#i love how most of the little sarcastic quips feel like something Sunny would say

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

I'm finally putting time into Outer Worlds, I got it on release and then again when the switch port came out but I only ever got about as far as Monarch bc I kept getting distracted and putting it down

And I am SO glad I'm finally getting to sink in because. There's two games I've ever felt able to truly and accurately rp as Sunny, without having to compromise or feeling funneled in a certain direction, VtMB and New Vegas. Makes total sense that this is the third

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!seonghwa (part 25)

word count: 9k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 24) (series masterlist)

with only a week left of break, you and yeosang intended to make the most of it. he had taken you on dates nearly every day, whether it be to dinner or iceskating or sledding followed by hot chocolate and movies on his couch.

but there was one more thing he wanted to do with you.

which is why he planned a weekend trip to the ski lodge, surprising you two nights ago when he told you to pack a bag and that he'd pick you up at eight o'clock in the morning. it's also why you currently have a death grip on his hand, looking down at the snowy hill and remembering why the hell you hadn't been too keen on skiing last time.

"yeosang, i'm gonna break my leg."

"you're not gonna break your leg," he tells you, hearing the smile in his voice as you stare down at all of the trees and people and bushes you could potentially crash into you. "but i am getting sick of waiting so if you don't do it in two minutes, i'm pushing you."

you snap your head to look at him, eyes full of betrayal and outrage. "don't you dare!"

"baby, i showed you what to do for the last two hours."

"and i'm not ready!" you whine, "why couldn't we just go ice skating here?"

"why do you think?" he asks lowly, eyebrow quirked up as he looks over your face knowingly.

"seonghwa!" you squeal, eyes roaming the sunny, snowy landscape before turning around excitedly. "this is so pretty!" you squeak.

"aren't you," he mumbles, placing his hands on your already cold, red cheeks. "but i told you to wear a hat."

"i forgot," you whine, "and don't think we're gonna graze over that cheesy line!" a giant smirk covers his face as he takes the black hat off his head to secure it over yours. you both giggle when he tugs it too far down, blocking your eyes for a minute and when he pulls it back up, he's bent down slightly so you're face to face.

"there you are," he says playfully and you roll your eyes despite the smile threatening to spread across your face. it's not until he takes your hand and walks a few feet behind him that you notice the two pairs of ice skates in the snow.

"is this safe to skate on?" you ask and he looks at you with a mock look of hurt, pushing snow off the bench before guiding you to sit.

"would i really suggest we do something that'd harm you?" he asks while taking off your snow boots.

"well i did just think you were going to murder me," you quip sarcastically and he rolls his eyes, shimming the skate on your foot and tying them up. "how'd you know my size?"

"i guessed," he says shyly and you smile down at him. "you were right!"

"you were wrong!" you screech, the sound of your high-pitched yelp echoing in the cold air, "i'm still gonna break my leg! there's no side to hold onto!"

"you haven't even stepped on the ice, y/n," seonghwa says, humor in his tone despite standing there with his arm outstretched for the past twenty minutes.

"i'm scared!"

"i told you i'm not gonna let you fall," he says, skating towards you and what is with rich people and their full capabilities for winter sports? "can't you trust me?"

your face falls, eyes diverting as a tiny huff leaves your mouth: perhaps the reminder was a little too much for both of you. but when you guys had passed it on your way, you remembered how much fun it was. how pretty the view was and how light-hearted you were despite the drama that had followed.

but it was nothing like the reminder you and yeosang had walking into the elevator this morning, coy smirks and your cheeks flushing as your boyfriend said you all but attacked him.

"i attacked you?!" you yelped in outrage, pushing him to the side lightly. "don't even try it."

and naturally, the boy had flung himself into the wall, raising an eyebrow at you teasingly as if to say 'round two?' but before you could say a sassy comment, roll your eyes and teasingly berate him, he reached out and grabbed you. your bodies collided shortly followed by your lips, the kiss and tongue slipping into your mouth quickly humbling you.

it had all the same passion and intensity as last time, except this one felt a little more...familiar. it wasn't as sloppy and rough, as charged with overwhelming anger or sexual tension. he pulls back and looks over your face, the smirk tugging at his red lips.

"were you trying to say something?"

you roll your eyes at the boy, pushing him further back into the wall and tugging his mouth back down to yours. "shut up."

"shut up," you grumble to yeosang who only lets out a snort, the hand not being crushed by yours on the small of your back.

"one minute," he says lowly.

"yeosang, no!" you whine, craning your neck to look at him with a pout. "i'm not ready."

"you are, i promise," he says, placing a peck on your nose that two little kids flying by on skies gag at. the both of you look at one another and burst into laughter, yeosang half tempted to crush your lips against his and really make a scene. but because there's only about 40-seconds left, and you haven't conquered your skiing fear yet, he refrains.

"i don't think i am," you say, "i think i'm gonna fall into a tree and die."

"i'm gonna be right next to you the whole time," he says, lifting his hand up to play with the pom-pom of your hat. "worse comes to worse i break your fall and i die."

you snap your head to look at your boyfriend, the bewildered expression on your face bringing a wide, handsome smile to his face. "that doesn't make me feel better! in fact, it's making me feel a lot worse and i think we should just-"

"knees bent. arms in front. slow."

and with that, he lightly pushes at your back and there your skis go, gliding easily down the snow. the surprised shriek leaves your mouth causes yeosang to snort, rolling his eyes as he watches you from right beside him.

your feet are steady under you and you're going a whole lot slower than you thought, feeling yeosang's presence next to you and hearing his quiet, approving hums.

"not as bad as you thought, huh?"

"it's....kind of fun," you admit. because even though you're moving at a snail's pace and 7-year-old's are zipping by you, you're able to do it.

you haven't toppled down the hill or twisted your ankle and crashed into a tree. the snow is firm under you and the hill is covered in white, picturesque snow with the bright winter sun shining in the sky.

you giggle when yeosang zips in and out of you like the show off he is, squealing when he falters ever so slightly. but he confidently recovers and shakes his head, insisting it'd take a lot more than that for him to fall, especially on the bunny hill.

"i'm yeosang, i'm so cool and athletic! i'll never fall, especially on the bunny hill. because don't you know who i am? i'm a big strong masculine man."

your boyfriend looks at you from his seat on the first-aid chair, the attendant dapping at his cheek with an alcohol pad not being able to hold back a snort. yeosang snaps his head to look at the girl, squinting his eyes at her before letting out a huff.

"i thought you were falling so i moved too fast."

"uh huh," you say, your eyebrows quirked up and a sarcastic smile on your face. you giggle into your hand when a large band-aid covers his cheek, the girl telling him apologetically they ran out of the smaller sized ones.

"this is ridiculous, y/n, i'm taking it off," he tells you, your hands intertwined as you walk out of the small first-aid station.

"you can't!" you squeal, smacking his chest lightly. "at least not yet." your eyes catch a familiar looking cafe down the street and you smile up at him, telling him how much better his crushed ego and scratched cheek would feel after a hot chocolate.

"my ego isn't crushed," he grumbles. you giggle, tightening your hand in his before speed walking towards the warm cafe. he tells you over and over how he really thought you were gonna fall, how instead of making fun of him you should be thanking him.

"thank you for saving me from not falling and instead, messing up your face," you tell him as you wait in line, rubbing over the band-aid with a slight pout. "hopefully it doesn't scar. might have to break up with you then."

his eyes narrow at he shakes his head, ripping his hand from yours and pulling you into his chest. "you're such a little shit today," he mumbles lowly in your ear. "just wait till i get you alone tonight."

you bite your lip to hide your smile, looking up at him and resting your chin on his chest. "till we're alone?" you ask, "what are we gonna do?"

they call next and and yeosang orders two hot chocolates, your body still tucked under his arm and making the two workers behind the counter smile sadly; there's something about seeing two people in love that makes their lonely selves sad. they watch you both bounce away happily, your pleas about wanting to pay for just one thing outweighed by him promising that'll never happen.

"they're cute," the one worker mumbles to the other. "sickeningly," the other comments, watching as you guys take a seat by the window. "must be nice."

"how 'bout i buy you a souvenir?" you insist, "like a 'my girlfriend bought me this shirt' or something!"

yeosang's face twists into one of utter disgust, shaking his head immediately. "i think i would've preferred my face getting sliced open."

you throw your head back in laughter, yeosang's deep chuckle and soft eyes watching you causing your whole chest to feel warm. everything with him is so easy and fun and natural, an instinctual connection and banter that has a certain four letter word on the tip of your tongue.

you'd never said that to anyone before and the thought of saying it kind of scares you. not because you don't think the feelings will be mutual (though you really don't know, that could be the case even though you sincerely hope it isn't) but also because it's such a turning point in a relationship. it's an extra layer of vulnerability stripped away and really will make everything feel so incredibly serious and real.

his name is called from the counter and he cranes his neck around, two cups steaming with a cookie in between causing him to jump up. "be right back," he says, winking when you sees you let out a sigh; you could've at least gotten it since he paid.

you watch him confidently walk up to the counter, rolling your eyes playfully before looking out the window. the sun is about to set, the last few brave skiers finishing their last trail for the day skillfully. it felt like you were just at this lodge last week opposed to almost five months ago, five months full of drama and confusion and heartbreak.

"thank you," you say quietly, "i have cash if you-"

his blank stare causes the words to die in your throat. so instead, you mirror him and take the hot cup in your hands, closing your eyes contently when the warmness hits your cold hands. you take a little sip to test the temperature, humming when you discover it's not burning and take a longer sip.

you pull back and seonghwa laughs, reaching his hand out to wipe the little bit of foam off your top lip. you swallow nervously, shyly looking down and another laugh leaves his mouth.

"what, that was too much for you but not falling right on top of me?"

you head pops up at his teasing tone, a surprised look on your face that he just called you out for getting shy.

"that was an accident," you grumble, "i told you the bunny hill was too daunting."

"little kids were lapping you," he says with a smile, "not by a little either."

you squint your eyes at him, taking another sip of your drink until you start to roam his face. because you can't look at him for that long or your heart starts to malfunction and it's then you realize how red his ears are.

"seonghwa! your ears!" you squeak.

"what about them?" he asks, one hand shooting up to feel it, "oh, it's cold."

"cold?! it looks freezing!" you reach out to touch it and gasp when it feels like ice. he watches as you take the scarf off from around your neck quickly and stand, looking at you warily.

"what are you-"

he can only freeze as you make your way in front of him, wrapping the beige and red fabric around his head and he's never felt more ridiculous but happy in his life. you make sure to cover his ears before pulling back to peak at him.

it makes you burst out laughing.

"aw, you look cute," you tell him sweetly because oh my, god he looks cute.

"i look like a grandmother."

"okay, but a cute warm grandmother whose ears won't fall off," you say as you sit back down, smiling to yourself as you take out your phone.

"what are you-"

"smile!"

you shake your head of the memory, looking at the view outside of the window and then down at the table. you swallow and breathe out shakily, feeling a slight pit in your stomach. because while this trip is great with yeosang, there's also a lot of reminders. reminders of seonghwa and reminders of how you felt back then and how you and your boyfriend were still rocky and fighting.

until you weren't. until he showed you another side of him that he'd never shown anyone and the inklings of just how good you guys seem to be for each other started to show. but still, it makes a part of you sad. makes you wish you had handled things differently and-

you jump when the tray clatters against the table, looking up at yeosang who's watching you carefully. "what's wrong?" he asks and you're not surprised in the slightest that he can tell your mind was just clouded and occupied.

"nothing, just thinking," you hum, bringing the cup to your lips and smiling at the chocolatey scent wafting in your nose. he watches you sip down the drink with a soft look in his eye, reaching out to wipe at the foam on your lips. you jump at the feel of his cold fingers, his eyebrow shooting up at you.

"something's wrong with you," he says again. but you only shake your head, knocking his foot under the table playfully.

"no," you insist, "your hands are just cold."

his eyes stay on yours for a few seconds, narrowed at you like he's trying to tell if you're lying. but when you narrow yours back playfully, a smile quirks at his lips and he brings the cup to his mouth.

"hey," you say randomly, trying to stray your memories to anything but seonghwa. "can i ask you something?"

he raises his eyebrow questioningly, nodding his head at you silently.

"why'd you pay for me?" you ask him. and when his face is clouded with confusion, turning his head to the side and about to ask what you're talking about, you clarify. "for the school ski trip. i never got to ask you."

his takes a sip of his drink to hide his smirk, remembering the day he decided so vividly. She was listening to you talk to mingi and yunho so openly about your situation, remembering how you defended him even though he mostly definitely didn't deserve it.

but nevertheless, a part of him admired you. because you had been handling everything so well, the other kids and your scholarship spot, when he also knew the other half of your problems were coming from him.

"i heard you talking to pretty boy and his lover," yeosang says, a small smirk on your face at the mention of those two. "and i don't know, i just...wanted you there."

"even though you hated me?"

he lets out a scoff as he rolls his eyes, reaching out to take your face in his hand. "i never hated you," he says lowly, "but i wanted to."

you let out a snort, ripping your face from his hold as you roll your eyes back at him. "what a dick you are!"

he bites his lip to hide his smile, looking over your face with the softest expression you've ever seen. "i knew you'd break me down, somehow," he tells you casually, candidly, like he's just telling you about the weather forecast. "there was just something so...obnoxiously alluring about you."

"obnoxiously alluring," you hum, nodding your head at him skeptically. "you're killing it right now."

he smirks, playfully kicking your foot under the table. "but wasn't i correct? look at us now baby," he says, the teasing wink he throws you causing you to scoff.

"you know what else i remember?" you say after a few moments.

"hm?" he hums, not having a damn clue where your mind is deciding to go with this.

"remember when you gave me that blueberry muffin?"

a scoff leaves his mouth as he rolls his eyes, knocking your foot under the table again. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"oh no?" you giggle, turning your head to the side innocently. "because if i remember correctly, it was your favorite and you gave it to little 'ol me."

he bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes roam your face, his elbow resting on the back of his chair and you'd be lying if you said the position didn't make desire pool in your stomach.

"you're really pushing me today, aren't you?"

you bite your bottom lip, hiding your smile as you sip up the rest of your hot chocolate. you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes that are eventually what do you in for the chaos that comes your way later between the four walls of your bedroom.

because you were all giggly and teasing for the rest of night, walking through the snowy town with him as your bodies bumped into one another affectionately. but then the second you guys got to your room, you saw the change take over yeosang.

pushing you back onto the bed with a dark, heated look in his eye. his strong hands tugging at that waistband of your pants and underwear and shoving them down in one go.

"you were especially bratty today," he hums between your legs, looking up at you and smirking when he sees you're already on your back panting. his fingers trail along your slightly wet thighs, tracing shapes into your skin until a tiny whine penetrates the air.

"what was that?" you hear his voice ask, smug and teasing and almost condescending. but it's something you've come to love. "are you getting frustrated?"

"yeosang, please," you gasp out, feeling how much you've dripped between your thighs from his tantalizingly slow and close touches.

"all polite now that you're on your back," he says, feeling how hard he's grown but attempting to control himself. "tell me, baby, what is that you want?"

but before you can say anything, his finger touches your clit and you moan out loudly. he flicks at it for a few moments, listening intently to the perfect noises leaving your mouth. "do you wanna come like this?"

"yes," you pant.

so he flicks and rubs his finger skillfully over your sensitive clit, your legs shaking and moans getting louder and louder until he rips it away. you look down at him with frustrated heat in your eyes, about ready to cry because you were so close to coming.

"yeosang,"

"but what about like this?" he asks, lowering his head at you slightly before his hands hold down your hips and his tongue is on your clit. you scream out at the sudden feel of it, already stimulated and sensitive from his fingers but feeling so much more when he trails his tongue over your clit and down to your slit.

"oh, my god, please," you whine, moving your hips against his face so his mouth can go back to where you want him most. and because he already knows you're not getting what you really want, he abides.

laps and swirls his tongue back around your clit as he curls his finger inside you. another orgasm is quickly following, your ears whooshing and legs shaking as you clench around him. you're about to scream out his name when, again, he rips his mouth and fingers away from you.

"what the fuck, yeosang," you whine, rolling your head to look up at him through dazed eyes. "i wanna come."

he only smirks at you, tugging his pants down and loving the way your eyes travel down to his dripping, hard cock.

"but that's not up to you, is it?" he says, crawling up on the bed and placing a kiss on your lips. "now suck my cock and maybe i'll think about it."

and about as desperate to come as you are to please, you push him down and straddle him backwards to take his cock in your mouth. you swirl your tongue around the tip, swallowing him eagerly as your hand jerks him skillfully; after all, you'd gotten a lot of practice these past few months.

because while you guys haven't gone all the way yet, you've spent many nights on his couch in this exact position. his cock in your mouth with your ass in face, tempting him with your wetness to please let you come.

and just like all those times, he can't resist. so he pulls your hips over his face, bucking his cock into your mouth for good measure, before his mouth covers your pussy. you moan against him as he tongues at your clit and slit, the immense pleasure humming in both of you making everything more intense and passionate.

it's why you both moan out at the same time, your loud groan vibrating against his cock as your pussy muffles his. you nearly collapse on top of him, only on your back when yeosang sits up and flips you over.

he cleans you up with the stray t-shirt on the floor, placing a tired kiss on your lips before his arms wrap around you from behind. "you gotta stop using that position against me," he mumbles lowly in your ear.

you can only tiredly giggle, turning in his hold to bury your face in his chest. "you gotta stop trying to punish me."

and if you thought orgasm denial was his form of punishment, you came to realize that night overstimulation was far worse.

you guys get back to yeosang's house around dinner time, plopping down on his couch after the long car ride and deciding to call for chinese food before he brings you home. you're now laid on the couch together, his body under yours as you rest your head on his chest and watch the movie through heavy, tired eyes.

"can you sleepover?" he mumbles in your ear, "i'm gonna miss waking up with you."

you look up him with a pout on your face, pecking his lips sweetly before resting your chin on him. "i know," you whine quietly.

his eyes roam over your face, the soft light hitting you from the tv causing his heart to constrict. he thinks (knows) he loves you and has been wanting to say something but anytime he tries, something stops him. whether it be an external or internal interruption, something always stops him.

"so you will?" he asks, not even recognizing the soft, hopeful tone of his own voice.

"i think my mom will go crazy if i don't come home," you tell him sadly. "but i'll come back over tomorrow."

but apparently that's not good enough for him.

because he tightens his hold on you and crushes you against him, shaking his head adamantly and causing you to giggle against him. "i'll stay fiveee more minutes," you whine, burying your head in his neck and listening to him to inhale sharply when your breath tickles his skin.

he walks you to his car after what becomes fifteen more minutes, your hands intertwined over the console as you both sit in a comfortable silence.

"thank you for this weekend," your soft voice says suddenly. "i had a lot of fun."

he looks over to smile softly at you, lifting your hand to his mouth to place a kiss. "of course, baby. me too."

"i'm happy your face didn't scar," you tell him, reaching over with your other hand to run your finger against his cheek.

"me too," he says sarcastically, "otherwise, you would've broken up with me."

you turn your face away to giggle, missing the way his gaze lovingly runs over you before as he licks at his dry lips.

when you pull up to your house, he opens your door (you never would've believed the first week of school that this man almost always insisted on doing this) before taking out your suitcase. just as you both start making your way up your walkway to the stairs, your phone starts ringing in your pocket. you narrow your eyes in confusion before taking it out, you just texted your parents you were coming home; why would they call you?

yeosang sees your face fall when you look at the caller id, watching as you hesitantly press the answer button.

"seonghwa?"

the boy didn't really know what set him off that night. it could've been multiple things, honestly.

the months of pretending to be okay with everything that happened, pretending it didn't kill him watching you and yeosang smile and laugh and be happy together. pretend that the other week at the new years eve party, he didn't wanna beat the shit out of yeosang and protect you the way he always did.

but then, he supposes, the picture he saw this morning was thing that truly sent him over the edge. because upon seeing you and yeosang's selfie in front of the ski lodge, it felt like a slap in the face.

his mind couldn't help but be smacked with memories from that trip, the good and the bad.

the drive up, seeing you every morning for breakfast, your ice skating date, your first kiss. but then it was shortly followed by the fact that the next day, you and yeosang had kissed.

he remembers feeling nervous and insecure when he found you in his room the night of the blackout, sensing a feeling in the air and seeing something in yeosang's eyes that should've made it obvious to him that the boy was quickly falling for your charms.

but he was too blind to see anything. too blinded by the fact he had a week to spend with you, that his feelings were growing stronger and there was something so magnetic about you that drew him in. something that continued to draw him in and make him feel horrible due to the fact you were with his best friend.

because he's happy for yeosang, he needs someone like you. but it doesn't make his heart hurt any less.

and alcohol. alcohol makes his heart hurt less, at least for a little bit.

so he stumbled into a bar at dusk, fake id in hand that he didn't even need to flash. because once the female bar tender saw him sitting there in obvious distress, he was basically given all the beers and shots he could handle. and he could handle a lot.

enough to get him talking to the two men next to him, older guys in their 60s who immediately could sense the boy was troubled and heartbroken.

"a fight with your girlfriend?" they asked. seonghwa let out a scornful scoff, throwing back a shot and not even hissing at the sting and burn anymore.

"no," he grumbled, "i wish." because even if he had you, at least he'd be able to fight with you. though he knows, given how whipped he seems to be, he probably wouldn't even do that.

the two men listen intently to him talk about you and the situation, tell them about how he first saw you in his backyard and was immediately taken by your nervous rambling and cute, frazzled appearance. how when he saw you at school, he couldn't believe you guys were crossing paths again and he felt this strange sense to protect you. how the ski trip solidified his feelings and how he was so excited to confess to you and ask you on a date.

"so wha-what happened?" they asked, all three of the men slurring and drunk. "did she reject you?"

"worse," seonghwa laughs out bitterly. "she liked my best friend. even kissed him at that same ski trip."

"no shit," one guy says, the shock evident in his voice.

"yeosang?" the other one says, completely invested in this teen drama. "the one who paid for her?!"

seonghwa nods his head and the two men hit one another in shock, slurring about how they knew that guy was gonna cause trouble.

but even if his drunken state, seonghwa defended you and yeosang fiercely. told them you were never officially with him and that you didn't owe him anything. that even though yeosang knew, he was able to confide in you about things he's never told anyone.

the two men, however, were less kind-hearted. telling him that his best friend knew his feelings and shouldn't have confided in you in the first place. that you had to have known he liked you and saw what a great, nice guy he is.

"it doesn't even matter," seonghwa slurred to them. "y/n made her choice."

it's the sadly pathetic sentence he repeated all night, drinking and drinking and drinking until he almost forget who he was even talking about. but then he stumbled outside after bumming a cigarette from his two new friends who insisted he call you and confess now.

"you guys are fu-fuckin' nuts," he says, blowing out the smoke into the cold air. "i can't do that."

"you can tr-tryy!" the one man insists.

"yeah!" the second one encourages. "c'mo-c'mon, maybe she'll hear you out."

and if they hadn't convinced him for nearly 30 minutes and if he didn't have an absurd amount of alcohol in his system, he wouldn't have. but there were a multitude of factors that made him agree, the two men cheering as he scrolled and stumbled around to find your contact name.

and at just the sound of your voice, he felt himself lose every bit of restraint and sanity he had.

"seonghwa?" you repeat, only hearing labored breathing in your ear. you see yeosang's wide-eyed gaze on you, his eyebrow raised curiously.

"h-hi, y/n."

you immediately hear the drunken slur in his voice, biting your lip as you look at your boyfriend.

"hi. are-are you okay?"

you hear shouts of "team seonghwa! team seonghwa!" in the back, almost convinced he'd been drinking with mingi and yunho had the voices not sounded so much older and unfamiliar.

"ye-yeah," he hiccups.

there'a few beats of silence, seonghwa not saying a word as you watching yeosang mouth 'what's going on?'

"actually, no. i'm not okay," he says suddenly.

you swallow the lump in your throat, hearing the pain and agony in his drunken voice.

you had thought seonghwa had come to terms with everything but you suppose that was silly. because you have your love and affection for yeosang and still find yourself thinking about him and your memories from time to time.

"what's wrong?" you ask, watching yeosang intently watch you.

"i like you," seonghwa says lowly, "i still fucking like you and i know i shouldn't." you hear undetectable shouts in the background but you think they sound encouraging and cheerful.

"seonghwa..." you say warningly, feeling yeosang getting more and more curious.

"i know i shouldn't be sa-saying this," he slurs again, "but i am pretttty drunk and my new friends thought i should tell you. they also think yeosang's a...fucking asshole. but i told t-them he's not that bad."

you can tell by the look on your boyfriend's face he heard that, a hint of a smirk on his face because yeosang can give it the boy; even though he just confessed to his girlfriend, he's still trying to be respectful.

"but i- think a part of me hates him," seonghwa admits, "he knew how much i liked you and he still fucked me over. you-you were confused and new. but him...he's my best friend and he still did that."

you look at yeosang questioningly, knowing he's hearing all of this and not sure how to gauge his blank look now.

"where are you seonghwa? are you getting an uber home?"

"nahhhh," the boy says, "i just ca-came out for a smoke. we might do another round of shots."

"i don't think that's a good idea," you tell him gently. "i think you should go home."

"n-no," the boy hiccups, "i'm just alone there. like how yeo-yeosang used to be alone but now has you. that might be another reason why a part of me fucking ha-hates him."

and with that, the call ends and you feel your eyes water. because you've never heard seonghwa talk like that before, even when he was mad the night he found out and the other times you've seen him drunk. he had never sounded so...defeated and sad.

"yeosang, i think i should pick him-"

"no."

you let out a sigh, walking up to your boyfriend and holding both his hands in yours.

"it's dangerous, yeosang," you say with a frown. "he could get hurt or into a fight."

"all the more reason you're not going," yeosang says, lifting his hands to your face before tightening his hold on your suitcase and attempting to lead you toward your house. "i'll walk you in and go get him."

but you stand your ground, planting your feet to the floor and rip your hands out of his grasp.

he lets out an annoyed, shaky breath, snapping his head back to look at you. and he can see in your eyes that no matter what he says, you're gonna go. because maybe a part of you still feels responsible or guilty for the way things played out and effected him.

but that's not your problem anymore, he thinks, why should you care when he's your boyfriend?

"you're gonna go no matter what i say, aren't you?"

you swallow the nervous lump in your throat, his short tone holding so much anger and frustration it scares you a little. it's such a contrast to the nice weekend you had together, the weekend you try to remind him of before adding you just want to make sure he's safe.

"why?" yeosang snaps, his voice raising ever so slightly. "then i wanna make sure he's safe too. i'll come too."

"you heard him on the phone, babe, i think... that would make everything worse."

you watch yeosang's jaw clench angrily, his hand twisting around your suitcase handle. it feels like everything between you, for him, is slowly crumbling. because one drunken call from seonghwa has you ready to drop everything and run to him.

when he was drunk, you wanted nothing to do with him and begged him to stop.

"do you like him still too?" he snaps, knowing nothing he's saying right now is accurate or his true feelings. "are you just sticking with me until you know for sure? then you'll go with mr. perfect?"

your face falls immediately, tears pricking your eyes again as you watch him stare at you with coldness in his eyes. "are you fucking kidding me?"

"no, y/n, i'm not," he snaps, throwing your suitcase down as he backs away from you. "it seems awfully fucking suspicious you'd drop everything for him."

"he's shitfaced out in public and upset, yeosang," you snap, taking a step closer to him. "it could be anyone and i'd be concerned you asshole."

he lets out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he licks at his lips. "right, concerned. concerned about the guy you kissed right before me who always saved you. now you have to save him."

you narrow your eyes at him, a laugh or utter disbelief leaving your mouth as you shake your head at him. you can't believe this is happening after your weekend together, you had felt so sickeningly happy with him just fifteen minutes ago.

"fuck you, yeosang," you snap, picking your suitcase up from the ground and backing away from him. "in case you forgot, he was saving me from you. because you were always the one being an asshole to me and making me cry."

his jaw clenches at the reminder, his hands balling into fists as anger and embarrassment and shame fill him. he can't even call out your name as he watches you walk into the house, thinking that maybe you're gonna listen to him.

but he knows you. so he isn't surprised when you spin back around and open your mouth. "i'm going in the house to get my car key and then i'm gonna go make sure our friend is safe. the next time you wanna throw my confusion in my face, make sure it's about something correct."

he waits until you're in the house to let out a string of curses, his hands pulling at his hair as he resists the urge to pull it out or scream. and so he doesn't have to see you pull away and drive to seonghwa, he gets in his car and takes off down the street.

you realize when you get in your own car that you have no idea what bar he's at, cursing to yourself before you decide calling mingi might be your best way. he answers on the third ring and you hear him and yunho say hello in sync, excitedly asking you about your skiing trip and if it was weird being back there.

"seonghwa just called me from the bar drunk and me and yeosang got into a fight over it because he was being a major fucking asshole, no surprise there, but now i don't know where seonghwa is and there are probably so many bars but mingi do you know where people usually-"

"okay hold on baby girl, you gotta breathe for us," you hear yunho's voice say calmingly. "stop talking and just breathe for a minute. in and out, five times, okay?"

you listen to the boy's calming voice, ignoring the sting of tears threatening to fall from behind your eyes. it's not the time to think about this, about how much yeosang hurt you and about how much you wanna drive to his house and finish this fight with him.

but if something happened to seonghwa, you would never forgive yourself. you would feel 100% to blame and you're positive everyone else would too. and that's why you have to fucking go, contrary to your idiotic boyfriend's beliefs.

after you've calmed down and rejected the boy's incessant assurances that they would come with you, mingi gives you the address to a bar known to serve underage people all the time. you thank him and tell them you promise you'll update them tomorrow, hanging up before they can respond and backing your mom's car out of the driveway.

you haven't driven since your road test and it shows but luckily the bar is only ten minutes from your house. and you thank the gods above for song mingi because there seonghwa is, two old men sitting right beside him as the talk in a circle. you quickly get out of your running car, pulling your sweater around yourself as you make your way over to them.

"seonghwa?" you ask lowly, the two men snapping their heads up to you and their eyes widening.

"y/n!" they say in unison.

you would've laughed at this oddity under any other circumstances, two old men knowing you by name because seonghwa probably dished all of your dirty laundry to them.

"y/n," the boy himself says, looking up at you with light in his eyes, like he's trying to figure out if you're real. you give him a small smile, waving at him before craning your neck towards your car.

"hi," you say him gently, looking over his face and feeling your heart break at the sight of him. this isn't anything like that seonghwa you've known and it's all your fault. "you want me to give you a ride?"

"where's yeosang?" seonghwa asks, trying to get a look at the car. the men behind him yell "traitor!" causing you to jump and seonghwa, even in his drunken state, stumbles toward you and put his hand on your shoulder.

"he's home," you tell him, not even sure if that's the truth. "but he knows i'm here picking you up. so how bout i bring you home?"

seonghwa can only hum, looking at your pleading expression and letting out a sigh. because under any circumstance, in any state of mind, it appears he's still weak enough to never deny you. you watch him turn around and say goodbye to his friends, the two men patting his shoulder like their his grandfathers telling him what a nice guy he is and that any girl would be lucky to have him.

you feel your heart tug and pang with hurt, smiling at them softly before guiding seonghwa toward the passenger side door. you help him in and close the door as you watch him fumble with the seatbelt, letting out a shaky sigh before you hear your name being called.

you look up to see one of the men coming toward you, even in his drunken state not posing to be a threat.

"it was ni-nice that you came," the man hiccups. "he talked about you all night."

and you don't know if the comment was meant to make you feel good or hurt you but you simply nod, thanking them for taking care of him before walking around to get in the car. you pull out into the street and attempt to find your way to his house, feeling his glossy gaze on you.

"i didn't k-know you can drive."

a part of you wants to laugh at that because even with everything that happened between you two, you still don't know a lot about each other it seems.

"yeah, i have my license, just not my own car," you explain to him. "so i borrow my mom's sometimes."

he nods his head in understanding, his head lolling to the side as he looks out the window. you can only swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes widening when you hear him open it and hum at the cold air.

"you okay?" you ask him. because the last thing you want is for him to vomit in your mom's car.

"fine," he mumbles before a deep chuckle leaves his mouth. "but maybe hurry up so i don-don't puke all over your mom's car. make a left at the stop sign."

and you're pleased to see that even though he's drank to the point of puking, he was still able to give you directions. because once you see that, you recognize the streets of his neighborhood before quickly pulling into his driveway. you notice that only his two cars are there meaning that the house is probably empty.

"shockerrr, empty house," he slurs, his head lolling down and to the side as he looks at you. "you're pretty, y/n. you know that?"

your lips press into one another, biting your lip nervously as you shake your head at him.

"stop, seonghwa."

he lets out a groan, pushing his head back into the chair. "i-i know i shouldn't say that. because you're yeosang's girl and you al-also don't like drunk people or alcohol. but-but i liked you first, you know." and even in his drunken state, it sounds juvenile to his own ears

"that sounds so-stupid," he says through a hiccup. "but i do. i like you- so fucking much and i- i wish i didn't."

you bite the inside of your cheek to distract yourself from the burning of tears behind your eyes. because the way he seems so broken and upset is your fault. you can maybe even blame it a little on yeosang but it's mostly you. because you wouldn't have gotten in the middle of them in the first place if you never showed up at this backyard and agreed to sit with him 4th period.

"do you need help getting inside?"

seonghwa looks at you before shaking his head.

"n-no," he hiccups, his hand searching around for the handle. "i'm so fucking si-sick of people leaving out that door." and with that, the car door squeaks open and he shakily rises to get out; but not before turning his neck back to look at you.

"thank you fo-for getting me, y/n," he tells you, the drunken smile on his flushed face still managing to be incredibly handsome. "i hope yeosang isn't mad at you." he closes the door before you can answer, watching him stumble up the walkway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and flowers.

the perfectly trimmed hedges and flowers he promptly leans over and vomits into, a sigh leaving your mouth as you grab your phone and turn off the car. you run over to him, grabbing him by the shirt before he can stumble forward and smack his head into the side of his house.

"whoaaa, you caught me," he chuckled out, the sound so light and airy it almost makes you smile.

"i did," you say gently. "let's get you inside now."

"you don-don't have to," he says. because he can't really say that he doesn't want to you. that he really can't deal with another person, but especially you, leaving him alone in this ginormous, empty house.

"i do," you tell him softly, moving your hand to guide him by his waist. "i'll stay until you fall asleep, okay? so you don't have to see me leave."

he doesn't say anything as you guide him into his house and up the stairs to his room. you turn on his light and tell him to change while you go downstairs to get him food and a glass of water. you fumble around in his kitchen for a few minutes, toasting two pieces of bread and filling him up a tall glass of water before grabbing two advils for the morning.

but when you go back into his room, you see he's passed out over the covers still in his clothes from the day. you let out a sigh, putting the plate and cup on the bedside table before going over to him. you kneel down, your hand hesitantly reaching out to run through his hair.

he looks so much younger in his sleep, relaxed and peaceful despite the way he was stumbling around like a drunk. the tears pricking your eyes all night finally come to the surface, falling back onto your butt as you cover your face with your hands.

every time you think your crushing guilt is gone, it always finds a way to surface back. it's like you can't get away from the confusion and decisions you've had to deal with thus far, your stomach still in a knot at your fight with yeosang and how you've gotten zero messages from him. how seonghwa has gotten to the point where he drank his sorrows away at the bar and found solace in two strangers.

how ever since you came to this town, you've done nothing but fuck with people's emotions and turn two best friends against each other.

"y/n," you hear seonghwa's deep, slurred voice. "don't cry."

your head snaps up to see him turned on his side watching you, his arm stretched out as he holds his hand out awaitingly. you only look down at it, your tears nearly blurring your vision, as you shake your head. you can't hold his hand, you refuse. it's not right to you or him or yeosang. because tonight, that would probably mean a whole lot more to all three of you.

"i'm sorry, seonghwa," you whisper to him.

"me too," he says, his eyes trailing over your face and you see the affection in them even through his drunken glossy gaze. "i'm sorry i still want you."

you feel a tear escape your cheek as you shake your head, knowing full well you don't deserve to be hearing this. that you shouldn't be listening to him tell you this in the vulnerable, altered state he's in.

he wipes at the tear on your cheek gently, the delicate swipe of his finger across your skin so foreign but so familiar it cracks your heart just a little bit more. he can only look at your face silently, like he's trying to remember this moment even though he knows he probably won't tomorrow.

"i'm glad you came b-but i'm happy i won't remember any of this tomorrow," seonghwa tells you, "because i'm so pathetic, it just might give me hope."

"you're not pathetic," you tell him brokenly, shaking your head as you wipe at the tears rolling down your cheeks.

"then what would you call it, y/n?" he asks, his eyes getting heavier and heavier as his exhaustion sets in. "pining over someone who doesn't want you? feeling like you love someone you barely knew?"

you can only swallow the lump in your throat watching his eyes close, waiting until his breaths turn even and tiny snores are leaving his mouth to cry into your hands for a few moments. because you think what's worse than doing this to him is the fact that he thinks he's pathetic for it.

because if things were different, you'd be right there with him. pining over him and loving someone you barely knew.

you watch him sleep for a few more minutes, placing the water and two pills next to his bed before slowly running your fingers through his hair as you mumble one last apology. you leave his room afterward with the plate of toast in your hand, your phone in your ear as you softly speak to san over the phone.

"i'm sorry for bothering you but can you stay with seonghwa tonight?"

the boy is over in less than ten minutes, walking through the door with an expression that nearly makes you cry on the spot. you tell him a gist of what happened, how you and yeosang fought and how it's all your fault that seonghwa spiraled into a binge drinking episode.

"stop, it's not," san assures you, his hand running through your hair calmingly. "we're all rich kids. you know we got a ton of fuckin' problems." a wet, broken laugh leaves your mouth as you shake your head, wiping at your wet face with your wrist.

"i'm serious though," san says lowly, "don't feel bad. it was a tough situation for all of you but it isn't anyone's fault."

and even though you don't believe that, you nod your head and thank him for coming. you couldn't have seonghwa waking up alone in the middle of the night, alone and confused with the worst hangover of his life.

san walks you to your car and gives you one last hug, assuring you everything will be okay with yeosang and that he'll make sure seonghwa is fine tomorrow.

but even with san's assurances, you still break down on your car ride home. because seonghwa feels bad because of you, yeosang still hasn't texted you and the lump in your throat is so big you feel like you're about to suffocate.

and just when you think you've cried all the tears you could, the sight of mingi and yunho waiting on your front steps really does you in. they immediately grab you in a hug when you get out of your car, crushed between the two boys who wipe at your tears and tell you everything will be okay.

(part 26)

[a-force-dyad-in-space]

A continued rant of Breaking Dawn Part 2 - Part 1

Just so you know, I was SO CLOSE to finishing this post when Chrome fucking froze on me and I couldn’t get it going again and I couldn’t save what I’d worked on so far, so now I have to rewrite the entire thing from memory, love that for me.  😭😭😭😭😭😭 Tumblr didn’t want to save everything, though, so I had to split it up. Link to Part 2 is at the end.

Well, @diamondkissle and @edwardssparklyskin asked for it and it’s Christmas, so they shall receive. Happy Holidays, guys. I present to you my continued rant of Breaking Dawn Part 2. I will pick up where I left off in the last post, after Bella’s sparkle faint glimmer scene.

So, going straight into it, we got one of my bigger annoyances, and that is this right here:

Um, Carlisle, sweetie, what are you writing that down for?? You have?? Like?? Perfect Recall?? You’re probably gonna remember every single measurement by yourself for like?? Centuries?? Like Bella could ask you five hundred years from now what height Renesmee was at 4PM on Day 5 and you would be able to tell her??? From memory??? What is the notepad for??

Also the terrible CGI on those kids’ faces is just sad. I know they wanted all of them to look like the same child but they could have tried to find more kids who look similar to Mackenzie Foy instead of that obviously fake face replacement, since most of them only show up for literally only a second. Just yikes. I’m not adding screencaps of those here, you guys know what they look like.

One positive thing I will say is that I liked that they didn’t make Bella’s eyes go straight from red to gold, but instead used one or two hues in between until they arrived at gold, like this one during the snowflake-catching scene:

Then of course we have Irina snitching on the Cullens and Caius giving us his cringey but still iconic sarcastic “Hm?”, which just ... well, it is what it is.

And now. AND NOW. We’re going into one of my biggest annoyances of this movie, and I call it SCENES THAT WERE OBVIOUSLY SHOT IN DIRECT SUNLIGHT BUT FOR SOME FUCKING REASON NONE OF THE VAMPIRES SPARKLE. 

Part 1.

For this we are heading up into lovely Alaska where Edward, Bella and Jacob are taking Renesmee to the Denali coven to ask for their support. Now, when Edward steps out of the car, you see that lovely halo around his hair?

Am I the only one who sees this and sees DIRECT SUNLIGHT? Like, if this were overcast his hair would not light up that much on the edges, right???

KATE IS EVEN FUCKING SQUINTING BECAUSE THERE’S SO MUCH LIGHT, HOW IS THIS NOT DIRECT SUNLIGHT????

WHY IS

THERE NO

SPARKLING????????

WE WERE ROBBED. We deserved to 1. get a proper sparkle scene of Bella in the first place and 2. see some of the other vampires sparkle as well. Where is my Alice sparkle scene??? My Esme sparkle scene??? My Emmett sparkle scene???

But yeah, let’s move on, right? Straight into SCENES THAT WERE OBVIOUSLY SHOT IN DIRECT SUNLIGHT BUT FOR SOME FUCKING REASON NONE OF THE VAMPIRES SPARKLE. 

Part 2.

For this we’re heading over to sunny Cairo, where the sun may not be shining down directly on our characters, BUT my point still stands because of this:

You see that lovely light coming through the window? That’s direct sunlight, baby. And even coming through a window it should bounce off vamp skin at least a little bit and make it at the very least glimmer a bit, right?

And yet

Nada. Not even a faint glimmer. Fuck this.

Moving on, we got something that is not exactly a critique so much as an observation. So when we first meet Benjamin and when Benjamin first meets Renesmee, his eyes are very red, as expected. 

But then later, when he declares that he will fight with the Cullens, should it come to it, his eyes look at little more orange to me.

Do you guys think that’s because he’s growing thirsty and they’re darkening, or do you think (which definitely would be interesting) that he hunted animals at least some of the time while visiting (which would go against Amun’s principles) and that’s why the eye color is slightly different?

Next up, the Volturi’s a bit strange interaction with Toshiro.

This is where we see Alec’s power for the first time and while I get that they wanted to visualize it for the audience, I feel like they could have done it differently and still gotten the point across without resorting to literal black smoke. Not sure I’m really happy with it, the way it looks.

One funny thing, though, is the fact that Aro looks like he’s offering Toshiro to join their Victorian goth metal band, lol.

Then we have another strange choice they made with this movie, and that is the way Alistair looks at Bella. Like, here we have him seeing her for the first time, and being quite antagonistic and hostile and a lone wolf

Flash forward to when Bella succeeds with her shield projection for the first time and we have him looking at her like this

Is it just me or does this scream more than just plain being impressed by her abilities? I mean, even though no two shields are exactly the same, they’re not super rare or anything, so why would he look at her like that? It’s weird.

And then of course we have this awkward interaction between them after she returns from her meeting with J. Jenks.

I know part of it is him believing she’s not being genuine about the whole situation with Renesmee and their impending confrontation with the Volturi, but to see him take so much interest in her when he literally doesn’t give a shit about anyone but Carlisle (otherwise he wouldn’t have come in the first place), is really, really odd to me.

Speaking of Bella, another thing that bugs me. When she drops off Jacob and Renesmee at Charlie’s on her way to her meeting with J. Jenks, it’s apparently okay for her not to wear brown contacts, even though?? She’s supposed to be?? Stealthy with Charlie?? If I remember correctly (and correct me if I’m wrong), she always wore brown contacts around Charlie in the book (and she does again later in the movie, too, where Charlie is the only one who doesn’t know she’s a vampire specifically), but here apparently it’s okay even though they’re clearly visible???

But then, when she meets with J. Jenks, who has never seen her before, she puts contacts in??? Even though JJ has no fucking clue gold isn’t her normal eye color?? Even though the Cullens run around humans with golden eyes all the fucking time because no one knows their human eye colors???

MAKE IT MAKE SENSE.

And speaking of the J. Jenks bit. I know they couldn't spend too much time on it, so they decided to do it in one fell swoop, and that's fine, but I still wish we could have gotten the whole part of her finding his office and talking to the guy on the street and everything. Bummer.

Next up, ah, Christmas. How fitting for today. xD So, the Christmas scene is another one that frustrates me a bit. I mean the whole Bedward giving Charlie tickets to go fishing out of town bit and him being like "You guys wanna get rid of me or something?" is quite funny. But like??? Seth and Leah are here, too??? And all we see of them is the back of their heads???

We don't even get a glimpse of them from the front??? Not a tiny bit of awkward conversation between Leah and Bella? Not one clever quip by Seth about anything?? We were robbed, I'm telling you, ROBBED.

This is the end of Part 1. Here is Part 2.

[blustersquall]

Only Make Believe // Chapter 31: New Year’s Eve

Hi everyone! Hope you had a nice October, and you're enjoying the start of November! Here's a new chapter for you. Want to give you a fair warning, this chapter does contain mentions of (or hints at) the following: familial abuse, physical abuse, sexual coercion, sexual assault, sexual abuse, mental and emotional abuse. So, please be aware of that and keep yourself safe. Take breaks. Practice deep breathing and other grounding methods. If you feel yourself getting overwhelmed, step back and take some time. The chapter will be here when you're ready. Your wellbeing is far more important, okay?

December 31st, New Year’s Eve

-

It was well into mid-morning when Cullen emerged from his bedroom, well rested, washed and dressed comfortably for whatever the day would bring. From the kitchen and living room below he could hear music, the clattering of pots and pans, and Cassandra muttering in her native Nevarran tongue. Her habit of talking to herself was one Cullen found amusing and often teased her about; though he knew if she was speaking Nevarran the reason was probably not a good one.

Making his way down the hall he passed Nevena’s bedroom and saw the door ajar. He took a quick peek inside, saw it was empty and closed the door continuing downstairs. He chose to avoid the kitchen for as long as possible, despite the thought of a hot mug of coffee calling out to him. He ducked into the living room before Cassandra spotted him and roped him into helping.

Varric’s office was a small room that was just off the living room and the door was half-open. Cullen saw his friend in his chair, phone to his ear, two screens alight in front of him. He was talking to someone in a low tone and Cullen couldn’t make out the words. His reason for stopping – Nevena – sat curled comfortably in a large plush armchair, settled in like a cat who had found a sunny spot in which to bask. In one hand she held a stack of papers, what Cullen could only assume was Varric’s newest manuscript, and the other a red mug where she tapped an irregular rhythm with her fingers.

She didn’t notice his arrival, her eyes moving back and forth over the page rapidly. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, eyes wide and gleaming, while she nibbled her bottom lip. Cullen wondered if that was how she always looked when she was reading. So engrossed and as though she was memorizing and absorbing every word and detail on the page. She looked happy, and at home in the big chair that threatened to swallow her. Cullen realised; this was where she belonged. Surrounded by books in warmth and safety, where she could gorge herself on as much literature as she wanted, without the threat or fear of being bullied looming over head.

Cullen approached her, slipping his arms and hands down over the top of the chair to rest upon her shoulders. Nevena jumped slightly, and tipped her head back to look at him. Cullen took the advantage to press a quick kiss to her lips.

“Good morning,” he murmured, lips brushing the end of her nose and her forehead.

Nevena’s expression crinkled into one of contented pleasure. “Morning.”

Not for the first time, Cullen was struck by how easy it was. How simple their relationship had become, and how comfortable he was giving these touches and moments of affection. He loved how openly she accepted them, and how much joy they seemed to give her. He thought if they could begin all their days in this way, with him greeting her like this, then they would be happy days.

“What are you reading?” Cullen came and sat on the arm of the chair. Nevena rose onto her feet and nodded to the space she just occupied. Curious, Cullen slid into it. She started to climb into his lap and he welcomed her doing so. He supported her back with one arm, while she dangled her legs over the opposing arm of the chair. He clutched her waist when she bent to put her mug down on the floor.

“It’s Mr… uh, Varric’s newest book. It’s only a first draft, but he’s letting me to have a look.”

“And?”

“So far, so good.” Nevena shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the next volume of his Swords and Shields series. The last one ended on a cliff hanger, so it’s nice to find out what happens next.”

“Before everyone else.”

Nevena grinned, swinging her legs and returning her gaze back to the pages before her. Cullen reclined against the seat back, casually trailing his fingers along the base of her back beneath her jumper where it had ridden up. He skimmed a few of the sentences on the page in front of her. Despite being close friends, Cullen had only ever read one of Varric’s books. His most popular, Hard in Hightown. And while it was enjoyable, he found it a little farfetched for his tastes. He thought if Nevena owned all of Varric’s books then perhaps he might try reading them again to see what it was about them she enjoyed so much. At least, it made sense for him to read The Viper’s Nest.

“Did you sleep after I left?” Cullen asked after a few minutes of quiet.

“Mhn…” the corner of Nevena’s mouth quirked.

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“Cassandra came to visit me.” She put the manuscript down in her lap, her expression growing thoughtful. “She went to return something to your room last night and put two and two together when you weren’t there.”

“Oh?” Cullen arched a brow, leaning back. Given Nevena was under the impression Cassandra didn’t like her, he expected more of a reaction from her visiting. Nevena was calm, thoughtful, if anything. “Was she angry? Did she say anything?” He pressed, hoping the answer was no. Or at the very least, they briefly exchanged ‘good mornings’.

Nevena pursed her lips, manuscript now forgotten in her lap as she turned her head to face him and combed her fingers back through his hair. With her head tilted to one side, her expression drawn into one of contemplation she leaned forward and kissed him, curving her hands around his jaw to lift his head. Surprised, but only momentarily, Cullen melted into her, his eyes closing and his hands and arms curving around her body to pull her closer. He breathed steadily, relishing the warmth of her lips and the way she felt in his hands. Each kiss seemed better than the last, and Cullen found himself anticipating them - not wanting them to end.

“That’s…” he chuckled, smiling against Nevena’s lips as she pulled away, “not an answer to the question I asked.”

She brushed her nose against his. “You’re a very lucky man to have someone in your life who cares about you as much as she does.”

“I know.” Cullen cleared his throat, “though I’m now even more curious about what passed between the two of you for you to say such a thing?”

“It’s a secret.” She tapped his lips with her index finger in a gesture of silence. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

“Looks like you’re really enjoying the new book there, Freckles.” Varric’s low laughter broke the warm and cosy atmosphere between Cullen and Nevena. She leaned away, grinning in Varric’s direction. “Not that I blame you, Curly is quite the distraction.”

“M’sorry Varric,” Nevena said, “he wanted to read it.”

“Did he now?” Varric arched a thick brow, “well, sorry to disappoint you Curly, I only allow one person at a time to read my first drafts. Plus, you wouldn’t know what’s going on.”

“I’ll try not to be disappointed.” Cullen retorted with a small, sarcastic grin. “I’m sure your books are a bit too high fantasy for me, anyway.”

“You might find you enjoy them.” Nevena chirped, retrieving the manuscript from her lap. “They’re fun, light-hearted.”

“And there’s some sex thrown in there, too.” Varric added.

“Wonderful,” Cullen sighed through his nose. “Were we disturbing you, Varric?”

“Not at all,” he leaned on the door frame to his office. Cullen realised Varric hadn’t stopped grinning since he entered, and that his expression was smug more than anything else. “Just wanted to make sure you two love birds were comfortable.”

“We’re fine…” Cullen forced back the heat that he could feel beginning to lick up his face.

“Although,” Varric straightened, snapping his fingers as if remembering something, “Freckles, do you mind if I borrow Curly for a minute?”

After a beat or two of surprise, Nevena shook her head. “No, not at all.” She climbed out of Cullen’s lap with his help. He missed her weight immediately, but took solace in the thought he’d return to that comfortable, domestic setting after talking to Varric. “Can I ask a question, though?”

“Of course. Anything for my new favourite proof-reader.”

Cullen got to his feet, “don’t believe him. He says that to everyone.” He told Nevena, smirking in Varric’s direction.

“Don’t lie to the girl, Curly!” Varric jabbed him with his elbow good-naturedly.

“Why do you call Cullen ‘Curly’?” Nevena asked, tapping her bottom lip after settling back into the armchair. “I’ve seen his natural hair, it’s not that curly. I mean, it has a curl to it but it’s hardly his most defining feature.”

“Oh?” Varric laughed, glancing up at Cullen. Cullen quickly rubbed the back of his neck, disliking the glint in Varric’s eye. “What do you think is his most defining feature?”

“Eyes.” Nevena answered, “the day I met him I thought his eyes were kind. That hasn’t changed.” She smiled sweetly at Cullen, meeting his gaze for a moment before dropping her eyes in a coy expression and teasing her hair behind her ear. Cullen felt the flurry of butterflies rise in his stomach, and the dopey smile that took hold of his lips before he could stop it. She liked his eyes… and somehow that was one of the sweetest things he’d ever been told.

“Eyes, huh?” Varric cleared his throat, “well – I’ll bear that in mind. But the Curly thing… Do you want to explain?” Cullen felt Varric’s eyes on him.

“It’s… Varric had the…” Cullen huffed. He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat, “you haven’t seen my hair when it gets humid. It becomes rather… difficult to manage.”

“It turns into a lion’s mane.” Quipped Varric.

“It does not!” Cullen bit back. He took a sharp breath, his cheeks warming when he heard Nevena stifle a giggle. “It… All my family have curly hair. Lots of people do. It’s not exactly unusual.”

“I know it’s not, Curly.” Varric patted him, “but it’s so easy to tease you about it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Wish not granted,” Varric gestured Cullen towards his office. “You can have him back in a minute, Freckles.”

Nevena was already settled back into the armchair and finding her place on the manuscript. “Take your time!”

Varric’s office was a room Cullen had only been in a handful of times. One of the smaller rooms in the house, it was lined wall-to-wall with reference books and first edition hard back copies of his own work. There were framed prints of the different book covers neatly displayed in frames above the shelves and a few framed rejection letters that Varric kept to remind him of his roots. His desk looked out over the front garden, the two computer monitors – one currently blank and one showing a webpage – took up most of the space on the desk. There were dried coffee rings covering one specific part of Varric’s work space, too. Cullen knew when a deadline was approaching Varric was no stranger to pulling an all-nighter.

“Y’know, you could have said you guys were a couple.” Varric laughed moving past Cullen to his desk. “Would have saved me an’ Cass setting up a second guest bedroom.”

Cullen felt his face grow hot and quickly averted his gaze to the prints on the wall. “We’re not… I mean, we are but I—It’s early days, Varric.” He cleared his throat, “and I didn’t want you or Cassandra thinking I was taking advantage of her.”

“I don’t think that.” Varric shook his head and sat back in his chair touching his fingertips together. “I knew from the minute you asked about the copy of The Viper’s Nest there was more going on than just a typical client.”

“Hm,” Cullen was still blushing, so he continued to avoid looking at Varric, instead moving around the room and scanning some of the books on the shelves. “Well, it was more Cassandra I was worried about. She… After the phone call on Christmas Day… I didn’t want her to think her advice had fallen on deaf ears.”

“I guess I understand that. She is pretty protective of you… Though whatever Nevena said to her this morning after her run clearly had an impact.”

Cullen faced him. “What did Nevena say? She only said Cassandra went to visit her after I left her room this morning.”

A slow, Cheshire-cat smile came to Varric’s lips, lazy gaze on Cullen. “That’s confidential, Curly.” He said, far too smug. “Needless to say, she’s pretty damn taken with you. Clearly cares about you a lot.”

Cullen glanced at the door to the office. The butterflies returned. “I care about her, too.” Running a hand back through his hair, he laughed. “This is so unlike me. I never go with fast with someone. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“If I was a cynical man, I’d say it was hormones. But, given that I’m a true romantic at heart, I’m willing to place my bet on love.” Grinned Varric, “but that’s just me.”

Cullen swallowed hard, his throat suddenly going dry. Was it really that obvious? Was it so clear how deep his feelings for Nevena went that his friends could see it? Did that mean she could see it to? Did she know? Did she know, and was she just staying quiet because she didn’t feel the same? His palms were sweaty when he flexed his hands. “Varric— “

“That’s not why I wanted to talk to you, though.” Varric interrupted turning to the screen on his desk that was alight. “You can go back to cuddling in a sec.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” asked Cullen forcing his anxiety down into his belly. He could dwell on that later. Or not at all, if he had his way.

“There’s some people coming tonight I think you should meet. They’re friends of mine, and I think they could be helpful in either getting you some information about Nevena’s mother, or at the very least, giving you an opportunity to find out information without there being a lot of members of public around.”

“Oh?”

“Their names are Josephine Montilyet and Dorian Pavus. They both work in the Ostwick library archives. Josephine’s the head archivist, and has a background in politics. Dorian is… a bit of a jack-of-all-trades. Knows a lot about everything. Man’s a sponge. Has about four degrees, working toward a fifth.” Varric clicked a few times on the page open before him. Two posed and professionally taken portrait photographs appeared. The first was an attractive young woman with black hair tied back, and gold rimmed glasses on. The second was a man, styled black hair which was shaved at the sides, perfectly curled moustache, and a winning smile.

“Josephine and Dorian?” Cullen squinted at the photograph of Josephine for a moment. “I’ve met her, I think.”

Varric snorted, “yeah. She was there that night we were playing cards. She was the woman wh— “

“Nono—I-I remember… Maker above,” Cullen groaned into his hands. “It would be someone witness to my shame.”

“Yeah,” chuckled Varric, looking at him. “She’s a good sort though – probably won’t bring it up. Dorian has some social and civic specialities. I… might have explained the situation to them already by email.”

“Varric--!” Cullen groaned. He shouldn’t have mentioned Nevena’s past. He knew Varric wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth closed.

“Hold on, hold on!” Varric lifted his hands as if to placate him. “They’re not going to tell a soul, Josephine is too professional for that, and all Dorian said was that he can relate to having a shitty family life. Anyway, I needed to tell them for the favour I asked.”

Cullen arched a brow, “which is?”

“The two of them are going do to a bit of research on the name Soloman and Trevelyan, gather up what they can. The library is closed over Christmas and New Year’s, not due to open again until the 5th. They’ve agreed to open the doors to you and Nevena specifically, for a couple of hours, on the 3rd.  Give you guys a chance to go through anything they find… and if it gets a bit overwhelming for her, then there’s no lookie-loos to stare or watch if she needs a minute or gets upset.”

With a sigh, Cullen ran his hands down his face and then back through his hair again. He wasn’t comfortable with Varric disclosing Nevena’s private history to strangers, but Cullen could hardly blame him. He was doing this out of kindness and to be helpful, and it had been Cullen who talked about Nevena’s past first. The true blame lay with him. Still – having no members of the public around while they looked over information about Miranda would probably be for the best. Cullen wasn’t sure how Nevena would react if they found anything about her at all.

“Alright,” he said after a few seconds. “I’ll tell Nevena myself, I don’t want her hearing this from anyone else.”

“She won’t hear it from me, or Josephine, or Dorian. And Cass doesn’t know.” Varric said, “you can talk to them tonight and go over some of the details I don’t have with them. Then you can spin some tale about how you convinced them to give you and Freckles full run of the library for a few hours.”

“I’m not going to lie to her.”

“It’s not a lie. It’s twisting the truth.”

“She’s been lied to her whole life,” Cullen said stiffly. “I won’t be joining the ranks of people who have been dishonest.”

Varric sighed, “Curly…”

“I’m not ungrateful, Varric. And I know Nevena won’t be either. It’s just a sensitive topic and… I know I shouldn’t have said anything. So… this sits a little odd with me.”

“Pretty sure Nevena will understand. All you did was explain what’s been going on and what brought you all this way.” Varric switched off his screen and stood up out of his chair. He quickly patted Cullen on the arm. “Don’t over think it. Go back to sitting with her and I’ll introduce you to Josephine and Dorian tonight.”

The first of Varric and Cassandra’s guests arrived around that evening. One at a time, and in pairs at first, then a steady stream of people had the doorbell working overtime. Cassandra enlisted Cullen and Nevena’s help in the kitchen throughout the day, and together they managed to put together and lay out an impressive spread of finger food for everyone to nibble on through the evening. Christmas music played from the stereo in the living room, low under the hum of conversation.

Cullen got the impression very quickly that everyone there knew each other in some way. Where ever he looked he saw people embracing and in some cases squealing excitedly when they saw each other. Varric had his hosting hat on, and weaved through the people with himself and Nevena, introducing them to each guest with a quick quip or thoughtful comment. Cullen tried to remember names as best he could, but they began to slip after the tenth or eleventh person he was introduced to.

He was quickly split off from Nevena when she struck up a conversation with a dark-skinned woman about Varric’s books. The woman – Isabela – first complimented Varric on the state of his chest hair which set Nevena off into a peel of giggles. The last time Cullen saw her, she was almost doubled over laughing at something Isabela said.

The amount of people made the whole house feel warmer and Cullen grew a little uncomfortable and sweaty underneath his clothing. The noise didn’t help either, pushing his auditory limits whenever someone talked too loud, or the man with the booming laughter let everyone hear how funny he found a joke. Throughout the earliest part of the evening, Cullen found himself disappearing to the quiet seclusion of the bathroom more than once just to decompress. He was grateful to Varric and Cassandra to their hospitality but was now beginning to wonder if their busy New Year celebrations really suited him.

In the past he either visited his sister in South Reach which was always a simple get together with his other siblings, spent New Year with friends from work, or on his own quietly bringing it in with a beer and whatever he could find on television. Large social gatherings like this were not his forte. He didn’t hate them, he just found them a little draining and his face was already beginning to ache from all the smiling he was doing.

Still, he couldn’t fault Varric for how he and Cassandra celebrated. He wouldn’t. Their way was just different to his. Perhaps the next year he and Nevena could return the hospitality and host Varric and Cassandra for New Year. It would be quieter for certain, but no less enjoyable. Of course, that all depended on where he and Nevena stood in a year’s time. Things were good now because everything was new and exciting and they were still learning about each other. In a year’s time? Six months’ time? That was a mystery to him. He knew there was no point in dwelling on it – no one knew exactly what the future held for any of them. All he could do was hope the next New Year they would be bringing in together.

Around nine o’clock, after reappearing from the bathroom for the third or fourth time, Cullen found himself immediately grabbed by Varric and corralled through the sea of faces, bodies and noise to one of the corners of the living room. Two people stood to one side and he recognised them from the profile photos Varric showed him earlier. The photos did little justice in showing the intelligence behind both pairs of eyes. The woman, Josephine, was smiling and chatting happily with the man, Dorian, but her gaze never remained in one point for long. She wasn’t just looking, she was surveying, measuring up all the guests and learning small details about them they probably didn’t know themselves. The way they stood, or how they held their glass and how those small idiosyncrasies described them to perceptive onlookers. Cullen knew she was doing it, because he did it too – he had done it with Nevena the day they met, watched her as he waited for coffee to measure her up and learn what he could about her from visual cues alone.

Dorian repeatedly held a glass of red wine to his lips but didn’t take a sip, always finding something else to say before he could quench his thirst. He was watching and gauging people just as much as Josephine was, but he attention was more taken by the bookshelf they stood near and the contents on each shelf. He ran long fingers over the spines, the different rings that adorned each finger glistening in the twinkling Christmas lights. The two of them were dressed impeccably, and Cullen found himself wiping his hands on his black jeans knowing he would have to shake hands with them.

Cullen found himself slightly… intimidated as he approached them with Varric. Intelligence was intimidating, and the way these two people looked, in their tailored and likely bespoke clothing had him becoming uncomfortably aware of how untidy he was. He started to consider that perhaps he should have worn a tuxedo to meet them.

It was too late to worry about that now.

“Dorian! Josephine!” Varric called to them over the sound of conversation. The two greeted him with smiles, “this is Cullen who I was telling you about. He can fill in any gaps I left out in the details.”  Varric left with a friendly slap on Cullen’s back.

“Nice to meet you,” Cullen feigned confidence as he shook Dorian’s hand first – though his hand seemed more jewellery than flesh - and then Josephine’s to reacquaint himself with her. The only time they’d met before this had been over a year ago and he had not been at his best when a friendly game of cards turned a serious and she took him for everything he was wearing... Literally.

He hoped she wouldn’t bring it up.

Josephine’s expression was warm and open as she smiled and delicate fingers wrapped around his, though there was a playful expression in her eyes that gave Cullen the impression that, yes, she did remember the card game. Cullen noticed the notch against the knuckle of her middle finger – clear signs of almost constantly holding a pen.

Dorian took a sip from his wine glass. “Good to meet you. Dorian Pavus, originally from Minrathous in Tevinter.” He smiled from behind his glass, grey eyes flitting around observing what was happening in the room beyond Cullen.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Rutherford,” Josephine’s accent was something Cullen had forgotten. It was strong Antivan and it sounded quite melodic.

“Cullen, please.”

“You know each other?” Dorian asked, looking between the two of them.

“Yes,” Josephine’s disarming smile grew. “Sometime last year. We played cards and Mr. Ruther—oh, Cullen here lost a rather sizable wager.”

Cullen forced a choked laugh. “Uh, yes… Though I lost more of my dignity than anything of real material worth.”

“I would agree with that statement.” Josephine quirked a brow in a coquettish way and then laughed behind her hand. “Not to worry, I have no intention of torturing you with what happened last year. Varric brought us together for an entirely different reason, I believe?”

“Yes.” Dorian drained the wine from his glass. “I admit I didn’t think I’d be working during the holidays, but what Varric described to me sounded very… dramatic. Family intrigue and all that – right up my street! So, how could I refuse?”

“I am grateful to the both of you. I didn’t expect him to call in any favours or— “

“It’s Varric,” Dorian waved a dismissive hand. “He collects favours for occasions such as this.” He placed his glass down on a nearby table and regarded Cullen with his sharp, grey eyes. “So, what is this whole thing? Varric gave us…” he looked at Josephine for a moment while searching for the right way to phrase things, “some information, but it’d be nice to hear the full story from someone directly involved.”

“Yes,” Josephine sipped her wine. “Varric does tend to over-embellish things or leave out the details he does not deem important, and yet those details could be vital to the information we’re looking for. So, can you give us a little more to go on than a deceased family member?”

“Not quite as cloak and dagger as Varric made it sound. I admit to being a little disappointed when he explained a little more when we arrived.” Dorian looked a little put out.

“There’s more to it than a deceased family member,” Cullen breathed out sharply. “It’s… a little sensitive. I don’t really feel like it’s my place to tell you. I’m really second-hand information as much as Varric is.”

“Well, then, perhaps Miss Trevelyan can tell us in more depth.” Josephine smiled.

“Uh…” Cullen’s voice caught in his throat. It was hard to know what information he could and should divulge. After all, these were Nevena’s demons. This was her history they were looking into. Her past, and her true parentage. He could and would support her, but the information needed to come from her. It already didn’t sit right with him that he had explained so much to Varric and Cassandra the previous day. At least they were friends, and he trusted them… But he didn’t know Dorian Pavus or Josephine Montilyet beyond them being friends of Varric’s.

“Is she around?” Dorian craned his neck to look among the faces as if he would be able to spot her on instinct.

“Excellent idea.” Josephine said, “Could you go and get her, she can tell us anything Varric missed out, answer any questions we might have.”

“Ah, yes. I’ll—Just a minute.”

Cullen wandered through the sea of guests, keeping his eyes open for a glimpse of Nevena’s hair, or her face somewhere in the bustle of bodies and voices. She’d been wearing a teal coloured dress, and every time he caught a glimpse of the colour he stopped to double check if it was her or not. He circled the room twice, if not more, and worry started to gnaw away at him when he still hadn’t seen or found her.

He found Cassandra, who told him she saw Nevena go upstairs not long before. The upper floors of the house were out-of-bounds for party goers, so Cullen knew it was quieter up there. That, if Nevena was anything like him, she’d gone up for some peace and to decompress. He followed, pausing outside the door to her bedroom where he could see a light spilling out from underneath.

“Nevena?” he called and knocked at the same time.

“Cullen?” her voice came from within, and then a rustling sound. “You can come in, the doors open.”

He closed the door behind him after entering. Nevena was curled up at the top of the bed, Varric’s manuscript in hand, her legs partly covered by a blanket. She looked cosy and comfortable. Calm. She put the manuscript aside, smiling.

“Hi,” she greeted him, shifting to sit up. She put the manuscript aside. Cullen noticed her skin was a little flushed on her cheeks and her neck.

“Hi…” Cullen smiled, relaxing in her presence and under her gaze. “What are you doing up here? You alright?” He perched at the end of the bed.

“Too many people, and a lot of noise. I just… needed some time to de-stress.” Nevena explained, “everyone is asking me how I know Varric, and you and… It’s a bit much.”

“You’re not alone. I’ve disappeared into the bathroom for some quiet so many times I’m sure some of them think there’s something wrong with me... or the food.” Cullen smiled a little, then clasped his hands together in his lap with a sigh, his expression growing some serious. “Varric introduced me to some friends who work at the Ostwick library, Josephine and Dorian.”

“Oh?”

“The library and public records are closed until January 5th, but Varric being Varric has managed to get them to allow us a couple of hours on the 3rd to look into your family history. Into information about your mother, if you want.”

Nevena ran her teeth over her bottom lip thoughtfully. Uncurling her legs, she stretched and the started to fiddle with a thread from the collar of her dress. “That’s kind of them.” Her voice came out soft, almost as though she was speaking to herself. She stared off into the middle distance, eyes wide and unblinking.

“Nevena,” Cullen moved towards her and reached out to take one of her hands. His touch seemed to jolt her from whatever place her mind had gone, and she quickly covered his hand with her own, smiling attentively. His chest tightened, the words he was about to say tasting like ash in his mouth. “I… yesterday, while catching up with Varric and Cassandra I… I told them what had transpired at Haven. About--”

“--everything?”

He gulped, “yes.”

“It’s okay,” she closed the gap between them, shuffling over the covers on her knees and lifting one hand to cradle his cheek. He leaned into her touch, lips touching the palm of her hand in a brief kiss. “After everything that’s happened, I would have thought you needed someone to offload to. To talk to. Someone impartial to everything that’s happened. I’m not cross.” The vice-like grip of the worry in Cullen’s chest weakened a little. Her touch, the warmth of her skin acted as balm to soothe the anxiety inside him.

“Dorian and Josephine want to meet you. To… go over the details about what they’ll be looking for. I think to narrow things down a bit.” Cullen sighed, “I suppose I didn’t specify to Varric not to go blabbing to anyone else. Honestly, I didn’t think he would, but his effort is coming from a good place. He—“

“It’s okay, Cullen.” Nevena moved closer, curling hair behind his ear in an affectionate gesture that had Cullen’s spine tingling pleasantly. “Everyone has been so welcoming and nice to me, it’s kind of strange to get used to, really. Varric and Cassandra have been so hospitable, letting me stay even though they don’t know me – I think whatever he did, or told them, was what he considered necessary.”

Cullen chuckled, “you give him too much credit.” He rubbed his thumb along Nevena’s knuckles. “Really, you do. He’s a terrible cad. He’s just trying to make a good impression on you.”

“I like your friends, Cullen.” She said, her voice teasing and soft at the same time. “Almost as much as I like you.”

She kissed him, or maybe he kissed her… It didn’t matter, because after a moment they were kissing each other. A pleasant mix of lips, and teeth, and tongues which had Cullen’s task flying from his mind and entirely replaced by Nevena’s mouth on his. Her voice in his ears, the scent of her skin filling his head, and her body filling his hands. The fingers of one of Nevena’s hands slid through his hair, while her other hand curled into the front of his shirt. Cullen shifted, for comfort and to be closer. He shuffled up the bed on his knees realising only when he put a hand out to take his weight that Nevena was lying back, that he was lying above her, slightly elevated, one of her legs between his.

The positioning was not lost on him, and he quickly moved, flopping onto his side choosing to lie beside her, instead. Nevena rolled onto her side so they faced each other. She gently raked her fingers through his hair, fingernails lightly moving over his scalp. The sensation delightful shiver to ripple over his skin, and he quivered at the feeling moving through him, making the hairs on his arms stand straight.

“Is it terrible that I’d much rather spend New Year’s like this?” Nevena snuggled closer to him, sliding one of her legs between his and continuing to wind strands of his hair around her fingers. “It’s kind of boring that I don’t really want to socialise, isn’t it?”

“No,” Cullen sighed. He left one arm lazily draped over her waist, the other curled up under one of the pillows and out of the way. He drew patterns on her back with the tips of his fingers. He remembered being like this with his first girlfriends as a nervous teen. Trying to have a moment of privacy in his busy home, with his siblings yelling at each other and his mother singing off-key in the kitchen. The bedroom door always had to be open. “It’s quite tiring, all those people. I’d be quite content to go to bed now.”

“We sound so old.” Giggled Nevena, “I can’t remember the last time I really did anything for New Years. I think the last few years I just watched the firework display in Denerim on TV and went to bed. This is a nice change of pace, if a little…”

“Draining?”

She chuckled, “yes. A bit.”

Cullen sighed. He could quite easily fall asleep with her right there. The room was warm, the bed was soft and deep, he had Nevena in his arms… It was a tempting thought and his body agreed by the way he could feel his eyelids drooping.

“Were you reading before I disturbed you?” he asked, hoping that speaking might keep him awake.

“More of Swords and Shields.”

“How’s it going? Have the good guys won yet?” he smiled at the slightly reproving looking on Nevena’s face.

“There’s a lot more to it, than that!” She chided, batting his shoulder. “In the last book, the Guard Captain was falsely accused of a murdering the High Magistrate, but was proved innocent in this book by one of her subordinates who she’s been in love with for years!”

“Sounds exciting.”

“It is!” She shoved his shoulder again, “he feels the same! They’ve never done anything about their feelings because of their ranking, but he’s just told her he intends to quit being part of the City Guard because he can’t contain how he feels anymore! All this sexual tension was about to come to a climax – no pun intended – before you came in.”

Cullen doubted Nevena realised how much she lit up when she talked about books. As she regaled him with the plot, he saw her eyes brighten, her cheeks grow red, and her smile become an enthusiastic grin. She was adorable when she was excited. And engaging. And animated. And… she came alive when she talked about the books like enjoyed.

“So, I ruined the good bit?”

“Not really,” she shrugged in her lying down position, “I hadn’t really got very far into it yet.”

“Maybe I should read it first.” Cullen stretched over her, reaching for the manuscript beside her head. “Check it’s suitable for your eyes.”

“Hey-- No! Gimme!” Nevena reached up for the pages as he held them up above her. When she sat up to grab them, Cullen moved quickly away, sitting up to keep them out of her reach. He tried to scan the words on the page but was unable to do so while playing ‘keep away’ and laughing at her grunts of frustration with every failed attempt at retrieval. “Cullen! Give me the pages--!” Nevena leaned across him, grabbing for the manuscript. “You won’t even know what’s happening!”

Cullen laughed, unable to find air to give voice to the words he wanted to say. On his back, his right arm extended over the floor, clutching the pages. His left hand on Nevena’s back holding her steady as she leaned over him to try and take them. The blankets and covers were a tangled mess underneath them now, but Nevena remained determined, trying to take the precious first draft back. Without warning, Cullen lifted it over his head and waited for Nevena to change position to try and take it back. When she did – throwing him a quick, annoyed glare in the process – he tossed it towards the door to the bedroom.

“Why would you do that?!” Nevena tried to scrabble to her feet, the sheets and covers tangling around her legs. Cullen grabbed her hand, pulled her down on top of him and silenced her quickly and a sound kiss, winding his free hand back through her hair.

His laughter dissipated and Nevena relaxed against him, kneeling over him and laying one hand against his chest. When she pulled away, she was breathing hard and still looked a little annoyed. Cullen curled her hair back around her ear.

“You’re rather lovely when you’re angry.” He stated, grinning.

She narrowed her eyes, “you threw it. If the manuscript is damaged, I’m telling Varric it was all you.” She prodded him on the end of his nose. Cullen paid no mind to the idle threat, instead sliding his fingers down her back pressing either side of her spine. Somehow, in the space of a few minutes, all his tiredness had receded, leaving him wide awake and feeling as though he had excess energy to spend. Nevena arched into the touch of his fingers, her eyelids fluttering closed and a deep, contented sigh leaving her. Cullen had been close to her plenty of times before, and each time he found himself examining her features, trying to imprint every freckle and follicle to his memory. For the first time, his eyes were drawn to a sliver of skin that was paler than the rest of her. It disappeared into her hairline and he reasoned was normally obscured which was likely why he’d never seen it before.

“What’s this?” Cullen reached up and ran his thumb along the mark. “A scar of some kind?”

Nevena’s eyes flew open and her body tensed. She quickly rose, kneeling over him and sat back on her haunches, covering the marking with one hand.

Cullen leaned up on his elbows, “sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“No, no,” Nevena puffed her cheeks out, playing with her hair in what he could only assume was an attempt to hide the scar he had discovered. “It’s just, y’know, you came up for a reason and we’ve been up here a while. We’re being rude.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind. There’s plenty of people to keep Josephine and Dorian occupied.” He sat up straight. “You know, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you about, since Christmas… but it’s not really come up, or felt like a good time. Now… probably isn’t a good time either, but…”

“What is it?”

“Something you said. I think Ineria went to hit you, you grabbed her hand and told her she’d never lay another finger on you… Or words to that effect.” He tilted his head to one side, his gaze on Nevena’s face as she lowered her eyes and her body seemed to shrink. “In the heat of everything I suppose I didn’t pay them much mind, but… then, when we met with Nevan you mentioned more of it. Visits to the emergency room. More physical abuse…”

“I was serious when I said she was a bully.” Nevena sighed, twisting her fingers in her lap. He watched Nevena close in on herself. Watched as she grew smaller before his eyes. Smaller, and weaker, and more afraid. “It wasn’t just mental or emotional, it got physical a lot, too. And she’s twelve years older than me. She was bigger and stronger than me… And no one ever stepped in.”

“Nev…”

She lifted one hand and touched the thin mark in her hairline. “This was one of her… she threw a rock at me one summer, it was in a clump of dirt, but she knew there was a rock... She knew. I must have been six… maybe seven. I had to have stitches. She told everyone I fell down the patio steps. She pushed me down the stairs in the house more than once. One time I landed and fractured my wrist. She used to scratch, and hit, push me into stuff, and pull my hair or put stuff in it…” Nevena sat back. She’d started scratching the backs of her hands and Cullen reached across to try and stop her. “No one did anything… I was so scared of her when I was a kid. I never understood why she hated me so much.” Her shoulders rose in a small shrug. She looked at Cullen with a grim, mirthless smile. “I guess I do now.”

“You never have to put up with her again, if you don’t want to.” Cullen slid his thumb over her knuckles. On her left hand. “She can’t get you anymore.”

“I know,” a brief smile flickered across Nevena’s lips. “It just… I was a kid. No one ever stepped in to help me. Ineria was just so perfect. Couldn’t put a foot wrong, and it was just Nevena being clumsy. Nevena has another graze on her elbow – must’ve fallen over. She’s split her lip again – obviously biting too hard. Nevena has a lot of bruises popping up on her legs and her neck – she must just be walking into things. I heard all the excuses so many times and no one listened when I said it was her.”

Cullen exhaled, his chest tight and his throat closing as though it was swollen and full. He hadn’t meant to bring up such a heavy topic from something as innocuous as a scar he never noticed before. He was under no illusion that Ineria was nasty and had been physical when Nevena was younger, he never expected the extent of it, or how people around her so obviously neglected to do anything about it.

He kissed her hand and leaned closer, pressing his forehead against the side of her temple. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s funny,” Nevena continued, quickly wiping her eyes with her hand where they had started to water, “well, not really. Morbid, actually – but I always wondered who was worse, Ineria or Rick. I would wonder if I was safer with Rick than with Ineria… I still don’t know, to this day.”

“You don’t need to think about it ever again.” Cullen explained, swallowing thickly, “you’re with me, and you’re safe. Neither of them are ever going to touch you again. Not if I can help it.”

He saw the ghost of Nevena’s smile before she closed the little space between them and kissed him. This time, he knew she kissed him, and he was taken aback by it. By the intensity of it, and how she curled her fingers into the front of his shirt while seeking to deepen the connection caught him off guard. He recognised this… This pattern. This habit. How she used physical gestures like a kiss to distract. Or perhaps she was seeking reaffirmation? He wasn’t sure what the tactic was – a form of defence maybe? – he only knew he didn’t like it. He liked kissing Nevena, that was certain, but not when there was some ulterior motive behind it.

“Holdon- hold on—“ Cullen pulled away, sitting back so she couldn’t simply pursue and kiss him again. Nevena’s gaze was confused and she bit the corner of her lip. “Why do you do that?” He kept his hands to himself, even though he wanted to reach out and offer reassurance when she began to tug at her sleeve.

“Do what?”

“That.” Cullen wafted his hand between them, “I don’t mean… After everything on Christmas day, and when you spoke to your dad… When something… difficult – for lack of a better word – comes up, you resort to kissing me or some kind of physical gesture. Why is that?”

“Why do you think?” Nevena snorted, almost rolling her eyes.

Trying not to bristle at her dismissiveness, Cullen took a slow breath. “My first thought would be it has something to do with your ex.“

“You’d be right. After every… fight, every argument, every blazing row, every event that reduced me to tears he would… The only way he said I could make things better was by… was through… sex, I guess. Eventually it grew to be a constant thing. I guess he conditioned me into it.” She sighed sharply through her nose. “He’s in practically everything I do.”

“That’s not true.”

“You don’t know what it’s like…” Nevena continued as though Cullen hadn’t spoken. She was staring into nothing, eyes wide, her expression one of utter fear as she witnessed something rising from the depths of her memory. “To be forced into-- to perform acts of-- to be… told you’re nothing. To be told that your worth is only in how you can please someone through sex. To have your own body used against you… You can’t know what it’s like to tend the bruises and the soreness and the cuts when he’s finally asleep or when he’s left. To train yourself to cry in silence so he doesn’t get angry again…” Tears in her watering eyes spilled down her cheeks. “What it’s like to hate yourself.”

A sense of disgust over took all of Cullen’s senses. Anger mixing with it, turning into a rage he controlled with deep breathing. Whatever Nevena was remembering he couldn’t take it away. He hated that. Hated how he couldn’t erase the pain of her past. He hated how was the one to cause her to remember this pain and this anguish. More than anything, he despised that man who put her through it all in the first place. The man who drew blood. The man who forced her into anything, who turned Nevena into someone who was afraid and trapped. He made her believe all her value lay in her body and what she could do to satisfy him when nothing could be further from the truth. Cullen swallowed his anger, his disgust, forcing it down like bitter bile and centring his mind on more calming thoughts.

He touched Nevena’s hand, and she started blinking hard and quickly glancing around the room. “Nev—"

“I’ll try not to… If we have serious conversations.” She interrupted, pulling her hand away and wiping her cheeks. “I’ll try not to resort to,” she waved her hand vaguely, “that.”

Cullen wasn’t sure where her head was. Wasn’t sure if she was angry, insulted, embarrassed or afraid. Her expression betrayed nothing, and her voice was still when she spoke, almost robotic. He reached out towards her, but she moved out of his reach as she got to her feet. “I wasn’t trying to—“

“I know.” She replied, picking up the manuscript from the floor.

“Nevena,” Cullen got to his feet and followed her. “Talk to me. I don’t want you to bottle things up.”

“I’m not. There’s nothing to talk about. It’s a thing I do. It annoys you, I won’t do it again.” The sharpness in her voice surprised him.

“It doesn’t annoy me.” He said more gently, following her to the dressing table where she placed the manuscript down. He kept some distance between them, making sure not to crowd her and held his arms by his sides, his posture as relaxed as possible. “I asked only because I was curious if there was a reason.”

“You can pretty much put a lot of my weird behaviour down to Rick.”

“We should talk about it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Hey Freckles, is Curly in there with you?” Varric’s voice came through the door accompanied by a quick knocking. Nevena turned to face the door, briefly exchanging glances with Cullen.

“Yeah, he’s in here with me.”

“Okay, well – whenever you two are ready, Josephine and Dorian are waiting to meet you to talk about plans for the library. They’re going to be leaving after the fireworks go off, so you’ve got a bit of time.”

“Alright, thanks Varric. We’ll be down in a sec.”

“Take your time.”

Cullen listened for the sound of Varric disappearing down stairs but any footsteps were drowned out by the music and conversation filtering up the stairs and audible through the door and the floor. He and Nevena stood in a heavy, stagnant silence, Nevena staring at the door while Cullen watched her. After a few moments of nothing but breathing, he saw her square her shoulders and take a deep breath – as he had seen her do before in Haven. Was she putting on the same face here?

“We should go and talk to these people. We’re being rude.” She left the room without another word, leaving their conversation unfinished and unsaid words hanging cold and empty in the air. Lingering in the bedroom wasn’t helping in the least. Cullen could only hope that later, perhaps the following day with the New Year fresh as newly fallen snow, he and Nevena might be able to finish what they started and begin making new habits.

Fun fact of the day: this chapter almost made me give up on this fic. I was stuck on this chapter for what felt like months. In fact, I think it was months. I wasn't sure the direction I wanted to go, and every time I tried to write it, I just got stumped. I eventually had to take a break from writing the fic. I think I was burned out a bit and needed to take time to figure it out. So, it's lucky that I wrote ahead of myself and kept plenty of buffer chapters!

That said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter (as much as you can, at least). The nice fluffy start and the... less fluffy ending. Poor Cullen... and poor Nevena. They never quite seem to get a break, do they? To be fair, it was necessary for Cullen to say something about the way she handled stress. It wasn't the most healthy, but I doubt he imagined it would unleash such a can of worms.

Do you think Cullen did the right thing in bringing up her coping mechanism? Do you think Nevena might have over-reacted a touch? Varric getting Josephine and Dorian involved - helpful or interfering? How do you think this is going to get resolved? Would you want to be a guest at a New Year's Eve party hosted by Varric? I sure would.

Please, please let me know what you think in the comments, in tags or in reblogs or on AO3 if you prefer to read there. 

Your comments and readership genuinely mean the world to me, and I know this fic is a slog. I know the chapters are long and the updates are really sporadic - I really do appreciate the people who come back and read the new chapters, and who reread chapters, and who leave their thoughts. It's so important to me as a writer to get your feedback. Without it, I'm basically screaming into the void, so please never feel like you're a bother for commenting, or that your comments don't mean anything. They do. They keep writers driven and they feed us. And you matter. I mean that emphatically. You matter, not just as a reader and a commenter, but as a person. And when you comment, we get to make a connection, person to person. And that's wonderful!

So, please let me know your thoughts. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you in the next update. - Bluster

[ladynorbert]

Hey ladynorbert!! This is your Wintersend secret Santa lady. I have been watching you from afar (in a totally non-creepy way I promise) and I've noticed you're a really avid writer. I would like to therefore make you an art. I know your fave pairing is Varric/Bethany, so I was wondering if you could write a little bit about why? And how you characterize Bethany in your head. I don't know much about them and DA2 is probably my least-played game. So anything you might share would be so helpful!

MY MOMENT HAS ARRIVED. SOMEONE ACTUALLY WANTS ME TO TALK ABOUT MY LOVE FOR THIS OTP. MANY APOLOGIES TO THE REST OF YOU BECAUSE THIS IS A SUBJECT ON WHICH I HAVE A LOT TO SAY AND RARELY GET THE OPPORTUNITY TO SAY IT.

Let’s see, where do I begin?

[Editor’s note: With me, obviously. I’m right here.]

Ah yes, excellent point, voice in my head that never quite goes away.

Varric Tethras is a member of the Dwarven Merchants’ Guild, though not entirely by choice I suspect. He’s rich, he’s well-connected, he’s charming, he’s cultured. I am deeply attached to him because there are many things we have in common - we both had an alcoholic parent whose drunken rages were a defining part of our childhoods, we both write stories which are strangely well-received, we both prefer to be by the fire, we are both intensely loyal to those who have earned our loyalty, and we both like pretty much everybody until they give us a reason not to like them.

Varric has a very painful past for a number of reasons. The Tethras family was always, in many ways, more like a business than a family; his official biography (for the DA tabletop RPG) even says that his older brother Bartrand always treated him more like a colleague than a sibling. His father died when he was a toddler; his mother was a drunk; and his brother cared more about making money than anything. He had a torrid love affair with another dwarf, and Inquisition makes it clear that there’s still some lingering feeling, but she broke off the plan to elope and instead went through with the marriage her parents arranged for her. 

Basically, I feel like for years, all Varric knew about love was that it hurt you in one way or another. Then he met the Hawkes.

Bethany Hawke is the youngest of the three Hawke siblings. In the games where she survives the prologue, she’s already lost her father to the Blight and her twin brother to an ogre. She’s also an apostate mage, so she’s spent most of her life hiding from Templars and trying to conceal what she really is. Despite hardship and personal anguish, however, she’s an incredibly sweet, warm-hearted, generous person. (In games where she dies, Hawke tells Anders that Bethany never turned away anyone who needed her help.) If she goes to the Circle (which is where I always send her, because becoming a Grey Warden makes her miserable), she becomes highly regarded even by the Templars and is given a position of authority over younger student mages. 

She loves her family, she cares deeply for her friends, and she’s kind to practically everyone. As a result, she’s the only companion besides Varric who is liked by everyone else in Hawke’s personal circle. Even Fenris, who absolutely despises mages on principle, develops a strong affection for Bethany as well as respect for her mastery of her magic.

So that brings us to why do you ship it? Frankly, there’s so much ship tease inherent in their interactions that I have a hard time believing that the devs didn’t intend us to ship it. Here’s what I’ve observed.

1) Varric gives nicknames to everyone in his social circle (except Hawke and Aveline, and later the Inquisitor). By and large, these are either superficial (Blondie, Elf, Curly) or sarcastic (Tiny, Junior, Chuckles). Bethany’s is one of the few exceptions to that rule. Bethany’s nickname is Sunshine. It’s clearly affectionate.

2) Varric has several lines in which he talks about the sun. One of these is in a party banter with Bethany herself; she asks him about the Tethras family being Orzammar nobility, and he concludes his thoughts on the matter by saying that part of the reason he prefers the surface is because “it’s sunnier here”. He also tells Hawke, in a possible cutscene dialogue, that he was born on the surface and is perfectly happy about it because “Sunshine suits me just fine.” Plus, his final tarot card in Inquisition is literally The Sun. 

Sunshine is one of Varric’s favorite things. He named Bethany after something he loves.

3) When he first meets the Hawke siblings, Varric is very suave and charming toward Hawke because he wants Hawke to go along with his plan for the expedition. But when he starts talking to Bethany, his tone of voice changes. I don’t know how to explain it - he’s not quite flirting, but he’s damn close to it.

4) Varric snarks at everybody. Everybody. It’s just how he relates to people. But he’s never snarky toward Bethany. His voice is always full of fondness when he talks to her.

5) Bethany rarely laughs. But when she does, it’s either Hawke or Varric causing it - and her laugh for Varric sounds way more like a flirty giggle than anything.

6) If Bethany dies in the Deep Roads, Varric is devastated. I mean full-on crushed. (Props to Brian Bloom, because his voice acting brought me to tears. “Oh, Sunshine.”) And he continues to hate himself for years because of it… clicking on him during Act 2, which is set three years later, will sometimes prompt him to say “Poor Sunshine… Bartrand will pay for her death, I promise you.” 

7) Bring Varric and Bethany as companions for either/both of the DLC campaigns, then try to tell me that there’s not something there.

(a) Legacy has less flirting, probably because of the seriousness of the situation. Regardless of when it’s done, Bethany is so upset by what’s happened that it shows on her face. If the DLC is done in Act 1, Varric actually thinks she’s ill because she looks so upset, and he’s worried. If it’s done in 2 or 3 with Circle!Bethany, she’s understandably freaked out because the Carta actually attacked her in the Circle, and only the presence of Templars saved her. Varric’s remarks to her are soothing, reassuring, and a little bit teasing (which gets her to laugh). And even if it’s done with Warden!Bethany, there’s something there - he flat out tells her that it’s good to see her, and he’s the only companion toward whom she can’t be cold.

(b) Mark of the Assassin, though… bring Varric and Circle!Bethany. He straight up hits on her. First there’s this interaction where she’s fussing about her clothes.

“I can’t believe I wore this to the Chateau. Maker, what was I thinking?”

“That it’s the uniform of the Circle and you could make a burlap sack look good?”

“It’s hardly the height of fashion.”

“You would kill these people if you wore the height of fashion.”

Later, when they’re running around in the dungeons trying to find Hawke and Tallis, he makes a comment about the quickness of her stride. She quips back at him, rather playfully, and he says, “There’s my Sunshine.” That single line is spoken in absolutely the warmest and sweetest voice we ever hear him use in either game where he appears. 

8) In Act 1, after the Hawkes have reclaimed Grandfather Amell’s will, Varric has party banter in which he addresses Bethany as “Milady Sunshine” (making her giggle) and also “my lady.” Coupled with the “my Sunshine” line mentioned above, that’s a lot of possessive pronouns, Varric. She is literally the only character in any of the games whom he ever calls “my” anything other than “my friend.”

9) Like the rest of the DAII companions, Varric makes comments when someone falls in battle. If that someone happens to be Bethany, his reaction is very interesting. The line itself is a bit of gold - “Hold on, Sunshine, I’m coming!” - but the tone of voice is especially delightful. It manages to sound equal parts reassuring and really pissed off, like whatever took her down is going to pay dearly for touching her.

10) If she’s still alive in Inquisition, Varric has several lines in which he indicates that he writes to her frequently. He also has a very interesting line if Bethany went to the Circle and is still alive as of Inquisition; following the events of the quest “Here Lies the Abyss”, he may have party banter with Cassandra in which she inquires, “And Hawke’s sister - she’s still alive, isn’t she?” Varric’s response is to say, in a slightly hostile tone, “Better be!”

So why do I ship it? In shortest form, they are both generous people who give a lot to others. They both care a lot about other people, sometimes even when they know it’s not the wisest thing. Most of all, their interactions make it very clear that, romantically or otherwise, they genuinely love each other. Theirs is a warm, honest, mutually respectful relationship and I think that they could really be happy together in a healthy way. And after the amount of crap they’ve both survived, I really want them to be happy.

For more stuff like this, come to @sunny-stories - it’s the greatest boat in the history of boats.

Thank you so much for the ask, anon! I look forward to whatever beautiful gift you decide to craft for me - I’m sure I will love it!

[ryik-the-writer]

Laughter in the Walls pt. 1/2

Title: Laughter in the Walls

Rating: T

Word Count: 6575

Notes/Summary: Belle and her son Gideon move into an old house in Storybrooke to begin a fresh start. However, they find their home already occupied by a “residential haunter”.

I was having so much fun with this but I didn’t have enough time to make it as long as I wanted it to be so it’s a bit quick-paced. Still, I tried to keep it organized and tried to give it a happy ending (spoiler). Hope you all enjoy!

Side note: there’s mentions of suicide in the second chapter so please be weary.

Prompt used: Haunted House

A03

-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-

“Well?” Belle inquired with a sunny smile as she pulled the Cadillac into her and her son’s new home.

Gideon French glanced up from his phone to survey the decrepit house his mother was “forcing” him to move into. If he were still in his goth phase he would have appraised her choice, but since he’d reverted back to society’s acceptable standards for well over six months, he found the house before him a dump.

“It’s great. I hope the rats plan to split the water bill.”

Belle gave her son an indulgent look and stepped out of the car. Her son had had a rough year and she knew he needed to let his steam off in choppy sarcastic remarks, which she allowed as long as he didn’t cross the line ].

“It’s got so much potential.” Belle encouraged as she intertwined her arm with her son’s. “It’s the oldest house on the east coast, nearly 150 years old. Oh look at these stained-glass windows!” She arched on her tiptoes to give her boy a kiss on the cheek. “And most importantly, it’s all ours.”

Gideon allowed his mother to pull him to the porch, watching his step just in case the ancient wood gave way.  He reached out to peel a line of curling pain from the wall.

“What color is this, digested Pepto-Bismol?”

“I think it’s called salmon. And don’t do that.” She ordered, pulling his hand back.

“Is the paint holding this house together?” Gideon quipped.

Belle sighed, the exhaustion of the six-hour drive and her son’s overall pessimism dampening her cheery mood.  

Gideon glanced at her defeated look and forced a supporting smile.

“It’s great mom, really. It’s just…different. I need a little time to get used to it.”

Belle smiled and rested her weary head against his arm. She really had a great son despite everything.

Belle had gotten pregnant at a rather early age by her then boyfriend Will Scarlet. The look of disappointment on her mother’s face when she told her parents made Belle blush with shame even 17 years later. Will, despite being impulsively immature, agreed to support her in whatever she decided to do. With her mother’s vague advice to “do the brave thing”, Belle decided to keep the baby. Will unfortunately couldn’t kick into his paternal instincts and he and Belle separated quietly. Other than a few sporadic child-support payments, he hadn’t kept in contact with Belle or his son.

Belle and Gideon moved in with Belle’s parents and found contentment in their small family and lived comfortably for many years. It wasn’t until the sudden death of the French family matriarch that the peaceful existence shattered. Mr. French sold his house and moved back to the family home in Australia to grieve, and rather than make her son start over in a whole new country, Belle took her half of the money and started looking for a new place to live.

It was during a grueling night of research that she came across an opened librarian’s position in a town called Storybrooke, Maine. A few more clicks and she discovered a house for sale in the same area. It was too good to be true, especially when she saw that the house was priced at just what was in her budget.

Gideon had been less enthusiastic about leaving the city but had no choice but to follow his mother into the unknown.

“A fresh paint of coat and curtains and it’ll be good as new.” Belle promised.

Gideon sighed. “If you say so mum.”

A loud pop broke the two from their musing. They turned to see a Ford truck pull in just behind the Cadillac, a petite woman with long black hair rushing out, nearly dropping the load of files she was carrying.

“Hi!” she greeted breathlessly, stopping at the first step. “Sorry I’m late!”

“No problem.” Belle assured. “You must be the real estate agent.”

The woman nodded and extended her hand. “Mary Margaret Nolan, it’s nice to meet you!”

Belle shook her hand and nodded towards her son. “This is my son Gideon.”

“Oh how nice.” Mary Margaret smiled. “You’re about the same age as my son.” She turned back towards the truck. “Neal!”

The passenger door of the truck opened and a blond teen stepped out, removing his headphones unpleasantly.

A series of looks was shot between the two before the boy stomped up the stairs beside Mrs. Nolan.

“This is my son, Neal.” Mary Margaret introduced through clenched teeth and strangely putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from going up the steps. “He’s…helping me today.”

“You mean I’m your prisoner for today.” Neal muttered.

“Neal.” Mary Margaret growled in a warning tone Belle recognized from any mother. She could also recognize that Neal was trying not to roll his eyes.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Neal.” Belle jumped in.

“Ma’am.” Neal greeted, a twinge of relief in inspiring green eyes.

“This is Gideon.” Belle introduced. She glanced at her son to signal him to introduce himself but found her son staring at Neal with just a hint of blush on his sharp cheeks.

Belle contained her amused smile, knowing instantly that her son was smitten. She glanced at the Nolans, finding Mary Margaret seemingly oblivious while Neal looked down at the porch with a slight smirk on his lips.

“So anyway.”  Mary Margaret intervened, pulling a manila folder out of the stack. “Here’s a copy of the deed, the skeleton key and the spares to the garage and the basement.”

Belle took hold of the mass of keys with one hand and the deed with the others. The second her fingertips grazed the manila envelope a violent burst of wind swept over the porch, causing the papers to flee into the yard.

Neal and Mary Margaret raced down the steps to catch the papers. Just as Gideon and Belle were about to help them, the wind shifted, causing the old house to creak and—the Frenchs would swear by it—laugh. It was a deep mocking sound, almost childlike but much more sinister.

“Well that’s not ominous at all.” Gideon said, standing a bit too closely to his mum than a 17-year-old boy usually would.

“Sorry about that.” Mary Margaret apologized as she trotted back up the stairs. “Early autumn is always when these bursts of winds pick up.”

“And the foreshadowing of doom?” Gideon deadpanned, staring at the realtor uneasily.

Mary Margaret frowned and seemed to pale a bit. “I…”

Belle stepped between her and her son. “Pay him no mind. Would you like to come in?”

“No!” Mary Margaret gasped, causing Belle and the boys to jump. “I mean…I…we can’t. We have…other houses to go to.”

Beside her Neal rolled his eyes.

“Come along Neal.” Mary Margaret said in a sickeningly sweet tone.

Neal looked like he wanted to say something but was dragged back to the truck.

Belle and Gideon stared after the car before turning back to the house. Their new home.

“It’s not too late to buy plane tickets to Australia.” Gideon told his mother. “Maybe I’ll like the Outback.”

Belle almost agreed with him, but her mother’s words rang through her mind.

Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.

It had worked when she was pregnant, it would work with her new home.

“A little wind isn’t going to scare me away. Come on, let’s see what the inside looks like.”

“Oh come on!” Gideon whined as Belle dragged him through the front door.

Luckily the inside of the house wasn’t nearly as disastrous as the outside would have it perceived, though there were some obvious problems that Belle could address just from an initial observation.

The wood floors were in need of a polishing and the walls of washing. Luckily, the furniture that had come with the house had been covered and in great condition, abet a few decades outdated.

“How about we start with paint and cleaning supplies and go from there?”

Lighting one of the decorative candelabras (which Gideon found hilariously dramatic), they headed upstairs.

“It’s colder than a politician’s heart up here!” Gideon seethed, shivering as they reached the bedrooms.

“We’ll sleep downstairs tonight by the fire.” Belle amended. “This looks like the master bedroom.”

They stepped inside, holding the candle away from the plastics covering the furniture. It was spacious enough and the bed seemed to be a good size.

Belle sat the candle on top of the dresser and led her son to the bed. Together they jumped on top of it to test the mattress, an instant mistake they realized when they nearly sunk to their deaths and choked on the dust.

Belle arched off the bed when something stabbed her thigh.

“What the…”

Gideon scooted over, feeling the mattress. “I think it’s a loose spring.”

Belle pressed down until the tip of the “spring” was pressing into her palm.

“Gideon, press the mattress down why I try to pull it out.” Belle requested.

Gideon pushed down until the tip of the object burst further from mattress. Both he and his mother were surprised to find the tip of something much thicker than a spring pointing up at them.

“It…looks like the tip of a knife.” theorized Belle. She circled the opening to stretch it out.

“You could be touching a murder weapon!” Gideon hissed.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” said Belle as she stretched the hole just enough to pull the knife out of the mattress. Belle finally presented a heavy, wavy knife that glinted in the limited light.

“Whoa.” Gideon exclaimed. “Who would hide this here?”

Belle shook her head, turning the strange knife over in her hand.

“There’s something written on it.” Belle said, feeling the shape of the indented letters.

Gideon shot around, swearing he heard a sound come from across the room.

Belle lifted the dagger to the light, tracing the letters as she sounded them out.

“Rum…ple…st…stiltskin?”

“What?”

Belle and Gideon shot around to see a man standing in the doorway. Belle quickly jumped in front of her son and Gideon gripped her shoulders.

“Who…who are you? Why are you in my house?”

“You’re house? You poor confused dear.”

The man stepped into the room, the dim lights bouncing off the strange substance on his skin. Belle stared at his strange leather clothing and scaly skin, the feel of Gideon against her back the only thing keeping her calm.

“What are you?” Gideon asked.

The corner of the man’s smirking mouth twitched.

“My my what a rude question.” The man said with a disapproving click of his tongue. “I’m not a what.”

“You sure?” Gideon muttered.

“I don’t care what you are.” Belle growled. “Get out of my house before I call the police.”

The man giggled. “Quite the waste of a call dearie.” He took a step forward and Belle pushed Gideon onto the bed, turning quickly to grab the knife from the floor and point it at the intruder.

“Stay back!”

The man stopped, his amused smirk fading quickly.

“I’ll take that!” He exclaimed, snatching the blade from her hand. “You shouldn’t play with knives dearie! You’ll get cut!”

Belle stepped firmly between her and her son, leaving just enough of a gap for him to run if things got violent.

“I don’t know who you are or how long you’ve been squatting here,” Belle spoke, “but this is our home now. You need to leave. I’ll…help you get where you need to go—”

“Seriously mom? Now is not the time to be charitable!” Gideon hissed behind her.

“But that’s it.” Belle finished.

The man smirked bitterly, leaning against the ancient dresser, rubbing the knife between his hands.

“Trust me dearie, I’d like nothing more than to leave this place. Unfortunately for us both, that’s not possible.”

“And just why not?”

He glanced briefly at the dagger straightened his stance, scoffing when Belle jumped.

“I supposed introductions are in order.” He bowed with a flourish, confusing mother and son both.

“I’m Rumplestiltskin.” He sang, the name rolling off his tongue unnaturally. He lifted his head and smirked at the duo. “Consider me your residential haunter…until you leave, that is.”

“Our what?” Belle exclaimed.

“I’m bound to this house, have been for some time.” He stated with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s mine.”

“As in bound by a contract or something?” Gideon asked.

“Or something.” Rumplestiltskin scoffed.

Belle recognized a deep-seated bitterness in his voice and almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

He was still an intruder in her home after all.

“I don’t believe this.” Belle scoffed.

“Oh believe it dearie.” Rumplestiltskin growled. “Believe it and be scared!”

“Threatening me won’t do you any good.” Belle fought.

“And denying what is happening before you won’t help you escape the inevitable, dearie!” Rumplestiltskin fought back.

“Inevitable what?” Belle shouted. “What is going on?”

Rumplestiltskin exuberantly rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time to go over every detail with you dearie!”

“Yeah you do.” Gideon said. “You just said you were a ghost.”

Rumplestiltskin glared at Gideon. “I’m real enough to teach you some manners boy!”

“No!” Belle shouted, rushing towards to tackle him. She underestimated the distance between them and tripped over the carpet. She braced for the impact of the hard floor but was shocked when she fell into a pair of cold arms, her face landing into an equally cold chest. She gasped at the feel, feeling like she was drowning in ice water. She looked up and found a surprising warmth in his wide, reptilian gold eyes, but the cold from his form was more overpowering and his hands were slowly trying to phase through her arms.

“Mom!” Gideon cried, carefully grabbed Belle at the elbows and pulling her from Rumplestiltskin’s grip.

Rumplestiltskin’s shocked looked faded quickly and he howled with laughter, smirking gleefully at her son’s glare.

“You are bold dearie, I’ll give you that. But be careful where you hurl yourself in this house. You might get hurt.”

“Mom, let’s just go before he really hurts us.” Gideon hissed in her ear.

A high-pitched maniacal sound left Rumplestiltskin’s throat. “I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to, boy. The dead can’t harm the living! What a stupid thought.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Will you just leave us alone?”

He pondered for a moment and then shrugged. “No.”

“No?”

“As I’ve said, it’s my house and I hate uninvited guests. I can’t harm you, but I won’t let you make yourselves comfortable here.”

“You think you can scare us off?” Belle scoffed.

“I know I can, and I’m going to enjoy doing it.”

With that said, her strutted past her and Belle shuttered at the coolness that followed. The moment he was past the doorway the lights went off and Belle in her son were drowned in candlelight once more.

“Son of a bitch!” Gideon gasped, falling back on his mother’s bed.

“Language.” Belle said instinctively, but her mind was focused more on the creature that had just shaken her to the core. This was unbelievable! Did Mrs. Nolan know about him? Did she really sell her a “haunted” house?

She had half a mind to march down to her office and rip her a new one, but that would hardly do her any good tonight. Tomorrow morning maybe. Tonight, she needed to unpack and figure out a game plan. There was no way that thing was going to kick her out of her new home!

Still, there was Gideon’s safety to consider.

“What do you think?” Belle asked uncertainly.

“I think it’s going to take a lot more than a coat of paint and a few curtains to fix this.”

Belle scoffed, patting her son on the back. “I mean do you want to stay somewhere else tonight? I think there’s a B&B across town.”

Gideon gave his mother a sly smirk. “You’re not afraid, are you mum?”

“I’m more annoyed than anything.” Belle admitted, flopping down on the bed. “I wanted us to have a fresh start Gideon, a new beginning. And of course, I choose a haunted house to do it in.”

A light giggle echoed through the room and Gideon scooted closer to his mum…to protect her of course.

“This is going to be a nightmare.”

Belle sat up, looking around the room that was supposed to serve as her bedroom. She had planned to move a bookshelf in here. To bring out her mother’s teal and coral quilt for the bed. She had so many plans for this place, plans to make it her and Gideon’s. Could she still do it? It was a hard decision to make when her sole priority was to keep her son safe, even if it was from a creature that couldn’t hurt him.

Gideon noticed his mother’s pensive expression and mused on what to do. As much as he’d like to hightail it to the next town and never look back, he just couldn’t let his mom go through with that. His Grandma used to tell her to do the brave thing, it was time to do the same.

“Maybe we…sleep on it?”

Belle turned to her son, her brave boy who inherited the best parts of her.

“We’ll sleep downstairs tonight.” She said, taking her boy’s hand and heading downstairs.

Just above them, Rumplestiltskin the residential haunter watched from the staircase as his new house guests prepared their selves for bed. They were a funny duo, and far braver than the other people who had run screaming into the night the second they found out their house was possessed.

He was a bit bitter that he hadn’t won on the first round, but was nowhere near ready to forfeit the challenge.

The French’s would leave, it would just take the right persuasion.

[coloursflyaway]

A Pattern Of Errors [8/ 9]

Pairing: Dirk Gently/ Todd Brotzman

Rating: T

Words: 2.647

Dirk picks Todd up for a road trip he never planned to go on, with a red cabriolet and a bright smile and a thousand places to go. And although Todd doesn’t know what he expected, he definitely gets more than he bargained for.

List of chapters

The sun sets and makes the canyon, the sky, burn orange, pink and golden. Occasionally, people pass them, but they are easy to ignore when music is flowing freely from Todd’s fingers now, soft melancholic tunes intertwining with happier ones, old ones with new songs. There are breaks in between when the scenery in front of them gets to beautiful, too breath-taking to ignore, and Todd likes them almost as much as he does the music.

Dirk listens the entire time, smiles when he recognises a melody, and Todd hopes that the other realises that all the songs are chosen with him in mind.

 By the time they walk back, the stars have overthrown the sun’s reign over the sky, shining, twinkling dots scattered across dark velvet. They look different than they did in Death Valley, different than in Vegas, where Todd almost thought them drowning between artificial suns and moons, but beautiful still. One of Todd’s hands is wrapped around the neck of his guitar, the other holding Dirk’s, who is oddly quiet, only sharing the occasional quip, short anecdote. His eyes still stray over to Todd’s face more often than not, and it’s only when they reach the car that Todd realises why.

There is no one else around, and he has just unlocked the car so he can return his new guitar to the backseat when Dirk pulls on the fingers still laced with the other’s, makes him turn around until they are face to face. In Dirk’s eyes, there is an intensity Todd is not expecting, a fierce kind of fire burning behind dark pupils, and it draws him in just like Dirk’s hands do, one finding its place on Todd’s cheek, the other staying right where it is, long fingers laced with Todd’s own.

The guitar is still in his other hand, but Todd forgets about it, because Dirk takes a step forward, another, another, until Todd cannot do anything but move backwards, trapping himself between the cool metal of the car and Dirk’s body. At no time did Todd ever have a chance to desensitise himself to Dirk looking at him like this, simmering, white-hot, still tender lust making his eyes glow, and so it hits him with full force, draining the air from his lungs.

He might have keeled over, his knees might have buckled, if Dirk would have given him just a few moments longer, but the other steps closer still, until they are pressed against each other, Dirk’s body all harsh lines and soft touches as he brings their lips together in a kiss. It isn’t like any kiss they shared this evening, all of them sweet and soft, while this is passionate, feels like Dirk is trying to set him on fire with every slide of his lips, every lick of his tongue. And it is working, because Todd feels like he’s too large for his skin, the spots where Dirk is touching him burning, tingling.

Although they are so close already, Todd presses closer still, arches his back off the metal of the car, opens his mouth to let Dirk in, who takes the opportunity, licks and nips and drives Todd insane. When he reaches for the handle of the car that leads to the cramped, cluttered backseat, yanks it open and pulls Dirk inside with him, it really is the only thing he could possibly do.

 They don’t find a motel for the night, although they fall apart together and only break away from each other after what feels like hours, sweaty and flushed and happy. It’s far too little space for the two of them, but Todd is too tired, too boneless to care, only pulls one of the blankets they still have from their trip to Death Valley up around their shoulders, enjoys the feeling of their legs tangling together, even if it means that Dirk’s sharp hipbone is digging into his side. The other’s head rolls onto Todd’s shoulder, a pleasant, comforting weight, and Todd smiles and finds Dirk’s hand under the blanket and intertwines their fingers.

“And, do you like it? The canyon?”, Todd asks, although sleep is tugging on his eyelids, and Dirk hums softly at the back of his throat, nuzzles closer. “Lots”, he mutters, brushes a kiss against Todd’s neck, a butterfly’s touch that leaves a burning mark. “But really, it’s not the canyon I like best. I liked you playing a lot. And singing.” “I noticed that.”

Todd cannot help but tease a little, a chuckle escaping him; when he looks over at Dirk with tired eyes, there is a faint flush staining his cheeks. “I didn’t hear you complaining”, Dirk answers, pouting, and Todd can’t help but grin, and kiss his own smile onto Dirk’s lips. “I never would.”

 The next morning, they find a truck stop diner and first have a shower, then breakfast, hold hands under the table while Dirk sips a cup of what he calls the worst tea in existence and Todd gulps down his third cup of coffee. It’s as perfect a morning as it could be.

 “Where do you want to go next?”, Dirk asks when they get back to the car, looking at Todd like he’d follow him to the end of the world, if Todd could find a compelling argument for it. For a moment, Todd contemplates, because there are still a hundred thousand places he would like to see, and yet nothing seems to fit, because the only thing he wants to look at is right on font of him. “I don’t know”, he answers in the end, enjoys the sun warming his back for a moment. “I don’t care. Take me anywhere, Dirk, let’s follow the universe, alright?”

 Neither of them is looking where they are going, they just go, get into the car and Dirk starts driving, takes a left, then a right, a right again, and Todd grabs his hand somewhere in between, wonders for the first time in days how he ever managed to get this used to Dirk’s driving. And yet he did: his heart doesn’t stop anymore when Dirk takes a particularly harsh turn, only when they honestly, literally almost die. “I never expected this”, he tells Dirk without meaning to, the words just spill from his lips, fall and tumble and soar, make Dirk look over at him with soft, blue eyes. He looks a little bit confused, and Todd cannot blame him; he is, too. “I don’t mean the trip – no, wait, I mean that too, but what I really mean is… this. That I’d feel like this around anyone. Comfortable, I guess, and strangely safe, considering that we literally almost died a few minutes ago. So yeah. Thank you for that.”

It might not be the most romantic of confessions, might not even be a confession at all, but it makes Dirk smile and leaves Todd happier, and he means it, he does.

“I didn’t expect it either”, Dirk says, and looks back to the road, just so manages to prevent them from crashing against a road sign. “Not when I came here, not even when I met me in that hotel corridor and he told me you’d be my best friend. I mean, I hoped for it, naturally, or at least something close to this, but I never would have dared to expect it. And really, I didn’t… how to say this, I didn’t know what I hoped for. I had this hazy sort of concept of how a friendship could work, but nothing more. And I am glad for it, somehow.” Dirk pauses, everything around them silent, except for the rumbling of the engine, and Todd imagines he can feel Dirk’s heartbeat through the other’s skin.

“I like that this is the first time. That you’re the first friend I ever had, that you’re the first I… well. I had this with. It makes it feel like all this waiting and hoping was worth it, because you’re you and I wouldn’t want anyone else.” Their eyes meet for a split-second, and Dirk looks radiant and sincere, and it’s an I love you as well, another one, which makes Todd’s heart swell and his mind wonder how many of them he might have missed before this trip.

“You’re not my first anything”, Todd says, and knows that it could sound cold, cruel, hopes that it doesn’t. “But I really, really wish you were.”

 They stop nowhere at all, a town that is hardly anything but a smudge of houses across the landscape, has nothing to offer but a diner, a small supermarket and an incredibly tiny motel, where they rent a room from a disgruntled looking lady, who hardly puts down her cigarette long enough to hand them their keys. The room looks like it too, shabby and old-fashioned and yet like it used to be lovely a few decades ago, and Dirk looks completely out of place with his sunny smile and the worn duffle bag in his hand.

“Isn’t this wonderful?”, Dirk asks and Todd would think he’s being sarcastic if he didn’t know the other man so well by now. “Not… really”, he still replies, knowing that the words lack their bite, like they do so often these days. The guitar is a comforting weight in his hand and he sets it down carefully, eyes lingering on the messy drawings for a few more seconds. “It’s a bit shit, to be honest. But it has a bed and I really hope that there is a bathroom hidden behind that door, so I’m fine, I guess.” “A bit more enthusiasm, Todd! We are on the road, free as birds, together, what more could we want?”

If he puts it like this, of course, it is hard to argue with Dirk, so Todd doesn’t even try, just sighs and walks over, gets onto his tip-toes and presses their lips together, a kiss that is just barely that. Dirk is still smiling and it’s infectious. When Todd pulls back, he’s smiling too.

 They could go out again, look at whatever else the dusty streets and run down houses around have to offer, maybe even try their hand at grocery shopping, but instead, they stay right where they are. Todd fires off a text to Amanda, asking how she has been, while Dirk calls Farah. She’s in Belize, visiting Lydia, and Todd presses close and closer until he can hear her talk, too. Her voice sounds tinny through the speaker, yet still familiar, and Todd relishes in the knowledge that he has her too, somehow, even while the heat of Dirk’s skin against his makes it hard to concentrate.

At one point, Todd answers a question she asks, because he’s not thinking, dizzy with their closeness, and Farah stops, even if just for a moment; Todd can listen to the cogs in her head turning, knows that he has given them away, and yet doesn’t care the slightest. There is a hitch in her breath and she has figured it out, knows what has changed between them, and it’s a strange thing, acceptance given without being asked for. It makes it feel more official, some kind of benediction, and Dirk shifts, completely oblivious. Todd brushes a kiss to his cheek, soft and sweet, which makes Dirk stumble over the next few words.

“A-Anyway”, Dirk says, and Todd cannot help but kiss the line of his jaw, the soft skin just beneath it, nip at the other’s pulse point. “I hope you have fun, Farah, and tell Lydia that we said hello, and we wish her a very nice, human time in Belize. If you need anything at all, from me or from – from Todd, just say a word. Alright, I’ve got to run now, there’s – something has come up. Very important. Yes. Goodbye!” The longer he speaks, the faster the words flow from Dirk’s lips, brushing up against each other until they get jumbled together, almost impossible to understand. If Farah does get it, Todd never finds out, because his lips are still brushing across Dirk’s skin, tasting a hint of sweat, and Dirk disconnects the call, puts aside the phone without looking.

One long-fingered hand finds its way into Todd’s short hair, fingernails scratching across his scalp, making him sigh softly. He lets his lips part, sucks a kiss to Dirk’s jaw, then another to the corner of his lips, before he kisses him properly. It takes a moment until Dirk responds, bites at Todd’s bottom lip, and there is a comfortable familiarity to the sensation, to the taste of Dirk’s lips. He slides onto Dirk’s lap, uses one of his hands to start undoing the buttons of Dirk’s shirt. By now, he’s used to the motions, his fingers almost working on their own volition, and Todd can feel every flick of Dirk’s tongue heating up the blood flowing through his veins further.

His fingertips brush across bare skin, and Dirk makes a soft, almost desperate sound against his lips, and Todd lets himself fall into this head-first, with everything he has, kisses Dirk with all the passion he harbours in his chest and knows that he will lose himself in the other within moments.

He does.

 It’s a few hours later and they have abandoned the blankets they could have wrapped around themselves, lie together on the bed, legs tangled and fingers intertwined. Todd’s head is nestled in the crook of Dirk’s neck, feathery strands of auburn hair tickling his skin, and Dirk’s pulse beating sweetly against his cheek. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me”, Dirk whispers like he is telling a secret, and Todd knows him well enough to know that he’s close to falling asleep. It should be the most beautiful thing to hear, because Dirk is happy and sated and comfortable, and yet Todd can only think about how wrong this is.

He loves Dirk, he does, cherishes every look the other sends him, every smile and every little laugh, feels his own self ignite when he is close to Dirk, who seems to shine so brightly in almost every sense of the word. And it’s because of that why Dirk’s words hurt, make it hard to breathe, because Todd knows Dirk, but he knows himself even better. There was a time when he was an even worse person, but he’s still a frayed, broken, fractured mess of a man, held together by his love for Amanda, for Dirk, the knowledge that he can’t disappoint them again, and the thought that he could possibly be the best aspect of anyone’s life, let alone Dirk’s, is painful.

Because Dirk deserves anything at all, deserves things Todd can give and some he won’t ever be able to; deserves sunshine and affection and honesty, not just a good man, but someone better still. Someone who is strong enough to protect and tender enough to heal the wounds still left on the other’s soul, someone as sweet as the milkshakes the other is addicted to and with as vast a capacity for love as Dirk has himself. Someone who’d never thought of calling Dirk a monster and never would push him away, someone who’d deserve the boundless adoration Dirk gives Todd so freely. Someone who’s better than Todd in almost every way, because that is what Dirk is, too.

He cannot move, although he wants to, frozen by the shock of sudden realisation, the blood that had flowed freely before stopping and clogging in Todd’s veins, congealing with guilt, resignation, shame. Dirk loves him too, but it’s no love he deserves, just love that has been given, and with a start and a heart that prepares to break, Todd realises that maybe, the good, the right thing would be to let Dirk go.