#im doing fine but school ending has given me a huge wave of relief that made me realize that i was way too stressed at the time

[tinyjordan]

kinda totally forgot that it's may the fourth (star wars day). as a star wars fan I'm kinda disappointed in myself for forgetting, but also im hella fucking tired so i get it

[stevesharrlngtons]

picking out the stitches.

roman godfrey x reader 

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

word count: 14.1k (oopies)

warning: mentions of an abusive father

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

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

Tuna, turkey and swiss, BLT. 

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

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

“(Y/N)?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? And who told you that?” 

“Destiny.” 

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

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

You roll your eyes at the compliment. 

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

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

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

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

“Enlighten me anyway.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is usually the deal, yes.” 

“So?”

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

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

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

“Still, he was your dad.” 

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

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

You purse your lips and sigh.

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

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

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

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

“Four forty, even.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter belows a raspberry in response. 

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

“I just find that hard to believe.”

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

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

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

“Apologies.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well huge fight is an understatement.” 

“Then what happened?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not in name or blood.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Off the premise.” Olivia chimed in curtly. 

“Excuse me?” Roman spat. 

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

“This is beyond fucking ridiculous!” 

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

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

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

“Tomorrow would be-” 

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

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

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

“I love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since when?” 

“Since now.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With you. Yes.” 

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

“Shee-it.” Peter said, looking sick. 

“Shee-it, indeed.” You nod. 

“So, that was it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

“New York that good, then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never again.” 

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

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

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

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

“Got it. Thank you, Peter.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Roman continued to keep it open. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already have.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you don’t mind.” 

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

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

Anything Roman did to you was heaven. 

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

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

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

“Yeah, I heard she was seeing someone.” 

“You know if he’s any good?” 

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

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

He was already looking at you. 

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

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

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

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

“So… how’s NYU?” He prompts. 

“Good. I really like it.” 

“Enjoying your studies?” 

“Very much.” 

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not really.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not really an answer…” he murmurs. 

“Not really your business.” You counter. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Ask you what?” 

“If I’m seeing anyone.” 

“I don’t care, Roman.” 

“Really?” He leans closer to you.

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

“How would you define it?” 

“Different from you.” 

“Oh come on,” He pokes, “Tell me.”

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

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

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

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

Roman doesn’t answer. 

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

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

“(Y/N), I…” 

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

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

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

“I need to apologize to you.”

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

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

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

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

“So it is option C.” You replied. 

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

“Yes, I did. I do.”

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

“I already concluded that.” 

He scoffs.

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

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

“Then why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just tell me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me why you hurt me first.” 

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

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

“I’ve got time.” 

“It’s not pretty.” 

“I don’t care.”

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

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

Of the loss.

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

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

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

“You don’t believe me?” 

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

Roman raises his eyebrows in understanding with a slight nod. 

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

“Stop making jokes.” He growled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At the time, yes.”

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

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

“Stop, Roman...” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What time is the funeral?” He asked. 

“10 AM.” You replied. 

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

“I’ll be there.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was over. 

Then why were you so sad? 

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

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

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

He’d come. 

Because he cared. 

Because he loved you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you loved him for it.

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

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

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

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

“It’s OK. You have time.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What now?” 

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

“Wherever you are.” 

You smile, “Then take me there.” 

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

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

“I like it,” You said, “It’s very…” 

“You hate it.” 

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Vodka cranberry?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it really isn’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You listened to Roman with baited breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your father threw a smarmy grin to Olivia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

It was the first time you realized you loved him. 

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

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

“I forgive you.” You really did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My baby,” He said to your skin. 

“My girl,” He groaned. 

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

“Mine, mine, mine,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman’s jaw flexes and you watch him swallow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Roman,” You sigh. 

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

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

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

Your eyes filmed with tears as you watch him. 

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

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

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

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

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

“But what? How is that not enough!”

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

“Not even me?” His lip quivers. 

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

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

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

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

“Baby,” You choke out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Roman, just-” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” 

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

“I love the city…” 

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

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

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

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

“Just tell me you’ll stay.”

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

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

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

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

“Ok.”

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

[cythieus]

Any Port in a Storm Part I

Peach’s thin fingers leafed through the pages pinned to the clipboard, her eyes scanning the information in each blank and bubble. The lanyard, that she had gotten to fight her bad habit of losing pens, had actually ended up nudging her toward a new propensity to chew on them. She fought the instinct for now and at least she was always sure where the pens were.

She flipped to the front page, her vision tracing a path over the patient name and general information. Slipping the clipboard neatly into the slot at the footboard of the bed, she let the pen drop from her mouth to hang from her neck and dipped her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. The coat was such a shade of pink that it seemed it might have once been white and was just washed with something red by accident. She never replied to inquiries about whether its color was intended or not.

“Your charts are trending really well, Mr. Meeks,” Peach said. “The swelling has dropped off tremendously and you’re more alert than you were just a few hours ago.” She was sure to flash a smile, but she didn’t let it linger on her face for long. This visit wasn’t all good news.

Meeks replied with words too garbled to mean anything to anyone other than him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke, letting Peach know the desperation behind whatever it was he was trying to get across. It was to be expected that speech would suffer given the severity of the stroke.

“I know that you’ve got a lot of questions,” she said. “I will be here to answer them as soon as things are a little better,” Peach said stepping around to the side of his bed. Her hand touched his forehead and she smoothed back the dark brown hair plastered to his skin.

“I’ll come around and check on you in a bit,” Peach said. It was best not to give exact times, the expectation might of her showing up might upset him and his mind was still foggy. There was no telling if he would be napping when she came back or if he would remember this conversation all that clearly. These first few days were bound to be a haze, but there could be some crucial developments too.

She waved curtly at him before turning to leave the room through the wide, mauve colored door. There was a sink in the center of this wing of the hospital, just across from the nurses station. She washed her hands in it, rolling up the sleeves of her coat to scrub halfway up to her elbows. A small group doctors and nurses passed, walking in a tight group and talking in hushed tones.

The whole world was hushed tones. It had been a sixteen hour shift so far and though there were times where she could take a short rest, most of her time had been spent on her feet. It would be several weeks before there were any relief either.

Absently, she dipped into the on-call room to grab a cup of water and just rest in one of the huge plush chairs. Peach didn’t know exactly when her eyes shut or for how long she was out. If someone had needed her they knew where to check on days like this. That was part of the problem.

“Peaches!”

Daisy’s excited scream was enough to rouse Peach, but not enough for her to open her eyes. Maybe if she pretended to be sleep Daisy would move on or was that bears…

“Wow, you smarmy bitch, I know you hear me,” Daisy said.

Peach could hear Daisy’s footsteps as she crossed the on-call room. The light from the hallway cut through her eye lids, causing a dull pain in the front of her forehead.

“The whole floor can hear you,” Peach said finally, shutting her eyes tighter against the light.

“Heard you were in here.” Daisy was standing right over her now, half-silhouetted by the light pouring in through the door. She wore a loud orange, yellow and white sundress with a frilly skirt and high heels. She always stood out against the beige and white tones that lined the halls of this hospital.

“Are you working today?” Peach asked.

Daisy cracked a little smile, her bronze skin had a luster to it even in the in the darkness of this room. “I’m always working, but no, I’m here seeing Luigi. I’ll be on the road for a bit with this new launch coming up, I might not get to see him for a while.”

“Do you need the room?” Asked Peach.

With a flick of her hand Daisy dismissed the question. “Nah,” she said before she folded her arms over her chest. “If we’re going to screw in this dreary place I’d rather do it in one of the empty rooms in the children’s wing.”

“You’re the worst,” Peach said.

“I know, but the little pictures of parading Goombas and Mushroom people they plaster on the sides of the beds make me smile,” Daisy said.

They had both gone through medical school together. Long before even that they were best friends, in fact Daisy they had known each other since before either of them could talk, but part of the way through their residency Daisy had chosen a different route in the industry: she was a sales rep for Gadd Pharmaceutical. It was her job to travel the region and teach hospital staff about new drugs or update them on treatment options afforded to them by drugs available to them.

Peach yawned, her arms and legs jerking out out so that she could stretch. There was no point trying to get Daisy to filter herself. “Have you found him yet?”

Daisy shook her head. “No, but I saw your little boy toy,” Daisy said giving the front of Peach’s chair a series of rapid kicks.

“Stop it,” Peach said, her fingers pressed against the sides of the bridge of her nose out of sheer frustration.

“He always asks about you and, like, he works in this place with you. How’s that going?” Daisy asked.

“I don’t fraternize like that here--” Peach said.

“—you’re definitely not fraternizing anyone and haven’t for a while. When was the last time you went out?” Daisy asked.

Peach sighed. “Half your job is taking people out and buttering them up,” she said. “It’s different in here.”

“You’re not only in here though, Peach. I might as well buy you a big crate of D-batteries and four weird cats so you can just settle down to be one of those old women who’s only source of sexual tension is the weird bag boy at the grocery store.”

“Hey, my life has sexual tension!” Okay, maybe that was too loud.

“There’s more sexual tension in nursery rhymes without people in them,” Daisy said. She crossed the room and poured herself a cup of coffee. Then she produced a small flask from a pocket hidden in the ruffles of her dress and poured a splash in with her coffee. “Talk to Mario. We can go on double dates.”

Daisy took a sip of coffee and then dumped the rest of the flask in. “We’ll be dating twins. Twins that are doctors. We could swap stories about them over mimosas and you can tell me if I’m right about Mario’s crank—“

“—Ew, Daisy no. I don’t—I don’t have time for those things right now.”

“Meow.” Daisy said after another, longer drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Meow,” Daisy said again. “I’m going to meow like a cat when you make excuses for not having a life. I’ll come to your apartment and just slap your stuff off shelves and pee in your shoes too until you get your personal life together.”

“You know I have other friends, right?”

“Sure you do.”

“Luigi and I get along well. And Doctor Bowser is a little, extra, but he seems nice and he always rushes any pathology results when I really need them.”

Daisy laughed. “I wonder why,” she said smiling as she tilted the cup up to her mouth again. “I notice that you’re not mentioning Mario in all of this.”

“Mario and I are…just fine. Why are you so concerned with all of this?” Asked Peach.

“You’re so happy,” Daisy said. “I mean I want you to be happy.” She took another big gulp of coffee. “But you’re happier every time I see you.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I just loved work?” Asked Peach.

Daisy shrugged, her blue eyes fixated down on her cup. “It smells bad here, like all of the time and people…people die,” she whispered the last part.

A little chuckle escaped Peach, she was sure it was not out of crassness, but other than that couldn’t tell where it came from. “The work is very hard. Occasionally I lose a patient or I have a really bad day, but my day is never as bad as the ones these people and their families are going through. And more often than not I get to make sure their day gets better…and that they have more days at all.”

Daisy eyed her for a long enough time that she was able to take several more sips of coffee. “You’re hiding something. I’m just here to let you know Peaches, I’ve known you too long for you to outsmart me for long. Im going to go find my man, you want the rest of this?” Daisy held her coffee cup down to show Peach the bit of dark coffee sloshing around at the bottom.

Peach shook her head. “Can’t drink—I need to be alert; I could use some food. It’s been hours since I’ve eaten anything.”

“I’d love to grab lunch with you, but we’d have to—“

Peach cut her off. “—no, you’re here to see Luigi. I’ll be fine,” Peach said.

“Are you sure?” Asked Daisy as she tossed her cup and the remainder of the coffee and liquor mix into the trash.

With a little smirk plastered on her face, Peach nodded.

Daisy closed the gap between them and reached out to touch Peach’s forehead, her thumb brushing back the flyaway bangs that were too short to make it into Peach’s haphazard bun. Daisy swept a blonde tendril of hair back behind Peach’s ear. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” said Peach.

Daisy bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “See you later, love.”

She was careful to close the patient’s door before starting up, but the entire time Peach kept eye contact with Lemmy. He was one of the newer nurses in this part of the hospital, but he had worked in other places supposedly. She really didn’t know him that well, he hadn’t been around long enough. Peach knew she had to nip this in the bud.

“Why am I seeing that you held my patient down and started a Phenytoin drip?” Peach asked.

Lemmy was an odd looking man, even for a Koopa. He had rainbow colored, dyed hair and his eyes were a little crossed. His arms seemed too long for his body, like he had to bend them awkwardly when he scratched the back of his head. “It’s one of the most common anti-seizure medications.”

“Maybe sixty years ago. It’s never a first choice now and an IV is inadvisable due to the risk of cardiac or local toxicity.” Peach kept her tone even. She didn’t make it a habit of laying into nurses and other hospital staff, but this whole situation rubbed her the wrong way.

“I made the call I thought was best and look, the patient is getting better.”

“They’re getting better because you got lucky. We don’t hope for our luck to hold out in a place like this because when it doesn’t people die. We do our due diligence to make sure that we don’t end up staring down the barrel of a malpractice law suit or, worse, having to tell a family there’s nothing more we could do,” Peach said.

“No disrespect, but you’re being hysterical, Dr. Toadstool,” he said.

Peach brushed the hair out of her face and glanced around to see if the inevitable attention of nearby staff had found them. She pushed her lanyard and stethoscope aside to reveal her identification badge. “Can you read that word right there under my name?”

Lemmy glared down at the badge and then back up at her. He knew what it said before he read it, but had looked anyway. “Neurologist.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought it said too, but I wanted to get your opinion since you’re such an expert.” Peach fumbled with the door charts. “Look, you’ve obviously been at this long enough that you feel you know better than everyone even though I spent more time doing my residency than you’ve been doing this job. Do what you want. And when someone has adverse effects I’ll treat them. When they code I’ll do my best to bring them back, but remember someone won’t always be there to pick up your slack.”

Peach tossed the clipboard back into the slot in the door and trotted off down the hallway, unsure of where she was going. She knew that others would be staring at her now, she had raised her voice just a tiny bit, but she had been here too long and there was no excuse for how that nurse was talking to her, especially not after that.

She thought it might be best to end her day here. Maybe this was the end of her rope; she had been burning the candle at both ends for some time now and the more exhausted she was the more dangerous it became for anyone placed in her care.

One of the break room doors was down the hall was open and she heard the sound of Daisy’s voice before she could even see what was going on inside. She didn’t feel like stopping, but she spotted Daisy and Luigi curled up on the couch together watching the TV, he must have been off. It wasn’t unusual for him to hang around the hospital when he was done.

Peach passed by, heading into the wing opposite her own. As she passed through a set of double doors and the cold air of the next hall washed over her she spotted a familiar face coming her way.

The mustached doctor and Luigi’s brother, Mario. He smiled as he noticed her, but stopped a little ways down the hall in front of the elevator. She strolled up to meet him. “Dr. Toadstool,” he said.

She gave a little nod of acknowledgment. “Dr. Mario.”

“Where are you headed?” He asked.

“Um, this elevator. I think I’m ending shift I’m on,” she said.

“Must be a Hell of a shift, weren’t you starting when I left yesterday?” Mario asked.

Peach chuckled. “It’s possible, my days are kind of blending together,” she said. Then she leaned down and pressed the button on the elevator. “One of us should probably press this.”

“You’re going up?” Mario asked.

Peach glanced up and down the hallway. “Yeah. I mean, you were. We’re having a conversation, so I’m going with you.”

“I mean we were but…” he trailed off. “Your drug rep buddy stopped by my office today.”

“Oh no.”

“Don’t worry, she was mostly cordial.”

The silvery doors of the elevator opened and a soft robotic voice spoke. “Floor three, going up.”

Peach followed Mario into the elevator and when the door shut he asked. “Did you tell her about us?”

“No.”

“Really?” Mario grazed the side of her leg, just below her skirt and her skin went tight and hot. “Why not?” He asked.

She crouched down to his level, resting her back against the metallic elevator wall. Peach clenched his wrist, holding it up and pressed her body to his, their lips almost missing each others in the collision, and his hand trapped between them.

Peach grabbed his necktie, through the top of his coat to pull him closer. He groaned, the sound coming from somewhere in his throat or upper chest. His mustache scratched at her upper lip, but his mouth seemed softer than she remembered each time they did this.

The ride to the tenth floor and Mario’s office was never long enough for anything too exciting, but it still left her in a hazy stupor. When the doors opened the stumbled out of the elevator with hands linked, giggling like school children until they made it to the door of Mario’s private practice.

Mario struggled getting the key into the door and turning it, the lights in the office clicked on automatically when they stepped into the waiting room. The walls were lined with chairs except for the spots where a decorative plant or magazine rack was. Below some of the chairs were baskets with toys for the children. The area seemed much larger at night when no one was there.

“Mind if I take some time to wash my hands?” Peach asked.

Mario shook his head. “Course not.”

Peach slipped the coat down over her shoulders to reveal the plain white button down blouse she wore under it, she tossed the lab coat over a chair and headed for the restroom. Even before she started to wash her hands and the moment the door was closed behind her, the sink was running. The dark sacks of skin puffed up beneath her eyes in the mirror were the true sign that she had reached her limit for the day, she probably had some hours ago.

She rinsed her hands in the warm water, adding soap, and then rinsing them again. Peach splashed some of the water up into her face and dried it off with one of the beige paper towels from the automatic dispenser.

Her gaze met her reflection’s in the mirror. “Mario and I will get there soon, but today’s not the day. Best not to rush these things.” Every secret date and little meet up they managed, this was her mantra. Mario was going to be there, he wasn’t going anywhere and she didn’t see a reason to push things too fast with him. There was a lot of emotion tied up with that part of a relationship. It all seemed like a seriousness that she didn’t want at the moment.

For all of Daisy’s talk of Luigi, things were easier for her just by virtue of being a drug rep. She wasn’t chained to the same building as Luigi, constantly worrying about how every little interaction with him went. She had prep time!

Not that Daisy worried about anything like that—she seemed to drift through life on extremely fortunate luck.

With a small sigh, Peach undid the top button of her blouse and, using a paper towel, turned the knob to open the door. Mario had left the waiting room, but she knew where he would go. She made her way through the hall where his smaller examination rooms were until she reached his office. The first thing that she noticed every time she entered this room was the view, it was overlooking New Donk Medical Plaza, but in the distance was midtown and city hall sparkling like constellation.

Mario was perched on top of his desk with the dull purple of the city lights filtering through the window at his back. It was enough that Peach could make out his eyes, it was enough that she could see in his face what he wanted her to do. She pressed herself into the apex formed by Mario’s legs until the hollow sound made by her knees bumping the desk echoed through the room.

They both had to stifle their laughter, but it was that awkward kind of chortle that snowballed into a more infectious, out of control laugh. The electricity between them had been stretched so taut that Peach heard all of these sounds that weren’t there. At least them laughing covered that up.

The chuckling tapered off until they were standing there staring into each other’s eyes. Peach rested her hands on Mario’s legs, just above his knees. He lifted her chin, stroking the side of her face with his thumb and kissed her cheek. “Do we want to stay here or go somewhere else?”

“We just got here,” Peach said in a very small voice.

His lips brushed against her ear, his mustache ticking the side of her face and catching at the stray tendrils of hair. “But you didn’t eat today, did you?”

How did he know? “No,” Peach said out of breath. “It’s no big deal, I was going to pick something up on the way home.”

“We could pick something up together.” Mario pressed his face into the nape of her neck, sucking at the skin just where her shoulder began to curve up. He fumbled through heir hair, undoing the ribbon that held it up.

“We could.” Her body responded by curling to the side, resting her weight against Mario’s leg as she let out a little gasp.

“It wouldn’t take long.” The words were spoken against her neck, barely audible, but she vibrations of each syllable across her skin was like lightning. “We’ll just—“

Peach spun, locking her lips to his forcefully and pushing her tongue into his mouth. Their chins jabbed at each other as they rocked together against the desk. He groaned so low and so deep that it felt like it was coming from within her. She moved her fingers back through his dark hair, the bits at the front were damp from where he had probably splashed water in his face the way she did.

It didn’t occur to her that her eyes were shut for a while, that they had closed themselves out of habit and all of her senses seemed to meld in to cover the gap. She could smell the dying embers of his cologne, something strong and astringent with a citrus hint. There was a smell just peeking through that one, like an iceberg out of the ocean, it was the smell of clean sweat and just him. His mouth tasted slightly sour, in the natural way anyone’s probably did after being in this place all day. She didn’t mind because it was Mario.

“I had a really, really awful day,” Peach said, pushing her hand into his chest to separate them. Behind him, the sky outside the window had changed. It seemed cloudier, buzzing with a kind of static.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mario asked.

“Not really,” she said. “Come here.”

Across from the office from his desk, set against the wall was a small couch. Peach slipped out of her shoes before folding her legs onto the couch, so that she was sitting on them with her butt rested on her calves. Mario trailed behind sluggishly, pausing before the leather couch when she moved to pat the spot next to her.

“Are you sure?” Mario asked.

Peach leaned out, grabbing his hand and pulling it into her lap. “If you want me to be.”

“I want you to be sure for you—we had that talk before and—“

“And we decided that when the time was right we would know, but let’s be realistic: you want me, right?” She asked.

Mario’s eyes zigzagged along her body tracing a line from her toes, around the bend in her knee and all the way up to her face. “How could I say no, Peach, I—“

Her foot brushing the side of his leg stopped his words, his eyes widened and then Peach was unbuttoning her blouse, slowly revealing a flimsy pink tank top she wore underneath it. Mario watched, his heart beating so loud that she could hear it, could feel it where his hand rested in her lap.

Mario clambered up onto the couch and crawling over her, his hands sunk into the couch on either side of her waist. Her mouth rose to meet his helplessly and Mario’s lips responded by pushing her head against the arm rest, smashing her hair into a knot behind her head.

That little cautious voice in her head was in a veritable screaming panic, but the thundering of her heart and the soft moans drowned out any want she had to stop herself. Peach wasn’t above just going for it and this was a calculated risk.

A flash of light filled the room followed by the tremendous rumble of thunder. Peach caught Mario’s chest with both hands, her nails tracing little lines over his smooth skin. Around and between his nipples. “It would be dangerous for me to drive in this weather—I didn’t even bring an umbrella,” she lied. She always had an umbrella. Any reason to stay like this.

“I guess we’ll just have to stay here.” Peach rocked forward resting her butt on the leather sofa just in front of Mario’s crotch. Her hands trembled with anticipation causing her to fumble with his belt, managing to free the clasp from the puncture holes that held it after a few attempts.

Mario was rigid beneath his slacks, she could feel him when her arm brushed against the bulge beneath the fabric. He twitched sending a positively seismic shiver through her very being. Peach reached through the v-shaped crevice of his unfastened slacks and under the waist band of his boxers to grab his cock. He let out a stuttering sigh and arched his back, pumping against her grasp involuntarily. His skin was so warm and smooth and he glided through her palm.

Peach laughed, biting down softly on her lip and then glancing into Mario’s big blue eyes. “Is this okay?” She said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” he moaned.

“Yeah,” she repeated. “Are my hands too cold?”

Mario shook his head.

A dopey grin stretched over Peach’s face. She pulled his cock up over the waistband of his pants. He was engorged, the skin being stretched so taut had smoothed any wrinkles there might have normally been. It wasn’t like she was some kind of cock connoisseur most of her experience with them recently had been related to her work. Feeling one in this context without latex to separate skin from skin and with it heavy and erect was caused her to think things she’d usually gripe at Daisy about saying.

Peach looked down at it, running her thumb along the gentle, rounded rise of the crown of his cock at an excruciatingly sluggish pace. Mario nails raked at the leather couch when she finally reached the ventral side where a little divot that marked the beginning of the frenulum led her thumb up to the hole in his penis. Mario sucked on his teeth, wincing at the sensation.

“Does it hurt?” She asked.

Mario shook his head.

She thought the better of blowing him. It had been a long time and she was tired. Probably tired enough that she wasn’t thinking clearly, but more so she had been at the hospital over a dozen hours. If she went down on him and he felt compelled to do the same for her—no it was best to keep things simple.

Peach’s hand grazed his face, the stubby hairs dotting his face catch at her skin as she makes small circles around his chin. “So…”

He leaned in to press his lips to her neck. The air conditioner for the area of the building kicks in with a thunderous hum that seems to shake the sofa and drum through their bodies. Everything is so secluded, cut off. They’re in a building with hundreds, maybe thousands of people, but they’re alone.

The second that his fingers touch the inside of her thigh every rational part of Peach is gone. Even with all of the room afforded to them, they stay confined to the couch, fumbling to stay in contact, never not kissing for more than a few moments while trying to strip to the minimally required clothes.

He got her underwear down and she could feel the damp fabric move past her leg. Peach moved to mount him, straddling and pushing him back into the couch. Her pressed against his upper chest, almost in his face. Mario pushed his way inside of her slowly, rising up to meet her body halfway. Peach grunted, her eyes shut against the sensation, but she after a second she began to rock her hips against him.

There was a warm satisfaction in the way that they were grinding together. Why did she wait so long to do this? They rocked together on the couch while the lightning outside erupted into a full fit that lit the darkened room for full seconds at a time. Thunder undercut her soft moans, his desperate grunts.

Mario mouthed something against her ear, and though she couldn’t hear him just the brushing of his lips on her ear exhale her answer, a breathy, “yes.”

He gripped her hips tighter, pulling her down hard onto him as if trying to get every inch of himself to go into her. His breath caught and his teeth nipped at her ear. Peach felt the hot explosion inside as Mario came.

Peach clenched her thighs around him and turned her head against the back of the couch, biting at the leather to muffle her little moans. She hadn’t actually quite come, which was normal. She didn’t typically cum without a lot of lead up or something other than vaginal sex, at the very least.

But then it seemed Mario wasn’t done with her.

He moved from between her legs, leaning against the couch with his left arm and then tugged her upright with him and spinning her so that she was pressing her bare back into his chest. She let out a sharp yelp as his lips touched her neck.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Peach said, holding up a hand as if to steady herself.

Mario wrapped an arm around her thigh, bunching her skirt into knots between her legs and began press against the folds of skin between her legs. Peach’s body jerked forward when he brushed the fabric against her clit. Air caught in her throat as she went to make a sound but was cut short by the surprising intensity of the sensations. He mimicked the motion that had gotten the reaction out of her, massaging with a little more pressure now and pushing the cloth of her skirt against the sensitive area.

He steadied her with his other hand, pulling her back to his chest and cupping her breast.

She tried to encourage what was happening, but the only word she could get out was his name. Something warm and wet and slow dripped down the inside of her thigh. In the kind of brief moment of clarity that can only be recognized in distant hindsight, she thought about what had happened: I let him cum inside me?

That was her last true bit of her self-awareness before Mario’s fingers, wrapped in the textured fabric of her skirt, caused her to melt into him. She was reduced to a moaning mess of jerky hip rocking mixed with sharp yelps.

Despite the embarrassingly small size of the styrofoam cup, Peach still held it with both hands as she swiveled it beneath her nose to take in the aroma. Mario definitely bought better coffee than they had back on her floor. She could tell by the heat against her cheeks that it was still much too hot to drink.

She stared out over the misty morning skyline of New Donk through the huge window in Mario’s office. They slept, naked and bundled up in their discarded clothes on the old leather across from his desk. The blinds had been up and the sun’s light burned across the room into their eyes at its very first chance. What was she thinking? In all her years she had never had sex with anyone from work, especially not at work.

Actually, she hadn’t had sex since she worked here. The length of time since her last relationship slowly dawned on her. Still, things with Mario came so naturally. Through months of courtship leading up to this her heart continued to flutter when he first spoke to her. It had happened when they woke up together.

The door to the office opened and Peach spun around, frightened that they hadn’t locked it and it was some parent and their child coming early seeking medical help, but Mario stepped in with plastic grocery bag dangling from one hand.

“You got them?”

“Yeah. The lock on your locker is a little finicky,” he smiled. “And don’t worry, no one saw me.”

“I would only worry if Daisy was still snooping around,” Peach said before finally taking a drink of her coffee.

He handed her the bag and Peach placed her cup on his desk to open it. She stared down at the bottom to see the fresh pair of scrub pants folded neatly. “Thank you. Pretty sure my skirt can just go in the trash now,” Peach said moving to wrap one arm around him. “Um, sorry about your couch—it must be pretty old.”

“Are you kidding, it’s a leather couch in a pediatricians office, it’s seen some shit. I’ll get some leather wipes and it’ll be fine,” he said. “It was actually already here when I moved into the office.”

“Oh,” Peach said putting a shocked hand to her face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have put my mouth on that…”

They both froze before bursting into boisterous laughter that last far too long for what wasn’t even meant to be funny.

“What did you decide to put back on?” Mario asked. “Are you just wearing the coat?”

“No,” Peach said pulling the lab coat open so he could see. “I’m just wearing the blouse beneath the coat and…yeah the coat.”

He hugged her around the waist. “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are standing around in just a blouse and lab coat?”

“If you say so…” Peach giggled. “But…don’t start that now, you’ve got appointments—and—and a secretary coming in a half hour. How do you think Shokora will feel about me being in here with my naught bits all exposed?”

“So you have to go?” Mario asked.

“Yes. I need to nap and shower and try to salvage this skirt too.”

While Peach changed into the scrub pants and finished her coffee they chatted some more about mundane things. When it came time for her to go she was insistent that she walk alone.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay walking down to the car yourself?” Mario asked.

“Yes. I usually do it at night. Plus it would ignite rumors.”

He still walked her as far as the elevator, stopping to lean against the doors to hold them open, he checked both ways down the hall before leaning in to kiss her. “Goodbye, Doctor Toadstool.

“Bye, Doctor Mario,” she kissed him on the lips and he stepped back letting the doors close between them.

The moment she was out of sight, Peach jumped up and down with her hands balled into tight little fists at her sides. She wanted to scream or dance, maybe even while screaming, but the elevator dinged and came to a stop for an old woman in a wheel chair to roll in. She nodded at Peach, but said nothing on their ride to the sub level.

The parking garage was bustling with people, more than she was used to seeing. This wasn’t a time when she normally arrived at or left the hospital, which turned out to be lucky for her because most of these people wouldn’t really know her. She opened the back door of her car, throwing the bag of clothes she’d brought down onto the floorboards.

“Peaches!?”

Oh no.

“Peaches? I know goddamn well you hear me. Is that your cute ass in those awful scrubs?” Daisy rushed over and hugged her, pressing her against the side of the car roughly.

“Hey Daisy.” Peach folded her arms around her body to keep the lab coat closed.

“Hey to you too. Since when do you work in the mornings. I mean are you just getting here or…wait what’s that smell?”

“There’s a lot of cars around. It could be a gas or something, you should go tell the guard.”

“No, it smells like sweaty leather and sex,” Daisy said. She sniffed the air, leaning in close to Peach. Peach leaned back in return. “Why do you smell like you’ve been having sex?”

Peach tightened her arms around herself, averting her eyes from Daisy’s gaze, until the phrama-rep reached out and poked her in the sides, just below the ribcage. She used to do this all of the time when they were in school. It was a surefire way to tickle Peach quickly and make her loosen up. The moment Peach’s arms jerked away, Daisy threw open her lab coat and gasped.

“Same shirt, shitty old scrubs! You and Mario?” Daisy asked before twirling in a quick circle like an excited puppy. “You and Mario!”

“This is why I didn’t tell you things had been…progressing,” Peach said.

“That’s not fair. I tell you about all the weird shit I get up to,” Daisy said.

“Yeah, you tell me too much, honestly.”

“Well now you’re going to spill it. We are going for breakfast cocktails right now and you’re going to spill it,” Daisy said latching on to Peach’s arm and closing her car door.

“It’s like seven in the morning and I have to get home,” Peach protested. “Don’t you have to work?”

“Oh please, I’m one of the top sales reps in the country, I make my own hours. Now come on, I know a bar that makes a mean omelette.”

[daysswithyou]

Fallen Chapter 12: Bruised

previous / next

Characters: DAY6 Young K x OC (Rachel)

Genre: angst, fake dating, high school romance, fluff, romance

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of blood

-----

The party comes to an end when the last body slumps against the couch, the high note from the karaoke system fading out into the quiet night. The video playing on the television becomes still as the song ends, the quiet hum of the static from the speakers and the rhythmic snores of the members now the only sounds filling the space. Occasionally the chirp of the crickets from outside would travel through the quiet night to reach your ears – but other than that, everything else is peaceful.

You turn around when you hear the bathroom door close behind you, and you’re met by Brian’s obsidian black orbs, a grin making its way onto his face when he observes his surroundings.

“Everyone’s passed out?”

“Yea.”

His eyes continue scanning the entire area, his eyes widening further when he spots Sungjin’s sleeping figure slumped against the couch, cheeks pressed against the cushion under his head, the microphone still enclosed within his vice grip.

“Woah even Sungjin hyung? We really went wild today.”

“Thank God you’re still sober, else I might start sobbing having to clean up this huge mess by myself.”

Brian chuckles at your words, the sudden image of you running around the whole place cleaning up with a very flustered look on your face suddenly becoming very amusing to him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you some help.”

You watch as he tiptoes around his sleeping teammates, rousing those that look more sober. Eventually, you’ve got bleary-eyed Wonpil and Dowoon up to help you pick up empty beer cans and wash dirty dishes in the kitchen while you and Brian got the remaining boys settled into taxis to send them home to properly rest for the night. After all the furniture has been put back in place and the last table had been wiped down, you pushed Wonpil and Dowoon into the backseat of the fourth taxi that you had called for the night. The two younger males immediately knocked out the moment their heads hit the neck rest, the alcohol and fatigue from cleaning that drags them off to sleep being too hard to resist. Brian attempted to step out after positioning them in a more comfortable position, only to have you shove him into the car as well, slamming the door after him. Rolling down the windows the very next second, Brian sticks his head out of the window, questioning you.

“We’re not – ”

“It’s almost done Brian; all I have to do is take out the trash. You should go home and rest too.”

“You sure you going to be alright?”

You nod your head vigorously to show him that you’re serious, hoping that he’ll be assured that you’re going to be fine doing just this last bit yourself. His drooping eyelids and tired smile betrayed his determination, and he ultimately gave in, settling back against the leather seats as he lazily waved goodbye to you. You watched until the vehicle was out of your sight before turning back into the kitchen to bag the trash.

---

Heaving the huge black trash bag out of the trash can, you pushed the door open with your shoulder as you struggled to lift the black bag off the ground. You’re hit in the face by the cool night wind, causing your hair to sweep around your face in waves. Between attempting to get your hair out of your face and lugging a heavy trash bag behind, it takes you a great deal of effort (and maybe a few bumps against the wall) to finally get to the huge trash bin. Swinging your arm forward, you manage to position the trash bag right beside the bin, heaving a sigh of relief when the bag did not burst open to spill forth the filthy contents.

All done! I can finally rest now.

Turning around, you caught sight of a black figure flashing past your line of vision. The sudden movement startles you, and you let a strangled cry tear from your throat – only for the sound to be cut off halfway when strong fingers close around your neck. Your assailant pushes you backwards in one swift movement, slamming your body against the wall behind. Your whole body turns numb from the force rattling your insides, but pain soon begins to set in, causing you to suck in a harsh breath. The back of your head pounds with such intensity that it makes your vision swim, the splotches of white in your vision making it hard for you to make out the assailant. The back of your hand slowly turns numb, your fingers twitching slightly – you figure it must be a really bad bruise. Fear settling deep within your bones, you did what you could to try to get your assailant off yourself. You claw at the hand holding onto your throat, but that only gives the assailant more incentive to dig his fingers into your neck, their nails almost breaking into the delicate skin of your neck. You were starting to feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen to your brain, your movements slowly becoming weaker and less threatening.

“Wh-Wh-Wh-What…do…”

“Shut up Rachel, or I might just crush your throat.”

You jolt at the voice – because you recognise it – and the assailant finally steps in the light, revealing his face as craze-filled eyes locked onto your frightened ones.

Im Jaebum – why is he here?

Red veins stretch from his whites towards his irises, his lips curled backwards to bare his teeth, giving him a menacing look similar to that of a lunatic. He spits his next words at you, venom dripping from his tone as he barely contains his wrath.

“Hello Rachel, so good to see you again.”

Jaebum smiles, but there is no warmth in it.

His grip on your neck loosens slightly as he thinks of his next words.

“Are you having fun, hmm? Playing lovers with the famous Brian Kang. It must feel good, taunting me in front of everyone. You think it’s funny Rachel, you think its fun getting me all riled up. Guess what? I don’t fucking care Rachel. Not.one.fucking.bit.”

By now, his grip loosens enough to let you speak, and you shoot a retort back (which on hindsight was probably a bad move given your situation) Yet you couldn’t help yourself, and the words are already out of your mouth before you could find the self-restraint to filter them.

“Oh yea, Jaebum? You don’t care huh? If you truly don’t, then why do you have me cornered? You are taking out your anger on me under the cover of the dark night, where no one can see what a coward you are.”

Jaebum turns his head to the side, scoffing at your words. The truth you have spoken slices through his fragile pride; the intense rage sets his whole body ablaze, and Jaebum does not hold back anymore. His fingers dig into your neck again, this time harsher than the last. Tears threatened to seep from your eyes, the pain now too much for you to bear.

“Rachel Hwang, I’m going to make you regret, having ever said those words to me.”

From the corner of your eye, you see him rise a hand and you could only watch in horror as the hand descends on you swiftly. You wait for the impact to send your head flying to the other side; to hear the sharp crack of hand against bone ring through the still night.

Yet, there was nothing.

The pressure around your throat is suddenly released, but before you can collapse onto the floor, a hand comes up to hoist you up by your waist as you cough violently.

Looking up from bent position as your chest heaved to get more oxygen in your system, you’re met with a very board back that you recognise so well. You’re now staring at a extremely livid Brian Kang blocking you from Jaebum as he continues to stare at Jaebum, keeping him in place with his eyes. His fury radiates off him in waves, the entire atmosphere becoming ten times more deadly. He looked like he was ready to obliterate anyone that dared to cross his path, his eyes speaking of a showdown that will leave no mercy for his opponent. When he speaks, his usually cheerful voice is now dangerously low, the slight tremors in his voice giving away his barely contained anger.

“Fuck off Jaebum, and keep your hands off her.”

Chuckling darkly, Jaebum hoists himself up from the floor, swatting the dirt off his palms and his pants. The corners of his lips lift to form a sinister smirk as he lets out a groan of annoyance. When he turns to face Brian, the smirk vanishes from his face, his lips now curling into a snarl, his eyes turning dark as he fixes his cold gaze on Brian.

“You really pick the wrong fights Brian Kang.”

Swinging his arm back in an arc, Jaebum smashes his fist down on Brian’s still bruised face, using the entire weight of his body to give him more force. The impact leaves Brian momentarily dazed, which gives Jaebum enough time to exercise this advantage. Hooking Brian’s arm, Jaebum swings him around before flinging him against the wall. You hear the familiar crack of a bone, and you’re not sure if it’s Brian shoulder or Jaebum’s ribcage after Brian just sent him flying in the opposite direction with a kick. You rush to put yourself between the two boys before one of them ends up killing the other.

“STOP! Both of you – ”

“Rachel? What’s going on?”

All three of you freeze on your spots, your blood turning cold immediately to match the same frosty voice that calls your name. Hearing that voice never meant good news, especially not in such a situation. Gingerly, you lift your eyes – then your head – to meet the eyes of the person standing just a few feet away from you.

Your frightened eyes find those of Mr Kim’s pretty easily, and you have to force yourself to steady your voice and dim the fear in your eyes before responding to him.

“Mr Kim, what brings you here at such a late hour?”

Please tell me he didn’t see anything – he cannot see anything. If he did, they’re dead. With his power as discipline master, he’ll bring them both to the school board for disciplinary action, and no doubt for a man like him, to the police station as well.

Mr Kim raises an eyebrow at your response, finding it odd that you’re dodging his question. Eyes travelling to your left and right, he finally spots Jaebum and Brian – both of whom are also doing their best to stand upright, pretending that nothing happened.

“Jaebum, Brian, are both of you alright?”

You watch as his eyes zero in on the small trail of blood seeping down the side of Jaebum’s mouth, but before he can take a step closer to inspect, Jaebum takes a step backwards, turning his face away from his scrutinising eyes.

“Everything’s fine Mr Kim. I was just… visiting some friends. I’ll get going now, have a good evening Mr Kim.”

He gestures to both of you with a single hand raised weakly in the direction of the both of you, his body rejecting his attempts to be friendly towards the both of you. Once he’s done, Jaebum dashes away down the dark alley and into darkness before he gets questioned further. You mentally thank Mr Kim’s appearance for saving the day, but when he speaks again, you snap back to reality. Your worries are not over yet – in fact – the biggest one was yet to be dealt with.

“And Brian?”

You turn to look at him, and the grimace on his face makes it hard for you to believe that he can answer without blowing the cover. So, when he opens his mouth to respond, you rush to answer on his belief, stepping closer to shield more of his body from Mr Kim’s prying eyes.

“He’s fine Mr Kim, we’ll get going now, if that’s alright with you. Thank you for your concern, and have a good evening Mr Kim. We’ll see you in school on Monday again!”

Holding onto his elbow, you lead Brian through the kitchen’s back door, shutting the door tightly behind you. You keep an eye on Mr Kim until he walks away from the scene before turning your attention to Brian. His eyes are squeezed shut as his head rests against the wall, his lower lips pulled between his teeth to stop him from wincing in pain. You sigh at the sight, closing your eyelids slowly before opening them again.

It’s going to be a long night.

[naughtyneganjdm]

The Savior - Chapter 19

Summary: The reader learns more about Negan's past while they try to enjoy their small vacation together. 

Characters: Negan & reader

Warnings: Swearing and the after effects of parental abuse. 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11995341/chapters/40932143

Absolute bliss filled Y/N’s body as she kept her eyes closed and listened to the sounds of the waves splashing around her. It wasn’t often that she got to relax like this, but this specific moment in time felt amazing. The sun was beating down on her skin, the sound of the water was amazing and the warmth of Negan beside her made this a moment to remember. If someone would have told her months ago that she would be ditching school to spend a weekend with Negan somewhere she would have never believed them. School was so important to her, but this was nice. This was beyond nice.

Opening her eyes, she looked to her side to see Negan stretched out on the huge flat rock that they had swam to in the middle of the water. It wasn’t too far away from the shore, but it was far enough out to give them space alone. Negan had his sunglasses on and his arms were folded behind his head as he lay out in the sun.

Part of her was still confused as to why Negan decided to bring her to this place. It was nice to get to learn more about Negan’s past, but it still made her question things. It was sad, but it actually made her uncomfortable that Negan had all of this money. She was just trying to do her best to think past it and enjoy her time with Negan. Instead of thinking of it as his place, she was just attempting to think of this as a small vacation with Negan and that was all.

Gulping down, she shifted on the hard surface of the rock and turned on her side to face Negan. Reaching out, she traced her fingertips over Negan’s abdomen, watching it rise and fall with his breathing. Teasing her fingers through the thick hair over his body, she smiled and moved in to press a soft kiss over Negan’s chest. His heavy breaths told her that he was still somewhat asleep when she lowered her hand down his abdomen and slid her fingertips underneath his black swimsuit.

“Would you stop it,” Negan grumbled with a huff when her hand connected with his body and he reached down to collect her wrist before pulling her hand out from beneath the material. “You are like a fucking sex ninja. Dial back the horny…geez.”

“Oh please,” she giggled watching Negan push his sunglasses up to look over at her. “I learned from the best.”

“Well the best got drunk off his ass last night and he’s suffering from dehydration.  My testicles need some time to replenish what I’m missing,” Negan bluntly responded making a laugh fall from her lips as he reached down to touch himself through his swimsuit. “Trust me, I like doing it with you, but I’m not kidding. The alcohol gave me a hangover and a half. I need time to restore everything.”

Negan gave her a silly wink before pushing his sunglasses back down over his face. He leaned up and over enough to press a quick kiss over her lips before lying back down.

“Do you realize how uncomfortable fucking would be on this thing?” Negan grumbled, getting comfortable again. “One of us would end up with bruises.”

“Who said it would have led to fucking?” she retorted and Negan’s eyebrow arched up over his sunglasses. “I’m just saying, maybe I would have just given you a hand job.”

“Oh no, you are too greedy for that,” Negan nonchalantly responded making her reach out to poke him in the ribs making a goofy laugh fall from his lips. “I’m just saying, everything leads to sex. It always does. I just want to sit out here and enjoy my time with you. I know the water is romantic and we’re on the beach so ultimately you want to have sex and we’ll do it before we leave, but right now just is not the time.”

“You are so romantic, you know that?” she rolled her eyes and got comfortable again beside him. Negan’s fingertips stretched out in search of hers so he could hold her hand and squeeze her fingers in his.

“It’s a talent,” Negan teased listening to the sound of the waves, allowing them to comfort him into relaxing, something that he hadn’t done in quite some time. “Just think, right now at this time you would be in school just waiting for the time to run out so we could go back to my house and just sit around for a while.”

“I like what we do when we are home. I mean, the beach here is amazing, but…” she sighed, reaching out to caress her hand in over the planes of his abdomen. She drew small shapes over his skin before frowning. “I like our normal life.”

“As opposed to?” Negan breathed out, confused where she was headed with things.

“Maybe I’m just not used to this whole thing yet. A big house right off the beach in a rich city…” she rambled on and Negan’s dimples sunk in the longer he listened to her ramble on.

“There are places around here that I know you will love,” Negan insisted, laying back again on the rock before some of the water splashed up on the rock onto them. Negan heard her gasp and let out a small laugh. “That does happen in the ocean here sweetheart.”

“Oh ha ha,” she playfully hit him in the center of his stomach and a deep laugh fell from his lips.

“How about I take you into town? It’s a nice little town and there is some really cool stuff down by the piers. What do you say?” Negan sat up on the rock and she followed his movements. “There are some areas I used to love down there that I think you would like.”

“Won’t people notice you? Are you sure you are okay with walking around with me?” she confirmed and he shrugged his shoulders. He pushed his fingertips into his wet hair to slick it back before smiling.

“It’s been a long time. I highly doubt these people are going to remember me anyway,” Negan moved out to grab a firm hold of her to pull her close. Tipping in closer to her, he nudged her jaw playfully with his thumb before cupping her face in his rough hands. “Plus I really love you and don’t care what anyone else thinks.”  

“I love hearing you say that,” she hummed in approval as he kissed her a few more times before jumping into the water. “Are we going to head back there now?”

“It’s going to get dark soon. You’ll want to get some food in you and then we will walk around,” Negan answered after motioning her to follow him into the water. “So let’s go get showered and then see what we can get into.”

-

“This is a cute town,” Y/N muttered, following Negan out of the small diner that they had just eaten at. Negan had said that he thought no one would remember him, but so far he had run into several people that knew he was. No one questioned what he was doing with her, but it still felt odd being in a place where people clearly knew Negan and grew up with him. “You really liked it as a kid, huh?”

“I did,” Negan reached out to grab a tight hold of her hand and hooked his fingertips with hers. She was uncomfortable and gulped down, looking at their hands. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re okay with doing this out and about around here?” she confirmed and Negan smirked before nodding. “I mean, they know you Negan. Are you comfortable with them knowing that you are dating someone…younger?”

“Is it any of their business?” Negan’s eyebrow perked up and she let out a long sigh. “I’m fine. That’s all that matters. These people don’t know me. They know the me from when I was here. We live hours away from here. We’re okay.”

“If you…are comfortable with it,” she nodded, allowing him to hold onto her hand as they walked down Main Street. The city had bright lights filtering the street from the small shops and diners that were up and down the main road. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Absolutely,” Negan winked, bringing her hand up to his lips to deposit a small kiss over the back of her hand. Negan stopped in front of the stores to look at the display that was set up in the window and she stepped forward to look at a necklace that caught her eye. “You like that?”

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, looking to Negan with her big eyes before looking back to the piece of jewelry. Negan watched her with a smile and he urged her toward the shop after watching her eye it over. “What?”

“Let’s take a look,” he suggested and she let out a hesitant laugh. “Come on.”

“Negan no, I just…” she rejected, but felt Negan tugging her into the store and he pulled her closer to the necklace. Negan nodded toward it and he watched her lean in to look it over. “It is beautiful Negan, but…”

The price tag caught her eye and she let out an uncomfortable sound, “Not that beautiful…”

“Do you want it?” Negan offered and she shook her head quickly, trying to pull away from Negan. “It’s okay; if you want…I can get it for you. No biggie.”

“Oh it’s a biggie,” she tried to pull her fingers from his hand and he hushed her.

“Excuse me, can we see this please?” Negan pointed down at the necklace and he watched the person at the cash register motion him to wait a moment. Y/N uncomfortably pulled away from him and he laughed. “What’s wrong?”

“You can’t afford that,” she reminded him and Negan smirked, his bright smile expanding over his features.

“You know just as much as I do that that’s not true,” Negan pointed out and she felt her heart sinking at the fact that he was willing to spend his father’s money on her.

“But you aren’t the kind of person that uses that part of your money, remember?” she insisted with an uncomfortable breath as Negan gave her a confused look. “Teacher Negan could not afford that.”

Y/N pulled her hand away from Negan and quickly moved for the door, “I’m sorry Negan, I just…I can’t have you keep doing this.”

Moving out of the shop, she saw Negan still standing there somewhat confused. The person working in the store clearly came over to talk to Negan, but she didn’t feel comfortable with Negan buying her things. When she saw the shop keeper put the necklace back in the display at the front of the store she felt a sense of relief.

“What are you doing?” Negan walked out of the small shop and closed the door behind him. “If I want to buy you something…”

“I don’t want you to buy things for me. I just…I love you,” she insisted with a shake of her head, stepping forward to cup his face in her hands lovingly. “I don’t want you to think I’m with you for your money. I want you to know that I fell for…”

“The poor me?” Negan filled in her words and he saw her give a small head tilt. A laugh fell from his lips as he shook his head. “I know that. A while ago I stressed to you that I would never be anything more than what I was and you insisted that you still loved me for me. I know you are true to me. I don’t think you are with me for my family’s money. I didn’t bring you here to give you a panic attack. I brought you here so you could relax.”

“But you would probably never have to work again if you didn’t want to Negan. That’s how fucking rich you are,” you reminded him with a tense sound and Negan nodded slowly. “You are proud of who you are and what you have accomplished on your own. I don’t want me to be the reason you start dipping into your father’s money.”

“You are stressing way too fucking much,” Negan insisted with a snort. The sounds of laughing filled the air and she looked beyond Negan to see that between the shops she could see the ocean beyond the shops. There was a pier where they were clearly having some kind of event going on. “You want to go see?”

Nodding, she was eager to get away from this conversation and what was going on. The whole money situation just made her very uncomfortable and she didn’t want Negan to eventually get upset with her and assume that she just wanted his money.

Y/N followed Negan out onto a beach and toward a festival they were clearly having. They walked out onto the pier and there were multiple people that came up to Negan to hug and talk to him. She felt out of place. It was hard not to really, but when Negan was done he would eagerly turn back to her and tell her stories about the past. About the people that he had run into and things he had done as a kid. She loved hearing about his past, but there was something that was uncomfortable about all of this.

“I have to run to the restroom, do you think you could give me a minute and just…wait right here,” Negan urged her and she nodded. Taking a seat by the edge of the pier, she waited for Negan hearing the singing and dancing that was happening just beyond where she was sitting. Turning to look over her shoulder at the couples dancing together, she smiled brightly. The environment was beautiful and she could definitely see how everyone was happy here. She would be too if she grew up in a place like this. It was honestly beautiful and it seemed like the people were just…happy. It was rare compared to what she was used to.

“Where did your father go?” a voice pressed in behind Y/N making her shift uncomfortably on the bench she was sitting on. Y/N looked up to see a brunette standing before her. Clearing her throat uneasily, Y/N watched the brunette slide in beside her and Y/N felt uneasy. “My name is Emma. You’re not from around here are you?”

“He’s not…my father,” Y/N answered staring down at the hand that Emma had offered her. Emma’s dark brown eyes were watching her carefully and Y/N gulped down heavily. She accepted the hand shake and nodded. “Yeah, I’m definitely not from here.”

“I could tell,” Emma responded with a heavy sigh, looking around the area. “So if he’s not your father, then who is he?”

“Well…” Y/N began trying to think of a way to explain Negan to a total stranger. “He’s…”

“Oh fuck off Emma, you know she’s not my kid,” Negan’s voice filtered through the air, making Y/N sit up straighter on the bench and Negan squeezed between the space that was between the two. Negan sat down on the bench and wrapped his arm around Y/N. “Emma knows me. She knows I don’t have a kid, she’s just fucking with you to try and make you feel uncomfortable.”

“If you did end up having your kid though…it would probably be older than her wouldn’t it?” Emma recalled and Y/N felt every muscle in Negan’s body locking up. The fact that the woman knew about the child that Negan had lost as a teen told her that Negan and Emma had to be close. “It’s been a while Negan. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“Didn’t you introduce yourself already Emma?” Negan blurted out and he leaned in to nestle his nose against the side of Y/N’s neck. A whisper fell from his lips as she closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“And she is?” Emma egged Negan on and Negan laughed.

“None of your business,” Negan winked, looking over at Y/N for a moment. “Would you excuse us for a second? How about you go and get us a few churros over there? I’m kind of in the mood for something sweet.”

“Sure,” Y/N nodded with an unsure expression, but Negan pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed some money to her before waiting until she was far enough away from him and Emma.

“Sending her to the longest line here Negan, that was smart…” Emma retorted with a half laugh. “So that’s the new flame of the week, huh? Little young for you, isn’t she?”

“Fuck off Emma,” Negan snarled, looking to her with a shake of his head. “She’s of age and I love her. We’ve been together for a few months and she means everything to me. So I don’t need a snake like you trying to filter into her brain with your stupid psychobabble bullshit that you do.”

“You love her? Wow,” Emma chuckled; looking to Y/N as she stood in the fairly large line that Negan had sent her off to. “That’s new for you isn’t it? I thought Lucille was the only woman that you ever loved.”

“Yeah, well…times change,” Negan shrugged his shoulders, leaning forward on the bench. “I thought if I came here I could avoid people like you.”

“People that know the real you?” Emma snapped back making Negan take in a sharp breath. “What does a girl like that want with you? Your daddy’s money?”

“Up until this weekend she knew nothing about my parent’s wealth,” Negan insisted with a firm nod. “We’re good together. She loves me and I love her. We’re very much alike and that’s that.”

“So she’s a good fuck, huh?” Emma egged on further and Negan rolled his eyes. “Sex is a big thing for you Negan, she has to be pretty important to get you to want to be with her and be official, right?”

“I don’t know what you are trying to pull here Emma, but you did this shit with Lucille too and it worked on her,” Negan thought back to his younger years and he shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t want to be in a relationship with you. You think after all of these years you would just…get over it.”

“You think that’s what this is?” she questioned with a growl and Negan nodded, his thick eyebrows arching up as he nodded. “People don’t know the real you Negan. You like to pretend that you are this nice guy, but you can only put a mask for so long.”

Negan nodded and looked toward Y/N who seemed nervous and looked back at him. Negan waved his fingers and shot her a small smile. Y/N smiled back and stepped further up in the line.

“So tell me Negan…are you still really bad at sex?” Emma dug deeper at trying to annoy Negan. A laugh fell from Negan’s lips as he looked to her with a shake of his head.

“You know I’m not bad at sex,” Negan retorted with a snort. “The last time we fucked you had no problems with what I did.”

“Yeah, but the first time…” she began and Negan held his hands up in the air to silence her.

“You were the first girl I slept with Emma. Of course I was awful,” Negan laughed uneasily before shrugging his shoulders. “What the hell is the point of this? Why do you always want to pop in and try to fuck with my head and the head of people I love? I don’t even live here anymore. I’m here for the weekend. I don’t want to be with you, I don’t want to rekindle what has happened in the past…I’m here with the girl I love and that’s that. We’re just here to enjoy our time.”

“You do realize…you are just going to do what you always do, right?” Emma leaned forward in her seat. “You are your father’s son Negan. You know that.”

“I’m not my father,” Negan snapped, looking to Emma with a shake of his head.

“Really? Your father cheated on your mother. Your father was very abusive both mentally and physically,” Emma dug further into Negan watching his fists curl up in the center of his lap. “How were you with Lucille again?”

“I never physically abused Lucille and you know that,” Negan growled, his thick eyebrows adding emphasis to the anger that was pressing in over Negan’s face. “You’re just a bitch.”

“So tell me Negan, are you still all about you when it comes to sex?” Emma stood up and followed Negan toward the edge of the pier. “Just fuck until you cum? Does your new girl give the oral most of the time? You were always very selfish when it came to that kind of stuff.”

“I’m far from selfish,” Negan answered with a shake of his head. His face was on fire and he knew that Emma was trying to work him up, but he couldn’t help getting irritated. “In fact I make her cum all the time. The first few months we were together, I was always the one that was giving and not receiving. You remember how good I was the last time Emma and I think that’s why you are such a nasty bitch.”

“Can you blame me Negan?” she inquired and Negan shrugged his shoulders. “It sounds like you have everything figured out with this one, huh?”

“Yeah, I do…” Negan nodded, looking to see that Y/N was up at the counter to order what he had asked of her. “And what kills you is the fact that she’s the one I’m making squirt at night, not you.”

“Oh, right. You make her squirt,” Emma chuckled and Negan nodded with a proud smile. “Sure. I’d love to see that.”

“I’m sure you would, but I do,” Negan licked his lips and looked to Y/N with a proud smirk. “We’re very good together. Physically…and mentally. So if you will please piss off, I’m trying to give her a good weekend and I really would rather not see your face for the rest of this week.”

Negan moved around the brunette before him and headed off in the direction of Y/N to wrap his arm around her shoulders when she handed him over the churro that he had asked of her.

“I think we should go for a walk on the beach…” Negan urged Y/N before Negan headed off in the opposite direction of where Emma was. A moment later Emma cut them off and Negan let out a frustrated sound.

“Listen, we got off on the wrong foot. I just hope you have a good weekend,” Emma held her hands up in the air as if to say goodbye. “Keep an eye on this one. A lot like his father he is…”

“Negan,” Y/N stopped Negan from getting agitated and she pulled him away from the pier and urged him to follow her to the beachside. Negan’s face was red and she could tell by the way his nose was scrunched up and the lines that were over his forehead that he was angry. “Ex-girlfriend, huh?”

“I don’t even think that’s what I would call her,” Negan huffed and he felt Y/N reaching out to grab a tight hold of his jawline to urge him to look at her. “I’m really sorry. I should have thought about the past and how it could…”

“I don’t care about your past. You are honest with me about everything and I’m not worried about the past. I love you…all of you,” she hushed him seeing the lines his forehead relaxing as she stroked his rough cheek. “But let me tell you something…you are nothing like your father. You are a wonderful, sweet caring man. She doesn’t know you at all.”

“She probably knows me quite well…” Negan tried to state with a heavy sigh and Y/N shook her head slowly. “I wasn’t a good guy.”

“That was the past,” she insisted, tipping up on her toes to press a loving kiss over his lips and he felt her fingertips brushing throughout his hair. “We’re living in the present and that’s all that matters. Who you were then isn’t who you are now. You’re not your father. You never were and you never will be.”

Negan nodded, lowering his head enough to rest his forehead against hers while she held him in her arms. Negan took the time to just enjoy being held by her. Their relationship was so different in comparison to all his previous ones and he was surprised with how much he loved being around her.

“You should probably eat those churros you made me stand in line forever to get,” Y/N reminded him of the treat that was still in his hand. “I know it was just to get me away for a minute, but you better eat those after all the time I spent in line for that shit.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan snorted urging her to follow him to the edge of the beach by the water to sit down with him. Negan got settled in behind her, pulling her to sit between his legs while they sat on the beach together. His left arm hooked around her waist loosely while she rest back against his chest and he handed her one of the sweet treats. “You know I love you, right?”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of only getting used to you just saying this now,” she stated with a smirk and looked over her shoulder to see Negan taking a big bite of his food. “But I like hearing it.”

“And I like saying it,” Negan insisted with a mouthful seeing her smirk. “I feel like I should explain Emma.”

“Only if you want to,” Y/N shrugged. “It’s really none of my business unless you want it to be.”

“You’re really just going to be like that?” Negan retorted with a sense of confusion. A lot of women would want every single detail, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. “She was the first girl I ever slept with.”

“Oh, okay…” she shrugged and took a small bite of her churro. “That was a really long time ago I imagine.”

“Ouch?” Negan chuckled seeing her cheeks blush over with embarrassment. “I was never really interested in her. I loved Lucille and…”

“She’s one of the ones you cheated with?” Y/N confirmed and Negan nodded when she spoke up. “I kind of assumed that. When you are the mistress and the guy still loves the woman he’s cheating on, it probably makes you an angry bitch.”

“I’ve only loved two people and I think that killed her on the inside. It’s probably partially my fault that she’s a bitch,” Negan shook his head, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “When I was with Lucille she got into her head and…”

“Tried doing to me today what she did to Lucille back then?” Y/N finished again and Negan nodded. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to listen to people try to tell me about the man I know. I’m just going to listen to him myself. He’s honest with me and I know that.”

“I love you,” Negan was amazed with the way she was reacting toward everything as he tipped down to nestle his nose against the side of her neck. “You really are amazing. I hope you know that.”

-

“I can’t believe we’ve been here all weekend and we haven’t had sex here once,” Negan slurred against the side of Y/N’s neck as they stood on the beach together after going swimming in the water. She laughed as his stubble teased over the side of her neck. Negan wrapped his arms around her waist and felt her leaning back into his wet chest.

“There is still time,” she responded with a laugh when she felt him pressing playful kisses over the side of her neck. “To be fair, you’ve kept us so busy going around town that I’m pretty exhausted by the time that we get back to the house.”

“I just want you to have a good weekend. One that makes you happy,” Negan stated with a sigh, squeezing his arms around her tighter. Y/N reached down to grab her phone from the towel and pulled up the camera. When she went to take a photo of the water, Negan reached for her phone and grabbed a hold of the phone. He turned it on the selfie section and kissed over her temple taking a photo of the two of them. “We need more photos together.”

“Are you sure about that?” she confirmed and Negan nodded. “I thought you want us to be careful.”

“Are you thinking of sharing these?” Negan questioned and she shook her head slowly. “Then we are fine.”

Negan pressed in closer to her and kissed her while he snapped another selfie of the two of them together. Her cheeks blushed over when he looked at the photos and his nose wrinkled when he looked them over, “you’re going to have to send these two to me though.”

“Deal,” she winked, releasing him long enough to look to her phone again.

“You want to go four wheeling again? That was pretty fun, right?” Negan thought about the things they had done the previous day. When he looked over his shoulder to see her looking panicked, he stepped in closer and rubbed his towel through his hair. “What’s wrong?”

“My father sent me a text message. Apparently he knows that I’m not at my friend’s house that I told my mother about,” she informed him with a nervous breath and Negan’s eyebrow arched up in interest. “He wants me to call him and tell him where I really am.”

“Fuck that,” Negan reached for her phone and looked through the text messages seeing the several messages that her father had sent clearly getting angrier each time he had texted her. “They never care where you are on most nights, so what does it matter this time?”

“I should write him back Negan. Come up with a good excuse as to where I really am,” she gulped and Negan shook his head turning her cell phone off after sending himself the photos of them together. “He’s pissed. Something is wrong.”

“You’re on vacation with me. You don’t have to worry about that right now, okay?” Negan insisted, stepping forward to urge her chin up toward him. “I want to take you somewhere. Erase this from your mind and I promise everything will be all right.”

-

“This was my favorite place to come and relax as a kid,” Negan pulled on Y/N’s hand, tugging her up toward the lighthouse that was right off the beach. She looked up at the lighthouse and saw him smiling brightly as he looked up at it. “My favorite thing was to come here as a kid at night and think things out. Think about my future and all that fucking shit.”

“Yeah?” she arched her brow in response, taking a moment to look around the area. From what she knew of Negan it didn’t really seem like a place he would have loved as a kid, but it sure was beautiful. The lighthouse looked like something you would have seen from a movie, it was that gorgeous. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Negan agreed and looked over his shoulder to wink at her. Negan motioned her to wait as he set up a blanket in the sand. The sun was setting and he urged her to lay down with him. “Later I can try to sneak us in so you can see the inside…”

“And get you in trouble? I don’t think so. The people here would love the story about how Negan got caught breaking into the lighthouse with his new, young girlfriend,” she snickered seeing him roll his eyes before leaning forward to press a soft kiss over her jawline. His kisses led toward her neck and she tilted her head up allowing him space to do as he pleased. “I take it you were quite the rebel growing up?”

“I’m still quite the rebel,” Negan insisted with a shrug of his shoulders, pulling away to look her over with his wicked glance. “I thought you would know that by now.”

Negan reached for his phone and took a photo of them with the lighthouse in the background of the photo. Negan leaned in to kiss her over and over again before she pulled away from him with a deep breath.

“Negan,” she looked to see that he was recording a video and he shrugged his shoulders. “Are you trying to be playing dangerously right now or…?”

“I just want something for the spank bank eventually when I’m alone,” Negan teased with a wink making her cough upon his admission. Her cheeks blushed over and Negan loved that he could make her turn red just with his words. She was so innocent and he loved every bit of it. Negan playfully teased his tongue over the front of her lips while he was still recording the video and he watched her shudder before he pressed stop. “You’re still tense, aren’t you?”

“I’m scared about my father,” she answered truthfully and felt him reach out to nudge her jaw with his rough fingertips. He carefully brushed her hair over her shoulder before moving in to kiss over the side of her neck again. “He knows I lied…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Negan insisted with a slur while he kissed over her neck and bit at her skin.

Her eyes closed feeling Negan’s tongue tracing lines over her flesh and she inhaled sharply. She wanted to just forget it, but she didn’t think she could. The consequences of this weekend truly had her in fear of what he father might do. “If they were looking for me that means that it was something serious.”

“It’s fine,” Negan hushed her, trying to get her to relax as he sat up straighter and held his finger up. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?” she retorted with a confused look. Negan snapped his fingers almost in an order and she felt him nudging her into a position that he clearly wanted. A moment later there was a cool sensation pressing in over her neck as she heard the clip of something closing. “Negan?”

“You can open your eyes,” Negan responded, pressing soft kisses over her neck again. When she saw that it was the necklace from the night before he heard her gasp. “I know you didn’t want me to get it for you, but I just…had to. It looks beautiful on you and I knew you really thought it was beautiful.”

“When did you…?” she looked down at the necklace seeing the way it glimmered as the sunset shined from it. “Negan, I can’t accept this.”

“I can’t return it,” Negan shrugged his shoulders with a wicked smirk. “It’s yours now.”

“Negan…” he watched her frown and she reached down to trace her fingertips over the white gold chain that led to the charm at the bottom. Her fingertips grazed over the diamond and she felt her heart pounding inside of her chest. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

“I wanted to pamper my girl,” Negan responded with a shake of his head. “That’s why I left the other day. I ran back to quickly go get it. I know you are paranoid about me spending money on you, but I love you. You liked the necklace; I bought it for you to show you how much I love you. It will be our special thing.”

Negan reached out with his rough fingertips to grasp a hold of the diamond to look it over. A smirk pressed in over his lips and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I just want you happy,” Negan whispered, moving forward to press another kiss over her lips and he felt her arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold onto him tightly.

“You…make me happy,” she whispered in his ear, pressing a quick kiss over his flesh before pulling away to look down at the necklace again. Her eyes were tearing over and he reached out to brush at her cheek lovingly. “I don’t want you to think this is the kind of person I am.”

“I think you are a wonderful person,” Negan shook his head and frowned when a single tear slid down her face. “That’s why I fell in love with you Y/N. Shit…I’ve fallen hard.”

“You’re making me swoon here Negan,” she informed him with a half laugh, reaching up to brush her fingertips throughout his thick hair. “You are amazing.”

“I was thinking…” Negan began with a long sigh, reaching up to grab a hold of her fingertips in his. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss over the back of her hand. “I know you are worried about your father. You are a lot. Why don’t you just move in with me?”

“I couldn’t do that Negan,” she shook her head firmly, a small laugh falling from her throat. “How are we going to hide that from people?”

“Very carefully,” Negan shrugged, attempting to think of something to say to make her feel comfortable with the suggestion. “I don’t care. I want to be with you. I want to keep you safe. I just want to make you happy.”

“I know and I love you,” she hushed him with a shake of her head. “I just can’t have you getting in trouble because of me.”

“Then let me buy you a place until you get a job. An apartment or something…” Negan reasoned with Y/N and she reached out to cup his rough face in her hands. His eyes seemed confused and upset as she shook her head. “Please. I want to keep you safe.”

“After you told me about the money Negan, I’m not going to accept these things. I want to be with you. I do, but I’m not a gold digger,” she insisted firmly. Moving in, she kissed Negan in a loving manner. “The necklace is enough to make me uncomfortable.”

“But it shows you are mine,” Negan reached down to trace his fingertips over the white gold necklace.

“I was yours long before this was on my neck,” she reminded him and a smirk pressed in over his features. Her fingertips brushed into his short beard and she leaned in to rest her forehead against his. “I didn’t need a necklace or something fancy to tell me that.”

“I want to protect you,” Negan sighed heavily, his warm breath pressing in against her face. “You are so scared and I don’t want something bad to happen to you. We can take measures to keep both of us safe. No one would know you are living with me.”

“If it ever gets to the point I think it has to be that way…then we can talk about it,” she suggested and Negan frowned, sighing heavily as he stared out at her with his sincere hazel eyes. She moved in to kiss him over and over again as he clutched tightly to her. “I love you Negan. More than you will ever know.”

“I love you too,” Negan stated against her skin, nipping softly at her bottom lip as they kissed. “So much.”

-

Negan stretched out on his leather couch at home as he scrolled through the photos he had taken over the weekend with Y/N on their trip. They had finished their trip and driven back on Sunday. They had gotten so many great photos while they were there and shared so many wonderful experiences. Their whole time away they had spent time doing things together and not once did they end up sleeping together. That wasn’t how most of his relationships had gone in the past and it was nice to have something different for once. Being able to share memorable moments together was something that he actually enjoyed and looking at the photos he’d taken of them together actually made him feel a sense of happiness.

The sound of his doorbell ringing was heard and Negan closed up his phone. Looking to the time, he could see that it was late at night. It had been a few hours since Y/N had headed home. When she had left, she was worried about her parents, but knew that she had to return to find out what was wrong. Moving to the door, Negan first noticed the bags at his feet in front of him and lifted his head to let out a gasp when he saw Y/N standing before him.

“Jesus Christ,” Negan blurt out reaching out to grasp at her face and he heard her wince upon contact. Negan pushed the hood that was covering her head down and took a look at her face. It was clear that she had been crying. There were small wounds over her eyebrow, under her eye and bottom lip. Her face was bright red and he could feel her shaking before him. “What the fuck happened?”

“Just…let me in?” she begged and Negan nodded, grabbing her bags to allow her into the house. Negan urged her toward the couch and he saw her shaking when she took a seat on it. She was still crying and Negan could feel his own body trembling with the sight of her. “I’m so sorry…”

“What happened?” Negan demanded to know hearing the shaking in her voice. She was trembling against his touch as he tried caressing over her face. “Baby?”

“I went home and my father cornered me. While we were gone they had apparently had gotten a call from my doctor who wanted to make sure I wasn’t having any bad side effects from my birth control pills,” she informed Negan and felt his body tensing up. Negan’s eyes grew wide as she nodded and nervously licked her lips. “Which apparently made them go upstairs to look through my things and he found some of the condoms that I had. They called my friend’s house that I was supposed to be at and found out that I wasn’t there and he’s been fuming all weekend.”

“That fucker did this to you?” Negan snarled seeing her nod slowly and he reached out to brush some of the blood that was dripping down her face away. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

She motioned Negan to wait and he saw her moving for the sweatshirt. She shook as she carefully pulled the material from her body and Negan could see that she was reaching for the back of her shirt. His heart pounded inside of his chest watching her pull up the back of her shirt to show that she had belt marks all up and down her back.

“He called me a whore and locked me in my room,” she told him about what happened and he could hear her start to cry harder. “That’s not the worst thing…”

“It gets worse?” Negan felt every muscle in his body locking up and he watched her reach inside the pocket of the hoodie to pull out the necklace he had gotten her. It was clear that the clasp was broken and he reached out to grasp her hands in his.

“He ripped this from my neck. Apparently he knows that it came from the person I was sleeping with,” she trembled before him and he could hear her sobbing by this point. “I’m so sorry Negan. I didn’t mean for this.”

“We can get the necklace fixed sweetheart, it’s okay…” Negan hushed her, holding her in his arms as he heard her sobbing. Negan pushed the necklace he had bought her into the pocket in his pajamas before continuing to comfort her.  

“I snuck out the window… I can’t go back….” She insisted with a whimper and Negan slid his hand in over the back of her neck. Pulling her close in a supportive manner, Negan let out a stressed sound. Negan tried comforting her to the best of his ability. He hushed softly when he heard her continue to cry and stroked her hair in soothing way. More than anything he wanted to go and attack her father for hurting her. It broke him to see Y/N hurt and he absolutely hated it. “I’m so sorry Negan.”

“It’s okay,” Negan promised with a hush, pressing a tender kiss against her temple. “You never have to go back there again, I promise.”

Y/N trembled in his arms and he felt her cuddling her head into his chest as she cried. Negan felt the adrenaline rising inside of his chest. The way his heart was hammering caused Negan to inhale sharply. There was a strong sense of rage filling his veins and Negan knew that he couldn’t take it anymore.

“You stay here…I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch,” Negan pulled away from Y/N, giving her a quick look before heading toward the front of the house. Searching through one of the closets, Negan found his baseball bat and grabbed a tight hold of it. Negan went to go for the front door until he felt her grasp desperately at his shoulder. “It’s fine…”

“It’s not,” she shook her head repetitively. “I left after they locked me in my room. I grabbed as much as I could and took off crawling out the window and climbing down. I don’t even know if he knows I’m gone yet. I can’t have you go there and get in trouble. You are all I have. If you get in trouble for hurting him…”

“He can’t do this. This is wrong. You should never hit a woman like this and you should never, ever treat your child like this,” Negan grunted with an angered sound. His body was shaking and he knew that he wanted to tear her father limb from limb. “He’s a piece of shit and this is what he deserves.”

“It is, but I love you. I love you and I can’t have anything happen to you,” she pleaded desperately and he felt her grabbing a tight hold of his wrist to stop him from leaving. Negan frowned and sighed before setting the bat down. “If I lost you, I don’t know what I would do.”

“You’re not going to lose me, but he needs to be taught a lesson,” Negan insisted with a hiss and she nodded. Negan stepped forward to cup her face in his large hands and moved forward to kiss her. “We need to call someone. Tell them what he did because this is wrong.”

“No, we can’t,” she denied the offer and Negan was confused because this abuse was completely wrong. “If we go to someone and tell them what happened they are going to question why I came to you. Why it was you that I picked to go to after he beat the hell out of me. I don’t want you in trouble. I can’t have you losing your job because of me.”

“Something has to be done,” Negan demanded and he could feel her shaking in his arms. “Something…”

“Please Negan. I’m never going back there…I just…have to figure out what to do,” she stuttered, thinking of something to say. “I can’t tell people about this. I don’t want to be seen as broken. I don’t want people to know about…us. I can’t…”

“Relax,” Negan interrupted her with the shake of his head. “I love you, okay? So I’m going to do what you want of me. But fuck…if I see your father again, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I wanna fucking kill him.”

“I don’t even know what I would do if I saw him again,” she agreed and Negan reached out to grab a tight hold of her hand. He led her toward the kitchen and picked her up to place her on the island in the middle of his kitchen. Her soft cries filled the air and he wanted to kill her father for what he had done, but he was trying to do what she begged of him as he gathered some ice in a cloth and moved over toward her. He motioned her to hold it to her by her eye where the most swelling was. Quickly moving to the bathroom, he grabbed things to clean her wounds and moved swiftly to get back to her in the kitchen. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t go back there.”

“You’re going to live here,” Negan hushed her, his eyes staring into hers with a serious expression while he started to clean the gash on her lip. “I’ve been trying to get you to move in with me for a while now. You think I’m going to change my mind when you need me the most?”

“What about school?” she stammered and he shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t do this to you.”

“We’ll figure it all out,” Negan silenced her with the shake of his head. “Trust me. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. You are not going back to that house. You are going to stay here where I can protect you. Nothing like this is ever going to happen to you again, I swear.”

Negan heard her start to cry again and he reached out to pull her in closer to him so he could comfort her. He held her close in his arms trying to do his best to comfort her, but there was still part of him that felt responsible for this. He told her to avoid her father while they were on the trip and the only reason that she had condoms in the first place was because of him.

“I’m sorry I let this happen. I told you I would protect you and I couldn’t,” Negan grumbled with a heavy sigh, his lips pressing a lingering kiss against her temple. “This is all my fault.”

“No, no it’s not,” she denied his words and turned to touch the side of his face with her palm. “Imagine everything I would have gone through if you weren’t in my life.”

“But this…this is my fault,” Negan looked her over and he felt his body trembling with anger while he stared out at her. “I’m so fucking sorry and I promise I will never let this happen to you again sweetheart.”

“You have no control over my father,” she insisted seeing the sadness that was filtering over Negan’s face and she slowly lowered from the counter of the island to step forward. Her arms wrapped around him and he embraced her lovingly. “You are the best thing in my life Negan and I would be absolutely lost without you.”