roman looks up from where your hands are connected and gives you a signature fierce stare.

The weight of his gaze on you feels heavy as he leans forward to set his glass on the coffee table. His eyes never leave yours as he does. As he moves back to the couch, he uses his movement to his advantage to seamlessly reach out to cup your jaw, as he settled back next to you, much closer than before.

Goosebumps bit across your flesh as the feeling of his broad palm engulfed your face and his breath began to fan across your lips. Roman was smooth, he was graceful and agile in everything he did. Everything including the set up to a kiss, especially a long awaited and important one.

Roman glides his middle and forefinger up to cradle your ear, to anchor himself to you before using his thumb on the underside of your jaw to tilt your chin. You blood was rushing loudly through your ears and all you could think of was him as Roman’s other arm came to rest across the back of the sofa and ecase you in his arms. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before he descended for yours.

And you felt euphoric. A warmth in the pit of your stomach that only Roman would kindle.

Roman nuzzled his lips against your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing your own. Your hands migrated to lay purchase on his shoulders as you let Roman pull you impossibly close to his body. You could feel his heated cheeks against your face and you could feel his racing pulse beneath your fingers as he tipped your face up and opened his mouth into the kiss. His tongue dipped past your lips and you accepted him with a soft whimper.

Your sound of pleasure surged Roman on as he began to kiss you harder. Sweeter. Messier. Hotter. Just like he always had.

Soon, you were flat against the couch cushions, Roman above you as his hands explored your body. Your legs bracketed his hips, pushing the heels of your feet against the tops of his thighs to keep him snug against you. Your hands clutched his back tightly, the very same back you had been craving to get your hands on since you walked through the door.

Roman’s lips detached from your own to drift to your cheeks, your jaw and your neck. To bite, to suck and lick with his sinful tongue. You keened and moaned at his attentions, your back arching into him. The spit he left in his wake met the air in a chilling exchange that cooled your fiery skin.

“My baby,” He said to your skin.

“My girl,” He groaned.

“Mine,” He bit the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Mine, mine, mine,”

You didn’t want to be present while listening to his possessions. You wanted to let them grip you and own you and continue to make your stomach flutter. You didn’t want to have to tell Roman right now that you didn’t know if you could be his again…

“You’re mine, always, always, always,” Roman moaned against you, his voice pornographically seductive.

“Yes, please,” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but you just knew you didn’t want the feeling of Roman to stop.

“It’s me and you, we’re together again, it’ll all be OK now,” He says before giving you another sloppy kiss.

“Be with me, be here. We can make it work.”

Roman goes back to attacking your neck with his petal soft lips, but you were finally snapped from your the haze of pleasure he had accosted you with.

“Roman, hold on,” You pushed your hands on his shoulder, “Stop.”

“What?” He pulled away from you quickly, chest heaving as he looked down at you.

He looked so boyishly innocent. His lips flush from kissing and his once perfect hair askew from your ministrations. Eyes wide and questioning. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

“I,” You took a pause, “I can’t stay here, Roman. I just can’t.”

He looked like you’ve shocked him, stuck his finger in an electrical socket and watched. Roman pushed himself further up, but still hovered over you.

“What do you mean you can’t stay?” He says your words back to you like they were a personal affront.

“I live in New York now, that’s where my life is. I can’t just leave.”

Roman’s jaw flexes and you watch him swallow.

“What? So, this means nothing?” He gestures between your bodies.

“No, of course not. Of course it means something.” You replied hastily.

But, Roman was already getting up off of you and started to pace the length of his kitchen. You pushed up to watch him with concern.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, I said I was sorry and I am. I really, truly am! So, why can’t you just stay with me? Be with me?” He argued.

“I know you are! I do, but just because I know you’re sorry doesn’t change the fact that I have a life somewhere else now, Ro. I can’t just abandon it.”

“Why can’t you? Just come home!” Roman threw his arms up in anger.

“I don’t want to abandon it, Roman. I don’t want to leave. I like it there.” You move yourself onto your knees as you speak.

“Jesus fucking-” Roman looked away from you and tugs at his hair, “I can’t believe you right now!”

“Roman,” You sigh.

“No! You know what? I have been declaring my fucking love for you for the past two days and that just means nothing to you? Because it doesn’t mean nothing to me.”

“It means something-!” You begin, but Roman talks over you.

“And that, that on the couch, that fucking meant something to me! Because you mean something to me, (Y/N). You always have and you always will.” He’s shouting now, if he had any neighbors you’re sure they would be able to hear.

Your eyes filmed with tears as you watch him.

“And fuck, while I’ve been going on like a bitch about how I love you, how I’m devoted to you, and you haven’t said shit! Not a word.” Roman’s eyes are beginning to wet as well.

“Is that what this is? You don’t fucking love me?” His anger cracks as his voice quivers.

“Roman, no!” You spring from where you knelt on the couch and rush to him, “I do, you know I do. I love you! I love you so much I ache.”

You cry freely now as you try to clutch his face, but Roman brushes you off.

“I love you, I have always loved you Roman. I always will. But,”

“But what? How is that not enough!”

“I need you to love me enough to know there is nothing for me here.”

“Not even me?” His lip quivers.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Your hands shake and so does your breath, “I mean there is not real life for me here. You have The Tower and that’s you life, but what about me? What could I possibly do here that would make me happy?”

Roman says nothing, just swallows a hiccup that threatened to burst from his throat.

“I need you to love me enough to let me leave.”

Roman’s face crumbles into a drastic frown as he fights tears, “I can’t. I can’t do that, not again, I can’t. I can’t let you leave again.”

“Baby,” You choke out.

“No! I can’t, I love you. So, please, just love me enough to stay. I’ll give you everything you could ever want, anything you could ever dream of to make it better here.”

“Roman, I love you. I do, I always will. But, maybe this will be good for us. Have time apart to be our own people. I think it might even be healthy?” You say your last words with a watery smile that Roman doesn’t return.

“I don’t want to have time apart. I had time apart from you and I was fucking miserable.” He states.

The thought of Roman all alone in this house, heartbroken and stewing in pity and anger makes your heart convulse with pain. You thought of all the nights you slept in your dorm room, silent tears streaking your cheeks as you held your hand over your mouth in hopes to not wake your roommate. You wondered if on the nights you cried for him, if Roman had cried for you? Had he cried at all? Or while you were pouring yourself into your studies to forget him, he was fucking whores to forget you?

“Roman, please just… I love you, just please,” Again, you had no idea what you were begging for. For him to let you leave? For him to convince you to stay? All you knew was that this day had been so catosphroticlly emotionally draining and all you wanted was to fall into his arms for comfort.

“Do you want to be apart from me?” He asked bluntly.

“Roman, just-”

“Answer me. Do you want to be apart from me anymore?”

Your mouth was thick with discarded tears and phlegm. All you could do was look at him and hope he understood you. To tell him you didn’t.

His eyes softened and you knew your mental tether was still intact.

Roman takes a step toward you and moves his head to be level with your own, “Then we’ll make this work. I’ll convince NYU to let you take online classes from here, OK? I’ll build them some new buildings - hell! A new campus. I’ll be their new biggest donor, their new favorite fucking person. I’ll give them whatever they want as long as they give me you in return.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Roman.” You look down at your feet.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You pierce your teeth into your bottom lip and look back up at him. Back at Roman with his pink, glossy eyes and hopeful gaze.

“I love the city…”

“Then we’ll fly up every weekend, no exceptions. I’ll buy us a loft in the heart of Manhattan.You can design it to your heart’s content. Make it will feel warm and old and us. The opposite of this place.” Roman says quickly like he knew that would be your next rebuttal.

You gasp a sob and close your eyes tight. You feel Roman close the distance between you both and cup your face in his large hands.

“And we will figure the rest out, whatever else is holding you back. We’ll find you your dream job or your passion or whatever you want.”

You crack your pulsing eyes, to see Roman’s face now streaked with tears.

“Just tell me you’ll stay.”

You knew this was a risk. You knew he was a risk. You knew leaving New York and NYU sounded naive and utterly foolish to someone on the outside of your and Roman’s relationship. You knew that you would fight with him, that you would get angry with him, that he’d work too much and that he would have to reschedule trips to the city. You knew you would get irritated with each other and you’d say something snarky and Roman would say something mean. You knew there would be nights you went to bed angry and days where you gave each other the silent treatment. You knew it would be hard. Most things involving Roman were. Expect loving him.

You knew that even with all the bad that came with a relationship with Roman, it was eons better than being without him for a moment longer now that you had him again.

You had wanted to look to the future, to forget the past and forge a new way for yourself. Truthfully, you still did. But maybe you could start over with Roman by your side? Wash away the pain of his indiscretions and learn and grow and heal together? You hoped you could. You hope you weren’t letting your overwhelming love for the man in front of you cloud your judgements.

So, you placed your hands on his neck and watched his face turn hopeful and said:

“Ok.”

i really wish i could say i loved this, but i am really on the fence about if this story is even good at all? it was better in my head. but! i hope you enjoyed it anyway and pllsss if you did, gimme some feedback <3 it makes me happy :-)

#i still have other one shots in the works so hopefully those are better than this!#also prompts will be opening soon (:#roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #roman godfrey x you #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove imagines #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard x reader #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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satendou · 4 years ago

Text

⟼ the symbol for love

⟼ the language of flowers | next

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: akaashi/reader

⇢ au: florist!akaashi, college!au

⇢ summary: akaashi’s love language is that of flowers

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: mutual pining, flowers, soft smut

⇢ word count: 8.3k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: okay full disclosure, this fic only exists bc @keijiskitten sent in a picture of akaashi surrounded by flowers at the same time that i was talking about a roommate au. we talked more about it and she suggested confessing via flowers and i went overboard with it. this is another one i’m rather fond of and was written mostly with her in mind. so thank her for the idea!

It started off with heather, hyacinths, and jasmine.

Opening the door to the apartment you had been sharing with one Akaashi Keiji for the last seven months, you were hit with the delicate bouquet of fresh flowers, purple and blue and white, all artfully arranged in a vase on the coffee table.

“Ah, those are so pretty, Akaashi,” you murmured to the man reading a book on the couch. It was a battered copy of 10,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne and he was already halfway through it. The TV played a black and white movie, the volume turned so low you could hear only the soft crackle of sound playing through the speakers. “What are they?”

Occupied with taking off your shoes, you missed the faint pink dust that crept over his cheeks at your praise. By the time you turned back around, it had disappeared. He had closed the book and pulled the vase closer to him, slender fingers pulling three different stems out of the container and laying them across his palm.

“Heather,” he said, handing you the purple flower. “Jasmine.” The white one was handed to you. “And lastly, hyacinths.” The final blue flower was handed over, and you held them to your nose, inhaling deeply. Your eyes fluttered and a soft smile crossed your lips as you looked over them at him.

“And what do these mean?” you asked, a teasing edge to your voice. Akaashi was both a book and flower lover, so you knew that there were meanings behind the bouquet, right down to the number of flowers. “They smell so sweet.”

Akaashi chuckled at that. He always loved your reactions to his arrangements. They were so pure and genuine, like the flowers he handled on a daily basis, and oh so fragile. Over the course of the last few months, he had picked up on your habits and emotions, noting each time you felt anxious you would pick at the skin of your lips and run your fingers through your hair, or how when you were feeling extra tired you would just throw your hair up in a messy bun or a ponytail and go about your business. His favorite by far though was when you were relaxed and at ease-- when your face would soften, your eyes would brighten, and you would look at him with a smile that squeezed his heart.

“They were for a customer today and I just liked the arrangement,” he answered, and the lie tumbled from his lips with such ease that it almost scared him. “But they mean beauty and solitude, love, and playful and sincere.” He pointed out each flower as he spoke its meaning, in the order that he had handed them to you, resisting the urge to graze his fingers across your knuckles.

He caught the flustered glint in your eyes as you stared at them and smiled in response. That was the look he adored and he worked his hardest to bring it out as often as possible, especially lately. Finals were coming up and he had never seen you more stressed and harried, staying out and up late studying or finishing assignments. The bags under your eyes caused him some concern, and he did his best to help you with things, but with a flower shop to run it wasn’t easy.

“Did you have any plans tonight? We could order in, if you want,” he offered, and hoped that the desire was well hidden from his voice. It was the weekend, and usually you spent Friday nights with your friends. That didn’t stop him from asking, though.

“Oh I’m sorry, I have a group project I have to work on,” you answered, and handed back the flowers that were still clasped in your hands. “I only came home to change and then I’m leaving.”

His heart fell, but he managed to keep his face straight. “Oh okay. I’ll see you later?”

“Uh, well I don’t know how late I’ll be, so don’t wait up,” you answered, your face the embodiment of apologetic. You wanted so badly to take him up on it, to get a break from the grueling hours of endless work, but the project needed to be handed in on Monday and no one wanted to be working on it all weekend-- not when there was studying and other assignments to be completed.

He could see the weariness on your face and took your hand in his, feeling his heart stutter when you squeezed back. Giving you a small smile, he said, “You can do this. Just a few more weeks and you’ll have a break. Just hang in there.”

“I know,” you said as you moved away from him, walking down the hall towards your bedroom. “Thank you for supporting me, ‘Kaashi. It means a lot.”

Then you were out of sight, the bedroom door closing with a soft click behind you and Akaashi was left staring at the flowers that spelled out all of the emotions he himself couldn’t express.

Two weeks later, you came into the apartment after a day full of nothing but stressful exams and irritable professors. On top of that, your thesis topic had been denied and you were more than a little anxious about trying to find a new one.

As observant as ever, Akaashi picked up on your mood the moment you texted him and frowned, looking at the bouquet he was currently working on. It was massive, standing taller than him and bursting with colors of all sorts. All of them symbolized love, cherishment, and a hope for the future. It was the final order for a wedding but he couldn’t care less about it all of a sudden.

Sending you a short message back, he returned to it, eyebrows now furrowed in concentration over on a different train of thought. Wracking his brain as best he could, he finished the arrangement up and called one of his employees to take it to the back, where it would be loaded up and taken to the venue.

He helped put up the flowers on display in the coolers and then shooed the others out of the shop, flipping the sign on the door to ‘closed’. Moving into the back of the now empty shop, he pondered the flowers in stock, pinching delicate petals between his fingers as he went over the meanings for each.

Love, good health, solitude, remembrance-- it was easy for him to recall each, and he smiled as he landed on the ones he wanted. With a grace and quickness honed by years of practice, he put a small bouquet together, hoping that this small token would bring you some comfort.

And if that didn’t work, takeout from your favorite place probably would.

The door opened two hours after you had first texted Akaashi telling him your bad news. The response you had received had been lackluster, further souring your mood, and you were currently sprawled out on the couch moping with a mug of his tea.

Raising your brow at the way he held his hand behind his back, you took the bag he offered, instantly recognizing your favorite smells wafting from it. Your stomach grumbled, and you offered him a repentant smile because you knew he now knew you had neglected to eat that day.

Instead of saying anything about it, he just frowned before showing you what was behind his back, setting it on the table beside the bag, and your face lit up.

Pink, purple, and white seemed to pop in comparison to the rest of the room, vibrant and fresh, and you reached out, pulling one of each flower from the vase. The food sat forgotten on the table for the time being as you inhaled the blooms’ scents before offering them to him.

“Well, what are they and what do they mean?” you asked, and he chuckled at the enthusiasm written across your face. Over the last few weeks, it had become something of a ritual for him to bring home a few flowers for you, laying them on the coffee table for you to find when you got home from a late night study session or handing them to you as he left for work in the morning.

It was hard not to appreciate how invested you seemed to be in it, and he tried hard not to read too much into it. That was far easier said than done though, especially when your eyes lit up with wonder and happiness, looking first at the flower and then at him. It was the biggest reason he did it, but it left him feeling empty in some ways, wondering if you would look at him the same way if he didn’t bring them to you.

Still, he wouldn’t stop-- even that little bit of attention meant something to him, so he took the flowers you now offered from your hands and spun the purple one between his slender fingers.

“Violets mean peace, or in this case relaxation,” he said, and immediately caught the understanding dawning on your face. By the time he explained the meaning behind the peonies-- good fortune or luck-- it had morphed into something so unbearably soft that his insides twisted into knots that would never come undone.

“And the jasmines mean-- love,” you said, and your expression morphed into confusion as you took them back from him.

“W-Well, in this case they’re just for optimism and good fortune. I guess a different flower would have been better--”

--but any other wouldn’t have meant the same thing.

He cursed himself for being so obvious and swallowed nervously, waiting for your response. In another situation, he might have said the look that flashed across your pensive face was disappointment, but he was sure he was just deluding himself.

And sure enough, your lips curled up into your usual smile as you thanked him for the flowers, support, and, most importantly, food.

The relief was tempered by disappointment that you accepted his lie so easily before he launched into a lecture about how you should take better care of yourself and threatened to come to the campus and drag you off to lunch himself if he had to. The living room was filled with banter while you ate, suggesting maybe you wouldn’t mind him coming and kidnapping you for lunch if he would take you to your favorite restaurant. Of course he promised he would because that just meant he’d get to spend even more time with you and you didn’t look the least bit unhappy with the development. He tried to ignore the nervous fluttering in his stomach as you planned to meet at the restaurant around one.

That night, you stayed in with him watching old movies that he knew you didn’t like, sharing a blanket thrown across your legs, but he appreciated the way you kept picking them anyway. The flowers were moved to the kitchen counter, illuminated by the overhead light, and more than once he caught you looking at them with a soft, wistful sort of smile.

The first lunch date was followed by several more over the coming weeks, whenever the gap in your schedule coincided with his lunch break. Of course, he could take lunch whenever he wanted, being the owner, but Akaashi was nothing if not a courteous boss and chose not to do that to his employees.

Today you were running late, and your order had just arrived when you flung yourself into your seat, out of breath and grinning maniacally. It was the look you usually wore when something had both gone your way and was going to surprise him and it didn’t fail this time either.

“I got a fucking S, ‘Kaashi!” you said, slamming the paper down on the table between you. His eyes widened and you practically glowed at the stunned expression. It made his blue eyes sparkle, and when he looked up at you there was such pride in them that your heart skipped a beat.

“_____, that’s amazing,” he said, picking up the paper to examine it. It was littered with your handwriting, each answer meticulously thought out and he could even see some of his influence in your answers-- certain things worded certain ways or words he had said repeated in ink. There was something about knowing you listened to his advice that closely that made him anxious, and he couldn’t decide if it was in a good way or a bad way. “I’m so proud of you.”

This test had been weighing heavy on you for a month, and most of your focus was on passing it, since it was your worst subject. It was too important to fail, and you had stayed up late into the night working on your problem areas, with Akaashi coming in clutch with advice and explanations-- and coffee-- when you needed it.

A flood of adoration swept through you as you stared at your pretty roommate. He was the picture of calm, a gentle smile on his face as he gazed back at you, grey-blue eyes narrow with what you guessed was contentment.

Suddenly, this felt a lot less platonic than it had originally, and you tucked your hair behind your ear as you cleared your throat. You couldn’t go down that line of thinking, it would only lead to disappointment. No way was this gorgeous man interested in a stressed out, exhausted, anxious mess of a college student and you wouldn’t let yourself get your hopes up.

“A lot of it was because of you, you know,” you said, schooling your expression into what you hoped was grateful and not at all nervous. He didn’t react other than a widening of his smile and a curious quirk of his eyebrow, so you assumed you had managed it. “I mean it. You explain things so well, it’s easy to understand. And you’re patient, even though you had to explain things to me like a hundred times. I would definitely have failed without you.”

His eyes widened again in surprise, his lips parting as if to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he looked contemplative, a myriad of emotions swimming through his eyes but you couldn’t pick out any one in particular. At the end though, you thought there might have been something akin to melancholy as he looked down at his yet untouched food, tea long since gone cold.

Before you could ponder that, his expression settled back into the placid calm you were accustomed to and he said, “No, I think you could have done it. You put so much effort into studying, I thought you were going to pass out mid-exam. How many do you have left now?”

The conversation veered off into the rest of your exams and plans for the break in a week’s time-- of which you were unsure, since you had a few offers for vacations and trips-- as you ate.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur of papers, pens, and faces, and you were relieved to finally unlock the door to your apartment. Akaashi had texted you earlier saying he was going to be out late and you had slumped in disappointment, already wondering what you were going to do all alone that night.

But when you opened the door, you perked back up almost immediately.

Sitting on the coffee table was the vase, containing an iris, a yellow rose, and another white jasmine. In it was a note written in perfect, crisp cursive--

‘Blue Iris--faith. Yellow rose-- congratulations. I always knew you could do it, _____.’

For some reason, you couldn’t stop from plucking the jasmine.

Finals flew by in what felt like a whirlwind of late nights, coffee, and ink smudges. Every day brought tests, but every evening brought you a new flower and you were running out of space for them.

Irises, yellow roses, red mums, tiger lilies, and peonies were taking up every ounce of excess space you had and your room smelled like a garden. You couldn’t be happier, either. Akaashi seemed to have a sixth sense for what you needed on any given day and you always looked forward to getting home.

On the final day of your exams there was another round of irises, roses, and jasmines waiting for you, and as you twisted the stem of the white flower between your fingers, you were tempted to ask why this particular flower always found its way into his bouquets. But a bigger part of you didn’t want to know, wanted to let it remain a sweet mystery in case he decided to stop. You knew why you wanted to let it be-- you were afraid that asking would lead to an answer you didn’t want, and the hope you harbored was a pleasant pain.

“So,” Akaashi asked, breaking your pondering, “have you decided what you’re doing for the break?” You were staring far too hard at the fresh white jasmine and jumped when he spoke, making him chuckle.

You hummed in response, tucking the flower back into the vase on the counter and then looked over to him, perched on the stool beside yours. There was a book, another Jules Verne novel, sitting in front of him, a bookmark hanging out of the top. Resting your head on your arms, you said, “Yeah. A few of my friends decided to go to the beach, so I’m gonna go with them. I’ll be gone for a few days.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” he said, mimicking you. The air conditioner clicked on overhead and you shrugged. He tried to ignore the dull throbbing of his heart, wishing he could go with you. But not only had you not invited him, he also had no one to watch the store for him. “Do you not want to go?”

“It isn’t that,” you answered, but it was sort of a lie. You did want to go, to relax and have some fun, and you deserved that. But then why did you feel sad that you were leaving? You already knew, as you and Akaashi stared at each other, that it was him. Even for just a few days, you would miss him terribly, and he wasn’t even yours to miss. Sad, really, how pathetic you felt. “I just...I don’t know. There’s gonna be so many people and it’s gonna be loud and I just want to relax.”

“Then tell them you don’t want to go.” It was selfish, but he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. It managed to draw a grin out of you, even though you still shook your head.

“I’ve already committed. And besides, it’s only for a few days. Then I’ll come back and not do anything for the next week,” you said, and Akaashi chuckled.

“Well,” he said as he sat up, and you automatically followed suit, “we should eat so you can pack, since I’m sure you haven’t even started.”

Groaning, you hid your face in your hands, but you couldn’t help the smile. “Don’t call me out. I’ve been doing everything perfectly for the last month, I deserve to slack off a little.”

Akaashi was already scrolling through DoorDash on his phone and laughed again. “Of course you do, but don’t complain to me about it when you’re up at 5am packing.”

“Oh, I will. Because you’ll already be up anyway. I don’t know how you do it,” you said, staring at the flowers once more. You didn’t even bother to ask Akaashi what he was ordering because he knew you like the back of his hand, and whatever he got would be something you liked.

He hummed in response, placing his order before looking at you. “Wanna watch a movie? Unless you have something else planned?”

But you shook your head and his heart fluttered.

“Nah, a movie sounds great.”

It was only a week, he kept telling himself. And yet he missed you to the point he was almost moping. The apartment still smelled of all the flowers he had filled it with over the last few weeks, but it was fading fast without you to bring new ones home too. He shook his head at his ridiculous train of thought. It wasn’t like you were gone forever, you were still coming home in just a few days.

And he wasn’t sure if it helped that you were constantly blowing up his phone. Pictures and videos of tidepools, fish in the aquarium you had visited, sunsets on the water, and meals with your friends flooded his inbox and he eagerly scanned each one, drinking in your content smile.

But even through a picture, he could see something was missing from it. He knew you too well and looked way too hard not to notice, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. At least until one video in particular of you in what he recognized as a botanical garden-- the high, domed ceiling made of glass and the condensation obscuring his view of the sky, not to mention the plants literally everywhere gave it away. You were staring down at a box full of white flowers, but were too far away for him to recognize them until whoever was holding the camera got closer.

A male voice called out to you, amused and maybe a little condescending if Akaashi had to say so, asking, “Hey, _____, watcha lookin’ at?”

You visibly jumped in the frame and cast your friend a nervous smile before it cleared up, and in that moment the something Akaashi hadn’t seen in any other picture showed up, just before you reached out and grazed one of the dewy white petals.

Jasmine, he thought, at the same time that you said it. Heat rushed from his ears down to his toes and back up as he recognized the adoration and unadulterated happiness in your smile, and not even the camera-wielder’s derisive laugh could quell the feeling.

“You and your plants. Well, what’s this one mean then?”

If you noticed the tone, you didn’t show it, only standing up straight and putting your finger up in the air as if giving him a lesson as you said, “Jasmine stands for optimism, good fortune, and positive energy. And--”

Love, Akaashi thought, once again at the same time you said it, and he had to sit down at the counter as his nerves got the best of him. He couldn’t take it, the way you stared into the camera with a sharp, knowing look, like you were piercing right into his soul. If his game was given away, then so be it, he was going to confess properly instead of hiding behind his flowers.

Your friend laughed again, and this time Akaashi could see the way you flinched and rolled your eyes, walking away as he mocked you.

“Sure, sure. You really believe in that? Sounds corny if you ask me,” he said, voice crackly through the speaker as the sprinklers came on. He cursed and the video quickly cut out afterwards, probably to protect it from water damage.

Akaashi rewatched that video three more times before finally sending you a text telling you he was flattered that you remembered so much of his ramblings. Laughing, he set his phone down and carded his fingers through his hair, hiding his face in his arms as he thought about what he was planning to do and the ramifications. Was there any way he could salvage it if you rejected him? Was it even worth the risk right now?

There was no answer to his anxious questions, so he did what he always did when he needed something to occupy his mind-- he arranged flowers.

A couple of hours later, your phone pinged with a new alert, and you swiped it open absently as you sipped at a pina colada, almost choking on it when the picture loaded.

Pink, white, and blue all mixed together in an explosion of color on what you guessed was his workbench at the shop. It was one of his most elegant bouquets yet, at least as far as you were concerned, and your curiosity was white hot as you texted him.

‘what are they, kaashi? what do they mean?’

You waited impatiently for him to answer, but he never did, not even reading it. You were a flurry of nerves all that night, warring between calling him, texting him, and just leaving it be. So distracted were you that you lost count of how many drinks you’d had, until you and the rest of your friends were so far gone the bartender cut you off and you made your way up to your rooms to pass out.

You had never been happier to be going home than you were that morning, hungover and still without an answer from your roommate.

Unfortunately, you made a mistake on the drive home. Still distracted by your anxious energy, you scrolled through your phone, liking and commenting on things absently while you listened to your friends chatter in the backseat.

Suddenly, a hand was on your shoulder and a rough voice was in your ear, asking “Do you want to go, _____?”

Not thinking much of it, you agreed, checking your texts again just to see if he’d even read the few you’d sent-- nothing, and you went from worried to hurt. Why had he sent you that picture and then just ignored you afterwards? He was still active on Twitter and Instagram, so you knew he hadn’t fallen off his step stool at the shop. What was his deal?

Your apartment building came into view at last, and your heart picked up speed. It was the weekend, he should be home at this hour. What was he going to say? Or do? You had never been so nervous to get home-- or go home-- as you were just then, but a hand on your wrist stopped you.

Looking to your friend, Eiji, you found him looking at you expectantly.

“I’ll wait for you here, alright? Don’t keep me waiting,” he said, and laughed at the puzzled expression on your face. “You forget already, _____? You agreed to a date. But I figured you’d want to change before we went so…”

“Oh, uh, right,” you said, wracking your brain for when the hell you had agreed to that. His question from earlier drifted through your thoughts, and you could have smacked yourself for being so oblivious. It felt rude to just...change your mind right then, so you braced yourself to suffer through the date. Eiji was nice enough, if not a little pretentious. Nothing like Akaashi--

But you decided not to go down that path.

Grabbing your bag from the trunk, you raced up the steps to the apartment as fast as you could, missing the lock at least twice with how bad your hands were shaking. Flinging the door open, you startled Akaashi, who was sitting on the couch staring at yet another bouquet of flowers.

You stood staring at him, and him back at you, with wide, nervous eyes, neither of you saying anything for a moment, until--

“Welcome home.”

The irritation that had been building all day simmered over as you realized he had actually been ignoring you for no good reason, and then had the audacity to act like everything was fine.

“Hey.”

He didn’t miss the cool edge to your greeting as you wandered towards your room with your bag, sparing the vase on the table the smallest glance. The door closed behind you and you dropped your bag beside the closet, trying to ignore the anger and hurt flowing through you. Your head was starting to hurt again and you really just wanted to lay down for a nap, but your phone dinged, lighting up with Eiji’s name, asking how much longer you were going to be.

Ignoring the temptation to cancel-- you really didn’t want to be rude-- you hurriedly changed into something more appropriate and combed through your hair. Scrunching your nose, you winced at the sunburn you could feel covering your face, wondering how you had gotten it even with your religious use of sunscreen.

Akaashi was still sitting on the couch, the book he had been reading closed on his lap as he stared at the bouquet on the table. When you came into the living room, he perked up, a nervous smile coming onto his face.

“Hey, I wanted to talk-- Are you going somewhere?” He had just realized you had changed into a new outfit and there was a restless energy in the way you checked your phone. You had just gotten home, but you were already ready to leave again.

There was irritation on your face as you glanced up from your phone, and he was unable to tell if it was directed at him or whoever was texting you, but it morphed quickly into apologetic as you sighed. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a date. I’ll be back in a bit. We can talk then?”

You didn’t sound too happy about that, and Akaashi definitely wasn’t, but his words stuck in his throat. A date. Jealousy bubbled viciously in his stomach, oozing into his heart and up his throat, and he jerked his head once, willing the tide to stem until you had left. It was his own fault, after all, for waiting so long to ask and then ignoring you for a day.

He was such a coward.

Staring at your phone again, you missed the pinched narrowing of his eyes and headed towards the door, waving goodbye before closing it behind you.

It was only an hour or two later-- you weren’t totally sure, since you weren’t even sure when you had gotten home and abruptly left again-- that you were dragging your sore feet up the steps to the apartment again. The date had gone horribly wrong, right from the start.

Differences of opinion, differences of interests, his disinterest in listening to you talk about anything you were interested in, it seemed like the two of you just couldn’t sync up to have an actual conversation.

Not to mention how you kept inadvertently comparing him to Akaashi, from the way he spoke to you to the way he spoke of other people, right down to the way he ate, for fuck’s sake. You had it bad, and the date was a terrible idea.

When you stepped into the apartment it was quiet and mostly dark, only the lamp on the side table on, and you wondered if Akaashi had either left or gone to bed.

The vase still sat on the table, illuminated in the soft yellow light, and you recognized red roses, tulips, carnations, and the ever present jasmine. Closing the door behind you with a soft click, you kicked off your shoes before sitting on the couch. As ever, the arrangement was flawless, all the flowers mixed together with perfect balance, and you burst into tears.

It was too obvious, now that you thought about it.

Almost two months of flowers, at least one everyday, a bouquet for every milestone or when you were feeling down, his strange text yesterday and how he wanted to talk to you today-- you really were an idiot.

And then you get home and tell him you have a date-- it must have felt like a slap to the face, and the sick queasiness in your stomach was no less than you deserved for doing that to him, for being so blind.

As quiet as you tried to be, you must still have made too much noise-- that or he wasn’t asleep in the first place-- because there was a weight on the couch beside you and an arm around your shoulder.

Soft words you couldn’t comprehend were whispered into your ear, that same arm pulling you close into his chest, where it was joined by the other one around your back. The tears continued to fall, wetting his shirt, your fingers wrinkling it where they twisted in, and he held you until you finally quieted.

“What’s going on, _____? Did your date hurt you?” he asked and, now that you were calm enough to listen, you could hear the panic and worry in his words.

Taking deep, gulping breaths to steady yourself, you shook your head. “No, nothing like that, I-- ‘Kaashi, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have agreed to that stupid date, he was such a jerk and all I could think about was you and then I came home and saw the flowers and I realized--”

He shifted against you, petting your hair as you stumbled over your words. He could hear the unshed tears building up again and rushed to soothe you before they could spill over. “Woah, hey, slow down. Why were you thinking of me on your date?”

You paused to look up at him, tan skin and blue eyes backlit by the lamp, face twisted in confusion and you had the insane urge to laugh. He was so beautiful it was unfair, how could he ever want a stressed out mess like you?

“I think I love you, Akaashi,” you whispered, and then dropped your eyes down to his chest, unable to stand the fear of rejection.

A soft hand cupped your cheek, thumb sliding across your cheekbone before tilting your head up to face him again.

His nose brushed yours and you swore your heart stopped, a soft noise leaving the back of your throat as he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you closed the distance, grazing his lips in what could barely be called a kiss and only left you aching for more. He delivered, slanting his lips across yours, molding them together and your head spun with a mixture of relief and desire. The scent of the flowers on the table mingled with the smell that always came off of him, a heady perfume of hundreds of different flowers that you couldn’t get enough of. It clung to his skin, his clothes, and now you, and you allowed your hands to run over his shoulders and up the back of his neck, threading into the curls at the nape of his neck.

By the time you parted, you had crawled into his lap, knees on either side of his hips, and followed that up with several small kisses afterwards. His hands found their way up your shirt, stroking along your spine and squeezing your side as you rested your forehead against his.

“You’ve been telling me all this time, haven’t you?” you asked, barely a whisper, and he chuckled breathlessly in response.

“Yeah. I guess it was too subtle,” he answered, and then kissed you again. He couldn’t get enough, not after he had waited so long to taste you. His palms smoothed up your back, just beneath the strap of your bra, and you shivered in his hold. “I can show you now, if you want?”

You shivered at the warm promise in his words and nodded. “Please, ‘Kaashi.”

He hummed in response, leading a trail of kisses across your cheek to just beneath your ear. Nimble fingers unclasped your bra beneath your shirt, and then came back down to grip your thighs. With a strength you hadn’t expected, he hoisted you up from the couch, carrying you down the hall and kicking open his door.

You had been in his room countless times before, but it took on a different view when you were laid on your back on his bed, surrounded by a dark grey blanket with him hovering over you. He was stripping out of his shirt, and you licked your lips at each inch of skin that was exposed. His muscles rippled as he pulled it over his head, revealing his lean chest, flushed as red as his cheeks as he caught you staring.

“What is it?” he asked as he propped himself up over you. He was still standing, your legs hanging off the side of the bed and he nudged them open, slotting himself between your thighs. Your expression was that of a deer in headlights as you looked from his face down to the bulge in his shorts, settled right against the crotch of your jeans.

“You’re just-- so pretty, Akaashi,” you whispered, trailing the fingers of one hand down his throat and chest, watching the muscles on his stomach jump and flex. Your head was still spinning with all this new information, but you weren’t about to let it overwhelm you. Wrapping your other arm around his neck, you pulled him down for another searing kiss, his lips turning up against yours.

When he pulled back, he was blushing, but there was a steely, mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Not as pretty as you, kitten. I think these clothes need to go. I want to feel you,” he said, tugging your shirt over your head. You sat up to help him and followed that by throwing your bra to the floor beside him, and he groaned. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Palming your breasts in his hands, he pinched your nipples between his fingers, feeling you shiver beneath him. Your back arched, begging him silently for more, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. You looked so good, sprawled out beneath him, eyes wide and pupils blown out, lips parted in pleasure. His cock ached at the sight, and he gave into the temptation to grind his hips into yours, eliciting a quiet gasp from you.

Fingers wrapped around the hard muscle of his bicep. “Akaashi, please.”

“Keiji. Say it,” he commanded even as his fingers trailed down from your breasts to your stomach. He smiled when you giggled but didn’t prolong it, instead flicking the button of your jeans open. They were tugged roughly down your legs and discarded, and then he was tracing the outside of your panties, watching you squirm.

Your lips parted as he ghosted his fingers over your clit, panties already dampe under his touch. “Kei-ji, touch me, please,” you whined, fingers digging into the blanket.

“Whatever you need, kitten. I’ve got you,” he said, pulling the gusset of your panties aside. You were already so slick, and you moaned when the pads of his fingers rubbed over your folds. The heel of his hand grazed your clit and you were desperate for more. “You’re so beautiful, _____. So wet for me.”

You nodded in agreement, tears of frustration beginning to sting your eyes, and you called his name when he finally sunk one long, slender finger into your tight heat. You clenched around him as his thumb found your clit, pumping in and out of you. A second finger soon joined the first, his heated eyes locked on your slick covering his palm and the way your pussy seemed to suck them back in hungrily. A mess of moans and his name fell from your lips, accentuated by the thrust of your hips as you seeked out more of his touch.

With a groan he sank to his knees, letting his tongue replace his thumb and he swore he’d never tasted anything sweeter on his tongue.

“God, princess, you taste so good,” he groaned against your clit, and you spasmed around him at the sensation. His fingers were long enough that you could feel him toy with your cervix on every thrust, and your toes curled when he grazed over the spongy spot on your walls. “Need you to cum on my fingers, okay? Then I can fill up this pretty pussy.”

You gasped at his words, not expecting anything that filthy from your soft spoken roommate. That coupled with the mental image of him sliding his cock into you drove you right over the precipice of your orgasm.

He moaned, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers, and his cock twitched.

When he stood up, he drank in the sight of your heaving chest and spread legs, pussy glistening. Arousal and contentment flooded his system, purely happy that he finally had you laying before him as he’d dreamt so many times before, and he let his shorts drop to the floor.

Your jaw dropped as he pumped his shaft a few times, smearing the precum already leaking down his thick shaft. It was a good thing he had prepared you, but the thought of having to stretch to take him was equally tempting. The slick sounds made you squirm, wanting to be filled and stretched. You locked your ankles around his thighs, earning a chuckle.

“Patience, kitten. Slide up the bed,” he said, watching you move backwards until you were laying in the center.

The bed dipped under his weight and he crawled over you, shoving his knees beneath your thighs. Hoisting your legs up to lock around his hips, he let his cock settle against your folds. You shuddered when he slid across your still sensitive clit, whining low in your throat.

“Too sensitive, kitten? Want to stop?” he teased, and laughed at the look of panic that flashed across your face. You shook your head frantically, legs tightening around him, and he soothed you by cupping your cheek. “Me either. I’m gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl.”

There was a promise in his eyes, and you were still trying to connect the Akaashi you knew with this one, the one that was cajoling and teasing and making you ache with a need to be filled with his thick cock.

“Please, Keiji,” you murmured, laying your hand atop his and nuzzling against his palm. “I want you inside me. Wanted you for so long, please don’t tease.”

He smiled in response, guiding himself to your entrance and you moaned as the head of his cock slipped in and you accidentally clenched around him when you thought of having all of him. A hiss filled your ears and he thrust the rest of the way in, your cunt parting around him like it was made for him.

“Goddammit, you’re so tight,” he cursed, trying to control the temptation to rock his hips. You were trembling underneath him, and he braced himself up on his elbows, resting his forehead against yours. “Need you to squeeze around me again, pretty girl. Please*.”

You earned a gasp when you did, his hips jerking down into you, his pubic bone grinding your clit and you mewled his name.

“K-Keiji, a-ah, that feels so good,” you whined, tears pricking your eyes. Your legs tightened around him, keeping him in place as he rocked into you in short, shallow thrusts.

“Good girl. You feel so good, kitten. So tight and wet. God.” His voice was low and gravelly, eyes shut tight as he fisted the blankets by your head. He kept up that steady pace, pulling out more and more with each thrust until he was pistoning into you. The wet slap of his hips against yours filled the room, mingling with your moans and cries of his name. Each thrust hit every sweet spot, the curls at the base of his cock tickling your clit, driving you quickly towards your end again. Your nails dug into biceps as your hips rose to meet his, and when he opened his eyes he found you staring at him with open love and lust.

His lips crashed against yours, forcing you to swallow the loud groan that he uttered when he slowed and circled his hips, forcing his cock even deeper into your tight cunt. Your back arched, forcing your chest against his, and his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Need you to cum for me, kitten,” he whispered against your lips, repeating that same circling motion. The way he rubbed your clit and ground into your cervix flung you over the edge with a wail of his name. You squeezed so tight around him that his hips jerked and he found himself cumming, painting your insides white, unable to pull away because your legs were still locked around him. “*Shit, goddammit*.”

He let his head fall to the bed beside you, sliding his arms up until he was pressed flush against you. Breathing shakily, you let your hands roam his back, spreading the sweat that had built up. Your hips were starting to hurt and Akaashi noticed them shaking and sat up, pulling out of you so he could put your legs down.

“Akaashi, I--” you started to say, but he cupped your cheek and covered your lips with his thumb, cutting you off.

“It’s still Keiji, pretty girl. And I think we can talk about this in the bath,” he said, helping you up and off the bed.

After the bath was drawn and you were settled comfortably against his chest, drawing random patterns on his skin, he let you speak.

“What’re we gonna do now, Keiji? We already live together, I guess. Nothing’s going to change, right?” you asked, watching drops of water roll down his skin. He was so warm and you found yourself wanting to fall asleep, you were so comfortable.

His soft fingers were trailing up and down your back, his arm resting on the side of the tub, and he hummed thoughtfully before saying, “Well, I’d like to date you, if that’s acceptable. Otherwise no, I don’t believe anything will change. Other than I’ll fall in love with you even more, _____.”

The back of your neck grew hot at his words and you hid your face behind your hands, fighting the heat that spread all over. Your heart stuttered and you whined even as your eyes stung. That was all you had wanted over the course of the last several months, and now here he was telling you exactly what you wanted to hear. It was an actual dream come true.

Once you had fought the embarrassment back down you turned to look up at him.

It was a fruitless endeavor because the soft, loving gaze you met made it erupt all over again, and you kissed the smirk right off his pretty lips for it.

“I love you, Keiji,” you whispered against his lips, and smiled when you heard the words breathed back. Settling back down, you resumed your doodling, spelling out different things against his slick skin, and then asked, “The flowers in the picture you sent. What were they and why did you send it and then ignore me?”

He chuckled at the petulant tone, the sound pleasant in your ear where it rested over his heart, before answering.

“Well, you had just sent that video of you in the garden and after watching it, I decided I was going to confess when you got home. The flowers just helped ground me.” Guilt flooded you again as you remembered how you had brushed him off when you walked through the door and, as if he could sense it, he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your hair. “It’s alright, princess. I deserved it after ignoring you. I was just scared to tell you because I couldn’t tell you the meanings behind them without giving myself away.

You relaxed in his hold again, tilting your head up to look at him and were floored all over again. You would surely never get tired of the soft adoration in his beautiful eyes and hoped it would never fade. “So, what were they then?”

“Azalea’s for homesickness, because you took my heart with you. Camellia’s for passion, because that’s how strongly I feel about you. Forget-me-nots for love, so you don’t forget. And jasmine because they’re your favorite, and I love you with my whole being.”

The words were whispered into your hair, the only other sound besides the gentle sloshing of water as he had started to rock you back and forth, fingers cupping your neck to hold you too him, and the tears that had burned earlier welled over as you realized how deeply he meant those words and how deeply he had embedded himself into your heart.

There was no doubt in his mind that the tears spilling down his chest were good, not when they were overlaid with kisses everywhere you could manage, and then you stilled, content to just let him hold you after that. No other words were said until the water grew colder and you shivered.

“We should go to bed. It’s already very late,” he murmured, and helped you to stand. His breath hitched as the water cascaded down your body, feeling arousal build all over again. He ignored it as you toweled off and redressed, snagging his shirt up before he could grab it and slipping it over your head. “You are not helping me to keep my hands off you, kitten,” he growled, grabbing you by the hips and guiding you towards his bedroom.

You let him lead you with no resistance besides pausing to wiggle against him and giggling when he sighed in mock exasperation.

“Maybe I’m not trying to,” you said, sauntering towards the bed.

“If that’s the case,” he answered, pinning you to the mattress. Your legs naturally came up to hook over his hips and his shorts slipped down, exposing his already hard cock. “I guess we aren’t ready for bed yet.”

⇥ masterlist

⇥ taglist: @sluttony, @visaintes, @yunhosblackgf, @super-noya, @byebyes-world, @newfriendjen

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #.thesymbolforlove

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emilycollins00 · 3 years ago

Text

Two faces of the same coin

Pairing: Tenma x ghost-looking! reader Part 1.

Hey! I had this awesome ask from sadly ages ago which I appreciated a lot bc honestly, just the fact that someone sent such a detailed thing?? My heart.

Request: (...) Tenma finds someone who looks like they got out straight from a horror movie- They could literally pass as a ghost anytime of the day! But once he talks to them they are just an extremely chill introvert, and actually really thoughtful and considerate? (...) So yeah, imagine Tenma who once was shitting his pants whenever that person was around slowly starting to enjoy their presence and even better: fall for them.

Enjoy! 💕

Classic horror icons and other disturbing creatures share common characteristics, pale skin, dark, sunken eyes, hunched posture, sharp teeth, and the like. These images inspire fear and revulsion in many with good reason. And while Tenma would insist he was okay with them- he really was and Yuki should really just shut up- he wouldn’t go out of his way to watch or read about that specific genre. And he was okay with that.

“A ghost in the school?”

He tried to not sound as worried as he internally felt, his brain still processing what Taichi was talking about while waiting for their drinks to drop. The redhead nodded unaware, eyes fixed on the vending machine “Yeah! You haven’t heard about it before?”

“W-why should I? It’s stupid to think paranormal stuff like ghosts exists anyway.”

With a clank, both drinks finally fell. Taichi crouched down to retrieve them humming happily, handing one of them to the summer troupe leader and keeping one for himself.

“I don’t know man, it’s kind of cool!” he crossed his arms behind his head, resuming their walk and looked behind. “What about you, Juza-san? You seen anything?”

The purple-haired boy considered it lazily, but ultimately shook his head. He didn’t seem too interested in the conversation anyway, and Tenma was pretty sure the main thoughts running through his head were today’s melon bread from the cafeteria.

It had been a while since their Ouka-high group had been able to have lunch together.

“Did you see? That Sumeragi Tenma is back!”

“Gosh, he looks so handsome!”

“Wait- don’t push me!”

“I heard he’s going to be a possible cast in that famous saga-”

“Are you serious?”

Whispers and tiny squeals kept circling them as soon as they entered the boundaries of the canteen. And while Tenma barely notices it at first, he can definitely see Juza’s stance going more rigid and Taichi’s eyes glowing at the attention received.

“I’ll go get our lunch” the golden-eyed teen announces heading towards the queue, hands buried in his pockets. He motioned Tenma with his chin. “You wanted set B right, no carrots.”

“Uh? Well yeah, but I can-”

“S’okay, you two go find some seats” he shrugged, looking around. There weren’t many spaces to start with and he’d honestly prefer focus on the food rather than the stares. “It’d be difficult to keep ‘em free with just one person anyway.”

“Roger! Come on Ten-chan, let’s go!”

“Aw, man. Everyone has their eyes on you as usual!” Taichi looked around, still indulging himself with all the people that were staring at them, some more blatantly than others.

How he didn’t get bored of mentioning it every time Tenma didn’t know, though he was low-key grateful. Not many people enjoyed being part of those types of reactions from a crowd- Juza for example-. When they finally managed to find some empty seats, Taichi placed his own bento on the table visibly excited. Tenma frowned.

“Since when did you start preparing lunch by yourself?”

“Ah, this?” the redhead laughed proudly at his confused look “See, I’ve been practicing my cooking skills! Tsuzuru has been super cool teaching me how to prepare some dishes for my siblings- plus, I’m sure I’ll get the attention of girls if they see my new talent!”

“Right…”

Tenma couldn’t decide whether he should make a comment as he took a long, thoughtful sip from his own juice can. Taichi’s lunch was a side of string cheese, a broken omelet, and some semi-burnt rice and it just didn’t seem very tempting.

He ultimately chose to leave it aside. Omi would surely know soon enough.

“So, uh, Taichi.”

“Yeah?”

He coughed, leaving aside the can and resting his back on the chair nonchalantly. “N-not that I care about that rumor, but- where is that ghost supposed to be?”

“Ah, the one we talked about? Mmm…” the autumn member caressed his chin, closing his eyes in deep thought. “No one really knows. It’s been spotted in pretty much all parts of the school” Tenma’s stomach sank at that. “But I’ve heard it likes room 1001 for some reason, you know, from the old side of the school? No one really uses it anymore- guess it makes sense!”

The redhead took again the chopsticks and started digging on the rice carefree.

“R-right.”

Tenma shook his head. Cool. Great. Now he knew which side of the school he would never even try to approach at least.

“Tenma-kun!” a female voice, not familiar, made him jolt from his seat. When he looked up a girl followed by two others were are already making themselves comfortable on the chairs next to them- one of them even deciding to sit on the table. “Hi there!”

Third years.

"Hi” he repeated.

“We saw your appearance in that new series, it was unbelievable!”

“Are you going to be a recurring character there? I’d love if you could ask one of the leads to sign a shirt of mine!”

He simply showered them a practiced smile. He could already tell what type of fans they were. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary- people approaching him about his shows or to ask for favors- and honestly, it was better not entering in that dangerous territory. “Thanks. Nothing’s been said yet, that’d depend on the company. I’ll be counting on your future support.”

They instantly beamed at his reaction. “Of course!”

One of them clapped her hand together “That reminds me, when is your next performance in that theatre company you play? I so want to go see it again!”

“Ah, that will take a while. We just finished a month ago so next up is the autumn troupe” he motioned Taichi with his head, a proud, real smile featuring his face this time “These guys have been going all out, you won’t be disappointed.”

“O-of course!” the shortest Ouka high student practically jumped into the conversation. “If you all want, we could ask for a few tickets from our-!“

“But Tenma-kun is not in that troupe, right?” the girls looked at each other confused. As if it wouldn’t be something it’d cross their minds to do, had the child actor not participated before.

“W-well, no but…”

“Plus, the summer troupe is hilarious! I kinda prefer those types of performances, you know?”

“I totally get you!”

From his peripheral vision, Tenma could register Taichi’s face growing red- a strained smile before sitting back on his seat, not trying to add anything to the conversation anymore.

Smile. Remember to smile.

“…We all give our all on those performances, I don’t think it’s fair if you have just watched the summer troupe. You’ll definitely enjoy it if you give them the chance.”

“Really?”

“I mean… If Tenma-kun says so maybe we could go take a look.” one of them gave a chuckle, playing with their hair. “You think we could ask you to get us some tickets for-?”

“If you are not eatin’ you should leave.”

“Uh? Can’t you see we’re-” the sentence died in their lips as soon as they turned and encountered Juza. Not that he himself was proud of his reputation, but during these situations at the very least it paid to see they knew who he was.

“Move.”

The resulting glare was terrifying in its intensity, and the retreat took no longer than a few seconds. No one mentioned anything afterward- Juza’s calm and blank expression coming back as he sat down, handing the summer leader his lunch and squinting down at Taichi’s.

“What the hell are you eatin’.”

“Hehe it caught your attention too, right? You see…”

Tenma observed them. They were acting as if nothing had happened. Not so long ago people tended to stay away from him for those same reasons, so it still took him a few seconds to find the words again- For feeling this relieved at their reactions.

He left the chopsticks aside. “Sorry this... keeps happening."

They momentarily stopped the conversation, sharing a silent look before turning to the teen actor facing the table in awkwardness.

“I-It’s okay, Ten-chan! They would obviously be more interested in watching you than an unknown performance” Taichi laughs and scratches the back of his hair. He seemed to be fine- a bit uncomfortable, but fine. “Besides, that just means we have to work even harder to be recognized, right, Juza-san!”

“Yeah, don’t get stuck thinkin’ ‘bout it. We ain’t losin’ any time soon.”

“Anyway Juza-san, are you sure you’re okay with only melon bread and pudding for lunch? I can give you some of mine!”

Juza didn’t verbally answer Taichi’s offer, merely staring at the burnt rice being held in front of him with skepticism “…nah. I’m okay.”

Taichi frowned at his own food, tilting his head confused. A few seconds later, he gave it an ultimate shrug before going for one more bite, Juza doing the same with his own lunch. Tenma scoffed at the view, trying not to smile amusedly. The autumn troupe really was made out of beasts.

“If Sakyo-san saw what you two are eating he’d skin you alive, you know.”

“Why.”

“What do you mean why, Juza-san you can’t expect-“

"Ah, that reminds me!” Taichi suddenly rambled, mouth full of rice “We should totally go to the arcade before we head up to the dorm. I heard they have these new games that are supposed to be super exclusive!”

Tenma winced “Can’t. I have a meeting with my homeroom teacher after classes.”

The other two replied with a similar expression.

“I almost forgot you came from a big shootin’ and all. We’ve been seein' you in the dorm pretty much everyday.”

“Yeah! Geez I always say I envy you, but dealing with that after working must suck!”

“You tell me…”

Taichi shook his head, giving him both thumbs up “It’s okay, we can go another time. Good luck though!”

“You can sit here. I’ll go bring your work in a second and then we’ll talk.”

With a lazy look on his face, Tenma caught a glimpse of his own reflection from a trophy case- one of the few resting at the entrance of the teacher’s lounge. He had never paid attention to them before; Second prize in a football tournament, first prize in some races and a few diplomas regarding different competitions, nothing too special. Ouka high had never had the best score regarding academics, which is exactly why he was able to enter.

Igawa liked to insist it wasn’t entirely Tenma’s fault he had so many troubles keeping up with schoolwork though- well, not more than the usual of not being good at studying. No one actually knew how hard celebrity kids had to push themselves- at least that’s what his parent had said. On the other hand, they hadn’t really cared much more, so long the school allowed him to be flexible with his schedules.

School time was usually done while moving sets and camera changes. He and other kids and teens were at different levels of schooling most of the time, so the teacher was forced to divide their time. Honestly, one would be lucky to get 30 minutes of full tutoring.

Anyway, it was rotten work and even Tenma knew it. He also knew what his homeroom teacher thought about it, which is exactly why he couldn’t help himself raising his eyebrows concerned as he saw the pile of papers being drop over the desk.

“Is this a joke?”

“I know you’re busy, but there’s a minimum to do keep up with your classes and… general results.” the old man frowned scratching his grey four-days old beard. He clicked here and there at the computer, probably revising the latest results of the tests they had done.

He then leaned back on his chair, trying to find a comfortable position before his wrinkly eyes turned to him again. “I wish I could think of another way, but you are getting quite behind everyone, Sumeragi-kun. We’re worried.”

Well, it was not his fault he couldn’t remember all the information they gave him like a script. Was it really the solution giving him the same amount of work as his classmates with half the time?

Before he could open his mouth to complain, the man placed his hand on Tenma’s shoulder. It felt heavy. “I already talked with your manager. It seems you’ll be having a break for a month and a half just before finals and I’d like to help you. We can’t have one of the biggest faces of the school repeating a year, can we?”

Tenma’s jaw clenched. Of course, everything was always for Sumeragi Tenma the actor. Student Tenma could go drown himself.

“Here you’ll find some reinforcement materials I think will be good for you to do in school. Less time wasted while moving and I’ll be here in case you have any questions.”

His face twitched. That would mean he wouldn’t be able to ask for Tsumugi’s help or any of the adults back in Mankai. “I actually-”

“Suguro-sensei, Someone’s calling for you about tomorrow’s meeting!”

“Is it that time already... I’ll be right there in a second! In any case, I would suggest you go work on the library Sumeragi-kun.” the man got up, finishing that way their conversation. “It should be quiet enough, but if you see any students being too loud, give them a call.”

Tenma side-glanced again at his workload, groaning internally.

Just about his luck.

Twenty minutes walking.

How could such a big school not have a single sign to indicate where things were?

Squinting his eyes, Tenma looked both ways across the hall annoyed, his already short temper from before increasing. He was sure the library was two turns to the right, then left, and then up the stairs from the teachers’ lounge.

...or maybe it was a floor down now that he thought about it. Damn it. It wasn’t as if he had ever stepped inside that place, shouldn’t they make it more accessible for everyone?

“This sucks…”

It had been a while since he had seen other students or even teachers around, which also made him feel uneasy. He glanced down at the paperwork in his arms, gripping it tighter. He hoped no one would see him walking around like this.

Just where was the stupid library?

It wasn’t until Tenma decided to try entering inside any room that would allow him to work, that he found many were strangely closed. He was about to gave up when he finally saw the dusty word ‘library’ at the end of the corridor. Finally. With effort he managed to open the heavy door, immediately pinching his nose.

“Ugh, stinks.”

The person in charge of cleaning the school really did a worse job than Matsukawa- at least the man cleaned from time to time and organized stuff. The place was an absolute mess; boxes over the floor, piles of books on chairs and shelves full of documents and other various things he didn’t quite distinguish.

Leaving everything on the closest table Tenma sighed when he felt his arms relaxing without the weight. Frowning, he walked around the place, smelling a mix of dirt and old- even some shelves were full of dust. Really, how did a school like this had such a gross place to study? No wonder students didn’t try to come here.

He should have asked for permission to take his work back to Mankai. Less danger of someone noticing he was behind his studies and it becoming a gossip- or worse, finding he had been walking without an absolute clue for the last half hour.

Yeah, he had more options to pass the year with Tsumugi’s help rather than on his own. Just looking at the amount of work he had he was sure it’d-

The faint sound of walking steps brought him back from his thoughts freezing him on the spot- all his breath trapped. He hadn’t heard anyone since he entered, but it shouldn't be surprising to find others studying.

I’ve heard it likes room 1001 for some reason, you know, from the old side of the school? No one really uses it anymore- guess it makes sense!

Or it was probably the wind. The wind tends to make noises, Tenma reminded himself while swallowing with difficulty.

Was the air suddenly thick?

Crack!

He strained to hear, his heart pounding loudly. “I-Is anyone there?” the nerves made his voice come out higher than he had hoped.

More cracks and sounds of steps. He couldn't see anything yet.

His stomach turned as his breath became louder. This wasn't happening. Yup! It was his imagination. What was happening could not be real, because ghosts didn’t exist. “I-I’m not afraid, you know?!” he shouted, positioning himself on a fighting stance while carefully moving backward.

That’s right- Tenma wasn’t scared. He had just rested enough, with or without a ghost in the room, and it was about time to leave. Ignoring his sweaty palms and nodding once more to nothing in particular, he turned around at the same time a pair of eyes made contact with his.

The figure opened its mouth.

And Tenma proceeded to absolutely destroy his throat.

_________________________________________________

This took so long though I’m not even sure If they are around. If you are love, I apologize! I found a few walls writing-wise. So not entirely to say I made it longer to make up for it but on the other hand... maybe. Thank you so much for sending such a nice idea so I was able to make this, really hope you like it. 💕

I promise this is a reader insert lol thank you for reading!

Part 2 soon!

#tenma sumeragi #a3 game #a3 tenma #a3! tenma #reader x a3 #a3! x reader #tenma x reader #a3 actor training game #reader insert #a3! taichi #a3! juza

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echoghost1 · 4 years ago

Text

EchoGhost's Phic Phight 2021 Master Post

And in case you missed any, or just like seeing the whole gang together, here is every single fic I wrote for my first ever Phic Phight!

1) Perseverance

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: While Maddie is helping Danny with his homework a notification from his phone becomes a major distraction.

Prompt: PR134 - Danny is sitting quietly next to someone. Maybe he's doing homework with his friends, maybe Jazz is driving him somewhere, maybe he's working on a group project with someone, maybe he's doing something else entirely. He suddenly starts *freaking* the heck out - Perseverance has just landed on Mars, and he just found out about it. How is his reaction perceived by whoever he's with?

2) The Reason You Wail

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: An odd feeling he can't quite explain is haunting Danny. He wants it to stop but he knows it won't, he just knows now.

Prompt: PR054 - As Danny gets older, he doesn't just predict the appearance of ghosts. He starts predicting when someone's going to die.

3) Forget Your Life Story

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: Danny woke up with no memory. He didn’t even know his own name. The doctor told him it would come back and his parents were there to help him. He trusts them, even if he doesn't recognize them. Even if some things didn’t quite line up.

Prompt: PR002 - Danny woke up from being in a month long coma with no memory of how he got there or anything about his past. Thankfully, the doctors said that his memory would return eventually, and he had his loved ones nearby to tell him who he was and his life story. However, as his memory slowly returns, there's huge, distinct differences between what he's been told and the things he's remembering.

4) Recreational Botany

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: It wasn't her fault. She was merely curious, had only wanted to help. She didn't mean for this to happen. She just hoped it would wear off soon. (TW: Drug use - Weed)

Prompt: PR228 - Ghost weed.

5) Fool’s Errand (Ghost Prince AU)

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: It had been hours since Danny flew off to fight Pariah Dark and Vlad took it upon himself to see what was taking the boy so long.

Prompt: PR065 - After their fight, Pariah Dark decides Danny has all the qualities he wants in an heir and forcibly adopts him. (Danny can either lose the fight to put him back in the Sarcophagus, or Pariah can get out again later.)

6) You Walked Right Into This

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: Sometimes walking is more than just walking. (TW: Child Abuse)

Prompt: PR142 - Jack and Maddie seriously injure Danny Fenton, resulting in him being at their mercy and revealing he’s not exactly human. Now the parents have to decide wether to help him... or finish what they started. TW for serious injury and probably gore and angst.

7) What You Fear The Most (Scary Ghost Form AU)

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: What if his ghost form was less human-looking? What if he looked every bit the monster his parents had always told him ghosts were?

Prompt: PR035 - Monstrous: AU where Danny's ghost form is monstrous and grotesque. On one hand, he doesn't have to worry about anyone recognizing him; on the other, it might be even harder to convince people that he's a good guy

8) Parallels

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: It's amazing the things you learn on a field trip.

Prompt: PR047 - Wacky reveals (ex: Danny drying up too quickly bc intangibility, Danny's drink stays cool way too long, people's electronic devices are always more charged when they've been near Danny, etc)

9) Cast Into Obsidian (Blind AU)

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: The accident sent Danny to the hospital due to the damage to his eyes.

Prompt 01: PR092 - Write a more traditional ghost story. How would things change if ghost powers weren’t super powers, but closer to old horror movie tropes?

Prompt 02: PR259 - The Accident didn’t turn Danny into a half ghost, but instead allowed him to see, hear, and physically interact with the very real ghosts that are now pouring through the portal (Alternative: Danny’s always been clairvoyant, but after the accident he finally sees all of the ghosts he’d grown up talking to)

10) Where The Lines Overlap (Parallels part 2)

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: Maddie wants to know what her son has been keeping from her and today he finally decides to tell her. (TW: Outsider POV of PTSD flashbacks)

Prompt: PR091 - When he told his parents the truth, Danny had only ever bothered thinking about the stress of potential dissection. With that out of the way, and his secret fully accepted, he realised that there were a lot of unexpected things to adjust to... Write about something funny or awkward as the Fentons learn to live with a half ghost son!

11) Quoth the Librarian, “But I’m Alone?”

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: Eleanor loved her job at the school library. She always made sure to come in early to make sure everything was just right before the students came. Today something beat her there.

Prompt: PR234 - Suddenly, there was a knock at the door...

12) The Baldr to My Odin (Ghost Prince AU part 2)

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: Pariah has recently acquired a son and wants to get to know him better.

Prompt: PR121 - Pariah Dark wakes up from his slumber and tries to live a peaceful existence in his castle practicing his swordsmanship and rebuilding his castle with all modern luxuries. But ghost from the ghost zone keep trying to challenge him to become king.

13) Tagged

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Summary: Dr. Flora Santos and her partner Dr. Carlos Rodriguez have lucked out as they have finally caught their most elusive subject.

Prompt: PR090 - Something physical happens to Danny’s body that makes it impossible to keep his secret identity, well, secret.

14) The Paleontologist and The Princess (Dino boy AU)

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: Danny had one true passion; Paleontology. So can anyone really blame him for getting excited when he thinks he comes face to face with a dinosaur? Even if it isn't a dinosaur after all.

Prompt: PR139 - "Actually, Dad? I wanted to be a paleontologist."

15) Lost In Transmission

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Summary: There's a Ghost Expo happening at Casper High and Danny thinks it'll be fun to see all the incorrect ways people try to find ghosts. He learns the hard way that just because is old, doesn't mean it doesn't work.

Prompt: PRO58 - Casper high is holding a supernatural expo. Supposed paranormal experts are gathered in their gym to show off their expertise. Thinking it'll be a flop, since most employ methods that aren't modern, Danny and his friends go for fun. Only, it turns out that traditional ghost hunting techniques are more efficient than they seem.

16) Dark Familiarity (Role Swap AU)

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: Danny has been hunting ghosts for a while now. He has been ever since they ruined his life and a mysterious package arrived with everything he needed to exact his revenge. (TW: Character Death)

Prompt: PR095 - Danny and Valerie role swap (but not personality swap!!). How does Valerie fair as a ghost? How does Danny do as a ghost hunter (and what motivates him to do it in the first place?) [Shipping them is fine, but gen fics are preferred!]

17) I’ve Felt It Too

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Summary: Ember's having a bad day and Danny tries to help.

Prompt: PR079 - Phantom looked at Ember. Her eyes filled with tears. She gnashed her teeth and screamed. "You don't know what it's like."

And Phantom, with a heavy sigh whispered. "Yeah, I do..."

18) Repair All Of The Damage (Undead Danny AU)

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: After the tragic loss of her son, Maddie vows to bring him back. No matter what. (TW: Death of a child)

Prompt: PR088 - tw; death of a child?

The Fentons had their daughter sure but they always wanted a son. due to an accident or complication with their son, Danny, died. They decide to put their ghostly knowledge to use and try to summon the spirit of their son back to them. They are ghost scientists. they know how to contain them after all. How much time that has passed between the death and the 'summoning' is up to you!

19) Out Of This World (And Into The Next)

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Summary: What if when Danny first fought the Lunch Lady ghost she actually noticed how young he was. What if she didn't know he was more than just another ghost? What if when she commented on how underweight he was, she decided to help him?

Prompt 01: PR113 - Danny has an existential crisis because he’s dead

Prompt 02: PR242 - somehow, he's gotten younger

20) Spirit Versus Spunk

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: Mr. Lancer isn't sure how he's supposed to be reacting to what he's seeing, but seeing as he's the adult here, he better make up his mind.

Prompt: PR019 - Danny and Wes Weston fight over a harmless ghost. This happens during a ghost attack.

21) The Group Project From Hell

AO3 or Tumblr

Summary: Danny and Tucker get stuck working with someone that they really don’t want to

Prompt: Everyone hates group projects, and that’s even if you like your group members. Tucker, Danny, and Elliot/Gregor all get teamed up for a group project, and Tucker and Danny need to refrain from killing him.

And as an added bonus I did make a Spotify playlist for this too! There's a song for each fic that I felt best fit the vibe of each story.

#phic phight #Phic collection master post #I've got a range of genres here #Or at least 3 that I kept bouncing between #they are as follows #angst #horror/dread #humor #also *slaps top of post* I fit so many different AU's in here #I did both Jack and Maddie are trying their very best AND these two should have never had children type fics #I'd love to know which one is your favorite!#Also me running in at the last second to add in the final phic

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icyllic · 4 years ago

Text

Path of Destruction | JEON JUNGKOOK

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader

GENRE: Drama, Angst (maybe???), Thriller

WARNINGS: Stalking, obsession, swearing, a little dirty talk & thoughts

WORD COUNT: 2635

*note: ↑ i came across this video and saw this comment by boogieedits (credits to parkchimn & boogieedits for the inspiration! 😍) and felt inspired by this wonderful plot! i’m inspired by the amazing video edit too! <3 i decided to give it a try and welp- truthfully i’m having writer’s block with my Full of Stars series that i might wanna take a break from it for a while until i figured what the next episode’s plot would be. for now, let’s enjoy this oneshot! 🥰 (extra note: several changes were made in this story and yes, the nickname might be a little cringy but i couldn’t think of a better pet name, so....bear with it, i guess 😅😂 also, Y/N’s angered replies are intended to have typos. i purposely did the typos in her texts bcs she was angry af :3)

The night was feeling empty. The streets were quiet and you had no idea where you were heading. You couldn’t believe that you actually managed to get out from your best friend, Suzie’s party that was filled with a lot of her drunken friends and thank God you successfully escaped, even though right now you were feeling a little tipsy due to the amount of alcohol you consumed earlier.

“Fucking Suzie,” you mumbled as you walked home. “telling me it was just a small party and she lied! Who would lie to their own friends?!” You have the habit of talking to yourself if you feel alone and that was what you were feeling right now, so alone in the streets and you were clueless. You felt the need to cry but what’s the whole point? No one was here to save you even if you did.

You were sure you weren’t dreaming or hallucinating at all but you heard footsteps were following you. As you turned around, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, seeing as there was no one. When you turned around to walk again, the footsteps were heard. “HEY!” you yelled as you aggressively turned around. “don’t you dare follow me or I wouldn’t hesitate to call the cops!” You rolled your eyes in annoyance, mumbling to yourself again to make the uneasy feeling go away.

As you finally arrived home, you were struggling to grab the keys to unlock the door. At this very moment, the keys were tricking you; purposely tangling themselves with your pocket. “Are you kidding me?! I wanna get inside, you stupid keys!” You widened your eyes when you saw your older sister opening the door for you. How was she still awake at 2 a.m.?

“You look like a horrible mess.” Michelle commented, and you scoffed while pushing her away from the door as you went inside.

“Why are you still even awake anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” You were shaking your head while shutting your eyes to avoid that tipsy feeling.

“How can I sleep when I know my little sister wasn’t home yet? I was worried sick, you moronic bitch.” She shook her head, feeling disappointed with how you acted right now.

You were feeling sleepy and tired, so you decided to ignore her and went upstairs. Before you went to your room, you heard your sister yelling, “Yeah, go ahead and ignore me just like you always do to avoid conversations with me! I’ve had enough of babysitting you, Y/N! You’re so horrible!” You slammed the door before hearing any more of her complains.

Despite feeling so tired, you couldn’t sleep at all. You took the time to stare up at the ceiling instead, filling your head with numerous thoughts. But the thoughts stopped as you heard a Ding! on your phone. You read the texts and to your surprise, it was from an unknown number.

unknown [now]: sweet dreams, twinkle toes

unknown [now]: it took me nearly four years to pluck up the courage to text you

unknown [now]: and i can’t lie, i’m having butterflies

unknown [now]: you don’t know how many times i’ve dreamed of touching you

unknown [now]: by the way, go take a shower before you sleep 🌹

“What the hell?” You got up quick and scanned the whole area in your room, worrying that person who texted you might be in there. Hiding under your bed, maybe? You didn’t know whether to text this person back or not, or to block him but if you block him now, how would you know where he got your number from? ... or how would you know whether this person was a male or a female? So you decided to just leave it be for a while and reply this unknown person’s texts tomorrow. After this dreamland taking over your world, you were hoping that these texts were just all hallucinations due to tiredness.

••••••

....except that they were not hallucinations at all. You started to feel panic when you saw the messages were still there in your message box. Now it was your turn to build the courage to reply this person back.

you [now]: Who are you and how did you get my number?

Anxiety started to form inside you. You were supposed to run some errands today but with the situation you were facing right now, you were having doubts whether it was safe to go out there or not.

Your daydream of thoughts stopped when Michelle walked in to your room. “Y/N?” You raised your head up to look at her. “you feeling better now?”

You nodded, feeling hesitated as you knew that answer wasn’t true at all. You weren’t feeling any better, even after last night for being a little drunk but with this stalker texting you??? A whole new level of creepy started to scare you. You kept wondering how on Earth this person got your number.

“I baked you some cookies, just in case you were hungry and um,” she paused for a while. “I’m sorry for yelling at you last night. I didn’t mean to.”

These words shocked you. Her apology made you give her a look of astonishment. You and Michelle have been through it all; dramas over boys, arguing over little things and never once in your life you ever heard her saying sorry to you. This was so new, she finally apologized to you for the first time in her 25 years of living.

“I’m sorry for being an irresponsible bitch, Michelle. I didn’t mean it too.” She shook her head while smiling, walking towards you and gave you a hug to comfort you. Ding! And this person appeared again, stopping you from hugging your sister.

“Whoa, who’s texting you at an exact 8 a.m.?” Michelle teased while wiggling her eyebrows. You chuckled at her silly attitude, although this wasn’t supposed to be a happy situation at all. You were already feeling terrified as curiosity started filling itself in you, wondering what that person’s text might be.

“Probably just Suzie wanting to apologize too for being a lying turd.” You shrugged it off, chuckling alongside your sister. Michelle then walked out and you quickly locked the door, opening the stalker’s message.

unknown [3m ago]: you’ll know soon enough, twinkle toes 🥰

Twinkle toes??? Who the fuck does this person think he or she is? Calling me twinkle-fucking-toes? Your thoughts started to annoy you right now. You felt the need to slam something out of frustration, but you weren’t feeling like it anymore. You were still feeling scared because of this whole situation.

••••••

“Class dismissed!” Mr. Peterson announced when the bell rang. The whole Math class felt like a living nightmare. You were feeling sleepy the whole time but your attention was drifted off somewhere else.

When you walked outside the classroom to pack your stuff in your locker, you were stopped by Adrian. Adrian, the guy you knew had a crush on you since sophomore year. He was indeed cute; shaggy hair that really matched with his bright, green eyes and had a very nice personality that could make every girl fall in love with him. Unfortunately for Adrian, you weren’t one of those girls.

You’ve been taking the time to appreciate and love yourself for several years now. Your last relationship ended because that asshole cheated on and lied to you a lot of times, leading you to have trust issues and hence the reason why you didn’t wanna give Adrian a chance too. But Adrian, being a nice guy he was, stated that he’d wait for you no matter how long it might take.

“I brought your favorite snacks, Y/N. I hope we can eat lunch together today.” Adrian showed you your favorite snacks that were hidden in his brown bag. You softly smiled at how thoughtful Adrian really was.

“Thanks, Adrian. But um, I don’t think I wanna eat lunch today. I might just head home this afternoon. I’m not up for afternoon classes.” You felt bad for lying to him. Truthfully, you just wanted to investigate more about this stalker of yours.

His face was sad, but he seemed to understand. “Oh, okay.. are you okay, Y/N? You don’t look okay.” His voice was recognized with genuine concern.

“I’m having headache, that’s all. I need rest.” You scratched the back of your neck, feeling this conversation becoming awkward already. You were uncomfortable, your negative thoughts made you feel like this was an uncomfortable conversation to participate in.

Adrian nodded as he understood why, so he patted your back gently. You didn’t see it wrong, though. He wanted to kiss your forehead, but hesitant to do so since he knew that might be wrong. It was because he knew you didn’t feel the same for him.

••••••

{8.47 p.m. with Adrian walking in the streets alone}

Adrian was listening to music on his phone as he was on his way home from his friend’s house. But eventually stopped when he felt a sudden presence behind him. He turned around and it wasn’t there anymore. He shrugged it off, thinking it might have only been his imagination.

When he was singing along with the song he was listening to, the footsteps were closer and closer and suddenly, two strong hands grabbed Adrian’s hair and pulling him to the ground, kicking him hard and punching him numerous times.

This unknown person who punched Adrian was wearing a black mask, a black hoodie and ripped jeans that matched with a pair of motorcycle boots. Despite wearing a mask, his eyes sent deep, horrendous message. “If you ever touch Y/N again, I’ll make sure to have all of your bones broken so you can’t do anything in life anymore,” he aggressively grabbed Adrian’s collar this time. “Y/N is mine and mine alone. Don’t you fucking dare come near her.” He released it roughly, spitting on the spot of the ground next to Adrian and leaving him alone as he walked away. It was an unfortunate night for Adrian, no one was there to rescue him and call for help.

••••••

{10.11 p.m. in your room}

Ding! You groaned, knowing whose message this was from. You rolled your eyes as you read the person’s texts.

unknown [now]: i’m feeling so happy right now

unknown [now]: you have no idea how happy i really am 🥰

You shook your head and scoffed whilst reading them. Who even decided to care whether this unknown person was happy or not? Definitely not you.

you [now]: Lmao do I even care if you’re happy or not though? All I know is that you’re crazy

Ding!

unknown [now]: i am crazy indeed

unknown [now]: crazy about you

You groaned in annoyance at this unknown person’s response, not wanting to reply anymore. But then as you were about to place your phone on your side table, there was another notification from that person.

unknown [now]: i’m happy because soon enough, i’ll have you in my arms. no one’s gonna rescue you from me

“What the absolute fuck?” you got up and this time feeling so angry to the point you were having typos as you typed your words in all capital letters.

you [now]: GO FUCK YOURSELF WHOSVER YOU ARE, QUIT BUGFING

ME!!

you [now]: I’M GONNA BLOCK YOU NOW, YOU CNT DO THIS TO ME

Heaving a sigh, you grabbed a pillow and stuffed it on your face, screaming as loud as you intended.

Ding!

unknown [now]: you can try blocking me

unknown [now]: but i have a lot more phones that i’ve stolen and your number is saved in every phone i keep

unknown [now]: like i said, twinkle toes. no one’s gonna rescue you and take you away from me 😉

This time as your courage was already built, you dialed this person’s number but they quickly rejected your call. You tried again and you got the same result; your call was rejected.

you [now]: What’s the matter, huh? No balls to answer my call???

unknown [now]: i’m not going to make you hear my voice yet, princess. where’s the fun in that?

unknown [now]: i’m saving it for our date soon

you [now]: Screw you, you fucking creep

unknown [now]: damn, say that again

you [now]: FUCKING SCREW YOU!

unknown [now]: i’d love to be screwed by the one and only Y/N 😍

You were scared again. Not only this person secretly got your number, but he knew your name too! This was another whole new level of creepy!

You shut your phone off, not wanting to take this conversation further with that creeper. You closed your eyes tightly to move yourself in your dreamland, and thankfully, it was successful.

••••••

{Meanwhile at someone’s place}

He watched you through the one of the screens in his room. You had no idea about this at all, but this stalker had already placed a few cameras in your house. One specific camera he always watched was outside the window of your room so he could have a clearer and nicer view of your sleeping face.

“My God, she’s so beautiful,” he said as he attentively watched you sleeping. He was playing with his fingers as his eagerness started to bloom. He was starting to feel desperate now, wanting to touch you, wanting to hold you in his arms, wanting to kiss you until you’re unable to breathe.

“don’t worry, my Y/N. You’ll be in the arms of Jeon Jungkook’s soon.” Jungkook started to smirk with the dirty thoughts of you forming in his head. He really, really, really couldn’t wait to smother you with his kisses. ....once he catches you.

••••••

The next day at school felt so weird as you found Adrian absent. Adrian wasn’t the type of a person who’d miss a day at school, but today he decided to do that. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you looked around for him. Weird. Where is he? you thought.

Ding! “Gosh, what the fuck does he want now?!” You opened to see who the notification was from, but thankfully it was from Suzie.

suzie patootie [now]: bubs, wanna hangout tonight? mum’s having a date with her 5th boyf. house is free for us girls

you [now]: Girls night, eh? I’m on

This girls’ night was all you needed to avoid feeling scared as you were right now. Sure, you were feeling brave already to confront that person through messages but you were still scared too. What if that person was watching your every move right now and you weren’t aware of it?

••••••

You decided to head to grocery store to buy some foodies and drinks for your girls’ night. You didn’t bother to head home first to take a shower since you knew that this girls’ night would be a sleepless night for you, anyway.

As you walked out from the grocery store to head your way to Suzie’s home, the footsteps were heard again. You stopped your tracks. Oh no. What if this is that person? You were standing still and the footsteps stopped too. You didn’t care and you walked forward quickly and the footsteps got faster following you from behind.

You started running and the follower chased after you so quick until he finally caught you, locking you in his strong arms.

“Don’t run away from me, Y/N,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your earlobe and you started to cry. “didn’t I say I’d have you in my arms soon?”

Before you could scream, he covered your mouth quickly and dragged you backwards with him to an unknown place while holding you tightly.

“No one’s gonna save you. You’re all mine now, twinkle toes.”

#jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #*written

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joontier · 5 years ago

Text

The King’s Guard | Chapter 1

pairings: kim seokjin x reader; jeon jungkook x reader

series rating: R (18+) | genre: historical drama au!; king seokjin! au; established relationship! au; royalty! au!;

warnings: non-graphic mentions of an abuse by Y/N’s stepmama; mentions of death; ANGST; horny ass jinnie and y/n; groping; unprotected sex bc condoms werent invented yet; fingering; edging if ya squint; impregnation kink; voyeurism; oral m and f receiving; slight degradation; good god i have never written this much filth in my life, brb gotta go to church;

word count: 6.3k

g/n: hEY HEY HEY BACK WITH THE SMUT YALL; anywho a few disclaimers before u read this sweetie, YES, its Jung Jungkook for a reason, you’ll see soon enough ;) also,,,, there might be a few korean words thrown in there but ya know context clues or u could search them up too if u want,,,, but i’ll also be placing them at the end of this post for ya <3 P.S. this is also going to turn into a series y’aLLLL GAHHHH

The King’s Guard - Masterlist || navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 1

It’s with Seokjin’s relentless pounding from behind you that you figure that the council meeting probably didn’t go well today. You’ve discovered that times of intimacies like these were a way to relieve himself of the stresses of being a newly pronounced king. Not that you were complaining though.

His fingers find your clit with practiced ease, rubbing at sensitive nub with great fervor. Seokjin’s punishing thrusts become slower as you both reached your highs, his cock falling limp shortly after he pulls out of you. Reaching over to the nearby table, he grabs a towel and dips it on the bowl of water, wiping away traces of his climax between your thighs. He pulls up his pants previously bunched in his ankles and arranges the rest of his durumagi, removing any possible evidence of your quick fuck.

“Council meeting went bad?” you asked, rubbing at your numbing forearms due to your husband’s forceful movements against the table he’d fucked you against. Seokjin briefly throws a sheepish look your way, guessing you have finally figured out his nasty antics of de-stressing, but his beautiful face turns serious as he once again reminded of his responsibilities as king.

“Well with Minseok’s recent death, the dried-up lands in the far east, and an uprising rebellion in the south, I can’t say the meeting went particularly…peaceful,” Seokjin heaves a sigh and rests his hands on his knees.

Minseok was a trusted royal guard, serving Seokjin’s family for nearly all his life and had perished due to an attack during a visit to the southern city. While Minseok’s death caused a great loss in the palace, his blood symbolized the initial step towards an uprising, spurring on the southern troops even further.

With your back facing him, you felt remorseful as your hand subconsciously reaches for the south’s emblem given by your father, hidden beneath the thick collar of your hanbok – a harsh reminder that you were once from the southern palace – and yet you couldn’t do anything to help your king.

It was one thing being only half royalty and another being the only heir to the throne. After multiple tries, prayer movements, and endless offerings, the real queen of the south proved to be infertile and could not bear a child for the king. In the past however, a childless monarch proved to be an advantage to those who attempted to overthrow the throne. Hence your biological father, the king, decided that he needed to have an heir at once. However, the only other lady your dad would trust with such great feat is the head court lady, your mom, who became the king’s only concubine – ergo, your coming into this world.

Your father acknowledged you as his daughter the moment he heard your first cry as a newborn, much to the queen’s repressed opposition. She knew she had no other choice but to give in to your father’s recognition, but her display of hatred for you never stopped at your birth. Your life was an endless tale of narrow escapes from her atrocities.

On the bright side, you maintained a healthy relationship with your father, he taught you how to read and write, he showed you the ins and outs of the city, gave you your first archery lesson, and even taught you a thing or two about politics and diplomacy. You were well-founded for a girl your age, considering that women in your society were only perceived to be bearers of children and raisers of the young instead of hitting sack targets on a moving horse and being deployed on diplomatic affairs.

Life was almost perfect if it weren’t for your very promising antagonist of stepmother. The rest of the palace, your father included, regarded her as your stepmother, but she never came close to being a motherly figure in your life. Quite frankly, you knew she wanted you dead even before you grew a heart – probably the only reason why she wasn’t blessed with a child. The two-headed snake deserved it.

Unfortunately, you weren’t the only victim of her cruelty. As you grew up, you knew she was bound to get worse, it didn’t come as much of a shock when you heard of her plans to murder your father and your biological mother. What you didn’t expect though that the breakfast you’d shared with your father that morning was the last time you’ll ever see him.

You fled from the palace that night, bumping into Seokjin as you exited the gates of the palace. He recognizes your face from previous council meetings and have been acquainted with each other as members of royalty, but he’s never seen you in such a state of distress. Before he could ask you why you were running away from the palace at such hour, you mounted his horse and pleaded to him to take you anywhere else but your home – your previous home.

One look at your tear-stained face was all he needed and he turned his horse around, despite questioning looks he got from his guards. He had brought you back to the capital and took you in the palace. Soon friends turned to lovers and the rest is history.

Seokjin notices your silence and he’s come up from the edge of the bed to envelop you in his arms. “A frown isn’t fitting for a queen,” he takes your chin between his fingers and turns your face towards him. “What’s wrong, love?” he asks, confused by the frown drawn upon your face.

“I just…” you start off, but when your fingers find the cold metal of the necklace, you fall silent again. Seokjin sighs as he finally catches on your despondence and gives you a tighter hug and a fleeting kiss on the forehead.

For once in a long time, you felt like it was just the two of you again alone in the room, alone in the world. Just two lovers, no treacherous stepmothers, no responsibilities, no nation to take care of. Your mind races back to the memories of you sneaking out of the palace to your agreed rendezvous or walking to your secret garden to talk about your daily endeavors. Seokjin made this cruel world more bearable and you will always be eternally grateful for that. He would always shower you with the greatest support and understanding, fully aware of what you have been deprived of during your childhood.

Seokjin on one hand feels equally thankful to have you enter his life, to have you as his wife. He had always admired your knowledge in various things and he frequently shows fondness for your wit in a very remarkable way – like that one time he had brought you to a council meeting to share your ideas (a taboo in the culture – seeing as women weren’t cut in making political decisions) and called an advisor an imbecile for suggesting a huge increase in taxes when a fourth of the city was struggling with famine. Needless to say, Seokjin found the sight of you standing up to his advisors more than arousing so he had sent everyone home at once and two minutes after everyone had left, he already had you bent over his desk, fucking you into oblivion.

Your husband leaves shortly after taking a few scrolls from the shelves before inviting you to dinner, winking as he leaves your room, telling you that he has specially requested the kitchen to cook your favorite dish for dinner tonight. You take a bath during your husband’s absence, indulging yourself in a milk bath, while the servants scrub at your back and arms. As a child, the southern palace only afforded you cold baths with the heat in the south constantly unbearable but mainly because the queen was adamant on treating you badly. She’d made sure you regularly bathe in cold ones, even worse during the winter. You couldn’t keep count of the times you had to be rescued back to life by the court ladies after nearly shivering to death.

The servants take their leave as they’ve scrubbed most of the expanse of skin you’ve exposed for them to exfoliate and you sink further into the pool, a variety of petals floating around and about as you create ripples with your hands.

“My Queen,” a court lady bows her head as she enters your chambers. “The King requests your presence for the inauguration of the new king’s guards,” she informs, not meeting your eyes as you wear your undergarments. You give her a hum of approval and wait for the servants to finish braiding your hair so you could accompany your husband during the ceremony.

You can feel the pebbles under your shoes move with the steady beat of the drums. The inauguration was supposed to be held a few more months later but because of the death of Minseok, the ceremony had to be moved to an earlier date. You were about to turn the corner when the someone in torn, ragged clothes ran in front of you, your guards ushering you backwards to protection. With two watchmen already following the man, two from your group follow to see what the scurry is all about.

The remaining guards that are with you lead you towards the field quickly to evade any further commotion. When you reach where Seokjin is situated, he acknowledges you briefly, worry swimming in his eyes. You place a comforting hand on his to assure him that there is nothing to be worried about. Once you have settled in your seat, a guard comes up to Seokjin’s side and the drums stop. “Your Royal Highnesses, King Seokjin and the Queen.” Your husband raises a hand to acknowledge the crowd surrounding the field, all present to witness the ceremony.

“Let the inauguration of the new royal guards begin.”

The drums fall into a steady rhythm once again, men clad in red and white silk uniforms pile in groups of twenty. Applause falls within the crowd, hands busy clapping for the newly inducted protectors of the palace. You see a few girls displaying themselves by the corner where the guards enter the field. They mask their flirtatious looks under the guise of modesty, covering their powdered faces with fans while sending coquettish looks to the guards.

Seokjin lets out a chuckle when he follows your line of vision and you reply deftly “I don’t blame them. I’d definitely do the same when you’re in your uniform.” You try your best not to wink at your husband especially at a public gathering like this, but your witty effort to get him to stop judging you has proved to be effective. You know he is most likely going to punish you about this tonight and the idea already has you squirming in your seat.

“My King, may I present to you the new captain of the royal guards, Jung Jungkook of the east.” A man from the first row steps forward. “My King, my Queen.” He acknowledges your presence, bowing from the waist. Jung Jungkook drops to the ground, his weight resting on one leg. He draws his sword, plunges it to the ground – the sound of metal slicing through the soil ringing throughout the field. “I am Jung Jungkook from the Jung clan of the east. My father has served the royal family for many years and has perished terribly during the attack of the South. I am here to restore the honor to my family by serving your highness, to serve the capital, and to avenge my late father.” His head is hung low, yet he is breathing heavily, the weight of his emotions too heavy on his shoulders.

Seokjin leans forward, “Your father has fought well and there is no greater honor than to die for the safety of your countrymen. I am glad he has a son to continue the legacy of your family. Stand, Jung Jungkook, for I know your father’s soul is now at peace.” The man complies and speaks, “Long live King Seokjin, long live the capital!” The rest of the two hundred men follow suit. The citizens join in on the cheering but your eyes linger on the new captain and the faded scar on his left cheek.

The turmoil in the south has worsened during the past few weeks. You rarely see your husband nowadays, constantly trapped for hours on end inside the four walls of his office. You can feel the pressure of being the king taking its toll on him. The servants tell you that he barely touches his food and that your husband also always comes in late at night and leaves early at dawn to work. It’s bringing you great worry that Seokjin couldn’t properly take care of himself nowadays.

Your attempts to aide him during these stressful times prove to be futile, especially with his damned advisors who keep on barring you from entering his office or attending the council meetings. It is believed anyways that the queen only tends to matters of the royal household and that women have no right to give counsel. Unfortunately for them, you are no ordinary queen nor are you just a queen. You are also the wife of your beloved husband and a handful of stubborn councilmen has never stopped you before.

While the royal advisors are busy wasting too much time on a singular issue, you went out on your own to witness the effects of the famine of the east. Most of the crops that were delivered throughout the country was produced in the east because of their healthy soil and the waters surrounding the city. When a month has passed and there were still no signs of rain in the east, you know this was going to cause a huge problem and eventually another predicament for Seokjin. You had lived long enough in the onerous south to witness problems like this turn into bigger ones.

You have made arrangements to visit the city and so far, your plan going smoothly as planned. You manage to sneak out of the royal seamstress’ room after paying her a decent amount of silver coins for a commoner’s dress. It’s getting late and your husband will be returning to your room soon so you trudge back a little faster just to make it in time. When you reach the back door to your room, you see two guards lounging stand up abruptly at your presence. “M-my q-queen,” he bows, not meeting your eyes. “It’s alright. Just don’t tell anybody.”

Seokjin enters the room just when you’re stood in front of the mirror, hands removing the pins from your head. He slides the wooden door gently and sends you a small smile through the reflection on your mirror. “Why don’t I help you with that?” You gently decline his offer, not wanting to bother your exhausted king with any more chores. It’s unfair how he is still impeccably handsome even with the weariness evident on his face. Seokjin still insists though, claiming that a king’s functions should not be an excuse to escape those of a husband’s. “And besides, I ought to know how to do this if we’ll have a daughter in the future.” The statement was supposed to be a genuine shot at what the future might hold but your body’s treacherous response is far from the innocence of Seokjin’s statement.

Just the thought of it has heat pooling in your abdomen. You haven’t had enough time in your hands to spend time to think about things like that, Seokjin being a newly-crowned king, more so as a newly-wedded couple.

Your husband notices the deep breath you take, his eyes slowly getting darker by the second. He takes the last golden pin from your braids, letting your hair fall into loose waves. You feel relieved when the strain on your scalp melts away in seconds – something that you should’ve been used to by now, considering that you have been royalty all your life, but nothing beats that fresh wave of relief when you free your hair from all the pins and ribbons. That’s why when Seokjin cards his fingers through your locks, you feel the rising of the small hairs at the back of your neck, such mundane action bordering on sensual.

He does this a few more times in silence, just combing through your hair gently, deeming that seeing you fall into such comfort like this is enough for him. His chaste intentions though are all thrown aside when you lean against him, your undone hanbok falls from your shoulder, exposing the skin there in all its glory. Your husband takes all your hair and transfers it on your left shoulder and you tilt your head to the same side, giving him space where he could pepper all his kisses on.

He murmurs sweet nothings against your skin while sending fleeting kisses from your ear’s helix, to your cheek, you jawline then down to your shoulders. “Little you and me running around…” he murmurs while pushing the rest of your hanbok off your body. It doesn’t take much effort, the silken cloth sliding down easily and now you’re just left in your undergarments.

“Would you like that, my queen?” Seokjin asks, fingers thumbing the ribbon that’s keeping together the last layer of clothing you have on. It takes only one breathy ‘yes’ from you and the cloth covering your intimacies falls altogether, leaving no trace of modesty.

He cups both breasts in each palm, squeezing and kneading the flesh. Your nipples are firm, already hardened by the worshipping kisses he places all over. He trails a finger along your jaw, turning your face toward him. His lips meet yours, plump lips pressing gently against your own. When you figure he’s about to pull away, he grips your ass and you gasp, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, your heart thudding hard against your ribcage. It’s been too long since you had seen your husband so… sensual. Usually, you’re both in a rush with the sole intent of getting some release but tonight, it seems as if Seokjin is determined to take his time in claiming all of you in the most intimate of ways, slowly but surely like it’s the last night of his life.

Seokjin savors every moan, every whimper as his deft fingers roam your body. He loves every curve and dip; how soft and taut it is at the same time. The milk baths you’ve always indulged in and your younger days of archery and horse riding had definitely done you good. He tries to etch them all into his memory though he knows flashes of images of you in his brain could never give justice to the reality of having you in his arms.

His fingers reach your cunt and he cups it, making you lean further against him for support. You feel the fine sheen of sweat of his torso on his back and for a moment you wonder how he’s managed to take his to take his top off without taking a hand off you. He pulls you away from your thoughts when he tugs you closer to him, shamelessly grinding his erection against your ass. He finds your clit easily through memory, rubbing the sensitive nub, fingers moving slowly in circular motions.

“S-seokjin please,” you beg, knowing you’re nearly there but still so far away, far too greedy to orgasm on clitoral stimulation alone. You needed him inside you. Now. “Speak up, my love,” he orders, shallowly dipping a finger in your cunt and withdrawing it just as quick. “Please. Y-you. Need y- “You’re rendered breathless by his teasing, your hand traveling to tug at his hair. “You want me to put a baby in you, hmm?” He finally pushes a finger in. “You’d love that don’t you? Having to carry the next heir to the throne inside you?” Another finger breaches you, Seokjin chuckling when you let out a loud gasp.

He nips at the shell of your ear, reminding you of the presence of the guards outside in a low whisper. Your hand instantly moves to cover your mouth but Seokjin grabs you by the wrists. “Who told you to cover your mouth, hmm? We both know you want the whole palace to hear how filthy their queen is.” Seokjin must admit, the whole idea is just as pleasing to him as it is to you. You were practically squelching when his fingers quicken the pace, your orgasm coming to you at breakneck speed. The feeling of his fingers toying with your cunt too much for you to handle that you are unable to stop your lover’s name fall like a prayer on your lips. Your whole body trembles in his grip, legs threatening to give in. A whimper escapes you when he pulls his fingers out, sending him a glare through the mirror. You were so, so close.

“My love, as much as I enjoy seeing you wrecked under my touch through the mirror, we have to take this to the bed.” He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek and tugs at your arm, but you stand your ground. You wag a finger at him, ‘tsk’-ing at his impatience. Not until he’d have a taste of his own medicine.

You let your finger trail along his torso, tracing the outlines of his abdominals. Imitating your husband’s earlier torturous ministrations, you take your time with him, reveling in how much you’ve affected him – how his breathing is getting more labored by the second. You run a finger along the length of his shaft still covered by his pants. He’s already hard, you reckon, feeling it slightly twitch under your touch.

Slowly, you lower down on your knees, tugging his pants down along with your descent. The sight of his cock makes you wet your lips, too eager to please. “My love, you don’t have to,” his hands hover yours that are resting on his hips. It’s not that he didn’t want your mouth on his cock but he just wanted to drawl out this evening for as long as he could. Frankly, he couldn’t afford to release in your mouth without having felt your velvety walls first.

“I want to.” Not wanting to wait any longer, you tentatively place a kiss on the bulbous head, making Seokjin gasp at the contact. You get bolder, gathering some of the precum that has gathered on the tip spreading it along his length your tongue. Using the armrests as leverage, you straighten your back and finally take him in your mouth. Seokjin deems he’ll never get used to this feeling. You vaguely hear him groan above you, but you’re far too busy pushing his shaft farther inside.

You briefly gaze at him through your eyelashes. It’s unfair, you reckon, that even when your lamps cast this golden glow to only one side of his face, he’s just as ethereal as under the light of day. You take him in your mouth as far as you can. When Seokjin throws his head back in pleasure with his wonderfully thick neck on display only for you to see, it ignites a carnal desire in you, so you push yourself further. When he finally hits the back of your throat, you swallow and your husband chokes on air, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto the armrests.

It’s an arduous task, having to try and take control of your breathing as you pleasure your husband. You move up then down slowly until you find a steady rhythm. You feel your eyes water with the pace until his chest starts heaving and you know he’s nearing his climax. “N-no. P-please,” your husband pleads, each word brokenly spoken. Tugging at your hair slightly, he pries you off his mouth, releasing a sigh of relief when you take your mouth off him.

“Bed now.” With your knees still sore from kneeling too long, it takes you some time to get up. Impatiently, the moment you get one of your knees off the ground he hooks his arm below them and lifts you off the ground, carrying you bridal style. “Stop trying to stall.” Seokjin huffs, his lips forming a pout. You giggle at his cuteness, of course even at a time like this, he manages to make you smile like a kid with candy.

He lays you gently on the bed, your hair fanning out on the pillows. He caresses your face with the pads of his fingers and you find yourself leaning against his touch. “My queen,” he sighs, “Your beauty is unrivaled. Truly.” Your lips meet when he closes the distance between the two of you. He stays like that for a moment, his swollen lips placed on top of yours until he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip. You fervently kiss each other, feeling yourself slowly getting lost in the kiss. When he pulls away, your eyes pry open again only to see your husband’s teary ones.

“Seokjin-ie, are you okay? What’s the matter?” He shakes his head, replying, “You’re just so beautiful. I’m the luckiest man alive to have you as my wife.” Your face crumples at his words and you give him another kiss. “How could you possibly think that when so many other women who vying for my position right now? Both literally and figuratively. You’re glad when you get a chuckle out of Seokjin. “As much as I want to argue about who’s the luckier one, I have a more pressing problem. And it’s getting really painful, so please…” His lips close in on one of your breasts, your hand flying up to pull at his hair.

Once again, you’re a moaning mess beneath Seokjin. You’re whining, begging for more than the assault he’s doing on your breasts. He doesn’t waste time in complying with your whims, your legs spreading apart when he shifts his position above you. He braces himself on one arm and you hiss as he swipes against your folds, taking some of the wetness on his palm and rubbing it onto his cock. When he pushes slowly against your entrance, you whimper as he gradually sinks into you. Gods, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to this, to him.

When he’s fully sank into you to the hilt, he pauses, knowing that you’ll need a moment for the pain to subside into pleasure. Seokjin places kisses your shoulders as he waits for you to adjust to the feeling. You push your hips up, encouraging him to move. Dragging his cock out slowly, he pushes back down just as languidly. “Jin, please,” you beseech, goading him to go faster. The moment the word escapes your lips, Seokjin begins pounding into you relentlessly. He hastily places a pillow under your hips to angle yours better. The next thrust he gets in has you mewling, each stroke easily rubbing up against your g-spot.

Your thighs begin quivering, every fiber of your body ablaze with each plunge of your husband’s hips. Seokjin feels your impending orgasm with your cunt beginning to pulsate against his cock, and he moves one of his hands between your thighs and starts to toy vigorously with your clit.

“Fuck!” you scream, fisting the sheets that now haphazardly dangling from the bed. Your high hits you so strong, your pussy tightening, clamping around Seokjin. His thrusts begin to stutter as you continue to milk his cock. With one final push, Seokjin cums, releasing ropes of cum inside you. He stays on top of you for a moment, too exhausted and worn out to move an inch. Also, because he wishes that this time it finally gets you pregnant, that your earlier inclination to the idea of having a baby inside you is as enthralling as it is to him.

Seokjin finally pulls out of you with a small grunt, elbows that have been holding up his weight finally give in, breathing heavily as he falls to your side.

He hadn’t meant to stay this long.

In fact, when he heard the first moan that fell from your lips, he had sent the rest of the guards to go on patrol to give you and your husband the much-needed privacy. He had intended to keep lookout from the front of the hanok. With one more corridor to clear out before leaving, he took his steps with caution, knowing that this passage was the one next to your room. The palace’s wooden walls will never be thick enough to hide the sounds of pleasure. His ears are already ringing with the faint sound of your moans but there was one section where the sweet sound was most audible. The door to your room was slightly open, the light from your lamps passing through the narrow slit.

He tries to push away the temptation, reminding himself that he has other duties to attend to… right?

Surely, the rebellious troops would have been subdued before they reach the palace…right?

Ultimately, he can’t leave with you sounding so desperate and broken…right?

He knew his resolve was breaking with every step he took nearer towards the thin beam of light. He takes the final step with bated breath, wincing when the wood creaks under his weight. He lets out a shaky exhale when he finally peeks through the crevice. Your bed is situated right across from where he’s watching – the whole scene like a live show from a festival. He knows this is wrong, that what happens inside the four walls of your chambers is none of his business but when he sees the king flip you and take you from behind, his lips part, suddenly out of breath like he’s the one pounding into you.

The voyeur continues to watch the whole spectacle with an unrelenting gaze. He watches the unsuspecting royals get lost in their own world while he lingers in perverse amusement. The strain in his silk pants is getting painful, uncomfortable too when the tip of his cock brushes against the wet patch on the cloth. He reproaches himself for his lack of manners tonight but if this mischief shall reward him with a release later on, then he shall remain here, unperturbed.

Moments later Seokjin’s hips stutter and he feels his own hands lose rhythm as well. Your loud moans fill the room as you reach your high, your husband following. His hand moves faster than before, white spurts of cum coating his hand not long after. He shivers when he pulls his pants back up, the silk proving to be too much for the sensitive tip of his cock. When his eyes revert back to the crevice, he sees Seokjin trace patterns on your back while the both of you murmur softly in each other’s arms. Your husband gives you a chaste kiss, lips closing in on the shell on your ear as he whispers something that makes you giggle. He takes this as his cue to leave, hoping that no other guard has lingered around long enough to see him leave the house.

Fortunately, no one sees the dazed captain walk out of the hanok in the middle of the night.

You are momentarily awakened from a fleeting kiss placed on your cheek, the back of your hands rubbing at your drooping eyelids. Body still sore from your activities last night, you blindly reach out for the blue cloak in front of you as you call out your husband’s name. “I hadn’t meant to wake you from your slumber, my love. Go back to sleep.” He strokes your hair gently while humming a soft melody to lull you back to your slumber.

There’s an ache on his chest when he watches sleep take over you once more, soft snores escaping your lips. Seokjin wonders if he would get to see you this peaceful one more time. You shift in your sleep, the blanket revealing purplish marks littered across your chest. Normally, this would’ve sent all his blood pumping south but with the emotion weighing on his shoulders, all he’s thinking about is engraving your beauty into his memory.

The present disposition in his hands had monopolized his time and because of this he knew he had been neglecting you these past few weeks. He wasn’t able to check up on you, ask how your day went, or even join supper, hence your intimacies last night. Although your husband knew that after all these years together, you were never one to demand affection because you were well aware of his duties as ruler of a nation. Funnily enough, it was he who yearned for that most of time, while you would remind him of his obligations with a chortling intonation.

Usually, you would push him away when he tries to lavish you with kisses even with the guards and court ladies present, but he knew deep inside that you secretly enjoyed them, cheeks turning a rosy red every time he teases you about it. Albeit being born into royalty, you were treated like a slave by your own step-mother so Seokjin knew it would have taken some time before he had successfully lured you out of your shell. And he knew he had forever to show you the love that you were deprived of. Or did he now?

He recalls the time you had both met in your secret rendezvous. It was a garden exhibiting the most gorgeous fusion of pink and green, cultivated to perfection by Seokjin himself and of course with the help of a few chosen gardeners. Included in the garden was a narrow passage with water directly flowing from the Gaeun River. The secluded site was a testament to Seokjin’s love for the color pink. Flowers of all shades of blush are scattered among the lush green grass, from Azaleas to Carnations to Peonies. ‘Most are from foreign lands’ he informs, carefully plucking out a flower and handing one to you. A blush instantly colors your cheeks at this and Seokjin finds it most endearing, unable to resist teasing you. “You seem to blend in just fine with my flowers,” he observes, poking your cheeks, “but you stand out the most.”

Amongst the rosy hued shrubs and mossy rocks, on a small slope stood a singular cherry blossom tree - your most favorite feature of all. Cherry blossoms had always been known to symbolize the transience of life and rebirth. True to your ancestors’ beliefs, this special tree was tangible proof of the metaphor. The tree had witnessed quite a number of your most cherished moments in life. This was where Seokjin brought you when you broke down into tears after escaping the southern palace, this was where he first pecked you on the cheek, and this same tree witnessed Seokjin’s humble request for your hand in marriage.

Regret weighs heavily on him. You were the only constant reality he had in this capricious life. You had been nothing but perfect, always by his side no matter what. Having to bid his farewell like this broke his heart but if he properly did so, it would probably break his heart all the more. Your husband had already made up his mind – he is to leave for the South before the dawn breaks.

Seokjin was hanging onto that small sliver of hope that a discussion on the dilemma may change their minds. The situation in the southern city had inevitably worsened but he had to try. He could be very persuasive if he wanted to, sure, but you always knew it wouldn’t work. Not by a long shot. You made sure to remind him of that fact. That’s why you never supported the idea of visiting the city especially at a time of agitation like this. The southerners are men honed by war and they are not called the nation’s keepers for nothing. They are willing to sacrifice lives rather than heed diplomacy. It had proved beneficial in the past when foreigners wanted to colonize your country, but with a turmoil conceived by its own countrymen, these people are all the more fueled to fight for what they believe in.

Then again, this was his decision. He had to try. He was willing to risk everything for his nation, even if it meant that this might be the last time he’ll be seeing your face. He wanted to be selfish, just this once, to give in to the matters of the heart, but he knew he couldn’t. If he did, then all his parent’s teachings would have been for nothing. Being born into royalty couldn’t have meant anything. Being the king then would lose its meaning.

With tears brimming at the corner of his eyes, he retrieves a scroll, his brush, and an ink block. ‘This all seems unreal’, Seokjin reels. He only takes out the three when he’s making a new proclamation or with pronouncements usually related to the duties of a king. You two could only stay apart for so long and at the end of the day you’d always find yourselves each other’s arms. Not once did he imagine having to write you a letter, let alone one bidding you farewell.

Patches of tears soften different spots on the previously coarse scroll. With dawn fast approaching, Seokjin ends his letter with a lingering kiss on the paper. He retrieves a flower that he’s plucked from the garden and places it together with the scroll he’s left on the bedside table. Seokjin kisses you on the cheek one last time, “Goodbye, my queen.”

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