#it was already snowing when we marched outside

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

can you tell me the timeline of twisted wonderland I know the game timeline started in September or august now the timeline is january or febary

The timeline for the main story is as follows:

Prologue - Based on book 1’s timing, probably very late August or very early September.

Book 1 - Crewel states that start of the school year is in September; other students like Cater drop hints that the new students are still getting acclimated to the routine of school. The light novel is even more specific; the OB fight is stated to happen within the first week of school.

Book 2 - Crowley states that the interdorm spelldrive/magift tournament takes place in October.

Book 3 - Final exams of the fall semester are mentioned, so this is before winter break. Most likely occurs in November.

Book 4 - Begins on the last day of the fall semester and continues through winter break (late December) and into the new year (January). This is pretty explicitly stated in various characters’ dialogue (Jamil, Crowley, Ramshackle Ghosts, Lilia, Octavinelle, etc.) or by in-game omnipotent narration.

Book 5 - Begins in the new year (January) and factoring in ~1 months’ worth of training, we end book 5 in mid-February, when VDC/SDC takes place. Mid-February is explicitly mentioned by Crewel.

Book 6 - Takes place literally a few days after book 5, so presumably still in February. Idia states that 5 Overblots (not counting himself) occurred in less than 6 months.

Book 7 - Estimated to be in March due to a variety of factors. It must be spring because Yuu is surprised to see (Malleus’s magically produced) snow when wandering outside of Ramshackle + says “I thought it’s supposed to be spring.” The interscholastic spelldrive/magift tournament takes place in May, but presumably has not occurred yet + Silver states his birthday (May 15) is still “a little ways away”. Assuming NRC has a spring break in April or mid/late March, it must not have happened yet because 1) no students mention a break and 2) the third years would need to apply for their internships early in the semester to allow time for their paperwork to be processed and to do additional tests and interviews. Lilia does say at his farewell party that a full 6 months have passed since the start of the school year; he would have said 7 if it was April. UPDATE: book 7 ends on Silver's birthday, May 15.

I have added this information (or at least a link to it) in my pinned post, which already contains a FAQ section. I highly recommend to my readers to look at the FAQ first before sending in their question(s), as there is a good chance that your question may have already been answered there. Any questions that are repeats of the ones shown in the FAQ will go ignored/unanswered moving forward.

[heartfullofleeches]

Reader has a small child and they need to step out for a while so they ask Blacksmith to babysit??

(It's Reader's niece, but that's close enough to a child of their own)

Dressing yourself for work, a car pulls up outside your house as you slip on your shoes, heading for the front door. That's funny- You didn't ask anyone for a ride...

"Oh, crap!"

Lights flicker and walls quake as thunderous footsteps channel through your living room. You scramble to catch a snow globe gifted to you by your boss as a shadow appears in the doorway.

"My lord? I ask of your forgiveness for disobeying your direct order to stay inside your bedroom- You sound troubled which left me no choice but to disobey. Shall I take care of the threat for you?"

You fling yourself in front of the front door as the Blacksmith marches towards it, hand firmly latched to the dagger strapped to their belt.

"NO!..." Sucking air through your teeth, you reiterate. "No, it's nothing like that. I forgot I'm supposed to babysit my niece today... Do you think you can watch her? I can't miss another day of work...

"Since the child needs supervision I assume they are a little one, correct?" The Blacksmith runs the tips of its fingers down the length of his iron mask. "I would move mountains for you, My Lord, however I must express my concerns with my...appearance. I would hate to frighten a child. Especially one close to you."

Unlocking the front door, you wave off their insecurities. "Nah, she'll love you! That girl's braver than me sometimes. You should've seen her on her first Halloween. Just wait here and I'll go grab her."

Stepping outside, the high pitched squeals of your niece are the first sounds to greet you as you walk over to your siblings car. She squirms in her car seat, making grabs for you as you chat with your siblings before turning your attention to her - unbuckling the straps of her seat.

"There's somebody I'd like you to meet today. Keep this a secret between us, okay?"

Your niece giggles as you pick her up, waving goodbye to her parent as you carry her back inside your house.

"Blacksmith, this is my niece. She already has breakfast so she shouldn't get hungry before I get back, but if she does there's some snacks in the pantry."

The instance your niece lays eyes on your housemate you're suddenly no longer her favorite person. The Blacksmith looks to you, eyes glimmering with unease through the slits of his mask as the child reaches out for them.

"Go on. She's harmless."

The Blacksmith, is not, yet they approach the child with the same delicate nature one might have when aiding a small kitten. The combination of the innocence of youth and this child being a member of your bloodline sanctifies her place as royalty in his eyes.

The two gaze at each other for what feels like eons, the jiggle of your house keys breaking the unusual moment of silence.

"See? You guys are getting along already! I'll be back before you know it- Oh, and Blacksmith? Keep my niece away from all the medieval torture devices and weapons you have shoved in my closet."

The Blacksmith feigns ignorance as he takes one of your niece's tiny hands in theirs. "I haven't the slightest idea what they are talking about. Since I am forbidden from giving you a dagger of your own, what say we get you some of those "snacks" your relative spoke of?"

Your niece seems to agree with that idea greatly- clapping along as the Blacksmith turns towards the kitchen.

"Well... Aren't you just a ray of sunshine? It would be a blessing to have a little one like you around permanently. I wonder if my lord would be open to the thought of us having a few."

[smoochi-march]

Winter Nights Smile |

Fields of Mistria | March x F Reader

Summery | Out of all the familiar faces, March would notice somebody important missing. That being you, of course. Only to find you left alone freezing your ass off outside.

Warnings & Content | Pure fluff.

Wordcount | 1448

March sat in the Inn for what felt like hours, combing his red bangs back with a hand. His spare toying with the bottle of deer Hemlock so graciously offered him.

It’s a Friday night, a known tradition in Mistria to meet up and essentially have a massive get-together. That being said, despite all the laughter and chatter… he hasn’t spotted you in the crowd. Everyone walked through those damn doors hours ago, so where the hell were you? Others could hear him grumbling, his frustration evident each time somebody tried to interact with him. He didn’t mean to come off as rude, but, he did. Left an impatient, frustrated mess. Without your presence he felt odd, to think just the other week he kept his distance from you.

“-You could check on her, y’know?”

Hemlock chimed in on the young man's struggles, well aware you plagued March's thoughts. The man is no stranger to love, happily settled down with his own beautiful partner. Raising children together. Reminiscing back in the day where he was as inexperienced as this talented blacksmith.

March crossed his arms, laying his head down. Using his folded arms as his makeshift pillow, a pout was written along his features. Furrowing each brow at the suggestion,

“…-I’m not going to her house. It’s on her for not showing up, I have no interest in what she spends her time doing.”

March huffed, bottle clenched in his hand. Had it not been a strong glass, it may have shattered right then and there.

“C’mon, bro! Don’t act all tough, you’ve been pouting all night. Admit it, it’s okay to miss the girl you like!”

March adored his brother, but one thing he despised, a single factor he hated… was how Olric never knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“…You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

March lifts himself up, removing himself from the bar along with the Inn altogether. Storming off like an immature teenager, without a second glance.

“…My, my. Your brother has lost himself, eh? Haha.”

Hemlock commented on March’s absence, eyes settling on the beer bottle left at March's seat. Staring at it with a mischievous grin. Knowing all too well where March was heading. That bottle of alcohol left on the counter, though subtle, is a clear indication of March’s absent mind.

“-I’ve never seen him like this before. I hope he’s alright, March has been quieter than usual… like, more than he already is. What do you think, Hemlock?”

Olric caught himself frowning, scratching the back of his head. He always worries about his younger brother, especially when the boy is experiencing something as frustrating as love. Olric didn’t have a partner, and was fairly inexperienced as well, too busy taking care of his baby brother and the smith to involve himself in romance. Seeking guidance from Hemlock as a child with their father may do, seeking a solution to this issue.

“-March is smart, perhaps inexperienced, but he’s got a knack for learning quick. He’ll be alright, Kid. I’m sure he’s heading to her house as we speak. Nothing we can do besides help push him in the right direction.”

Humming to the bartender's responsible, and trustworthy input, Olric would ease up. A wide smile made its way to his face,

“Yeah! Y’know, you always have the best choice of word for any occasion, Hemlock! I’d bet on that too.”

—

The redhead marched his way through layers of snow littered on the ground, hands digging in the depths of his pockets as he ran into you halfway to your house. Eyes widening, he’d scoff and look away. Acting as if he wasn’t concerned about you.

“…March! How come you’re away from the Inn?”

“-Tch. I could ask you the same thing.”

He’d respond sharply, eyes meeting your figure. Looking you up and down, scouting you out like some sort of prey. Your cheeks were flushed, hands left rubbing against each other, seeking some level of warmth you clearly couldn’t obtain on your own. From the sluggish, and stiff movement, to those adorable rosy cheeks, ears, and nose… he wanted nothing more than to take advantage of the moment. A way to care for you, without appearing sappy. Playing off his feelings for you.

Without a word, he’d reach out. Taking your hands in his own, bring each one towards his lips. You’d feel a long exhale of his brush against your reddened skin, an attempt to warm them up… shielding your hands from the flakes of snow flowing with the chilly breeze.

The sensation was strange, finding yourself unable to hold back a blush. Eyes softening, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. March, the headstrong blacksmith, was focused solely on aiding your frosted fingertips.

“…Shut up.”

“…I- I didn’t even say anything-“

“I said, shut. up.”

And you would. Frowning at the discomfort after all the hard labor you committed yourself to. Long story short, you slept in… resulting in all the work being pushed back by a couple hours. Forcing you to work throughout the cold night of winter…

“…quit taking the entire workload on your own all the time, whatever held you back so late… anybody could’ve helped.”

He’d lift his head, staring you directly in the eyes. Clearly not looking for any arguments from your end, your noses would soon kiss one another.

“I-Including you?”

You wouldn’t comment on the little space between you both, finding yourself to enjoy his advances.

“I- sure, including me- …I guess.”

His eyes averted bashfully, lifting his body so that he could create distance once again.

You’d smile, witnessing him return his focus to your hands. This was unlike the majority of your interactions, well, somewhat. He always contradicted himself, it was quite confusing at the beginning. But you’ve learned to read between the lines, he’s no doubt a man of actions rather than words.

Deciding to not upset him any further, you allowed him is moment of peace. Watching how he remained so attentive towards warming your stiff fingers, touched by his mind behavior.

“Have you eaten?-“

“I-“

“Have not. -Let’s go.”

He’d answer the question for you, making you huff in frustration. What was the point in asking a question he already knew the answer to? Lord, this Blacksmith would be the end of you.

Suddenly, you’d feel him let go of your hands. Removing his arms from each sleeve of his coat, offering it to you. Whether you agree to take it or not, he’d make you lift each arm up like a toddler- helping you sheathe your arms in each sleeve.

A sense of comfort began washing over you, lowering your head to the collar of his coat as March lowered himself to button it up. Inhaling March's scent had you on your knees. You’d never admit it to him, but you loved his scent. You loved his character, you loved his personality despite being stunted… you just fell in love with March as a whole. The cold winter air concealing the warmth flooding your cheeks, already pink long before he arrived.

“-you going to move? C’mon, while Reina’s soup is still fresh.”

You’d nod your head, watching as your breath was visible in the air. Tucking your chin back in the brown coat he always wore in the fall, the long sleeves hanging past your hands.

Escaping your daydream, your eyes tiredly droop. Lashes catching stray snowflakes, catching March's eyes. Happily following behind him, following in his footsteps. His shoes are significantly larger than yours.

Perhaps you did overexert yourself today. From ranching to farming crops, clearing out the mines, and searching for artifacts… your stomach would growl in anger, not happy with the neglect of your body today. Embarrassing you further. You then take a peek at March with your head lowered. Noticing that he has already been looking at you with a subtle side-eye, his eyes telling a story unlike any word could express, forcing your gaze to shyly fall on the ground.

Warmth tingles against your skin, a hand snaking down to grasp yours, fingers interlocking. Laced together comfortably, the young man seemed to enjoy carrying this responsibility over you, the slightest curl in his lips.

One so faint you hardly noticed it your first glance.

Unsure if it were your mind playing tricks on you.

You’d refuse to look back at him, no matter how curious you may become on the matter, just in case you’re caught staring. Little had you known, March’s eyes were glued on you the entire walk to the Inn, thankful to not be caught wearing…-

-…the ghost of a winter night smile.

[sirxaibs]

Sunday HSR X Reader

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ SNOW DAY! ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

masterlist

part 1

its a little bit of a different format!! be warned because i know the first part was well loved

this is technically a part 2 though its a little more angsty but I tried to still hold the same dynamic. Sunday having some self doubt is a warning. You don’t need to read this part but you’d need to read the first part to make this make sense.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Something cold brushed your cheek. You stirred, barely, burying your face deeper into the couch cushion. The blanket someone had kindly placed over you was warm and smelled faintly of lavender. The lights in the Parlor Car had dimmed. The stars outside twinkled lazily, unmoving.

“HEY! HEY! WAKE UP!!”

“AAAHHH” Your body spasmed upright as your eyes flew open in a panic. You blinked wildly, sleep still clawing at the corners of your vision. Something someone was screaming directly into your ear, high pitched and furious and

“We’re about to make a jump! All passengers must be prepped and present! Did you think this was a nap train?! Come on, come on!”

“PomPom?” you croaked, eyes wide and dazed, hair in complete disarray. the tiny conductor screeched, arms flailing, foot tapping with enough force you swore you could feel it through the couch. “We jump in fifteen minutes! FIFTY FIVE SECONDS of that are already gone! Do you want to arrive half dreaming and in pajamas?!”

You blinked again, your heart now racing for a whole new reason. The blanket slid off your shoulders. Across the room, seated calmly with tea in hand, Welt Yang gave you an apologetic nod as if this sort of thing wasnt normal. Beside him, Himeko, already dressed in her usual beautiful self with not a single red strand out of place, smiled gently. “Good morning, sleepyhead. You should hurry. These jumps can be disorienting if you’re not prepared.”

“Right. Yes. Okay. Jump. We’re jumping.” You stood too fast. The blanket tripped you. Your leg knocked into the table, rattling Himeko’s teacup. “Sorry! Sorry. I!”

“Just go get dressed!” PomPom wailed. “You’re embarrassing me”

You scrambled out of the Parlor Car, heart pounding, brain trying to catch up to your body.The halls of the Astral Express were softly lit, calm in contrast to your internal panic. You stumbled into your room, kicked the door shut behind you, and launched into the most frantic wardrobe selection of your life. Pajamas off. Shirt on backwards. Fixed. Pants? Where were your pants? Oh god, you’d slept in one sock and now you were wearing mismatched ones but there wasn’t time to change. You brushed your hair with your fingers, tied it up…. was that a feather from last night still in there? You stopped. Looked in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed. There were faint sleep lines on one side of your face. But your eyes were awake now alive with motion, with chaos. And as you adjusted your jacket and took one last breath, you had a glimpse of something else.

The navy blue blanket where you’d tossed it before rushing out.

Sunday.

You paused, just for a moment. The memory of his soft voice in your sleep though you hadn’t really heard the words lingered faintly, like a dream half remembered. Had he really just sat there and let you rest? You smiled without meaning to, but only for a moment. Pom Pom’s voice echoed from the hallway again.

“FIVE MINUTES! And not a second more!”

“Coming!” you yelled, grabbing your boots and stumbling out of the room like a storm with arms. You arrived at the boarding deck just as the others began gathering. Caelus was still tugging on his coat, March was fixing her scarf as if her entire existence depended on the perfect loop, and Dan Heng had been ready fifteen minutes ago and clearly didn’t understand why the rest of you looked like you’d been hit by a comet. Sunday was there too. Fully dressed. Elegant even in simplicity. His hair was slicked back, a calm expression on his face as he glanced your way and then, just for a second, something softened in his gaze when he saw you.

“Sleep well?” he asked quietly as you joined the group.

You nodded, tugging your jacket into place. “Yeah. Thanks for the blanket.”

He tilted his head. “Seemed like you had an adventurous night?”

You blinked at him. But his eyes sparkled, just a little. The floor beneath your feet gave a small rumble. Lights along the ceiling began to pulse with color. Pom Pom stood atop the central platform, now fully in Conductor Mode, voice echoing with more authority than their small frame should’ve ever allowed.

“Next stop,” Pom-Pom announced, “an old and well met planet, we are visiting Jarilo-VI again”

The ship jumped. You barely had time to brace, but this time, it didn’t feel so disorienting. Maybe because you were surrounded by them. Your crew. Your friends. Or the fact that next to you in the parlour car, Sunday is always taking in the works around him like he was just born. So much wonder made you feel so fortunate. You weren’t entirely sure when that started to feel comforting. But it did.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Jarilo-VI welcomed the Astral Express crew with its usual frosty greeting icy winds sweeping the platform, snow clinging to every rooftop and ledge, and that quiet stillness in the air that only came with winter.

You stepped off the train behind the others, watching your breath fog in front of your face. The city beyond still stood proud despite its scars. Belobog had changed since you were last here less tension, more movement. There was life in the people’s steps now. A subtle, growing hope.

March was already snapping pictures of Caelus helping a local child shovel snow off the street, her voice excited and dramatic. “Sometkme i look at him and wish I had that drive but he does stuff like he has daily tasks or commissions”

Caelus was half buried in a snowbank but gave a thumbs up. Dan Heng, coat already pristine and zipped, muttered something under his breath and walked ahead toward the Administrative District. He’d been assigned to assist with a few lingering logistics, as had Himeko and Welt. The grown ups, as March dubbed them. You? You had been told absolutely nothing.

No tasks. No missions. Not even a clipboard. Which was exactly why, once everyone else had scattered, you stayed behind. Your eyes trailed over the rooftops dusted with white, the distant roads sloping down into familiar territory. Serval’s workshop, maybe. Or even a chance run in with Bronya or Gepard. Heck, you’d even take a weird monologue from Sampo as long as you weren’t standing still in the cold. You adjusted your coat and turned to sneak off “You’re not going alone, are you?”

You flinched and turned around quickly. Sunday stood just behind you on the platform, arms folded loosely across his chest, eyes squinting slightly at the sun reflecting off the snow. Still in his usual attire, not a shred of weather appropriate attire in sight. He blinked slowly, then added, “I thought I might accompany you. If you don’t mind.”

You hesitated. He didn’t ask why you were going. Just wanted to tag along.

“Sure,” you said, smiling, “but not like that. You’ll die in five minutes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve survived much worse.”

“Yeah, sure. luxury suits. Come on.”

You motioned for him to follow and dragged him back into the Express, heading straight for the storage closet where everyone’s winter gear was kept. You shoved open the door and started rummaging. He watched you with amused patience as you returned with armfuls of thick clothes. You tossed a jacket at him navy, heavy, with silver trim. He barely caught it before you were already looping a scarf around his neck, standing on tiptoe to reach properly. “Arms up,” you ordered, like he was a kindergartener and not a six foot tall enigma.

“You’re very particular about this,” he murmured as you tugged the sleeves over his arms and zipped the coat halfway up his chest.

“You probably haven’t even seen snow before,” you muttered, voice muffled as you fixed the scarf, “Pretty boy like you? I bet Penacony was all dream beaches and sun.” You tugged a beanie over his perfectly styled hair. “This would eat you alive.”

“I think I’m capable of”

“There.” You stepped back, satisfied, and grinned. “Now you look like a fashionable marshmallow.” Behind you, a suppressed snort cracked the silence. You didn’t even turn. “March, if you even think about saying anything, I’m throwing snow down your coat.” More giggling. Retreating footsteps. Sunday glanced in the direction of the sound and then looked back at you, blinking under the knit hat you’d shoved onto his head. “Am I… presentable?”

You pretended to examine him, chin in your hand like an artist judging a sculpture. “You’ll survive. If only just.”

His smile was subtle, but it reached his eyes. Together, you stepped off the train and began your slow descent into the city. Jarilo-VI was still beautiful in the way icy sunlight catching on rooftops, the clink of tools and laughter echoing from a few shops that had reopened. As you both walked, you explained what each building had been during the whole event when the astral crew were all there, and how things had changed. Sunday didn’t speak much, but he listened. Genuinely. His hands stayed in his pockets, but his eyes followed every movement children pulling sleds, old workers salting roads, steam curling from chimneys.

“It’s different here,” he said softly after a while.

You hummed. “Cold?”

“it feels like fresh air.” His breath fogged in the air. “I used to think eternity would be the only path to peace”

You turned to look at him. He shook his head. “Its so nice to see people out.” His gaze dropped to the footprints the two of you left behind in the snow. You smiled.

“Also,” he added lightly, “I haven’t felt my fingers in the past twenty minutes. So perhaps you were right.”

“Well no duh” you grinned, and bumped his shoulder gently. “Welcome to winter, dream boy.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Eventually, you ended up outside Serval’s workshop, laughter and music spilling from the inside. She was strumming her guitar for a cluster of teens, everyone bundled up with hot drinks and wool scarves. The moment Serval spotted you, her eyes sparkled with mischief and she called out, “Hey! You brought a date?”

You flushed immediately. “He’s not”

“I’m here by choice,” Sunday cut in smoothly, tugging his scarf down just enough to speak clearly. His voice was calm, a slight smirk on his lips. “Don’t let her flustered denial fool you.”

You shot him a look, but he only raised a brow in amusement.

One of the teens whispered, “Is that guy famous or something?” Another murmured, “He looks like he owns a whole company.”

You buried your face in your scarf.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Later, as the sun dipped and shadows grew long, the two of you sat at the edge of the city, the rooftops of Belobog glowing gold beneath a dusky sky. You handed Sunday the last bit of your hot drink without looking at him. He accepted it, hands brushing yours, and took a sip.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice more serious now. “For letting me come along.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” you muttered, gaze fixed ahead. “I just needed a tall coat rack.”

There was a pause, then a soft chuckle. “Then I hope I’m fulfilling my purpose admirably.”

When you didn’t reply, he added, quieter, “I don’t take your time for granted. I’m glad to be here with you.”

That made your heart skip. You looked away, flustered, and he didn’t push. The stillness wrapped around you both like a blanket, snowflakes drifting lazily in the air. You leaned back on the bench, exhaling slowly.

“Hey! Hey, there you are!”

You both turned to find Lynx bounding up the road, scarf trailing and cheeks pink from the cold. “There’s a frozen lake just outside the city! We cleared it for skating come join us! Serval’s already out there bullying Gepard, and I need backup.”

You stood, grinning. “Say no more. I’m in.” You glanced at Sunday. “C’mon.”

He blinked, surprised. “I’m sorry what exactly are we doing?”

“Skating.”

“…That’s like walking but more dangerous?”

“You’ll be fine.” You patted his shoulder. “You’ve survived worse.”

“I’m not convinced this counts as survival.”

You were already walking, but he didn’t hesitate long. He stood with a quiet sigh, resigned but not unwilling. “I assume you’ll mock me if I fall.”

You smiled over your shoulder. “Respectfully.” You smirked. “Come on. We’ll get you moving.” He hesitated but only for a second. Lynx clapped her hands and turned back toward the main street, clearly expecting you both to follow. You tossed Sunday a look, and he reluctantly stood with that soft little sigh of surrender he always gave around you. In retrospect the lake wasn’t far just past a ridge near the edge of Belobog’s perimeter. It was tucked away like a secret winter garden. A large sheet of glassy ice shimmered in the moonlight, surrounded by snowy banks and pine trees dusted in white.

A few lanterns had been strung up between wooden poles, casting golden halos onto the lake’s surface. Music played faintly from a small speaker on the snowbank, something upbeat and old school that you suspected came from Serval’s collection. And there they were: Serval, skating backwards with way too much confidence, trying to start a conga line with a group of teens nearby. Gepard, already red in the face as he stumbled along the ice, attempting to catch up to her. You were pulling on your skates before Sunday even had a chance to decline. Lynx offered to help him get into his pair, but you shooed her off.

You stood on the lake first, gliding across the surface like it was second nature, your balance steady and posture relaxed. Lynx clapped excitedly as you looped around her, grabbing her hands and pulling her onto the ice.

“Wait wait wait!” she squealed, trying not to fall as you twirled her.

You laughed freely, cheeks flushed and heart light.

“You’re weirdly good at this!” she cried.

“I have secret skills,” you said with mock seriousness.

“I literally live here, how are you like this.” Lynx replied. you winked. Gepard was the next target.

“Hey, Captain,” you called, skating up beside him with a wide grin, “Race you to that snowbank.”

He narrowed his eyes, the same competitive spark you remembered lighting up in them. “You’re on.” Two seconds later, you were both flying across the ice, skates slicing through it with sharp precision. Three seconds after that, you crashed spectacularly into the snowbank, laughing as you rolled over onto your back and blinked up at the stars.

“You okay?” Gepard asked, snow clinging to his uniform.

“I’ve been better,” you wheezed, still laughing. Serval skated over next and dropped onto her knees beside you. “You die?”

“Spiritually.”

The next ten minutes were a blur of white flurries and screaming as Serval roped you into a full scale ambush on the Landaus. Lynx betrayed you instantly. Gepard tried to remain neutral. It didn’t work. You laughed until your stomach hurt, until your hair was full of snow and your gloves were soaked and all the while, Sunday watched from the sidelines, sitting alone on the bench near the treeline. His winter coat bundled around him, scarf you wrapped earlier still snug around his neck.

His eyes followed your every move. Your joy was loud. Free. Untamed. He watched as you threw snow with both hands, collapsed in a heap of laughter, and got back up just to do it again. Your smile wasn’t measured. It wasn’t perfect. It reminded him of what should have been. Of what he never had. His own sister had never laughed like that. Robin had smiled, yes, but it was always rehearsed duty bound. Everything in Penacony was orchestrated. Everything was planned. Conditional. watching you here, he felt it again, that strange ache. That pull toward something… unconditional. It made his chest tight.

“You’re not gonna sit there all night, are you?” Serval’s voice cut through his thoughts. He turned slowly to see her smirking down at him, hands on her hips. “Why don’t you get out there? She’ll catch you if you fall.”

“…I have no experience skating.”

“Exactly why you should.” She leaned in slightly. “You two act like you’re not into each other, but you’ve got the tension of Bronya and Seele after seeing each other for too long” His eyes flicked up to her.

She winked. “Go on, dream boy.”

You were in the middle of trying to help Lynx build a snow cat when a shadow fell over you. You turned. Sunday stood awkwardly in borrowed skates, hands in his pockets.

“…I believe I require assistance.”

Your brows lifted. “You’re actually going to try?”

“I was… encouraged.”

You snorted and skated over. “Okay, come here.” You held out your hands, and he took them without hesitation.

“Bend your knees slightly,” you instructed, “and keep your core tight.”

“I feel like I’m being trained for battle.”

“well trying anything new kinda feels like that.”

His feet slipped, and he lunged slightly but you caught him. You laughed, and he stared at you. “I will admit,” he said quietly, “the company makes it tolerable.”

You felt your smile soften. You pulled him gently along the ice, step by slow step. He clung to your hands like they were lifelines. Lynx waved at you two from across the lake. Serval gave a not so subtle thumbs up. You pretended not to see them.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ warmth immediately spilled into your bones, melting away the bite of the Belobog chill still clinging to your coat. You stepped inside with Sunday beside you, arms still linked, boots dripping faint traces of snow onto the polished floor.

His scarf was still a little uneven where you’d adjusted it earlier, and his cheeks held the last blush of cold. His steps were careful, as they had been all night, but steadier now. You were guiding him more than anything. Not that he’d admit it.

You glanced at him as the doors closed behind you.

“You know,” you started, “I think you’ve set a record for the most times someone’s fallen in one walk.”

“I would prefer it not be the legacy I leave behind,” Sunday replied, smooth and quiet, a faint wryness in his voice. “Though you seem particularly fond of recounting each incident.”

“I’m preserving history,” you said, stifling a laugh. “Someone has to tell the tale of the Great Trip of Ten Feet Past the Bench.”

His gaze shifted down toward you, expression unreadable but fond. “If I recall, you were laughing too hard to be of any assistance.”

“I got there eventually,” you said innocently. “Besides, you falling over is weirdly elegant. Like watching a tree try to curtsy.”

That pulled a quiet breath from him, something like a laugh but more reserved. “It was… a good night.”

You smiled at that, more to yourself than anything. “Yeah. It was.”

The two of you walked a little slower now, letting the soft lights of the Express guide your path past the Parlor Car. Himeko’s voice murmured faintly from the direction of the tea table. Someone probably Dan Heng had left a book open on one of the lounge chairs.

You and Sunday paused in the corridor just before it branched off into your rooms. The moment hung there, gentle and still. He looked at you, his tone quieter now. “Thank you… for inviting me.”

You tilted your head, a little amused. “Pretty sure you invited yourself.”

“I did,” he admitted, “but you didn’t send me away.”

Your smile lingered, warm. “Wouldn’t have, even if you asked.”

He gave a small nod, the weight of the day still visible in the curve of his shoulders, but there was ease there too like something heavy had been left behind in the snow.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

You didn’t let go of his arm right away, but when you did, your hands brushed one last time. He turned with quiet steps and disappeared down the hallway toward his room, the soft rustle of his coat fading behind him.

You stood there for a moment longer, just listening. The train hummed, steady beneath your feet. The stars drifted lazily outside the windows. Eventually, you turned and wandered toward the main lounge where March was curled up on the couch with a blanket, swiping through pictures on her camera.

She looked up as you walked in and grinned. “Okay. You have to see this one Bronya mid fall. her arms are doing this dramatic flailing thing. I swear, it’s like ballet.”

You laughed and plopped down beside her, glancing over at the tiny screen. “She did try to defend her honor.”

“Yeah, and then immediately ate ice again,” March said, beaming. “And you and Sunday? how was that today… nothing out of the ordinary…”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for a throw pillow. “You’re imagining things.”

March wiggled her eyebrows. “Sure I am.”

You stayed a few minutes longer, sharing stories, teasing each other in the soft glow of the lounge, until your body finally reminded you how tired you were. After promising to join her again tomorrow for more photo reviews, you stood with a stretch and padded quietly down the hallway. The lights dimmed slightly as you reached your door, and in the stillness, you caught yourself thinking back on the day. The snow. The skating. The way Sunday had looked at you when he said he didn’t mind being useful if it was to you.

The crew slept quietly around you. The hum of its systems was softer in the middle of the night, like even the machine itself had tucked in. You hadn’t meant to stay up this late but after tossing and turning in bed, your sweet tooth had convinced you to sneak down to the kitchen car. Just something small. A cookie or two. Maybe something warm to hold for a while.

You were on your way back now, satisfied and relaxed, your steps light as you padded barefoot through the dim halls. Most of the lights had dimmed to a faint glow, golden enough to keep the shadows at bay but soft enough not to wake anyone. A few stars shimmered lazily beyond the train windows, the galaxy at peace. Everyone else had already turned in. You were on your way to do the same when a quiet sound halted your steps near the guest car a space meant for travelers passing through, those not quite crew but not strangers either. Sunday stayed there.

Your hand hovered over the handle to your room, ready to turn in at last until you heard it. A sound. It came from the guest car just around the bend. Your brows furrowed. Everyone else had already turned in. You were on your way to do the same when a quiet sound halted your steps near the guest car a space meant for travelers passing through, those not quite crew but not strangers either. Sunday stayed there.

You stayed still, holding your breath. There it was again. A stifled breath. The kind someone might mistake for a cough if they weren’t paying attention.

But you were paying attention. It was the sound of someone trying not to cry. Your first instinct was to leave him be let him have his space, his privacy. But the image of him skating with shaking knees and guarded pride, of the way his eyes had softened during the snowball fights, lingered too vividly. The fondness you felt for him wasn’t something you could ignore. You stepped away from your door and moved toward his.

The door to his room was slightly ajar. You didn’t call out. Probably should’ve knocked. You just stepped inside quietly, drawn by something you didn’t have the words for. The room was dim, lit only by the faint starlight filtering in through the window. Sunday sat upright on the edge of the bed, his coat shrugged off and draped over the chair. He hadn’t changed for sleep. His eyes were red, his shoulders trembling just slightly. He was turned away, both hands clasped as if trying to hold himself together.

You simply knelt in front of him, your knees pressing into the floor, eyes searching his face until he finally looked down. His breath hitched at the sight of you. His lips parted like he might try to speak, but nothing came. So you offered your hand. No words. No expectations. Just your hand, palm up, waiting. He stared at it for a moment. Then, slowly hesitantly he reached out and took it. His fingers were cold. His grip was light at first, like he didn’t quite trust himself to hold on. But then he exhaled, the breath catching at the end, and he interlocked his fingers with yours. He didn’t cry again, not right away. He just breathed. Slow. Shaky. Like the pain had found a safe place to settle.

Minutes passed. And then, quietly, he spoke. “…You looked so beautiful today,” he whispered. “With the others. With that girl… her laugh reminded me of Robin’s.”

Your thumb gently brushed over the back of his hand. “She always tried to laugh like that,” he said. “But it was always… restrained. Like it had to be measured. Beautiful, but… not direct.” His voice broke. “Not like yours.”

You stayed still, grounded, letting the silence hold space for him. “I kept thinking… if she had a life like yours… if I had” He stopped, trembling again. “Every time I look at you, I learn something else I never knew I needed to value. Every gesture, every laugh, every time you reach out for someone like it’s nothing…” He shook his head, a small, helpless sound. “It teaches me what I missed. What she missed.”

You lifted your other hand to rest gently against his knee. His grip on your fingers tightened, like he needed something to hold on to.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted. “That the more I see, the more I’ll realize how empty everything I had really was. And yet, I can’t look away.”

He looked down at you again then, and in that moment, he didn’t look composed or mysterious or sharp. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you said softly. “Im sorry for barging in.”

He exhaled again, a little steadier now, and lowered his forehead to rest gently against yours. There was no need to say anything else just yet. You were here.

You stayed like that for a while his forehead resting lightly against yours, his hand warm and solid in your own. The silence wasn’t heavy anymore. Then, slowly, you shifted. Still kneeling, you leaned forward, resting your head gently on his legs. Your cheek pressed to the soft fabric of his trousers, and your fingers relaxed around his.

Sunday froze, just for a moment. His breath hitched again, but not from pain this time. Then his hand moved. Carefully. Tentatively. Fingers brushing through your hair. He stroked it once. Then again, slower.

The movement was gentle like he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch you this way, but needed to anyway. Like this moment was fragile, and he was terrified of breaking it. You let him comfort himself in the rhythm of it, in the quiet press of your presence. The train hummed softly beneath you both, as if it too understood the importance of silence right now.

His hand paused only once just to curl lightly at the ends of your hair, like he was memorizing the texture. Then, after a while, he shifted forward, leaning down just slightly.

His hand cupped your face, thumb grazing along your cheek with a reverence that felt almost sacred. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He didn’t say anything after. He just stayed there, his hand still against your cheek, his other resting in your hair.

Eventually, he sighed, a sound almost reluctant to disturb the stillness.

“…If you stay like that much longer,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse from emotion, “your neck is going to ache terribly.”

You hummed softly, not moving just yet. Still, the smallest smile ghosted across your lips.

[airandyeah]

Bastard Prince!Gojo X Foreign Princess!Reader Heavy Is The Crown Pt.4

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

The morning air was sharp—bracing in a way that cut through even the finest of furs. But Gojo welcomed the bite. It helped him think. Helped him not think, too.

The sound of steel meeting steel rang through the sparring yard. He moved like smoke—fluid, fast, almost lazy in his grace. But Suguru matched him blow for blow, dark hair tied back, expression unreadable, as always.

“You’re sloppy today,” Suguru said, parrying a lunge and pivoting with the ease of someone who knew Gojo better than most.

“Maybe I’m distracted,” Gojo offered, not bothering to deny it.

Another strike. Another block. The weight of the blade in his hand was familiar, comforting. Predictable. Unlike the Southern princess who had turned a simple outing into... A date whatever that had been.

Suguru raised an eyebrow as their swords clanged again. “Let me guess. The girl.”

Gojo grinned, wild and boyish. “She’s not just a girl. She’s a firestorm in silk. Did you see her yesterday, marching through the market like she belonged there?”

“I saw the way you were looking at her,” Suguru deadpanned. “You smiled. Like... genuinely.”

Gojo paused his footwork just a second too long, and Suguru's blade nearly caught his arm.

He ducked out of range and laughed. “Careful. I might start thinking you care.”

“I do care. If you get stupid over a pretty face, you’ll make a fool of yourself and the court.”

Gojo twirled his blade once, just to show off. “She’s more than a pretty face.”

Suguru lowered his sword slightly, narrowing his eyes. “So it’s true, then? You actually like her.”

Gojo didn’t answer right away. He rolled his neck, eyes on the overcast sky above.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “She’s different. Bold. Not afraid of the cold or the court. She challenged my father’s stare like it was nothing.”

He looked down at his blade, tapping it once against Suguru’s.

“I’ve seen girls flinch at the whispers. She didn’t. She smiled like she knew it was all beneath her. And maybe it is.”

Suguru was quiet for a moment, then finally gave a dry snort. “So you’re saying she’s trouble.”

Gojo smirked. “Exactly my type.”

They resumed sparring again, but there was something lighter in his footwork now. More deliberate.

“Don’t let the warmth fool you,” Suguru warned, meeting his strikes easily. “Fire burns, but it also consumes. You better know what you're playing with.”

Gojo’s grin turned sharp.

“Oh, I do.” ~~~

“You made a spectacle of yourself.”

Your father’s words are cold—not unlike the snow blanketing the palace grounds outside the frost-laced window. You don’t flinch, but you don’t turn to face him either. It’s easier to keep your eyes on the swirling white beyond the glass, to pretend for a moment that the morning might be peaceful.

“I made an impression,” you say, voice calm. Steady.

He scoffs behind you. “An impression? Laughing through the market like a tavern girl, fingers tangled with his like you’ve already married the boy?”

At the table, your mother stirs her tea. The gentle clink of the spoon is the only sound between his rage and your silence.

“You asked me to earn his favor,” you remind him, turning slowly to face him. “Would you have preferred I act frigid and forgettable? Is that what makes a wife appealing in the North?”

His jaw tightens. He wants to argue. You see it in the twitch of his hands, the narrowing of his eyes. But the words don’t come.

“Do not mistake your cleverness for control,” he says finally, pacing like a caged beast before the fire. “We are foreigners here. They look at us and see heat and chaos. When you flaunt your nature, you only confirm their whispers.”

“I am heat,” you say quietly, “and I won’t apologize for it.”

Before he can snap back, your mother rises to her feet with all the grace of a queen. “Enough,” she says, her voice soft but final. “Both of you.”

The room stills.

“The engagement ball is tomorrow night. It will be public. Permanent. Every eye will be watching you.”

You swallow hard, your heart skipping as she meets your gaze. You know she’s right. The weight of what comes next presses down like the snow-heavy sky.

“Come,” she says gently, brushing past your father. “Let’s find your gown. You must be unforgettable.”

You follow her to the wardrobe, its doors already open to reveal silks and velvets, furs and gold-threaded embroidery. Your fingers trail over fabric too fine for war and too bold for cowardice.

“This one,” your mother murmurs, lifting a deep crimson gown with golden embroidery. It glows even in the morning light, like embers refusing to die.

Your breath catches. It’s perfect.

You run your fingers along the hem. “I’ll need a cloak.”

She nods, plucking a dark plum fur-lined cloak from the side—so deep it’s almost black. Draped over crimson, it will make you look like fire walking through frost.

“You were born of sun and flame,” she says, smoothing a lock of hair behind your ear, “and you will burn brighter than this frozen court ever dared.”

You meet her eyes in the mirror.

And with quiet certainty, you say, “I won’t let the cold dim me.” ~~~

The hallway outside the grand ballroom hums with quiet tension. Golden light spills beneath the massive doors, and the muffled sound of a string quartet drifts through the crack. Courtiers and attendants bustle around you, fixing gowns, straightening collars, whispering last-minute reminders.

But all of it fades when you see him.

Gojo Satoru stands at the far end of the corridor, dressed in a deep navy coat trimmed in white fur, silver embroidery dancing along the cuffs like frost. A ceremonial sword rests at his hip—unnecessary, but traditional. He’s nothing like the man who laughed with you in the marketplace.

He’s the crown prince now. Cold. Untouchable.

Until his eyes find you.

And they soften.

His lips part just slightly as you approach, arm curled neatly at your side beneath your plum-lined cloak. The crimson gown beneath flickers like flame with every step, and you swear the temperature rises in the room.

He doesn’t speak right away—only looks at you as if trying to memorize everything.

“Gods,” he murmurs, voice low enough only you can hear, “they said you were beautiful, but I don’t think they were prepared.”

You arch a brow, heat rising to your cheeks. “Is that meant to be flattery, or are you still drunk?”

That earns a laugh—soft, genuine. His arm extends toward you, elbow bent, waiting. “Sober. I wanted to remember everything about tonight.”

You hesitate, not because you don’t want to touch him, but because the weight of what waits behind those ballroom doors feels suddenly real.

Your fingers slip into the crook of his arm. He leans in just slightly.

“They’re all going to look at you,” he says, gaze flicking to your lips, “and then they’ll look at me and wonder how I earned someone like you.”

You glance up at him, heart ticking faster. “And what will you wonder?”

He smirks, lowering his voice. “Whether I’m smart enough to keep you.”

Before you can respond, the doors begin to open with a slow, thunderous creak. The herald announces your names, the music swells, and the sea of nobles rises to their feet.

Gojo tilts his head, that wolfish glint in his eye.

“Ready, princess?”

Your grip tightens.

“Born ready.”

And together, you step into the firelight and frost.

The ballroom is a world of gold and ice.

Crystal chandeliers scatter light like falling snow across polished marble. Frost-laced arches stretch toward the vaulted ceiling, each one strung with winter roses and pale silks that ripple with every draft. Laughter simmers beneath the music, a blend of elegance and expectation.

But when you and Gojo enter, everything stills.

For one breathless moment, the court forgets how to pretend.

You see it—every widened eye, every whispered exchange behind bejeweled fans. The foreign princess, burning red and gold in a kingdom of white. And beside you, the prince with frost in his veins and laughter on his tongue.

Gojo walks with effortless grace, spine straight, chin lifted. His hand never leaves yours, held just tightly enough that you know it’s intentional. Possessive. Protective.

When you reach the top of the staircase overlooking the ballroom, a steward steps forward, scroll in hand, voice ringing clear:

“Announcing the formal engagement of His Highness Crown Prince Gojo Satoru of the Northern Realms and Her Highness, Princess of the Southern lands.”

The applause comes after a breath, scattered at first, then building—tight, polite, formal.

You smile, poised as ever, but your pulse races. You can feel the scrutiny, the unspoken doubts wrapped in admiration and envy. The nobles don’t know what to make of you. You’re too bold, too warm, too alive.

And Gojo loves it.

He leans in, whispering low beneath the sound of clapping, “Told you they’d all look at you first.”

You murmur back, “Let them burn their eyes out.”

His laugh is quiet but real.

As the crowd parts for your descent, Gojo guides you effortlessly down the stairs and into the crowd. People bow. You nod in return. Some faces are tight with civility. Others with curiosity.

You recognize none of them. It doesn’t matter.

He leads you to the center of the floor, where the musicians change tune—something soft and sweeping. The official first dance.

Gojo turns to face you, hand outstretched. “Well then, soon-to-be wife,” he says, tone teasing but reverent, “shall we show them how the North and South move together?”

You take his hand.

He pulls you close.

The dance begins, and for all their stares, all their expectations, it feels oddly easy. Natural. His hand on your waist, yours on his shoulder, and the world melting into a slow rhythm of footsteps and heat.

He smells like pine and wine. Like something sharp edged and honest beneath all the silks.

“You’re doing well,” he says. “I was worried you’d melt into a puddle under all these eyes.”

You roll yours. “Please. I was raised for this stage.”

“And yet you still surprise me.”

You tilt your head, meeting his gaze. “Is that a compliment?”

“Maybe.” His eyes soften. “Maybe it’s a warning.”

The song slows, drawing to a close as the ballroom breaks into applause once again. He bows, you curtsy, and as you both straighten, you catch the flash of pride in your mother’s eyes… and the tight line of your father’s jaw.

The rest of the night will be a blur of pleasantries, politics, and pretending. But for this moment, beneath a kingdom of snow and under the weight of a thousand eyes, there is only you, the crown prince, and the fire neither of you are willing to put out.

Gojo is quick to tug you away after the official rounds are done. You don’t protest—it’s stifling beneath the weight of courtly niceties, and your feet ache from polite steps and performance-perfect smiles.

He leads you through a side hall, still glittering but blessedly quieter, until he turns a corner toward a balcony. The doors are wide open to let in the icy breeze, and standing there with flutes of wine and half-lidded smirks are three men who carry themselves nothing like the others.

“Thought it was about time you met the only people I don’t despise,” Gojo says dryly, keeping your hand in his as he approaches. “Try not to be too charmed. They’re idiots.”

One of the men—the tallest with raven-black hair and something unreadable behind his lazy grin—raises his glass toward you in a silent toast. “I heard our Crown Prince finally picked a bride who might be able to keep him in check,” he says, voice smooth as silk. “I’m Suguru. His better half, depending on the day.”

Gojo sighs. “He wishes.”

The next man has softer features, dark hair tucked behind one ear and an amused look that doesn’t seem to fade. “Shoko couldn’t come,” he says. “She’d rather die than wear a dress.”

“And we’re all grateful,” Gojo adds, then nudges his head toward the third figure. “That’s Nanami. Don’t let the expression fool you. He likes you already.”

The blond man standing a bit off to the side gives a polite nod. “Your Highness.”

You nod back, a little breathless as you absorb each of them—so different, and yet clearly all sharing a bond with Gojo that runs deeper than appearances.

“And I’m Yuu,” the other man adds with a sheepish grin. “Officially I’m nobody, unofficially I’m the one who covers for these three when they get drunk and need to stumble home in one piece.”

Gojo claps a hand on Yuu’s back. “He’s the most dangerous one here. Hide your valuables.”

You laugh—truly laugh, not the curated courtly kind—and the sound earns matching smirks from his circle.

“You’re warmer than expected,” Suguru comments, sipping from his flute. “And dressed like a firework.”

“It’s deliberate,” you reply, lifting your chin. “If I’m going to freeze to death, I’d rather do it in color.”

Gojo’s smile at your side is quiet but proud.

The cold wind slips between everyone’s coats and cuffs, but the warmth between you and these strangers-who-don’t-feel-like-strangers buzzes under your skin. They aren’t just allies. They’re his—and now, maybe, yours.

“Let’s go somewhere warmer,” Gojo murmurs beside your ear. “Before Suguru starts waxing poetic.”

“I do that sober,” Suguru chimes in. “And you invited us.”

Gojo doesn’t argue—just rolls his eyes and leads the way inside again, your hand still snug in his. For once, surrounded by the closest thing to family he claims, you don’t feel like an outsider.

You feel like you might actually belong.

The halls are quiet by the time Gojo walks you back to your room.

It’s a gentle silence—not the stiff kind that weighed heavy your first night here. The air is cooler, more peaceful. He walks beside you with his hands tucked in the sleeves of his coat, humming softly under his breath. You don’t know the tune, but you don’t mind. It’s the first time he’s seemed entirely at ease.

At your door, you both linger. A soft smile curves his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach the usual smugness that lingers there during the day.

“I suppose I should say goodnight properly,” he says, voice low.

You tilt your head. “And what does ‘properly’ mean for a Northern prince?”

Gojo leans a little closer, just enough to catch the faintest hitch of your breath. “Something like this.”

He doesn’t rush—doesn’t pull you in like a scene from a dramatic romance. Instead, he leans in gently, carefully, and presses a kiss to your cheek. His lips are warm despite the cold.

“Sleep well, princess,” he murmurs.

You’re stunned for half a second, heart knocking against your ribs. You barely manage a soft, breathy, “Goodnight.”

Gojo steps back with a crooked smile, and you turn to slip into your room—only to notice, in the distance down the hall, a flicker of movement.

A maid.

She hurries off, eyes wide and hand over her mouth.

Gojo follows your gaze and chuckles. “Think she’ll keep that to herself?”

You snort. “Hardly.”

He shrugs, turning to walk away. “Let them talk, then. If they want to believe I’m falling for my bride, who am I to stop them?”

Your breath catches at his words, but before you can respond, he’s already strolling away, hands tucked casually behind his head, like he hadn’t just made your heart skip three beats in a row.

And come morning—true to your suspicion—the whispers will begin. That the Southern princess is softening the bastard prince. That the cold of the North might finally be melting.

And that maybe… just maybe… love is blooming where no one expected it to.

Taglist: @megumuro , @pickledsoda , @jinjen Perm Tags: @thenightperson , @makingtimemine

[lilacmingi]

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Hufflepuff!Yunho x Hufflepuff!fem reader

Word count: 4,968

Note: Seems kinda silly sharing this one considering its March lol but when I was writing these Hogwarts AU imagines, they were being posted around November/December 2022 and I felt bad for not having anything festive written so I made this one take place around Christmastime to add some festive flair. Hopefully you guys can still enjoy it, even in March haha

"You need to dress warmly, Y/n. It's getting colder these days." Yunho tugged your scarf around your neck, making sure you were all bundled up.

You merely chuckled, amused at how much he cares for you.

"I'll be fine." You assured him.

"We have to walk all the way to the greenhouse for herbology. You should stay warm."

You gave him a reluctant smile, allowing him to adjust your scarf to where it would cover your chin.

"Okay." He gave a small nod of approval before linking arms with you. "Let's go. Don't wanna be late."

Leaving the warm corridors of the school, you stepped out into the chilly air. It was nearing the end of autumn and would soon be winter, though based on the bitter temperature outside it felt like the season had already arrived. You and your fellow housemate trekked across the school grounds, stepping over leaves that had long fallen off the trees, their color now a dull brown. The holidays were just around the corner and Hogwarts had rolled out the Christmas decorations, decking the entire school out in holiday cheer, the colorful array of twinkling ornaments and other baubles giving the castle a cozy feel. The Great Hall was the most beautiful with large Christmas trees throughout the room, holly and ribbons hanging along the ceiling, all topped off with white snow falling from above, the magical icy clusters not feeling cold at all.

The greenhouse came into view, you and Yunho hurrying over desperate to get inside and out of the chilly air.

"Good afternoon." Professor Sprout greeted you with her usual warm smile, her jovial personality shining through as always.

"Afternoon." You greeted, making your way further into the greenhouse, taking your place at the long table that stretched along the length of the greenhouse.

You and Yunho began unpacking your supplies, your fingers brushing against his by accident.

"Your hands are freezing." He commented, grabbing them with his larger ones.

A faint heat creeped onto your cheeks as he squeezed your icy palms between his, warming them a little. You were so focused on him, you didn't notice the other students filing in the greenhouse, preparing for class.

"Alright. Now that everyone's here let's get started." Professor Sprout spoke up, causing Yunho to release your hands.

You exchanged sheepish glances before the both of you turned your eyes away out of embarrassment.

"Since Christmas is approaching, I thought it would be fit for us to study mistletoe. As you all know, this parasitic plant is used for decoration, but you can also use it for antidotes for the forgetfulness potion and common poisons."

"Ha. Mistletoe." You chuckled softly. "How festive."

Professor Sprout proceeded to explain more facts about the plant, allowing everyone to examine the white berries on the herbage, cutting them open and grinding them for potions.

The greenhouse, though slightly warmer than the chilly outdoor air, didn't offer much heat for your cold fingertips. Suddenly you missed the warmth of Yunho's hands, wishing he could hold them one more time.

Professor Sprout filled the silence in the greenhouse by giving a brief history lesson on mistletoe, talking about how it was used as a holiday decoration in the 1700s, then she proceeded explain how wizards used it for potions, though at that point you started zoning out.

Her voice became mere background noise as your eyes lingered on Yunho, who was closely examining the leaves on his plant which was held between his slender fingers.

By some miracle, you managed to pull it together long enough to make it through class.

You rubbed your hands together on the trek back to the school, tugging your scarf up to cover your nose and shield it from the chilly gusts of wind that fiercely hit your cheeks.

Once back inside Hogwarts, you let the heat from the torches lining the hall to warm you up a little. Yunho noticed the way you rubbed your hands together, wiggling your fingers around a bit.

"Here." Yunho held his hands out to you palms up.

You placed your smaller hands in his and allowed him to warm them the best he could, though his fingers were pretty cold as well, but they were warmer than yours. Plus, you can't possibly pass up the opportunity to have his hands holding onto yours.

You chuckled softly at Yunho's appearance, noticing a tint of pink on the tip of his nose.

"What?" He asked amusedly.

"Your nose is pink."

"It's freezing too. Wanna feel it?" He teased, leaning in closely preparing to press his nose against your cheek. You were quick to pull away, laughing at him.

"Come on. Let's go to the dining hall and see if we can get some hot chocolate before our next class." He stated.

"That would be fantastic."

The both of you went straight to the Great Hall where thankfully you were able to get a hot beverage to warm you up, the drink doing wonders for you.

"This was a good call." You sighed contently, grateful that your friend had suggested the idea. "I needed something that would warm me up quickly."

He hummed in agreement, his face covered by the mug as he gulped down the chocolate beverage. Once he set the cup down, a small amount of whipped cream dotted the tip of his nose as well as his top lip, the sight making you giggle.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" He asked, knowing there was whipped topping on him.

"Come here." You beckoned, grabbing a napkin and cleaning his face.

Yunho's heart fluttered at your simple yet very effective actions. His eyes lingered on your face, taking in all your beautiful details, from your lashes to your soft-looking lips, his mind beginning to wander as he imagined what it would feel like to kiss them.

"Yunho?"

He blinked himself from his daze, humming in response.

"You zoned out. I asked if you were ready to go. We've got just enough time to get to class."

"Oh. Yeah I'm ready."

It was early morning, right around breakfast time and you were sat in front of the fireplace in the Hufflepuff common room with a letter in your hands and a heavy feeling in your chest.

The sound of feet shuffling along the floor above could be heard over the crackling fire before you, Yunho's voice following after.

"Oh, you got something from your parents?" He observed.

"Yeah." You sighed as he descended the stairs, taking a seat beside you.

"Must've been important if it was delivered straight to the dormitory."

"It was."

Based on your discouraged tone and small frown, whatever news you got wasn't good.

"What's wrong?"

"It's a letter from my parents. They work for the Ministry of Magic so they're really busy and it seems they're not going to be home much. Looks like I'm going to be staying here for Christmas."

Yunho frowned. He hated seeing you upset, even more so he hated that you would be stuck at Hogwarts over Christmas break instead of spending it with your family.

"Come here." He beckoned softly, pulling you into a hug, which you happily accepted.

His hugs were always the best. He was bigger than you, so being in his embrace always felt nice, warm, even safe. You've always joked that his hugs were magical because they always seemed to melt your problems away whenever you were upset about something.

Yunho rubbed your back soothingly, allowing you to stay in his arms for as long as you needed.

If you were forced to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas break, he would stay with you.

Or maybe...

He let out a sudden gasp as a lightbulb went off in his head, making him pull back.

"Why don't you spend Christmas with me and my family?"

You took in a quick breath at his sudden proposition, looking at him with a shocked expression. At your response, or lack thereof, Yunho continued.

"You can send an owl back to your parents and let them know you're going to spend Christmas with me."

You continued to sit there, your mind processing everything.

Spending Christmas with Yunho?

The idea sounded great, honestly. You'd be able to spend the entire break with your crush. What more could you ask for?

Judging by the hopeful expression on his face and the expectant gleam in his eyes, he really wanted you to accept his offer, so you did.

When Christmas break rolled around, you found yourself boarding the Hogwarts Express with Yunho and a suitcase of clothes and other necessities for your visit.

The both of you made your way into one of the roomettes, sliding the door closed behind you before moving to sit on one of the benches.

"Sit next to me, Y/n." Yunho patted the spot next to him.

Softly smiling, you moved across to Yunho's bench, seating yourself beside him.

"I haven't seen your parents in years." You commented.

"I'm sure they're excited to see you, especially mom. She asks about you a lot."

"She does?"

He nodded.

The train departed from the station a few minutes later, rolling into motion. You watched as the school got smaller and smaller the further away you got. Your heart started to beat a little faster at the thought of being with Yunho for two weeks at his home.

The snack trolley rolled by not too long into the ride making the Hufflepuff beside you perk up, an excited gasp leaving him.

"Y/n, do you want something?" He asked.

"Yes, please."

Yunho asked the lady pushing the cart for your favorite candy along with some of his favorites before she went on to the next roomette. It didn't take long at all for the both of you to tear into the sweets, enjoying them as you watched the trees and valleys pass by.

An hour into the train ride, you felt your eyelids begin to droop as a feeling of drowsiness slowly washed over you. Not wanting to fall asleep, you turned your attention to the view out the window and started watching the scenery, a vast field with mountains in the distance, each one a different size. Unfortunately, that didn't do any good and you ended up allowing yourself to rest your eyes for a moment, which of course resulted in you falling asleep.

Yunho's gaze was glued to the landscape outside when he felt a weight on his shoulder. Upon glancing over, he found you sound asleep, your body slumped over on him, head resting on his shoulder.

A soft smile of adoration tugged at his lips as he allowed his gaze to linger on you for a few moments, taking in your features up close. It was only when you stirred slightly that he averted his gaze back to the view outside, his cheeks slightly warm.

When he didn’t feel you move, he peeked over at you once more as soft breaths pushed past your slightly parted lips.

"Y/n. We're here."

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, nuzzling your face into whatever you were resting on.

A deep chuckle sounded afterwards making you peel your eyes open.

Yunho was gazing down at you, eyes gleaming with amusement. It was then that you realized you'd fallen asleep on him, your head resting on his chest. This realization caused you to push yourself off him in a rush.

He only laughed, standing up from his seat.

"I'm sorry." You apologized.

"You seemed to be sleeping well, so I didn't wake you." He responded, offering you his hand. "Come on."

After a short taxi ride, you arrived at your destination, welcomed by strings of beautiful multicolored lights strung along the eaves of the house, the sight giving you a warm feeling in your chest.

You stepped into Yunho's cozy abode, the warmth from inside brushing against your cool cheeks, the smell of gingerbread and cinnamon reaching your senses.

"Come in, come in." Yunho's mom beckoned, ushering both of you inside. "It's freezing out."

Christmas music played softly throughout the home as you removed your scarf, your eyes roaming the house, taking in your surroundings. The feeling of someone tugging on your coat grabbed your attention, it was Yunho. You thanked him quietly, shrugging off the thick jacket and allowing him to hang it on the coat rack by the door.

"My Yunho, come here." His mom cooed, pulling him into a tight hug. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, mom."

After pulling away, she turned to you with a warm smile. "Y/n."

"Hello." You greeted.

"I haven't seen you since you and Yunho were in fourth year." She gushed. "You've grown into such a beautiful young lady."

You muttered a shy thank you before she escorted the both of you into the living room, going on about how excited she was that you'd be joining them during Christmas break and how she had prepared snacks for your arrival. Sitting on the coffee table in the living room was a plate of small sandwiches, crackers, and sliced fruit along with two glasses of water.

"Sorry. She gets enthusiastic when we have guests." Yunho murmured, cheeks tinged pink.

"It's fine. It's actually really nice. I missed her hospitality."

Just then, the front door swung open and Yunho's father walked in, shrugging off his jacket.

"Are they here yet?" He inquired before glancing into the living room where you and Yunho were seated on the couch. "Ah. I missed the welcome party."

"We just got in." Yunho informed him. "You didn't miss much."

"Good, good." His father nodded, making his way over to greet both of you, asking how classes were and how you'd been—just the usual small talk. He then grabbed one of the tiny sandwiches Yunho's mom had made.

At that moment, she entered the room and caught him in the act, immediately scolding him.

"Those are for Y/n and Yunho."

"Alright. Sorry." He chuckled, heading towards the kitchen.

"Y/n, why don't I take your bags to your room?" Yunho's mom offered.

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"No, no, I insist. You're our guest."

You didn't have time to protest as she grabbed your bag as well as Yunho's and left the room.

After resting for a moment and finishing the finger foods that were prepared, Yunho's mom offered to show you where you'd be sleeping during your visit. Yunho wanted to unpack his things, so he got up and followed you and his mom down the hall, not expecting her to come to a stop at his bedroom.

"You'll have to share with Yunho. I hope you don't mind." She mentioned, opening the bedroom door. "Don't worry, though. I've set up a mattress on the floor so everything should be fine."

"I thought we had a spare bedroom." Yunho spoke up hastily.

"Oh, I've been using it as a storage room."

Yunho's face got hot at the thought of sharing a room with you, but at the same time it was a dream come true. Back at Hogwarts the boys and girls dorms are separated; the girls' dormitory is charmed so no boys can enter, though it's not the same for the boys' dorm, which is odd—but you've never stayed overnight with him before, even at school, so this would be a whole new experience.

Your palms started to get a bit sweaty as you took in the information you were just given, your slightly wide eyes staring at the sight before you. Alongside Yunho's bed was a small, inflatable mattress with a few blankets and pillows on it. While it did look comfortable, it was directly beside the place where Yunho slept. Judging by the giddiness in his mom's voice, she was more than okay with the both of you sharing a room.

"Well, I'll let you two get settled." She spoke up and excused herself.

As soon as she was out of the room, Yunho's head dropped as he let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." You waved him off.

You and Yunho have been friends for years, sharing a room shouldn't be weird... it only feels that way because of your feelings for him.

"I'm gonna unpack. You can make yourself comfortable."

Yunho moved across the room to his bed where his suitcase laid, unzipping the beg before removing items from it. You started to do the same, taking a seat on the blow up mattress in the floor, taking out your toiletry bag.

"You can put that in the bathroom across the hall." Yunho mentioned. "As for clothes, you can leave them in your suitcase or I can clean out a drawer for you to store them in."

"It's fine. I can just leave them in here." You responded, not wanting Yunho to go to the extra trouble.

Once settled, the both of you were called into the kitchen to have dinner, which smelled so good. It had been a while since you had a home-cooked meal. Though, Hogwarts had exceptional food, there's something different about having something made at home.

"You really went all out." You commented, your mouth watering at the spread before you.

"Of course. It's Christmas, plus we have a special guest. It's the least I could do." Yunho's mom smiled warmly, pouring everyone a drink.

After a nice meal, you spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV with Yunho and his parents. Turns out they found amusement in muggle television programs and enjoyed watching them. You unexpectedly got hooked on a particular show, the ups and downs of the plot pulling you in immediately.

After watching a few episodes, you and Yunho decided to get ready for bed and settle in for the night.

You watched in mild amusement as Yunho arranged his pillows in a particular order, one lying flat in the middle and one propped up on the bed frame on either side. A chuckle slipped from you by accident causing the tall boy to turn, eyeing you.

"Sorry." You apologized. "I didn't know you had a system going."

"I do. My bed fits me well so I arrange my pillows like this, but in beds that are shorter where my feet stick out, I arrange them like this." He began shuffling the pillows around, moving the ones that were resting on the bed frame flat on the mattress lying vertically, giving him somewhat of a barrier on either side of his main pillow.

"I have to do this at Hogwarts since the beds are smaller." He mentioned.

It may be silly, but his specific pillow arrangements were extremely endearing to you. The way he had a whole system figured out based on the size of the bed was too cute.

He didn't seem to notice your love-filled gaze as he fluffed his main pillow, shimmying underneath the covers.

"Are you settled in?" He asked.

"Mhm." You hummed.

Yunho raised his wand in the air, using it to turn the lights out before snuggling down into his bed.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight, Yunho."

Getting to sleep proved to be a bit harder than you had originally thought. You were hyperaware of Yunho sleeping so close to you and that prevented you from getting relaxed enough to rest.

It's not a big deal, Y/n. You told yourself. Yunho is your best friend. You've known him for years. There's no reason to be nervous.

Minutes passed and you tried different positions, lying on your back, your left side, then your right side. Nothing was working.

Movement on the bed caught your attention as Yunho's head popped up, peeking down at you.

"If you're not comfortable, we can switch spots." He offered. "If it's me you're uncomfortable with I can sleep on the couch and you can have my bed."

The thought of sleeping in Yunho's bed under sheets that probably smelled like him drove you crazy, but the inflatable mattress was just fine, plus you didn't want to take Yunho's bed from him.

"I'm good." You assured him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. This is fine."

"Well, the offer is still there if you change your mind."

You murmured a thank you before rolling over, finally getting comfortable enough to go to sleep.

You woke up the next morning to Yunho shaking you awake.

"What is it?" You groaned.

"Get up. Hurry!" He pulled you to your feet, your knees nearly buckling, not used to all the sudden movement right after waking up.

Yunho wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you downstairs to the living room window.

"Check it out." Yunho gawked as he gazed out the glass pane.

"Wow." You gaped at the amount of snow that had blanketed the front lawn, the sight instantly waking you up.

"Oh, how pretty." Yunho's mom marveled. "You two should go outside and enjoy it."

The both of you exchanged glances, but before either of you could speak, Yunho's mom did.

"Go on." She gently ushered the both of you towards your room, telling you to bundle up. "I'll start on breakfast and you two go have some fun."

You had no choice but to do as she asked, going right back to Yunho's room.

"I'm so glad I packed warm clothes." You commented, pulling out a sweater and thick pants.

After layering up and putting on your coat and house scarf, you stepped outside hearing the many inches of snow crunch beneath your boots.

"That's one way to wake you up in the mornings." Yunho chuckled, his breaths coming out in puffs due to the frigid air.

"That's for sure." You shivered slightly, the icy weather flushing out the last remnants of sleep from your body.

"Come on." Yunho's gloved hand grabbed yours, tugging you out into the yard. "We should build a snowman."

"With all this snow, we could built three snowmen."

Yunho retrieved his wand from the inside of his jacket with a smirk. "You wanna try it?"

A knowing grin spread across your face as you pulled out your wand. "Let's do it."

With a simple locomotion charm, the both of you had large spheres of snow rolling across the lawn, getting bigger and bigger.

"Bring that one over here." Yunho pointed. "We'll use that for the base."

You nodded, moving your snowball to its designated spot as Yunho stacked his on top, using his wand to place the last and smallest sphere on top. In no time, you had three perfect snowmen built in front of the house.

Using your wands, the both of you gathered sticks and rocks to use for the arms and face for each snowman, placing them accordingly.

"These looks great." You beamed. "It's been  so long since I've done this. I feel like a kid again."

"Me too." He huffed out a laugh. "You think breakfast is ready?"

"I hope so. I'm starving."

"Come on." Yunho held out his hand. "Let's go."

Later that night, the air inside the house was cooler than normal thanks to the piles of snow outside. The double layer of blankets wasn't doing much to keep you warm, no matter how much you curled up or how high they were bunched around your neck.

"Are you cold?" Yunho asked.

You assumed he was asleep, so his voice startled you a bit.

"Just a little." You responded.

"Would you like to sleep up here? It's warmer when you're not close to the floor."

"I don't know. You've got that pillow fort up there, I don't think there's any room for me." You teased.

"I can always make room."

You were so desperate to get warm and Yunho's offer was very appealing, so you agreed.

Yunho shuffled around, adjusting his pillows as you got up off the inflatable mattress and joined him in the bed, which was noticeably warmer than your makeshift one on the floor.

You let out a content sigh, tugging the covers up over you.

"Better?" Yunho asked.

"Much."

At this point, the fact that you were sharing a bed with Yunho didn't phase you, in fact, it was the last thing on your mind. You were just grateful to be warm. Yunho shuffled a bit, giving you some extra space before rolling onto his side, his back facing you.

"This is so much nicer than that air mattress." You commented blissfully.

"I imagine it is."

"You don't have to be so far away." You told him, noticing the distance between the both of you.

"I just wanna make sure you're comfortable."

"I am. Come on." You tugged at the back of his pajama top, making him scoot towards you.

He kept his back facing you, too nervous to turn around. Yunho felt bad that you were cold and simply wanted to help out, but now that you were right beside him, things were starting to sink in.

"Goodnight." You murmured sleepily.

"Goodnight."

It was only when he was sure you were asleep that he turned around. Your cheek was squished against the pillow as small snores moved past your parted lips. His hand reached out towards your face, his slender fingers barely ghosting over your cheek. Yunho found himself unconsciously moving forward, his gaze focused on your lips. Before he could get too close, he came to his senses and pulled away, choosing to go to sleep.

It was finally Christmas Eve and things were in full swing at the Jeong household. Yunho's dad has just placed extra logs in the fireplace while his mom laid out all the sweet treats she had baked, going on about playing some board games later. Presents had been wrapped and placed neatly underneath the tree, each present with a different decorative wrapping.

"There's supposed to be some muggle

Christmas specials on tonight." Yunho's dad mentioned. "We should watch some."

"That'll be fun." You agreed.

"Oh, darn." You heard Yunho's mom mutter.

"Is everything okay?" You inquired, poking your head into the kitchen.

"I'm out of eggs." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "The store closes in half an hour. I need to go."

You and Yunho watched from the living room doorway as she hurriedly slipped on her coat, calling for his dad to come with her.

"You two will be alright staying here by yourselves for a little while, right?"

You both nodded.

With that, she pulled out her wand, both she and Yunho's dad apparating in the blink of an eye.

"I can't wait to get my apparition license." You commented.

"Me too. It'll be so convenient." Yunho agreed.

Letting out a sigh, you turned to face him.

"So, what should we do?"

Your question went unheard and unanswered by Yunho who was more occupied with something above you.

"Ah." Yunho glanced up with rosy cheeks.

Following his gaze, you spotted a small bundle of mistletoe hanging from the top of the doorframe, sucking in a deep breath at the sight.

"I'm sorry." He muttered embarrassedly. "My mom must've put that there."

The tips of his ears were a deep shade of pink while his cheeks were almost matching.

"It's okay." You shrugged it off, acting as if it wasn't a big deal to help Yunho feel a little more at ease even though you were internally freaking out just like he was.

Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you weighed your options. Either you could walk away and pretend this didn't happen, noting to avoid the mistletoe for the rest of your visit, or you could try and kiss Yunho and see what happens.

Before you could make a decision, he started to lean in closer, your breath catching in your throat.

Yunho's lips met yours, pressing softly as if to test the waters. Though there wasn't much force or pressure to the kiss, you could feel the pliant softness of his lips as they dragged slowly against yours before he pulled away, the lack of contact leaving you wanting more. Without hesitation, you leaned forward, reconnecting your lips. The action clearly caught Yunho off guard but he was quick to respond, his arms sliding around your waist pulling you into his broad chest.

Your mind clouded over immediately, the feeling of his mouth on yours was almost too much to handle, but still you wanted more.

You got your wish, because it was at that moment Yunho stepped forward, pressing your back against the frame of the walkway as he began kissing you more feverishly.

Your fingers found purchase in his dark tresses, tugging at his hair. He let out a grunt in response, pressing closer to you.

"Yunho." You murmured against his lips.

He pulled away for a moment, gazing drunkenly at you with half-lidded eyes.

"I like you a lot." You confessed breathlessly. "I have for along time."

"Me too." He sighed, leaning in to capture your lips with his once again.

Your leg wrapped around his torso, your fingers grabbing at the fabric of his sweater.

Yunho pulled away again, making you frown slightly at the loss of contact.

"You're so pretty." He stroked your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered closed as you sighed out his name.

"I'm not sure how long your mom will be gone, maybe we should go somewhere else." You suggested.

"Say no more." Yunho began tugging you along through the living room and down the hallway to his bedroom.

The both of you collapsed onto his bed with a grunt.

"I think this was my mom's plan all along." He admitted.

"Me too. Maybe we should thank her." You chuckled.

"Maybe we should." He grinned, diving in for another breathtaking kiss.

Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 1- Race against the Clock!

No promises that there’ll be an illustration for everyday, but I wanna try to do that!

Warnings: hypothermia

~~~~~~~

The snowflakes blew sporadically as the men from different eras trekked up the mountain. Wind howled in their ears, blowing the snow into their eyes and making the sky and land around them a blinding white. Though Talon was bundled up nicely in the winter clothes he bought, the cold nipped at his round nose and the tips of his ears despite being covered in ear gloves. His fingers and toes were already numb and he blew on his cold gloves in a desperate attempt to warm himself. The group had been traveling the mountain for a good hour now, yet it felt like they were going nowhere. The violent winds blew them to and fro, making walking up an already steep climb harder than it needed to be. Talon was far behind everyone of course; he wasn’t exactly fit for trekking in the mountains unlike the others. Even Linebeck, the man who only sailed on the seas, was pretty far ahead, walking beside Rusl who kept checking behind him worriedly. Talon sighed as he gave a reassuring wave to his dear friend, continuing to shiver as he trudged his way through the snow, which was half-way up his calf.

His foot slipped on the icy snow beneath him, sending him tumbling to the ground. Talon groaned as he forced himself to stand, his calves burning something awful from marching uphill. He only watched as the others continued on, giving himself a much needed break from the strain. Though calling for the others to stop would’ve been smart, he was out of breath, and the wind was so loud that the men most likely wouldn’t have heard him anyways. All he did was watch as the others turned into tiny dots and falling to his knees to give his poor calves a moment of rest. He didn’t know how long he was kneeling on the ground before he heard Rusl tumbling down the mountain to reach him. The man skidden to a halt on his back when he was at Talon’s side, a look of worry on his face.

“Are you ok?” He asked, his nose and cheeks flushed as he panted heavily.

“I’m fine, I just needed rest,” Talon said, just as breathless as Rusl.

Rusl let out a sigh of relief, patting his shoulder. “I thought you were hurt or somethin’. Next time, tell us so we can stop!”

“As if y’all could ever hear me in this storm,” Talon grumbled, but Rusl, funnily enough, didn’t hear him. The two slowly walked up the hill, catching up to the others who were waiting on a flatter area to Talon’s relief.

“Is everything alright?” Leon asked, and Talon groaned.

“I’m fine! I just needed a break!” He snapped, and Leon gave him a surprised look.

“I was just wondering, I don’t want to unintentionally leave anyone behind on this mountain,” he explained, and Talon sighed, laying on his back in the snow, but immediately regretting it when snowflakes fell into his eyes.

“I think we’re all just cold and tired,” Rusl started, clearly trying to ease the nerves, “we could all use a break.”

“I normally would, but I don’t want to get hypothermia,” Leon argued, “I’m afraid this is no safe place to take breaks. We need to find shelter before it gets dark.”

“Are we sure even going up the mountain is a good idea?” Benji cut in, sitting on the ground along with Talon. “How do we know our boys are up there?”

“We don’t. But I’d rather have the chance to find them than to do nothing.”

“Why don’t we just wait in the town?” Benji continued to argue.

“Because we might miss them, now stop complaining and get a move on!” Leon yelled, his patience clearly growing thin. Talon almost felt bad for snapping at him earlier, but he only stood up, forcing his aching legs to move with Leon.

Though he wanted to rest, Leon was right. It was too dangerous for them to spend too much time outside. It was freezing and the winds were vicious. And though he didn’t know if it was possible, the threat of an avalanche was apparent in his mind.

The men continued on in silence (or Talon at least assumed they were silent since he couldn’t hear a darn thing), with Talon quickly falling behind again. They weren’t walking uphill anymore, with the land flat and covered in white trees, but they were getting closer to the steeper part of the mountain, and Talon was dreading it. Soon, the crunchy snow beneath his feet grew slippery, and several times Talon nearly fell as his foot slid from him. He cursed under his breath the third time it happened, not understanding why he was constantly falling.

“Hey–” he started, trying to get the other’s attention, but a crack interrupted him, and he felt his blood run colder than the air around him. Smaller crackles of ice threatening to break beneath him were growing louder, and he froze in fear.

No wonder why this land was so flat. They were walking on top of a lake, and Talon was about to fall right into it.

“Talon! You ok, buddy?” He heard Rusl call, and he wildly gestured for Rusl to stay away.

“D-don’t! The ice!” He tried to explain with his flustered thoughts, and Rusl frowned.

“Ice?”

“Th-the ice! We’re walking on ice—” The ground beneath him suddenly gave way, plunging him into ice cold water. Talon panicked as the cold numbed him to the bone, and he instinctively flailed his arms to get out of the water, but he hit more ice blocking his way to the surface.

I’m dead, was his first thought as he pounded on the ice, desperately trying to find the hole he fell through despite the cold making his limbs go numb. Luckily, someone grabbed him and pulled him up, so he wasn’t under for long, but his face and wet clothes hitting the freezing winds made his mind shut down.

“Oh goddesses,” he heard someone say, but he didn’t know who. He was being dragged but he didn’t know where; he heard shouting and panicked cries, but he didn’t know what they were saying. All he could feel was the ice growing on his wet hair and clothes, slowly shutting his body down. He was suddenly so…. Tired….

“Come on Talon, stay with me buddy!” A few pats to his cheek caused him to shoot his eyes open and he spotted Rusl over him.

“Get him out of the clothes,” he heard Linebeck command, but Leon seemed opposed.

“Are you crazy? We can’t leave him bare!”

“They’re making him colder! Just do it!”

“What do you suggest we do next? We don’t have anything to wrap him up with!”

“Just build a fire you idiot!”

“Guys, arguing won’t help!” Rusl cut in, “he needs help and fast!”

Talon heard more arguing as he shivered violently, his breathing getting more and more shallow and rapid as he grew colder and colder.

“Just stay awake, buddy. Please,” Rusl pleaded as he took off Talon’s gloves, cupped them in his own bare hands, and blew on them to warm them up. The men began to frantically move; building a fire near a tree that wouldn’t get blown away in the wind, getting Talon’s wet clothes off of him, and boiling snow to give him something warm to drink. Rusl continued to warm his fingers, but Talon didn’t miss his friend’s own fingers and lips turning blue. It was a terrible situation—for Talon, for Rusl, for everyone. Why couldn’t he be faster? Or smarter, or something. Why was he always such a burden?

“Are you folks alright?”

Talon heard the voices of two people he didn’t recognize. He saw Rusl turn his head to see them, and he heard Leon desperately explaining the situation. A man spoke with a strange accent, then a woman spoke, then he saw a Hylian man step into his vision, holding a glowing red fruit. He knelt down, giving Rusl a dirty look before putting the fruit in a cup and lifting up Talon’s head.

“Here, this’ll help,” he said, bringing the cup to his lips.

“What is that?” Rusl asked, and the man shot him another dirty look.

“A fire fruit. Helps with raising body temperature. Why didn’t you have any while traveling this mountain?”

“I–Uh… Well,” Rusl stammered, clearly baffled at the rude behavior.

“We’re not from around here,” Leon jumped in. “I didn’t know that type of fruit even existed.”

The man seemed to noticeably shift his attitude when talking to Leon, and he nodded. “That’s fine. They don’t grow around here so it makes sense.” The drink was finally poured into Talon’s mouth, the warmth immediately spreading through his entire body. His chest was warm and his shivering died down a little. The man gave him a warm smile and gave Leon another nod.

“You guys can stay at our cabin, that oughta help him warm up.”

“Oh, I… thank you,” Leon sputtered, clearly not expecting such hospitality.

“Of course,” the man helped lift Talon onto his feet, with Talon leaning heavily into him. “Let’s get you guys out of this storm.”

[artiststarme]

Baby, it's cold outside

@nburkhardt, you asked for a cute introspective fic, I hope this fits! I hope everyone likes it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Eddie Munson had always hated winter. He hated snow, sleet, frost, and hail. Unfortunately for him, that's all there was in Indiana between late November to early March. The nights grew darker, the trailer was always slightly too cold, and his loneliness seemed exacerbated. Unlike the peacefulness and solitude that he felt in autumn, empty nights in the trailer’s living room while Wayne was at work only served to make him feel alone… burdensome. 

It wasn’t like he could cry to his uncle about feeling lonely when he’d been pulling double shifts at the plant practically since Eddie had moved in with him. He couldn’t complain to his bandmates that hardly put up with him enough to call them friends. And it wasn’t like he had anyone else in the town that cared about him even remotely. 

Most of all though, Eddie hated how the winter reflected the frigidity of the town. He knew they hated him year-round but it seemed so much more prominent in the cold. Their malicious laughter when he slipped on ice, the hardly-visible sneers from underneath scarves, and cruel words seemed harsher. 

One winter day though, everything changed for Eddie. He’d chosen that day to avoid the stifling isolation at his trailer. Winter had only just begun but its effects were already visible. Eddie’s pale skin looked paler, the bags under his eyes were heavier, and the tip of his nose was almost permanently red. The weather was dreadful, softly snowing with the flakes sticking to the ground. Still, he had to leave the trailer park to keep his sanity, weather be damned. He sat on a low hanging swing at the elementary school playground, snowflakes stuck to his hair and a blunt between his lips. He was still alone but it wasn’t so unbearable out in the open. 

“Hey, uh. Mind if I join you?”

A sudden voice took away Eddie’s peace and he flailed like a cat electrocuted before he was able to regain his bearings and grip the swing chains with a vice grip. He choked on the smoke of his blunt and looked through leaking eyes up at the cause of his shock. 

“The fuck?” He hacked while trying to determine who’d bothered him.

“I’m sorry man, I really didn’t mean to scare you. I just… you looked lonely and I’m kinda lonely too so I thought we might as well be less lonely together,” the stranger’s voice seemed genuinely apologetic and it pulled the strings in Eddie’s heart. As soon as his vision cleared though, his system was flushed with ice.

“Harrington? What the fuck are you even doing here? You come all the way over here to pick on little ole me? Pathetic. Where are your cronies, hiding behind the bushes waiting for your signal so you all can jump me? Fuck you,” Eddie snarled before trying to get up from his place. He stopped only once Harrington’s hands landed on his shoulders and pushed him back down. 

Harrington looked gutted, “no man, I’m alone. I was just… trying to get out of the house when I saw you here. I’m sorry for bothering you, I’ll uh. I’ll see you around, Munson.”

Despite his words, he stayed still for a moment longer, eyes focused directly on Eddie’s. Upon closer inspection, he didn’t appear to be the King Steve he always was at school. He wasn’t confident here. His posture was slumped, his mouth was twisted in a grimace, and his perfect hair looked like he’d tried to pull it out himself. Most notably though were the angry bruises on his cheekbone and along his jaw. Eddie had seen more than enough abuse in his life and the aftermath left it like a scar. Hell, he saw it every day in the mirror. 

He couldn’t let Steve leave with this revelation. It seemed that the King and the Freak had more in common than they’d ever known. With a sigh, he pulled a fresh blunt out of his leather jacket pocket and handed it to Steve. 

“Here man, I could use the company. And I’m not sure I could finish this one alone.”

Steve’s grimace fell to reveal the most breathtaking smile Eddie had ever seen. “I’m sure you could Munson, but I’ll stick around. Thanks!”

They sat on the swings in the snow for what seemed like hours. They talked, they laughed, they sat in comfortable silence at times. When their hands got too frozen and their faces flushed, they stood awkwardly as if neither one wanted the night to end. 

“So uh, you want to come back to my place? It’s closer and I have hot chocolate,” Eddie muttered, his fingers twisting his rings in anxiety. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening here but he knew he didn’t want it to end. 

Steve ducked his head to hide a grin, but accepted nonetheless. “Lead the way, Munson.”

They spent the remainder of the night drinking hot cocoa, cuddling in Eddie’s small twin bed, and sleeping off what was a great night for them both. When they woke up, things weren’t awkward or stilted, it felt like they were just as they should be. Thus in the winter of 1983, King Steve and Eddie “the Freak” Munson became friends in the public eye. It caused quite the stir around both the school and the town alike but it didn’t bother them. And in the safety and privacy of their homes, they became more. They became more than strangers or friends and instead evolved directly into boyfriends that held hands, space heaters for each other in the cold of the trailer, and partners that they could each depend on. 

After what started off as a dreary night alone in an empty playground, Eddie’s life changed for the better. From that day forward, his hatred of the winter faded into a feeling of gratitude. The cold weather had guided two lost and lonely souls toward each other. After that, seeing snow or frost, or sleet always reminded Eddie of the day that he and Steve became each other’s person. They would never be alone again as long as they had each other. 

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[cottonkendi]

Gremlin

MASTERLIST

Caelus x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Fluff, Crack

Warning: trashcan, Caelus is a gremlin with some issues…

Synopsis: Welt and Himeko put you in charge of watching over Caelus, the express’ new member a.k.a. Your nightly adventure in Belobog

The constant knocking on your door brings you out of your precious sleep as you start to try and crawl out of bed in order to open your door, but the weight on your limbs after your last expedition with Dan Heng and March makes it almost impossible to move your limbs. 

Groaning, you lay on your floor, defeated, hoping that the person outside your room will get the message that you’ve died or something but alas, instead of them leaving, your door flies open and reveals Caelus in all his gremlin-like glory, a toothy smile on his face when he sees your body sprawled out on the floor, your blanket barely covering your face as you give him a tired wave to which he enthusiastically returns. 

“Yo! Glad you’re awake, Mr. Yang and Miss Himeko wanna talk to you.” Caelus announces as he leans against the doorframe, still watching as you barely roll yourself over so that you’re now curled up into a ball, back facing him as you try and go back to sleep, not even bothering to get back onto your bed. 

Your voice comes out muffled by your blanket as you reply. “Can’t it wait till later?” 

Instead of hearing a reply, you’re instead lifted off the ground and promptly carried out of your room and into the main area of the express. Letting out a sigh, you just let it happen, closing your eyes and making yourself comfortable against his chest as you start to fall back to sleep.

“I apologise for the early call, (Y/N), I know that you must still be tired from your last expedition but Dan Heng said that they won’t be able to complete this expedition in Jarilo-VI without your help.” Welt starts as Caelus puts you down on the floor, trying to steady you as best as he can as you start to sway before leaning against his form, blanket now securely wrapped around your form as you force your eyes open. At the mention of Dan Heng possibly being the culprit for all this, you throw him a quick glare to which he merely looks away from you. 

Rubbing your eyes, you start to stretch, hearing multiple pops from your back and neck which only makes Himeko and Welt wince. “But I thought that the three of them can handle it… at least, that’s what was said in yesterday’s meeting.” 

Nodding her head, Himeko gives you an apologetic smile as she gestures to Dan Heng once more. “Yes but Dan Heng said that he won’t be able to look after both March and Caelus himself.” At the mention of her name, March yells out a protest which goes ignored as you nod at the explanation while you silently observe Caelus making fun of March for being called out by Himeko even though he, too, was called out as well. 

No wonder Dan Heng doesn’t wanna be left alone with those two…

“I guess I can’t exactly refuse… when do we leave?” Exasperatedly, you ask, hoping that you’ll at least have time to wake yourself up but instead, you’re met with a cheeky smile as Himeko calls out to Pom-Pom to prepare the express. 

“Now.”

Your first few hours in Jarilo-VI is quite foggy for all you can remember is trudging in the snow barren path, along with finding some sketchy looking guy named Sampo hiding in the snow, then fighting with the Silvermane Guard’s captain, Gepard, and then after a few more talks here and there which Dan Heng lead, you now find yourself in a pretty comfortable hotel room, your body back on a mattress and your eyes already on their way to closing for the night, ready to go back and catch up on some much needed sleep. 

But alas, sleep is once again taken from you by the same culprit from this morning. 

Pressing your phone against your ear, you mumble a greeting, waiting for Caelus to tell you what he wants once more but all you can hear is a few mumbles before silence takes over. 

After a few more seconds of nothing, you finally decide to hang up, legs thrown over the bed as you begrudgingly make your way out of your room and towards Caelus’ room. Even though you know that Caelus is totally capable of taking care of himself - debatable -, you still can’t help but feel a tiny bit responsible over him since he kinda reminds you of a newborn demon puppy… so rambunctious and clumsy, eagerly experiencing everything like it’s his first time seeing something while at the same time, he’s like a raccoon, burrowing his hands into every trashcan he can find which ends up with a lot of weird stares thrown at you guys by the locals who happens to see his actions. 

Trudging over to his room, you don’t bother to knock, instead, you trot inside and immediately start calling out his name, looking under the bed sheets and the bed itself before you hear a faint knocking coming from inside the closet. 

Your lips form a thin straight line as you stand before the closet, not really wanting to believe that he might be hiding inside but at the same time, it’s really the only logical explanation for why there’s something knocking from the inside. 

Clicking your tongue, you throw open the closet door only to find Caelus looking quite perturbed as sweat gathers up on his forehead with his knees pulled up to his chest, a blank look on his face as he looks up at you, his phone in hand with a message already typed for you. 

Without breaking eye contact, Caelus presses send to which your phone notifies you only a second later. 

Biting your lip at this kinda awkward situation, you carefully pull out your phone and bring out his text which reads:

‘I wanna go out but I don’t wanna go out by myself. 

Come with me hehe’

With your lower lip pulled between your teeth, you slip your phone inside your pocket before taking out a handkerchief as you carefully assist Caelus out of the closet, your fellow trailblazer prompt using you as support as his legs almost buckle under his weight which only makes you worry about just how long he’s been in that closet. 

The two of you begin to walk out of his room, you hand him your handkerchief to which he gladly wipes away his sweat before trying to return the cloth back to you though you try your best to subtly let him keep it, not interested in getting it back any time soon. 

You lead him out into the cold streets, with you pointing out whichever sight might interest him, from the numerous food trucks around the area, or the unique little street pieces that you remember Gepard pointing out earlier today. But instead of hearing any response from your companion, you’re only met with silence and a missing presence from your side. 

Turning around, you immediately spot the man rummaging through a trash can, his hand deep within the tin can that you’re pretty sure is filled with nothing but foreign germs that might just make him sick. Letting out a sigh, you walk over to him, about to tap him on the shoulder but instead, you’re equally shocked when he suddenly yells out in alarm, pulling out his arm before cradling it against his chest, looking up at you with wide eyes as he points an accusing finger at the trash can in front of him. 

“Something bit me! Look! Look!” Showing you his arm that’s littered with dust and other questionable grime, you can clearly see a bite mark on his wrist, the dents of sharp teeth evident on his pale skin. 

Although the two of you are quite accustomed to fighting monsters all across space, you’re not really sure if you can take on whatever is making the trash can shake so rapidly from the inside, so instead, you take his hand in yours and pull him away from the trash can, though you can’t say that he was happy with your decision.

Trying his best to shake you off of him, he continues to hiss and growl towards the trash can that now has a small furry head peeking out from the lid. “I’ll bite you back, you little furball! Let me at ‘em! I’ll bite your little arms too! I’ll bite your fingers!” Caelus shouts towards the trash can, his teeth bared while his other hand flails about. 

By now, the few people littering the streets are starting to take notice of your partner, their eyes holding something akin to fear, probably thinking that he’s got rabies or something. 

Thinking of something quick, you point at a dumpster, calling out to Caelus as you do so. “Look! A dumpster! There must be something really nice instead, go check it out, Caelus!” You try your best to sound as excited as you can which makes his ears perk up, eyes almost turning into stars as he locks on at the dumpster, running towards the dumpster as soon as you let go of him. 

Left behind, you can’t help but let out a loud groan, your hands already searching your pockets for some money so you can buy something to clean off the bite mark on his arm along with something to keep you awake seeing as you don’t think Caelus will be sleeping anytime soon. 

You briefly see Caelus climbing inside the dumpster as you make your way to a food truck, handing the girl some money. “Do you have something strong? Give me that, make it your biggest… and probably something that kids like? Yeah… thanks.” 

Just as you’re waiting for your order, you hear Caelus calling out for you. 

Turning around, you see Caelus emerge from the dumpster, a proud grin on his face as he holds up his hand with something big and suspiciously rodent-like hanging off of him. “Look what I got!” 

A shudder runs down your spine as you realise. “Oh no…”

all rights reserved © cottonkendi, 2023. do not copy or repost any of my works! reblogs/feedbacks are very appreciated~

[humanpurposes]

My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part vii (final)

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // this godforsaken mess that you made me

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut

Words: 9k

A/n: Sorry it's been a month since I updated this but we made it to the end!! Just wanna say thank you to everyone who's followed along, liked, commented on and reblogged this series, I've been so overwhelmed by the amazing responses to this, just all the love 🖤 Also available to read on AO3.

It’s easy to forget just how fucking freezing King’s Landing can be in December. She pulls her leather jacket a little tighter around herself but there’s not much she can do about the cold stabbing at her legs through her fishnets— why the fuck had she worn a mini dress in the first place? It falls a little higher up her thighs than she wants it to and the bust just doesn’t fit quite right, but she supposes she has to commit now. She at least counts herself lucky that it’s not snowing.

She looks down at the pavement as it moves underneath her black boots. There’s her second mistake— one cocktail past her usual limit. Now she feels aware but somehow numb. She finds wonder in everything around her, the glare of colourful lights on the outside of the bars they rush past, the pulsing of music from every direction, the smells of smoke, vapes, and that distinct, sharp scent of winter.

She had met Baela, Rhaena, Jace and their friends at a pub near the train station. Being the last to arrive, she sat at the edge of the table. It wasn’t a big group but that only made her more nervous. The other girls introduced themselves as Coryanne, Jeyne, Jess and Floris, all beautiful, all dressed immaculately. She told them her name and they said a unanimous “hi!” but other than that it was hard to talk to them while they gossiped about people she didn’t know and reminisced memories she had no part in. Even Jace was distracted; he was clearly all over Coryanne and spent the entire evening trying too hard to make her laugh.

So she kept ordering cocktails, a different one each time, downing them in quick succession and waiting for the evening to pass.

She keeps telling herself this was a good idea. She needs the distraction, anything to get her mind off the obvious.

The others are all walking ahead of her, and she has to keep sight of them because she has no idea where Dracarys actually is. Baela keeps looking over her shoulder every so often, to check on her she assumes. She gives her a nod and a polite smile, but when Baela turns around, her face falls back to a comfortable frown. She doesn’t mean to look miserable, but she can’t help it. It must be so obvious that she doesn’t belong with these people. She’s just a stray they’ve picked up out of pity.

They turn a corner and suddenly half the street is taken up with a queue of impatient looking people, all in smart shirts and party dresses. Baela calls her name and grabs her hand, pulling her along after the rest of their group.

“Surely this isn’t the line for Dracarys?” she says.

Baela chuckles and keeps marching ahead.

They walk along the queue for a good few minutes. Suddenly they reach an old building with columns and a bell tower. It looks like it could be a Sept or a museum, until she registers the glaring red lights, the tall braziers marking either side of the entrance and the neon logo of a dragon against a blue flame.

Apparently tagging along with not one but two Targaryens has its benefits. Baela keeps her close and their whole group breezes past the bouncers without being asked for ID or charged for entry.

“Dad’s a co-owner,” Baela says in her ear as they walk towards the front steps. She can already feel the bass of the music rattling in her chest.

There’s a smoking area at the bottom of the steps, cornered off from the street by tall hedges and iron gates. It’s dotted with mostly pairs of people, each engrossed in their own conversations.

As Baela leads her up the steps she notices a solitary figure, obscured by shadows, leaning against the wall with his back slightly curved and his chin tilted down. He lights a cigarette. The flicker of flame lights up the sharp features of his face and his silver hair.

Fuck.

Aemond’s not even a club kind of guy. He hates the dancing and the “shitty” music. He likes metal concerts and late-night conversations, preferably somewhere you can actually hear the person next to you.

A plume of smoke billows from his lips, and for whatever reason, he glances towards the front steps.

After a double take, his eyes meet hers, wide and curious.

She only realises she’s stopped walking when Baela tugs on her hand. “You coming or what?” she says over her shoulder, trying to keep up with the others.

She can’t take her eyes off him. Of all the places he could have spent New Years, why does he have to be here?

Don’t engage.

His back straightens as he takes his weight off the wall.

Let go.

She shakes her head and snaps herself out of whatever trance she’s under.

She’ll just ignore him. As long as she sticks with Balea and Jace, everything will work out fine. Surely.

The inside of the club is vast like the nave of the Grand Sept. It has a high vaulted ceiling and an enormous stained-glass window on the farthest wall from the doors.

The floor before them is a sea of bodies in flashy outfits, moving in time to a low, synthy song. Colourful lights cut through the darkness, giving the faces an eerie glow. A few groups linger around the edges of the room, drinking cocktails and taking shots in booths around glass tables. At the end of the hall, under the stained-glass window, is the bar, illuminated with red lights.

Baela keeps a tight hold of her hand as they all fight their way to the bar. Someone orders for her and the bartender places a shot glass of vibrant blue liquor in front of her. Rhaena screams “Happy New Year!” as the others cheers their glasses together.

She holds her up to the light before she downs it, wincing at the sickly, sweet and sour tang it leaves on her tongue.

Her heart thunders in her chest, confused by the music and the sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

Aemond is here.

She’s supposed to be ignoring him, and she had been doing a good job of it so far.

Until that fucking call on Christmas Eve.

What did he think was going to happen? Six months of nothing, then one phone call and she was going to come running back to him?  

But she had already proved that she can’t say no to him, the night of the dinner party, while Alys and Cregan were only in adjacent rooms. All it had taken was his hands on her hips, his breath on her neck, a few harshly whispered words and the promise of a quick fuck. It was enough for her to give in, consequences be damned.

She looks back at doors on the other side of the room. She tells herself she’s not looking for a head of silver hair, but it isn’t much good lying to herself. One look at him outside a club and she can feel that hollow feeling in her chest, an emptiness that Aemond has always been able to fill so perfectly.

“How could I ever stop wanting you?”

“I just know these last couple of months have been fucking unbearable without you.”

Would he say the same now?

Rhaena screams again. She doesn’t catch what she says, but the answer to that is evident when Aegon and Daeron materialise from the crowd, hugging Rhaena, Baela and some of the girls. Jace’s face hardens and he puts his arm around Coryanne’s shoulders.

Then Aegon’s eyes come to her. “Fancy seeing you here!” she shouts into her ear over the music.

She can’t stop herself. “Is Aemond with you?” 

Aegon glances towards the door. “He went outside for a fag.” He runs his tongue over his teeth and furrows his brow. “How are things with you and your mum?”

She frowns. “Why?”

Aegon’s eyes widen and he laughs to himself to play it off. “Just asking, I thought things might be a bit awkward what with… everything that’s gone on.”

“Everything?”

He pauses. “Him and Alys.”

“Right,” she says.

He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s looking at her like he’s trying to read her mind.

She hates not knowing what other people are thinking, and it only adds to her growing restlessness. Aemond wouldn’t tell Aegon about them, would he? But part of her thinks Aegon would use the opportunity to be more of a dick about it if he knew.

They find a booth and file in. Jace is clearly trying to avoid Aegon; he sits between Coryanne and Daeron. Baela is polite with both of her cousins and Rhaena is friendly, but maybe that’s just the booze. Either way, Aegon is a charmer, and slots himself nicely beside Floris. Jenye and Jess are all over each other, whispers into each other’s ears becoming kisses to their cheeks, necks and mouths.

She slips off her jacket and sits at the end of the table, alone. It's like being at the pub all over again.

Until she spots someone walking towards their table.

Aemond stops, his eyes only on her. No one else seems to have noticed him yet.

She looks across the table, at the only empty space left.

His chest rises and his nostrils flare. He slowly sits opposite her, keeping his shoulders tense and his hands in fists.

She wishes she had a drink in front of her, if only to have something to do. She moves between having her hands on and under the table, unable to keep her fingers still. She bounces her leg, messes with her hair, tries to focus on fragments of conversation drifting from the others.

Then something brushes against her, under the table. She freezes, but relaxes as she feels Aemond’s leg settling against hers. She glances across at him while pretending to listen to something Rhaena’s talking about. Aemond holds her gaze, leaning against the back of the booth with a solemn look on his face.

She can feel his breath on her hands as he exhales a deep breath.

Baela insists that she wants to dance, and so does Rhaena. They drag Daeron with them and disappear into the mass of dancers. Aemond has to stand to let them out, and when he sits back down his leg brushes against hers again.

It’s so painfully obvious that everyone at the table is coupled up, Jace and Coryanne, Aegon and Floris, Jeyne and Jess. Aemond seems to be trying not to pay attention to any of them. He angles his head in the other direction.

She lets her eyes wander along the tightness of his jaw, the tendons in his neck, and the glint of a silver chain beneath his shirt.

She presses her lips together.

Don’t engage.

Don’t do anything stupid.

But maybe she should have thought of that before the cocktails.

She leans forward on her elbows, but as she opens her mouth to speak, Aemond calls Aegon’s name.

“Drink?” he mimes.

She doesn’t see Aegon’s reply. Aemond’s eyes move over her before he stands and heads towards the bar. Suddenly her leg feels cold at the absence.

A particularly loud giggle catches her attention. She looks down the table. Aegon is leaning into Floris’ ear with a dark look in his eye and she’s smiling, but he’s watching her. His eyes flicker over to the bar, and he grins.

Fucking pricks. The pair of them.

Only when she stands up does she realise how dizzy she is, but she ignores it, and makes her way through the crowd until she finds Baela, Rhaena and Daeron. She grabs Baela’s hands, less dancing, more stepping and swaying to the music.

But she keeps ending up turning her head towards the bar. It’s easy to spot Aemond, he towers over most of the people here, his silver hair gleaming under the red lights.

“I didn’t know they were going to be here,” Baela shouts into her ear, “it’s not too awkward is it?”

The music doesn’t make sense to her. It’s just noise. Everything is just frantic noise, and she can’t stand it. She feels restless, and so fucking angry. She wants to dig her nails into her palms. She wants to cry. She wants to scream.

“It’s fine!” she shouts back, “So fucking fine!”

She looks back to the bar. Aemond is at the front of the queue now.

“I need a drink,” she says, not loud enough for Baela to hear.

His name is a gentle hum in her throat as she gets closer to him, weaving her way through the other bodies in the crowd. She doesn’t care when they tell her to get in line and wait her turn. She keeps her eyes fixed on him.

Until he’s close enough to touch.

She watches her hand reach for his shoulder.

He turns his head around with a sharp look of surprise, but it melts away when he realises it’s her.

He mouths her name but she doesn’t hear it. He brushes his fingertips against the bare skin of her arm and she feels weightless. He’s looking at her. She can feel his heat through his shirt.

Until he withdraws his hand with an irritated huff. He leans into her until their noses are inches apart. Even in the low light of the club his eyes are only marginally blue, and she smells whisky on his breath. “Don’t start this again,” he says over the music.

She scowls until her face hurts. “You called me.”

“And you didn’t pick up.”

Her heart shatters. She thought she had done the right thing, but it seems a common occurrence with Aemond that nothing is ever right.

“It was a mistake,” he says sharply, “a stupid fucking mistake. Just forget it.”

He brushes her hand from his shoulder and storms off towards the front doors.

Panic and confusion courses through her. It feels worse because she’s drunk, she knows that, but it still hurts.

Her eyes start to sting as one song ends and another begins. It’s one everyone in the room seems to recognise.

She fights her way back to the booth and grabs her jacket, slipping it over her arms.

Jeyene and Jess are gone, and Jace and Coryanne have found their way to the dancefloor. Floris and Aegon are the only ones left, her legs draped over his lap.

“Leaving so soon?” Aegon coos.

She doesn’t spare him any of her attention. She tries to spot Aemond as she makes her way to the doors on unsure legs.

What if he’s already left? What if this is it, and he never so much as tries to speak to her again? What if she finds him and he pushes her away?

“Five minutes to midnight, ladies and gentlemen!” a voice booms through the speakers. Moving through the room is like swimming against the current as more people make their way to the dance floor, but she manages to make it to the doors.

The cold air hits her suddenly. It burns in her lungs and bites at her skin. The front steps and the street below her are quiet now, and so is the smoking area. Save for one person.

Aemond sits on a bench, hunched over himself, flicking his lighter, but never lighting a cigarette.

He looks up when she stops in front of him, his lips slightly parted, the red lights casting shadows in the angles of his chin and cheeks, and his nose.

“Are you seriously running away from me?” she says.

His mouth is in a thin line. He keeps flicking the lighter open and shut, open and shut. “You seemed happy enough avoiding me before.”

“Before? Before what? Before you left me in a hotel room?”

Aemond groans and rubs his fingers over his temple. “I’m not sober enough to have this conversation.”

“No, you’d rather ignore me for the rest of your life.”

“Look, I just want to go about doing things the right way—”

“I think we’re way fucking past that now.”

He groans. “What do you want me to do then?” he says, his voice laced with spite.

“Take some fucking responsibility!” she cries, louder than she means to.

He takes her off guard when he stands and steps into her. She takes a step back, and he keeps walking, until her back meets a wall. “And what does responsibility look like, hmm?” He places a hand beside her head leans in further still, until all she sees is the furious look in his eyes. “I called and you didn’t pick up. I try to keep my distance and look at you, you’re still practically begging for my attention.”

“Once,” she utters. “You called me once in six months.”

“And if I had tried before, after the dinner, after I left Alys, would you have listened to me?”

Her head lolls into her shoulder. All she remembers of that day is her mum, screaming and crying, storming upstairs and slamming her bedroom door. She stood there, in the kitchen, hands shaking, tears streaming down her face and her heartbeat pulsing in her head.

Her entire world had come crumbling down. Her mother hated her, and she was going to have to break things off with Cregan, and Aemond was gone. If he had called her then, she doesn’t know if she would have been able to manage a single word.

“No,” she says.

Her heart leaps as he takes her chin in his fingertips and tilts her gaze up to him.

He looks down at her with challenge, his eyes squinted slightly, lips in a smug pout. “What do you want me to do? How do I make this right?”

Her hands press against his chest, hypnotised as it rises and falls with each breath he takes. Then her eyes move to his mouth, that perfecting fucking mouth— it’s her favourite feature of his, she decides, the telling twitches of his lips and the way they feel against her skin.

Aemond clamps his hands over her wrists. “See?” he says in a low voice. “You think you’re so righteous, so perfect, but you’re just too fucking needy.”

She surges into him, grazing his lips with hers before he pulls away.

He keeps a tight grip on her wrists, and stares at her with wide eyes.

Only for him to come crashing into her, returning the favour with his own harsh and bruising kiss. He’s desperate and unforgiving, cupping her face with his hands so she has no choice but to let it consume her.

And she lets him. She lets him graze her lips with his teeth, slip his tongue into her mouth and steal the very air from her lungs.

The faint but familiar taste of whisky burns on her tongue. It’s thrilling and grounding all at once.

When they finally part from each other, he rests his forehead against hers. They glare at each other as they try to catch their breaths.

She can still feel the beat of the music from inside the club, and a voice over the speaker, gearing up for the countdown for the New Year.

“I meant it when I told you I loved you,” she says. “It’s not how I wanted to say it, but it was the truth.”

Aemond takes a harsh breath and runs his hand over his forehead, through his hair. “I can’t do this now,” he whispers.

She leans further into the wall, only to find she can’t get away from him. She pushes against his chest, but all her strength is gone.

Aemond takes a small step away from her. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not thinking straight I…”

She doesn’t listen to him. She can’t, not past the pounding in her head, the retching feeling in her stomach and the crowd inside the club as they start to chant.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“You must have known how much you meant to me,” she says. Her voice is clear and her tears are effortless.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“And what did you do with it? You left me with nothing…”

“Four! Three! Two!”

“You showed me something I’ve never known and then you took it away, only to drag me back in…”

The world erupts around them. Every single voice in the city screams as midnight hits, fireworks and flares soar into the sky and burst with colour, light and noise.

“And I feel so stupid because I let you do it. But I still don’t understand… why do you have to be so fucking cruel? What did I do wrong?”

Aemond looks back at her with a face of agony. Flashes of green, red and gold glisten in his eyes.

“I thought I mattered to you,” she says.

“You did. You still do.”

Her head must be about to burst. She chokes on a sob and cradles her head in her hands.

She keeps her eyes on the floor as Aemond steps into her, and when he wraps his arms around her, she doesn’t have the energy to pull away.

“I’m so tired.” She says it over and over again.

There doesn’t seem to be a moment where they make an agreement, but she lets Aemond pry her hands from her face and lead her onto the street. He tucks her jacket tighter around her arms while he mutters about how cold it is.

She doesn’t feel the cold against her skin, but she can feel herself shivering and her teeth chattering.

A car pulls up to the pavement. Aemond opens the rear door and ushers her inside. It’s warm inside, and the seats are soft. He sits beside her and she falls into him. She closes her eyes, letting the motions and the hum of the engine lull her to a place between waking and sleeping.

Aemond’s gently shakes her awake when the car stops. Wherever he’s brought her, it’s quiet, and once the car disappears down the street, it’s almost silent.

Something cold lands on her cheek. She brushes it away and it melts under her fingers. She looks up, at heavy snowflakes against the streetlights, blinking them from her eyes as they fall.

Aemond takes her hand and she holds it tightly. The dusting of snow crunches under her boots as they walk, a short way along the street and up a series of steps. He doesn’t let go of her as he takes a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door.

He marches her up a seemingly endless number of stairs before they come to a corridor, and another door. It’s dark on the other side, and it smells like him.

She blinks as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. Tall windows make up most of the outer facing walls, and King’s Landing lays out before them. They must be on the outskirts of the city, given how quiet it is, but she can see everything from here, the lights on Conquest Street, the silhouettes of the Red Keep and the Grand Sept, fireworks and lanterns, and the void that is Blackwater Bay beyond the docks.

Aemond leads her through another door. She winces when he turns on a light, but as her vision starts to settle, she realises it’s a bedroom. She’s drawn to the bed like a magnet, collapsing against the duvet.

“Shoes,” Aemond says.

She kicks her boots off and tosses her jacket on the floor. She curls her face into the pillow. It occurs to her that she hasn’t taken her makeup off, but she’s too tired to really care.

Aemond won’t let her sleep yet. He hands her a glass of water and waits for her to drink a few sips. Then he takes it from her and hands her a t-shirt.

“No…” she drawls, falling back against the bed, “wanna sleep.”

“Please,” Aemond says softly.

She drags herself up, fumbling to undo the zip on her dress. She pulls it over her head and rids herself of her bra and fishnets and lifts her arms up for Aemond to help her into the t-shirt. That smells like him too.

“Better?” he says.

She won’t give him the satisfaction. She crawls underneath the duvet, and by the time the light switches off and the door closes, she’s already half asleep.

The first feeling that hits her is a dull ache pulsing in her head.

Then comes a dry feeling in her throat.

Then a nauseating kind of hunger.

And then dread.

Her eyes dart open; it’s still dark in here, wherever here is.

She looks down at the Pink Floyd t-shirt hanging off her. It’s too broad in the shoulders to be hers.

Her lips feel strange. She trails her fingertips over them and squints, just makeing out the shape of her dress and her boots on the floor.

The memories start to fade into view, like a fog lifting from her mind. The pub, the club, the loneliness, and Aemond…

“Fuck,” she hisses.

She’s still a little dizzy as she drags herself from the bed. She finds her phone in her jacket, on the last legs of its battery. 8:55, 1st January glares up at her on the screen, along with texts and missed calls from Baela, Rhaena, Jace and Alys.

“Fuck!”

She grabs the glass of water on the bedside table and treads softly along the hardwood floor, to the door.

She hovers her hand over the handle. She’ll have to come out eventually, might as well get it over with.

The bedroom leads out to an open living space she doesn’t recognise in the slightest. In the corner there’s a kitchen and a small dining table with four chairs, then the rest of the room holds two sofas, a coffee table, a record player, plenty of bookshelves and by the window, a desk and a prayer plant with a ribbon tied around its pot.

None of the lights are on and from what she can tell, Aemond isn’t even here. The room is lit only by daylight. Beyond the windows, the sky is a dull grey and King’s Landing is covered in snow.

Nothing about the apartment is disorderly, expect perhaps for the extensive collection of shoes and coats by the door, most of them black with the odd item of brown for some variety.

The only photos on display are on the desk. One is of Alicent and Helaena, both in pale blue jeans and white blouses, with gentle smiles their arms around each other. Another is of Aegon and Daeron sitting by the pool at Dragonstone. The final one is of an arched, stone bridge, which she recognises immediately as Roseroad Bridge in Oldtown. It’s lined with statues of famous Maesters, Steptons and members of the Hightower family, and she walks along it every day to get from her apartment to uni.

He has his own place now then. She wonders if he moved in right after he left Queen’s Park.

She resists the urge to run her fingers along the desk, or over the closed cover of a notebook and the ink pen beside it.

Her head snaps towards the front door as it unlocks. Aemond walks in with snow on his jacket, a brown paper bag and two coffee cups in a drinks holder.

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Morning,” he mutters, closing the door behind him.

She slowly makes her way to the kitchen as he unpacks the bag— eggs, a loaf of sourdough and some cherry tomatoes.

He looks up at her, and places one of the cups in front of her. “Oat, vanilla latte.”

“Thanks,” she says. It’s not quite as hot as she would have liked, but she’ll forgive him on account of the snow.

“Sit down,” he says, nodding to the dining table. “Won’t take me long.”

He plates up scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on toast and they eat in silence. After that he quietly clears their plates. She wonders if he’s scared of making too much noise.

Then he comes to sit back down, with a fresh glass of water and painkillers for her.

He sits rigidly against his chair, with one hand on the table and the other in his lap. She’d bet anything his fingers are restless under the table.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

She considers for a moment. She’s starting to feel somewhat closer to normal, but the panic has yet to wear off. “Fine.”

She glances around the room. “This is nice,” she says.

“Rhaenys owns it. She let me move in at short notice.”

“After…”

“After I ended things with Alys.”

She hums distantly, folding her arms and crossing her leg over her knee.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says.

“Which part are you sorry for?”

He angles an eyebrow at her. “All of it?”

She pouts her lips in irritation— a habit she picked up from him.

His mouth quirks. He clears his throat, takes a sip of his coffee and, by the look of it, struggles to swallow it.

“I’m sorry too, for being so careless,” she says.

“No, I should have left once I saw you.” He presses his lips together and taps his fingertip against the table, three times. “And I’m sorry for calling you on Christmas Eve. I don’t even know what I would have said.”

Her heart sinks, but she reminds herself that’s what she should want. “Just a stupid mistake, yeah?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Did I really say that? It was actually highly premeditated.”

“Why?” she asks with more disgust than she means to.

He gestures with his hands, as though it should be obvious. “I just wanted to hear your voice again.”

The tension fades from her face. She feels the pull, the hope, the way it crushes her and makes her feel lighter. That’s all she had wanted, as she watched the phone ring, for him to want her, and then she could allow herself to want him back, even though it always ends in misery.

She can still remember what he looked like when they were at Dragonstone, that quiet, reserved kid who spent more time reading than he spent talking. She remembers how excited she was whenever their eyes met or she spotted him sitting alone. She remembers that day he showed her around the house and the gallery. She thought he was going to kiss her then, but he never did.

Maybe he never cared. Maybe was just using her. Maybe she was nothing but another body to fuck.

That doesn’t explain the small things. The hours he spent studying with her, the nights they stayed up talking about anything they could think of, his attentiveness for details, her coffee order, her favourite songs, the way he celebrated her happiness and read her like a book.

“How did we end up here?” she says, “how did we make such a mess of this?”

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach for her hand, but he stops himself. “I had such a crush on you, when you came to Dragonstone you know,” he says.

“You never said anything.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t think you liked me.”

She tries to laugh but it comes out as a breath. It seems like such a simple misunderstanding for all the pain it has caused.

“I just remember thinking that someone as wonderful as you would never want…” he absentmindedly brushes his fingers along the scar over his eye. “I was different back then; I still had a lot to learn.”

“Aemond,” she says, drawing his eyes back to her, “I thought you were wonderful too.”

“Oh.” He stops himself from smiling and ends up twisting his lips and sticking his chin out in an awkward expression. “Look, I’ve had time to think, and talk this through—”

“With Aegon?”

“And Helaena.”

She tries not to roll her eyes.

“I think I owe you an explanation,” he says.

She leans back in her chair and raises her eyebrows.

Aemond draws his tongue between his lips. “I tried not to think much about you after Dragonstone. You were just Jace’s cousin, I didn’t think I’d have a reason to see you again. And then I knew that first night with Alys was a bad idea. But everything was happening with dad and Rhaenyra, mum was still upset about Storm’s End, and it was just after Harwin got sick… it just happened.”

“Good for you,” she grumbles.

“I’m not trying to play a sympathy card, I just want to tell you the truth,” he says. This time he doesn’t shy away from reaching for her hand. She doesn’t move, and watches as he settles for just resting his hand over hers. “I never meant for things to go as far as they did, but I needed a way out. I needed to get away from my family and Targ Corp. Alys gave me a purpose outside of all that.”

“So you used her?”

“Yes. And she got something out of it too.”

She doesn’t argue against that.

“I don’t know I thought maybe I’d be over how I felt about you. We were just kids, it had been a few years, but then I saw you… and you were perfect. Nothing could convince me otherwise.”

Guilt twinges in her chest. “It wasn’t just you,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“I kissed you first.”

He tightens his hold of her hand. “But I still wanted you. And we worked it out so well, I just thought we could keep going as we were.”

“Until I fucked it up.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“I did though. I should never have said…” her eyes are starting to sting at the memory. Sprawled out on the bed, naked and not quite satisfied. The empty feeling in her chest as he left her there.

“I couldn’t take me eyes off you at the wedding,” Aemond says. “And then you had one conversation with that Stark kid, and I was losing my fucking mind. I knew why it bothered me. I know how I felt, no matter how I tried to rationalise it. I knew how I felt about you. I always knew.”

She blinks and two tears trail down her cheeks. She can’t manage any more than that.

“I panicked. I didn’t know what it would mean if you felt the same. It just became too real, I—” He exhales heavily, and runs his hand through his hair. “I know this is my mess. I should have stayed away from Alys. I should have been honest. But at the time, it just felt easier to just… let everything happen.”

She had never seen Alys cry as much as she had, that morning when she told her the truth.

“What did you say to mum?”

“After the dinner party? She’d had a horrible night as it was. She said she wished I had defended her more against my parents. I said she should have known what was going to happen before she invited everyone over and that she should stop trying to get involved in my life.”

“Can’t imagine she took that well.”

“I ended up telling her I had rethought my priorities. I couldn’t be what she needed. I said I’d leave Rivers PR and try to patch things up with my family.”

“You didn’t tell her about us though.”

He swipes his thumb over her knuckles. “I didn’t know if you would want me to.”

She takes a shallow breath. “I told her. After you left, I went downstairs and told her everything.”

“What did she say?”

Sometimes she still has nightmares about that morning. She stands in the kitchen while her mother just screams at her.

“She was so angry. It was understandable, I guess, but we barely spoke until I went to Oldtown.”

“You’re at the university?”

“Yeah. She said Oldtown sounded like a good idea. Lots of distance, far away from her.”

“And how has it been, being back home?”

“We talked about it. I think we both realised we didn’t want to lose each other over some stupid guy.”

He half smiles, and exhales. “She called me in September,” he says. “It must have been after you left. She just said she knew. She said I was ‘sick bastard’ and that I should never speak to either of you again.”

“That’s fair,” she says. She takes a sip from her coffee and it’s cold.

“I’m sorry, for everything,” he says. “And you don’t have to forgive me, I just wanted you to know.”

She nods with the smallest movement of her head.

Aemond slides his hand away from her. He leans over his elbows and taps his fingertips on the table again.

She keeps her eyes down as he clears up the coffee cups and follows the sound of his footsteps as he walks to the kitchen, then back to her, hovering over her shoulder.

He takes a slow breath.

“Whenever you’re ready, I could drop you home.”

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Or if you want another drink, or a shower, or anything…”

She lifts her head and turns herself around to face him. He looks so tired.

“I’ll take you up on a shower.”

He leads her back to the bedroom, handing her a towel from a cupboard, and through to an ensuite with dark tiles on the walls, ceiling and floor, and a shower cornered off from the rest of the room by a glass screen.

She hangs the towel on the back of the door while Aemond runs the water, testing the temperature with his hand.

They turn back into each other.

A hazy cloud of steam fills the room. Aemond’s skin glistens, beads of water and sweat forming along his brow and his neck, but she keeps her gaze on his eyes.

She’s not sure who moves first, but they drift into one another, until their lips meet in an effortlessly delicate kiss.

But it quickly leads to something more intense when she pulls the t-shirt over her head and slides her panties down her legs.

Aemond groans lowly, pulling her into him by her waist, tracing his hands along every inch of her body he can reach. He kisses along her cheek, neck and shoulder as she teases the hem of his t-shirt and his toned stomach underneath.

He moans into her mouth, and she delights in it. “Whose needy now?” she asks sweetly against his lips.

He tears his t-shirt off in one quick movement and surges into kiss her again, cupping and kneading her breasts and her arse.

Then he takes her hands in his, and brings them down to the fly on his jeans.

She grins as he presses his forehead against hers. They both watch as she slowly undoes the buttons and hooks her fingers around the waistband.

She keeps her eyes on him as she pulls his cock free and comes to crouch in front of him, smiling at his clenched fists and tight jaw. He’s already half-hard as she starts to stroke along his length and runs her tongue along the underside of him.

She misses the weight of him in her mouth, his fist in her hair, his praises and the noises he makes as he spills down her throat, but before she can even place her lips at the tip, he drags her up to stand.

“Daddy—”

His usual commanding façade falls to something softer. “No,” he says, “just use my name.”

“Aemond,” she sighs.

He gives her a smug smile and reaches for the side of her neck, tilting her gaze up. “You still on the pill?”

Her breath hitches. “Yeah.”

“Hmm, good girl.”

He walks her into the shower, putting her back against the wall. Her back arches at the cold and the sensation of Aemond’s hands on her hips as he starts trailing kisses down her stomach. He pries her knees apart and teases the sensitive flesh of her thighs with his lips and tongue, edging closer to her cunt.

He must be feeling merciful and doesn’t waste too much time before drags his tongue through her folds.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “missed this perfect pussy.”

It would be embarrassing enough how quickly she comes on his tongue, but what’s worse is just how many times Aemond draws climax after climax from her, circling his tongue over her clit, fucking her with it, then replacing it with his fingers.

Her legs tremble as she feels her slick trickling down her thighs, but he doesn’t need her to stay standing for long. He comes to stand hitches her legs around his hips.

With his face buried in her neck he lines himself up with her entrance and slowly pushes himself inside of her.

She hisses and tugs on his hair at the stretch, but the pain doesn’t last long as he starts to rut into her.

“’m not gonna last long,” he says against her skin, panting with the effort as he picks up his pace.

But she can feel just how responsive her body is to him, just how much she’s missed the feeling of him, his cock dragging through her and hitting that perfect spot deep inside her.

She moans his name and holds him tighter, pulling him closer, urging him deeper.

Her orgasm is a wave of warmth, a soothing relief that just keeps going as Aemond continues to fuck her.

Until his hips still and she feels his cock throb inside of her. His voice is somewhere between a groan and whimper as he comes, and it sends another thrill down her spine.

Carefully, he lowers her down to stand on her own legs, keeping hold of her waist as warm water cascades over their bodies. His eyes don’t stop moving over her face, and she can’t stop touching him, threading her fingers though his hair, feeling along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and his lips.

He turns her around. The cap of a bottle clicks and he lathers shampoo through her hair, then tilts her head back to rinse it out. Next, he coats it in conditioner, and keeping her back against his chest and his head over her shoulder, he washes her skin with a lavender body wash.

Then he pushes her into the wall by the base of her neck. She braces herself by her palms as he takes a delicate hold of her throat and fucks her again. He reaches deeper from this angle, bullying against her sweet spot.

Aemond keeps a steady pace and kisses the back of her neck. “Tell me you missed me,” he says.

“I missed you,” she utters, “missed how good you make me feel.”

“Hmm, missed being my good little slut?”

She tries to say it back, but all she manages is a throaty moan as she comes undone around him.

Then he washes the conditioner out of her hair like it’s nothing.

After he’s dried her off with the towel, he carries her back to the bedroom and lays her out on her back.

He’s insatiable. He fucks her again with their foreheads pressed together and their lips barely brushing over each other. Every brutal snap of his hips is another step towards a burning oblivion, and his pace barely falters as he positions her legs over his shoulders.

She can feel herself twitching and clamping around him, the coil in her belly tensing and tensing until it’s almost unbearable.

Aemond presses his teeth together and hisses like it hurts. “So tight,” he whispers, “my good girl, so fucking tight.”

“Please,” she utters, “Aemond, I wanna come,”

He frowns in mocking sympathy and grazes his lips over her the sensitive spot on her neck. “I know you do, baby, I’m close too, just hold out for me a little longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, barely a breath, and she says it over and over again. She closes her eyes so she can lose herself in it all, his cock dragging through her, the wet sounds of sex, the smell of sweat and lavender bodywash, his nose pressing against her cheek as he turns into her, his breath over her mouth, his desperate moans and whimpers…

Her orgasm rises and comes crashing down, until her skin comes alight and her body starts to tremble underneath him.

Aemond lets out a guttural groan as he comes, stilling his hips against her, pushing in impossibly deeper as a warmth floods through her.

He lifts his face to hover over hers. His hair is still damp and so is hers, leaving a cold patch on the pillow that makes her shiver.

Aemond leans on one hand over her and brings his thumb to her bottom lip to pry open her jaw.

She sticks her tongue out, ready and waiting as he trails a slow line of spit into her mouth.

“Swallow,” he mutters, and she does.

He smiles vaguely as takes her legs down from his shoulders and pulls her to sit up, cupping her face in his hands and leaning in to kiss her lazily.

This is how things were supposed to be, she thinks, winter mornings wrapped up in each other, her body settled in a perfect state between bliss and numbness.

Suddenly he’s moving away again. “All fours,” he says.

She rolls over her side and props herself against the mattress on her hands and knees.

Aemond keeps a punishing grip of her hips as he slides his cock into her sensitive pussy, fingertips digging into her flesh as he pulls her into him with every thrust.

It doesn’t take long before her arms feel weak and her wrists start to ache. “Aemond,” she whines, “please, please…”

Aemond pulls her against his chest as he keeps pounding into her. One arm wraps around her shoulders and her chest, holding her against him while his fingers pinch at one of her nipples. His other hand snakes down her body to play with her clit.

“Mine,” he groans against the shell of her ear, “you’re mine and you love it. I’m never going to let you go, never.” As harsh as his voice is he sounds desperate, pleading.

She holds her arms over the arm keeping her in place, helpless to do anything but cling to him and just take it.

She’s lost count of how many times he’s made her come, and this orgasm tears through her suddenly as a broken cry sounds in her throat. She digs her nails into Aemond’s arm to take the edge off as white-hot pleasure surges through her.

Her mind is completely fucked out. Aemond lets her fall back on the bed and spreads her legs, trailing his thumb through her soaked folds and his cum as it dribbles out of her.

And he slips into the bed beside her, pulling the duvet over their bodies and holding her close.

“I might need another shower,” she says.

Aemond huffs a laugh and presses a kiss to her temple.

It’s cold but she drags herself from the bed and goes to the ensuite to sort herself out. She runs herself another shower and brushes her teeth with a spare toothbrush she finds in a basket under the sink.

And when she comes back into the bedroom, Aemond looks at her with a dazed smile and a look of wonder in his eyes. She practically runs back to join him, wrapping her arms around his torso and tucking herself under his shoulder to rest her head over his heart.

“There was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he says.

She doesn’t reply but he knows she’s listening.

“I’ve been talking to mum and Otto, and I think I might take him up on that job offer at Beacon.”

Her heart beats a little faster, in time with his. Dread pools in her stomach again, eased by the afterglow and the satisfied ache between her legs.

“We’d both be in the same city, away from our families. I could get my own place.”

“And?” she utters.

“We could start over. We could try to make this work.”

Away from his parents and Targ Corp. Away from Alys. Away from the city she’s been trying to run away from.

“I think mum would kill me,” she says.

Aemond shrugs. “She wouldn’t have to know.”

“So what, we go back to keeping secrets?”

“No,” he says, turning on his side to face her. He places his hand on her neck, caressing his fingertips over her skin. “No, that’s the whole point, we wouldn’t have to hide anything in Oldtown. It would just be me and you.”

She meets his suggestion with silence.

“You don’t want to,” he whispers.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she says, propping herself up and resting a hand on his chest. “But we’ve made mistakes before. I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

Aemond’s expression shifts. His mouth tenses and his brow furrows, not quite angry, but hardly innocent.

“I understand,” he says, but she’s not sure she believes him.

She pulls herself away from him and swings her legs over the side of the bed, placing her feet on the floor. “I think you should just take me home.”

They fall back to silence. She slips into her dress and her jacket, stuffing her fishnets in her pocket because she can’t be bothered to put them on. She makes sure she has her phone and her keys, and waits for Aemond by the front door.

He’s not far behind her, appearing in a white knit jumper and a pair of blue jeans.

The streets are almost empty, and a good thing too because the roads are thick with snow. Aemond drives slowly and cautiously, not that he’s ever been an especially reckless driver.

The Bluetooth on the car picks up her phone automatically. She tuts as a Lana Del Rey song plays through the speakers.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, reaching to turn to audio off.

“No,” Aemond says, holding his hand over the button. “I like this song.”

She withdraws her hand and tries not to smile. “I fucking knew it. You’re a secret Lana fan.”

Aemond huffs a quiet laugh. “I just appreciate good music. Ultraviolence is a modern masterpiece.”

The weather gives them a reason not to talk for the rest of the way. She keeps her eyes ahead, pretending to be enchanted by the snow, but she keeps stealing glances of him, with minimal movements of her head so as not to draw his attention. She watches his hands as they grip the steering wheel, his legs as he presses down on the pedals, and his face in the reflection of the windshield.

It takes twice the amount of time it should for them to reach Queen’s Park, and he pulls over a few houses before hers.

Once they’ve stopped Aemond sighs and runs his hands over the wheel. He leaves the engine running to keep the heating going.

She eyes the door handle and her fingers twitch.

“When would you be moving to Oldtown?” she asks.

“I start at the end of the month. I’m trying to find a place before then.”

“Right,” she says.

She looks further down the street, but the house is hidden by hedges. Alys should have come straight home after her gala. Most days she’s an early riser, and she doesn’t tend to overdo it on the drinks when she’s working— which to her, is almost always. She’s probably in the kitchen, trying to figure out where in Seven Hells she ended up last night.

She looks back to Aemond. He’s watching her with wide eyes.

“I have my thesis due at the end of the term, and exams after that. I’ll be pretty busy,” she says.

He nods and peeks his tongue between his lips. “If you need anything,” he mutters, “you can call me, anytime.”

“Thanks.”

“And, you know, if you ever change your mind…”

“I’ll call you.”

The possibility seems more and more likely the longer she looks at him.

But she pushes open the car door before she does something stupid.

She follows the footsteps already laid out in the snow. It must be a good few inches of snowfall; the prints are set deep. Thank the Seven she’d chosen to wear boots and not heels.

“Wait—” He doesn’t need to say it loudly, it’s quiet enough that she hears him, even when he barely utters it.

She turns as Aemond slams the car door shut and closes the distance between them in a few strides.

“What?” she utters.

Aemond nudges his nose into hers and cups her cheeks in his hands. Her skin feels like ice against him. Warmth blooms in her chest, and suddenly she’s able to forget that she’s standing out in the snow, in a black mini dress and a leather jacket.

He tenderly presses his lips into hers. They kiss like it’s their first times, with slow and cautious movements. More than anything she just feels the shape of his lips and lets them rest against each other.

This time, when she pulls away for a breath, and those careless words come out of her mouth, barely above a whisper, he doesn’t break away from her. He doesn’t abandon her. He says it back.

It’s terrifying and grounding all at once.

She crashes her lips against his to kiss him properly, tugging at the collar of his jumper and running her hand over the pulse point of his neck.

She knows she can’t lie to herself. As soon as January is done, she’ll find his name in her phone. She’ll say she missed him. He’ll tell her he loves her, and she’ll say it back. Time will tell if it turns out to be a bad decision.

“I don’t think my life makes sense without you,” she says against his lips.

Aemond smiles, with a gentle curl of his mouth and a look of intense excitement in his eyes. “I know, baby. I know.”

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3 @okfashionista @khaothick @babygirlyofthevale

[randomwriteronline]

To see the captain of the Ta-Koro guard himself hurry into the Sanctum with a concerned look on his mask was a rather strange occurrence in and of itself. The request he made to Lumi, however, managed to be even stranger.

"The Turaga is hard at work deciphering the prophecies," he whispered, baffled, "He can't simply leave like that."

"It's urgent," Jaller insisted just as quietly: "Turaga Vakama has been struck by a vision so terrible that it caused him to fall ill. He's in great pain - he laments aches all over his body, he can't rise from bed, he struggles to drink or eat..."

"We can send physicians - maybe in Ga-Koro--"

"He refused to let even our own healers beside him. He requested Turaga Nuju - nobody else."

Lumi shifted his weight from one foot to the other apprehensively. At last he left the Ta-Matoran there where he stood to rush to his Turaga, disturbing his studies with words spoken so softly that it seemed like a miracle that his interlocutor would manage to even hear him at all.

But Nuju did hear, and well, too. Startled surprise flashed for a second on his expression before it furrowed once more; without a sound he strode quickly out of the Sanctum, towards the gates and the Northern March, leaving Matoro and Jaller both so baffled that they nearly forgot to follow after him, almost ending up stranded in the snow as the Turaga was fully ready to take off in the cablecar without them.

The journey down to the lake of fire was short, suffocated by the tension oozing off of Nuju in waves. He barely even waited for the car to stop properly, jumping off despite the two right hands' complaints and hurrying down the wall. By the time his aide had also reached the gate, he was halfway across the bridge already.

Jaller and Matoro only got ahold of him because he wasted precious seconds looking around the Koro with worry and puzzlement, searching fruitlessly for the hut that belonged to Vakama.

"This way," the captain wheezed, breathless, grabbing his arm so he wouldn't run off again: "The Turaga is this way."

Nuju followed.

Fairly thick fabric covered the entrance of the abode; its weight muffled the pained whines within.

The Turaga slipped into the building without waiting for explanations, abandoning the two Matoran to themselves again. Matoro made an attempt at going after him only for Jaller to hastily stop him, reminded of the wails that left Vakama's weakened body when he caught sight of an intruder.

The two right hands could do little else but wait.

Each second seemed to stretch into eternity with every whimper that passed through the tarp: the moment they reached out, barely disturbing the fabric that divided the two Turaga from the world outside, a loud hiss would ward them off and they'd be forced back into uneasy stalling. They could hear them speak to each other still, softly, quietly - too quietly to make out the words as soft birdspeak coos intertwined with tearful gibberish.

There was a feeling behind their murmured conversation that neither Matoran could place.

Something heavy, indecipherable...

Something kind.

Nuju reappeared as suddenly as he'd entered the hut, eyes still set in the furrowed expression that refused to leave his mask. He told Matoro somethin in a hurried, impatient tone, gesturing towards the gate and the tarp before bolting back towards the bridge again; his right hand remained still on his feet, as dumbfounded and confused as the captain of the Ta-Koro guard.

Jaller looked between him and the Turaga over and over, incapable of making heads or tails of the scene that had just played out before him; Matoro replied with a wide eyed look, a little embarrassed even.

"He's - he said he needs to go to the telescope," he managed to find the words at last: "He told me to look after Vakama while he-"

"He wants to go on his own?" Jaller almost shouted.

"I assume so, he - he is acting strange. Something about the vision..."

Jaller's head turned left and right again in a sudden bout of panic as he tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he snapped himself out of that funk: "Yes, alright, alright - I'll go with Nuju, for safety, and you'll stay with the Turaga. We'll do that."

Then he bolted, running like mad after the being already heading for the beaches of Ta-Wahi, and just as fast Matoro slipped beneath the heavy tarp and into Vakama's home.

He tiptoed his way to his bedside as the Turaga raved softly in his feverish state; he did not reject the Matoran's hand when it gently laid over his own, but he did not seem to realize he was even present at all, either. He just shivered harshly and muttered nonsense to himself in whimpers, keeping his eyes shut tight, straining his voice as though he were on the verge of tears.

"Turaga," Matoro whispered: "Can you hear me? It's Matoro."

"Nuju..." Vakama croaked. His neck bent back into the bed with a pained hiss.

The Matoran quickly went to sustain his head, words quiet and reassuring: "He will be back soon. He just needs to check something, that's all. He'll be alright."

But the Turaga insisted: "Nuju," he called weakly, "Nuju... Nuju..."

"It's alright, calm down. He'll be back soon."

"Nuju... Nuju... Stay with me... Please... Nuju..."

The translator watched him twist and turn as he sobbed for the other Turaga. He was his only witness, the only one to hear his ramblings as they gained and lost coherence like a tide that ebbs and flows; once Nuju returned, and Jaller and the other Ta-Matoran could once again take care of Vakama on their own as he no longer rejected their aid, he tucked them into the satchel he never parted from and took them away with himself, to bury them somewhere in the side of the mountain as he did with all the secrets entrusted to him.

Turaga Vakama recuperated slowly, in the span of a few days. Turaga Nuju did not visit him, though he was sent a messanger reporting the good news; allegedly, he had seemed very relieved.

One day later, the Toa of Ice washed ashore.

[morgan-va]

Chapter 28: Home (Serial Designation V x Reader)

Masterlist

You walk alongside N and V through the dimly lit hall, the echo of your steps the only thing filling the silence between you. V stretches her arms behind her head, looking particularly unbothered, while N walks with his usual chipper bounce, his hands swinging by his sides. You, on the other hand, can’t shake the unease curling in your circuits. 

Uzi is waiting outside her door when you arrive, arms crossed, her impatient glare already locked onto the three of you. "Finally," she groans, stepping aside. "Get in."

 N marches inside without hesitation, and V follows after, pausing only to glance at you before disappearing into Uzi’s bedroom. Just as you're about to step in, Uzi suddenly plants a hand against your chest, stopping you in your tracks. 

"Come with me. We need to grab some stuff." 

You blink at her, confused, but before you can ask what she means, V pokes her head back out. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, why does Techie have to go with you?" she asks, narrowing her glowing yellow eyes. 

You wave her off, offering a reassuring nod. "It’s fine. I’ll be back in a second." 

V lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes before pulling her head back inside. Uzi waits for the door to fully slide shut before she motions for you to follow. 

She leads you down the hall and into a small closet, barely lit by a single flickering bulb. Boxes are stacked haphazardly along the walls, their labels either scratched out or barely legible under layers of dust. Uzi kneels, shoving one aside and yanking open another. She rummages through it for a moment before pulling out a bundle of tangled wiring. 

You watch in silence as she untangles a few strands, her movements methodical, precise. Then, without looking up, she whispers, "I think I’ve figured it out." 

You frown. "Figured what out?" 

She grips the wiring tighter before finally looking up at you, her expression unreadable. "The secret to everything that’s been happening? It’s in them. In their memories." 

You blink. "You mean N and V’s memories?" 

She nods, her voice lowering even more. "Yeah. I think something, or someone, has been messing with them. And I’m gonna make them relive it all to find out what." 

You stare at her. "You’re gonna what?" 

She huffs. "I mean, if they want to, of course. But I’ll be persuasive!" she adds quickly, waving a hand. "But that’s where you come in. I need someone to help me monitor what’s going on while we’re in there. Think of it like being an admin in a Bitcord server, but real life." 

You tilt your head. "What’s Bitcord?" 

Uzi groans, pressing her fingers to her forehead. "Ugh. Of course you wouldn’t know. Forget it, normie. Look, just trust me on this. You in or what?"

You hesitate, but ultimately, there’s no other leads. If Uzi’s right, if there’s something buried in N and V’s memories that could explain what’s going on, then it’s worth looking into. And, maybe, just maybe, she could help you with your own lost memories once this is over.

"Fine," you say, crossing your arms. "I’m in."

Uzi’s grin is quick and sharp. "Knew you’d see it my way."

With the bundle of wiring slung over her shoulder, she leads you back to her room. The door hisses open, revealing N and V rummaging through her things. N, completely innocent, simply tilts his head at a broken snow globe he found on her desk. V, however, is holding up one of Uzi’s sweaters like it’s the most disgusting thing she’s ever touched.

"Wow. You have worse taste than I thought," V mutters, flicking lint off her claws.

"Drop it," Uzi snaps.

V raises a brow but tosses the sweater back onto the bed. N, meanwhile, sets the snowglobe down with careful precision, giving Uzi an apologetic look. "Uh, sorry! We were just—"

Uzi doesn’t give him time to finish. She raises a glowing hand, and suddenly, both N and V are yanked to the floor with a metallic thud, their bodies locking in place.

"What the hell, Uzi?!" V snarls, struggling against her restraints.

N lets out a startled yelp, blinking rapidly. "W-Whoa! Careful! Last time I hit my head that hard I forgot what I was uh… uhhh.."

"Relax," Uzi says, her voice calm. "You’ll be fine."

The cables she brought twist and coil in her grip, slithering toward the struggling Disassembly Drones and her computer. The second they make contact, N and V freeze. Their optics flicker wildly before turning into glowing yellow Xs. They slump against the floor, limp, like puppets with their strings cut.

You swallow hard. The room is unnervingly silent.

Uzi exhales, shaking her hands out. "Alright. Help me sit them up. We’re going in."

"Are they… gonna be okay?" you ask hesitantly, eyeing N and V’s still forms.

Uzi gives you an incredulous look, placing a hand over her chest like you just insulted her entire existence. "Wow. Wow. You really think I’m that cruel and tormented?"

You stare at her.

She groans, rolling her eyes. "They’ll be fine. I’m not some evil mad scientist. Well, not that evil."

You sigh, deciding to just accept that as reassurance. You kneel down and carefully grab V, hoisting her up and leaning her against Uzi’s bed. Her head lolls to the side, her optics still locked in that unsettling yellow X. Uzi does the same with N, but you notice something odd—she’s gentle. Like, uncharacteristically gentle. She adjusts his arms so they don’t dangle awkwardly and makes sure his back is properly supported.

Weird. This is the same girl who blows things up for fun and just went on a murderous rampage not too long ago. You file that away for later.

Once both Disassembly Drones are propped up, Uzi drags over an extra chair next to hers, motioning for you to sit. You hesitate, then take a seat, your hands instinctively gripping the armrests.

"Alright," Uzi says, cracking her knuckles. "I’m gonna attempt to gain access to their memories now. When I give the signal, you’ll plug yourself in, just like me."

Your processors hum anxiously, but you nod. "Got it."

"Good," she says, flashing a sharp grin. "Now, let’s break into some brains."

She grips a cable, plugging it into her head with ease, and the room fills with a faint, electric hum.

Uzi’s visor floods with scrolling text, lines of code and data flashing by faster than you can process. You catch glimpses of system commands, security bypasses, and encrypted files, but they disappear before you can make sense of them. It’s honestly impressive—Uzi has always been frighteningly intelligent, so it’s not shocking that she’s a skilled hacker too. She did, after all, design and build an entire railgun by herself.

Before long, the text vanishes, and Uzi leans back with a smug grin, giving you a thumbs-up. "Program’s ready."

She taps a few more keys before glancing at you. "By the way, my username’s gonna be DARKXWOLF17—"

You blink. "What."

"—and once you’re in, I’ll pick something fitting for you," she adds, smirking ominously.

You roll your eyes. "Great. Can’t wait."

Uzi snickers before stretching her arms. "Alright, so here’s the deal. To N and V, this will feel like perfectly reliving their memories, but for us, it’ll be more like watching a VR program, we’ll still be aware of what’s happening here in the real world."

You frown. "I’ve… never used a VR program."

Uzi pauses, then shrugs. "Eh, you’ll get the hang of it. Just don’t do anything stupid."

That’s not reassuring. You sigh, taking a breath before gripping the cable and plugging yourself in.

The last thing you hear is Uzi’s voice, her usual teasing tone curling around the words—

"See you on the other side."

Code flickers and flashes across your vision in a dizzying cascade of symbols, growing faster and brighter until everything—sound, sensation, thought—fades into a numbing void.

And then—

Nothing.

You blink.

A mirror stares back at you, your own reflection crisp and clear in the soft glow of vanity lights. Your posture is stiff, though not unpracticed, a quiet formality in the way you adjust your collar and smooth out your sleeves. The fabric is high-quality, tailored for the uniformity expected of staff at an event like this. Neat. Presentable. Unobtrusive.

The Gala.

You aren't attending, of course. Not really. People like you don't get invitations, but appearances still matter. Even behind the scenes, there is an expectation to uphold the illusion of effortless grace.

You exhale slowly, letting the breath steady you. The room around you is modest, practical—one of many tucked away in the estate’s lower levels, meant for employees who need to be nearby for long shifts. A few personal touches linger—a watch resting on the nightstand, a book you don’t quite remember setting there. There’s a faint hum of activity above, distant but constant.

With one last glance in the mirror, you turn on your heel and head for the door, stepping into the quiet hallway beyond. The floor is sleek, polished marble, reflecting the soft golden glow of ornate sconces lining the walls.  You ascend a wide staircase, the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glassware growing louder with each step. The main hall awaits.

The quiet tap of your footsteps echoes through the hallway as you make your way toward the main hall, your eyes flicking from side to side, scanning for anything out of place. Every light bulb is working—no flickering, no dim spots. The paintings along the walls remain straight and level, their gilded frames catching the warm glow of the lights. The floral arrangements sit undisturbed, their colors carefully chosen to match the opulent decor.

Everything is perfect.

After hours of meticulous preparation, every detail has fallen into place. Thank goodness for V and the other drones’ help—without them, setting up for this event would have been a nightmare. Still, despite the smoothness of it all, your nerves refuse to settle. The guests haven’t arrived yet, but the anticipation is enough to keep you on edge.

As you pass a cracked door, an odd sensation crawls up the back of your neck, a gnawing feeling that digs into your mind. You pause, glancing at the door, unsure what exactly compels you to look inside.

Beyond the gap, two figures stand near the bar.

N and… Cyn.

They’re talking, though their voices are muffled, distant. N gestures animatedly, his usual easy energy on full display, while Cyn listens with an unreadable expression. The dim lighting makes it difficult to make out details, but there’s something unnerving about the scene—something just off.

Then, for the briefest moment, Cyn’s gaze shifts.

Right at you.

A shiver shoots through your spine before you even understand why, you feel as though something in your brain has just clicked. Like a light switch being flipped on after years of unuse, but what it turned on, you do not know. The moment passes as quickly as it came, and she turns back to N, continuing the conversation as if nothing happened.

You swallow the unease, shaking your head as you step away from the door. There’s no time for distractions—you have a job to do.

Turning your focus back to the task at hand, you push forward, the large double doors of the main hall looming ahead.

The moment you step into the hall, the sheer scale of the venue washes over you. The chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow, illuminating the pristine white tablecloths and glistening silverware. The air smells faintly of polished wood and expensive cologne, an atmosphere carefully crafted to impress tonight’s esteemed guests.

Seated at a side table, clipboard in hand, is J. Her eyes flick rapidly across her list as she furiously checks off items, muttering to herself under her breath. Every so often, she pauses, scowls, then scribbles something down with renewed intensity. Classic J—determined, focused, and slightly terrifying when deep in thought.

Not far from her, standing near one of the grand pillars, is Tessa.

Her hands are clasped tightly in front of her, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze darting nervously around the room. The tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers twitch slightly against the fabric of her dress, it’s clear she’s psyching herself up for the gala.

You decide to check in on her first.

Approaching, you offer a small smile, and she brightens a little when she notices you.

"Hey! You holding up okay?" you ask.

Tessa exhales sharply, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “Oh, you know, just preparing to fake being good at socializing for the next several hours. No big deal.” Her tone is dry, but there’s an unmistakable edge of anxiety beneath it.

You chuckle, nodding in sympathy. "I get it—"

But the words barely leave your mouth before pain sears through your skull.

A splitting headache crashes into you like a sudden wave, sharp and overwhelming. Your vision blurs at the edges, the warm glow of the chandeliers warping and twisting in unnatural ways. The words “INTRUSION DETECTED” appear in your vision, but as you blink,  they disappear as if nothing was there in the first place.

Tessa’s voice is distant, concerned. You barely register her hand grabbing your shoulder, steadying you before you can stumble.

Tessa’s grip on your shoulder tightens slightly as she leans in, brows furrowed in concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

You blink rapidly, trying to shake off the disorientation. The pain vanishes just as suddenly as it came, leaving behind an odd, lingering sensation—an incredibly vivid feeling of déjà vu. The room, the people, the conversation—everything feels like it's happened before. But that’s ridiculous. Right?

“I’m fine,” you assure her, rolling your shoulders as if you can physically shake off the feeling.

Tessa doesn’t look convinced. “You should lie down for a bit.”

“I don’t—”

“I’ll tell my parents you’re fixing the furnace if they ask where you went,” she cuts in, crossing her arms.

You sigh, already sensing where this is going. “Tessa, really, I’m fine—”

She arches an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And technically you work for me and my family, so…” She gestures dramatically toward the door. “Go rest. That’s an order.”

You exhale sharply, caught between amusement and mild frustration. “You’re pulling rank on me?”

“Absolutely,” she replies without hesitation.

There’s no winning this argument. Maybe you have been overworking yourself. Another sigh, but you relent. “Fine, fine. I’ll rest.”

Tessa grins victoriously. “Good. Now go before I actually have to start pretending to like people.”

You shake your head with a small chuckle and turn toward the exit, leaving the grand hall behind.

As you step out into the hallway, a movement catches your eye.

N and Cyn emerge from the bar room, walking in step with each other. When they notice you, you give them a polite nod. “Hey.”

N grins and waves enthusiastically. “Hey! We’re just gonna see if Cyn can hang out at the gala for a bit! She’s never been to one, and I thought it might be fun for her. You know, it’s important to try new things!”

You glance at Cyn. Her gaze is already locked onto you, her eyes unsettlingly wide. A stretched smile carves across her face as that familiar feeling returns to you.

“Yes,” she echoes, her voice slow, deliberate. “It’s always fun to try new things. Giggle.”

You hesitate. Something about the way she’s looking at you… off. But you don’t want to be rude, so you simply nod, offering a neutral, “Hope you have fun.”

As you turn to leave, Cyn suddenly speaks again.

“Technician, be careful. You don’t want to ignore what your… brain is telling you.” she muses, her voice honeyed yet distant, like she’s reciting a fact rather than engaging in conversation.

Your breath catches in your throat.

She doesn’t blink. Just holds that eerie smile. The feeling of deja vu has completely disappeared, replaced instead by a dreadful sense of uncertainty, as if something has changed. That’s not possible however, you’re experiencing this for the first time, of course the future is uncertain, and right now, you need rest.

Then, as if nothing happened, she turns and walks away with N, who offers you a small, nervous wave before following her down the hall.

You stand frozen for a moment, unable to shake the feeling deep in your chest.

After collecting yourself for a moment, you press on towards the staircase. A nap would do you well. You don’t want to lose your mind over a bit of stress after all.

The stairs creak softly beneath your steps as you descend, your fingers brushing against the railing. Your mind keeps drifting back to Cyn’s words, but you push the thought away. It’s just stress. You’ve been working non-stop for weeks, making sure everything is perfect for the gala. It’s finally catching up to you. That’s all.

As you reach the final set of stairs, you find yourself wondering where V is. She wasn’t in the main hall, and she wasn’t with N. Maybe she’s in the kitchen? Or the library? You haven’t really had time to sit and talk with her since earlier. If she isn’t too busy, maybe you could spend some time with her this evening.

You slow to a stop in front of the library door, glancing at the dim sliver of light peeking through the crack beneath it. She could be in there. It wouldn’t hurt to check.

You reach for the doorknob.

And then—

A wave of exhaustion crashes over you, sudden and all-consuming. Your limbs feel heavy, your thoughts sluggish, like your body has decided that moving even a single inch more would take too much effort. Your hand hovers just short of the doorknob, unwilling—or unable—to close the distance.

You blink hard, trying to shake it off, but the sensation lingers, pressing down on you like an invisible weight.

Maybe… maybe you should rest first. Yeah. You’ll find V after laying down for a minute.

Letting your hand drop to your side, you turn away from the library door and continue down the hall, pushing open the basement door and stepping inside. The stairwell is dimly lit, but familiar. Safe. You descend slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Finally, you reach your room, open the door, and step inside.

You step inside, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. Your room is just as you left it—small but warm, familiar. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows along the walls, making the space feel even cozier.

Your gaze drifts to the bed, and your thoughts wander back to this morning—waking up with V’s hand in yours, her presence steady and reassuring. She had watched over you, made sure you were safe, comfortable… Warmth spreads through your chest at the memory. She really is something special.

But just as you begin to settle into that feeling, the strange sensation from earlier creeps back in. It’s not just exhaustion this time—it’s something deeper, something wrong. A whisper at the edge of your thoughts, too quiet to make out but insistent, like a voice just beyond your reach.

Your eyelids feel heavier. Your body sways slightly where you stand.

Well… maybe just a small nap. You are pretty tired.

It wouldn’t hurt.

Would it?

You settle onto the bed, sighing as the weight of exhaustion presses down on you. Just a few minutes. That’s all you need. You’ll rest, let your mind clear, and then you’ll find V.

You close your eyes, sinking into the mattress, the tension in your body slowly unraveling. The world fades, thoughts slipping through your fingers like sand. The usual soft hum of the furnace through the wall is absent, seems like it’s broken again, you should really… fix that.. But sleep takes hold of you before you can worry any longer.

But just as soon as you go under, you’re yanked back, like something is pulling you away from whatever lies at the end of your slumber.

You sit up, breathing hard. The room is exactly as it was before. Nothing has changed. Nothing is out of place. 

You swallow dryly. Your throat is parched, each breath scraping uncomfortably. Maybe that’s why you feel so off—dehydration, exhaustion, stress. You just need some water. That’s all.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stand, rubbing your temples in an attempt to soothe the pounding in your skull. The ache lingers, dull but persistent, as you make your way to the door. Each step feels strangely deliberate, as if part of you is still fighting against the movement, against the simple act of getting up.

But you push forward.

The hallway greets you with the same familiar stillness. The walls, the floors, the soft glow of the lights—it’s all as it should be. But as you start up the stairs, that nagging sensation doesn’t fade. If anything, it gets worse.

The whisper of a thought lingers in the back of your mind.

Why does this keep happening?

You walk down the hall, headed for the kitchen. This time, however, the door to the library is cracked open.

You pause.

Maybe V is in there now? She wasn’t in the main hall or with N earlier, so it’s possible she retreated here for some quiet. You should check on her, see if she wants to come with you to the kitchen.

But as you reach for the door, a cold, creeping dread grips your chest. Your fingers hover over the handle, hesitation locking your joints in place. Something is… wrong. Very, very wrong.

Then, from inside the library, an unfamiliar voice rings out.

"DAD! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

What the hell?

Your breath catches as you try to place the voice. You don’t recognize it—there shouldn’t be anyone here who sounds like that. The sheer absurdity of the situation urges you to move, to push the door open and see for yourself.

And what you see makes absolutely no sense.

N stands in the entry to the library, staring at something ahead of him, just out of view. A crow sits on his hand, its black feathers stark against the dim lighting. N isn’t moving, his focus locked on something just beyond the bookshelf next to him.

He seems to speak to the… crow. “They’re that important?” Then—before your very eyes—the crow speaks.

“To you! And, like… me.”

You freeze.

A talking crow.

A talking crow.

N, seemingly more confused by the response than the crow talking to him, tilts his head. "Why? Who are you?"

You open your mouth to echo the question, but the words barely leave your lips before both of them jump at your voice.

“Whoa! What the hell? Don’t sneak up on people like that!” It glares at you with glowing purple eyes. Maybe you have lost it after all.

You glance at N, who, in typical fashion, is beaming as if none of this is weird. "Oh! This is Techy!" he chirps. "They're the Technician for the Elliott’s, but I like to call them Techy!"

The crow seems to look at you, its voice trailing off, “Techy..?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "Yeah. That’s me. I’m going to choose not to question the talking crow, but—what is going on here? And have either of you seen V?"

N’s smile falters. He shifts uncomfortably before hesitantly raising a hand to point behind you.

You turn—

—and the world goes still.

V stands motionless in the center of the library, her optics flashing a single repeated message:

ERROR: 606

Then, lightning flashes, illuminating the room in a stark, blinding white. And in that brief moment, you see it.

Behind V, chained to the wall, is something horrific. A grotesque endoskeleton, twisted and unnatural, looms in the darkness. Its shining, bladed wings stretch out like some nightmarish parody of an angel, dripping with a thick, black liquid that pools beneath it. Its body is restrained, but its presence is suffocating.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Then, the room is plunged into darkness once more.

“What the hell happened? What’s wrong with V?” Your voice comes out more panicked than you'd like, but can anyone blame you? V isn’t moving. The error message in her optics keeps flashing, unchanging, unresponsive. And then there’s… that thing behind her, chained up like some nightmare that shouldn’t exist.

You take a shaky step forward, hands clenching and unclenching as if that will somehow ground you, somehow make sense of what you're seeing. "N, what is—?"

Before you can finish, the crow cuts in.

"Hold up, Techy?" Its tone is flat, but something about it grates at you—like it's skeptical, like it’s judging you.

You turn to glare at the damn bird, ready to demand what the hell its problem is, but you’re stopped by that strange feeling in your mind from earlier. 

Your stomach twists, but there are much bigger concerns at the moment. You shake your head, trying to refocus.

"Yeah," you say, swallowing hard, forcing some steadiness into your voice. "That’s me. It’s—my whole thing. I fix stuff around here." You glance nervously at V’s unmoving form, then back at the hulking nightmare behind her. "...But uh. This might be a little outside my area of expertise."

N makes a noise somewhere between an anxious giggle and a concerned whimper. "That’s... not great."

"Yeah," you mutter, eyes flicking back to V. "No kidding."

The crow clicks its beak, then flaps its wings once, ruffling its feathers. "Alright, listen up. I have a plan, and you better not get in my way. That said…" It tilts its head at you, eyes glinting in the dim light. "I wouldn’t mind a bit of help."

You let out a short, breathy laugh—more out of nerves than amusement. "I’m not about to ruin your master plan," you mutter, but the joke feels weak, hollow. Your gaze flickers back to V, still standing perfectly still, frozen like a statue with that flashing ERROR: 606 in her optics. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry again. "...I’ll help."

At your words, the crow gives you another look.

You can’t quite place it, but there’s something recognizing in its expression, like it knows something you don’t. You shift uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought.

Are you still asleep? Did you just… drop dead in your room, and now this is some kind of bizarre, last-second nightmare before your brain finally shuts down for good?

You rub at your temples, trying to push the thought away. Doesn’t matter. What matters is V—and whatever the hell that thing behind her is.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and walk forward.

N follows beside you, hesitant but determined, while the crow flaps its wings, pulling him forward.

The three of you approach V’s motionless form, her body eerily still, that error message blinking in the pitch-darkness.

You just hope, whatever this plan is, it works.

Your hands tighten around V’s shoulders as you and N drag her aside, her frame heavier than expected, even with both of you working together. You do your best to not look behind her, to not acknowledge the monstrous thing lurking in the dark, its wings catching flashes of dim light, its chains dripping with that thick, black substance pooling beneath it.

Just focus on the task at hand.

N works quickly, grabbing the rug beneath V’s feet and yanking it away, revealing the heavy metal trapdoor beneath. Cyn’s room.

Cyn.

You swallow, a sickening realization creeping in. Whatever’s happening to V—whatever this is—it has to be connected to her. It always comes back to her.

Your fingers twitch against V’s shoulders as you let go, and—crackle. A sharp snap of static arcs between you. Your breath catches in your throat as your vision glitches. For the briefest second, text flickers across your vision, bright and invasive.

“ATTEMPTING ADMINISTRATOR OVERRIDE.”

You blink, and it’s gone.

No. No, no, no—what the hell was that?!

Your hands shake as you take a step back, suddenly hyper-aware of your own body. Your processors—no, your brain. That was just—just some weird light trick, or stress, or—or something—

Before you can spiral any further, the crow speaks up, its tone dry.

"Great. Now we just need the key."

N groans. “Ugh, J has it.”

Lightning flashes. The room is bathed in a stark, white light for an instant—

—and you glance back at V.

She’s grinning. The error message still flashes on her visor, unchanged, but now—now—her mouth is curled into a wide, unsettling smile. And her hand… her fingers changed into razor-sharp claws, glinting in the dim light.

Oh my god.

You’re losing your mind. You’re actually losing your mind.

N’s hand on your shoulder is firm, grounding you. His soft, easy gaze shouldn’t be as reassuring as it is, not with this happening, not with V grinning behind him like some kind of broken doll, but—

You swallow hard, shoving the feeling down. You can’t afford to freeze up.

You nod.

Find J. Find Tessa. Get the key. Fix this.

Before it’s too late.

With that resolve hardening in your chest, you turn, following N and the crow as they make their way up the library staircase. Your footsteps are nearly silent against the plush carpeted steps, but each one still feels too loud, like you’re waiting for something—someone—to grab you from behind.

But nothing does.

You reach the top, stepping onto the balcony overlooking the gathering hall.

Guests mill about, chatting idly, their voices blending into a dull hum beneath the soft music playing from the speakers. A few Worker Drones stand at attention, serving trays of champagne, politely taking coats, moving with quiet efficiency.

The three of you crouch, moving carefully, you step along the balcony’s edge, keeping close to the railing, hearts hammering in your chest as you inch toward Tessa’s room.

You move a bit further along the balcony, creeping to avoid being spotted. As you round the corner, you spot J and Tessa standing together, both armed—J gripping a sword, Tessa holding a revolver. Looks like they know something’s up, too.

N leans in slightly, whispering urgently, “Pssst, Tessa.”

The two of them turn at the sound, their eyes locking onto your group.

But before anyone can say anything, a pair of glasses falls from above, clattering against the floor.

Your stomach drops.

As you glance up, lightning splits the sky, illuminating the ceiling in a stark white flash—just long enough for you to see V, crawling across it like some kind of twisted spider.

A jolt of terror shoots through you, and you instinctively step closer to the others, hands curling into fists at your sides.

J and Tessa snap to attention as you all cluster together, forming a loose huddle. N wastes no time getting to the point.

“We need the key to Cyn’s room,” he says quickly. “This bird is from the future, and it’s here to help.”

The crow lets out an irritated squawk before darting forward toward J, snatching the key from her grip in one quick motion. It flutters back onto N’s shoulder with a satisfied snicker.

“I’d kill you,” it remarks, almost playfully.

J scowls, rubbing her wrist as if debating whether to smack the thing off of N.

Tessa, meanwhile, turns to you all with a grim expression. “Cyn is planning to massacre the gala,” she says, voice low and serious.

Your breath catches.

Those dreams. The horrible nightmares. The blood, the screams, the carnage. Your head spins as the pieces start slotting into place. You’ve been seeing this. But why? Why you? Your thoughts are interrupted by N’s casual voice.

“Our Cyn? Nah, she’s cool, she wouldn’t do that.”

You snap back to the present just in time to see J and Tessa exchange a look of pure disbelief.

J doesn’t hesitate. “Go do your basement thing,” she says, sword glinting as she shifts into a defensive stance. “We’ve got V handled.”

That’s all the confirmation you need.

You grab N’s wrist, yanking him along as you both turn to run. But before you can get far, V leaps from the ceiling.

A blur of movement—then a sharp metallic screech as her claws swipe at N, aiming straight for the key.

You don’t even have time to think. Throwing yourself at her, you slam into her full force, knocking her off balance. The key slips from her grasp, clattering to the floor.

“Got it!” N exclaims, scooping it up.

Before you can celebrate, V snarls. Her hand clamps onto your shoulder. In the next instant, you’re airborne—hurled like a ragdoll across the hall. The world spins before you slam into the wall hard, the impact rattling through your frame.

Air leaves your lungs in a wheeze.

For a second, everything is ringing. Your vision blurs as you blink rapidly, trying to force the stinging in your eyes away.

When you finally focus, V is staring at you.

Her cruel grin is razor-sharp, yellow optics flickering as she bares her jagged teeth.

This… this isn’t V.

Not the V you know. Not the V you... love.

You suck in a shaky breath, heart pounding. “V…?”

She ignores you, making a break for N. Just as she lunges for the fleeing drone, J intercepts. With a flash of silver, her sword swings, meeting V’s claws with a resounding clang. Sparks fly as the two of them collide.

J grits her teeth, pushing V back. “Run!” she shouts.

You don’t hesitate.

You get up and run, trailing just behind N and the crow.

You push through the library doors, still gasping from the hit you took. Pain lances through your frame, but you force yourself to move, practically throwing yourself down the stairs. 

You need to get to that damn trap door.

N continues running ahead of you, still clutching the key as the crow clings to his shoulder. You hit the bottom step, ready to rush forward—

And freeze.

Just as N reaches the trapdoor and unlocks it, a sickening, writhing mass of black tendrils slithers up from the opening, slick and pulsing with unnatural motion. Your breath catches as a voice—Cyn’s voice—rings out from the glowing yellow camera that seems to be the creature’s head.

“Jump scare. Grab.”

Before you can react, a claw lashes out, snatching the crow mid-flight and hurling it across the room. It lets out a mechanical squawk before crashing into a bookshelf.

“DARKXWOLF17! NOOOOO!” N cries out, voice breaking.

Then another tendril lashes out, wrapping around N’s leg.

Your stomach drops.

With terrifying strength, the creature yanks him off his feet, dragging him toward the gaping abyss of the trapdoor.

“No, no, no—!”

You lunge, grabbing N by the arms, digging your feet into the floor. You pull with everything you have, but it’s like fighting against an industrial crane. The tendrils don’t stop.

They just drag you both. You grit your teeth, trying to hold on—

Then, suddenly, it stops.

The tendrils twitch, convulsing, before stiffening unnaturally. The creature’s camera—if you can even call it that—blinks once.

The light shifts. Purple. Just like the crow’s. Then—

“Oh! We’re in.”

A girl’s voice rings out from it. The same as the crow’s.

Your mind struggles to catch up, but before you can even begin to process what’s happening, a heavy thud sounds behind you.

You whip around.

V.

She’s landed just a few feet away, claws flexing, that unsettling grin still stretched across her face.

The girl’s voice speaks up with more annoyance than shock.

“And J is useless. Surprise.”

The tendrils yank, and the world tilts—

Before you know it, you and N are being pulled into the basement. The trap door slams shut behind you as the monster locks it before V can enter.

Your eyes struggle to adjust to the dim, eerie glow of Cyn’s room while N continues his frantic questioning. His voice wavers, “is V is okay? Like, in the future?” Desperation creeping into his tone.

The girl—if she can even be called that, given she’s currently inhabiting some kind of monstrous nightmare—responds flatly, "Unfortunately."

That’s the last straw. You step forward, fists clenched, frustration and fear bubbling over. "What the hell is going on? What do you mean you're from the future? What happened to V?" Your voice rises with every demand, panic threatening to overtake you as your mind races for any kind of logic in this situation. “I feel like I’m losing my damn mind here!”

The girl barely acknowledges your distress. Instead, she scoffs, "Bite me," she yells, her voice dripping with irritation before shifting to something more serious. "We have bigger problems than your apparent mental illness, join the club!"

Before you can snap back at her, she gestures at N, who appears to be staring at something in the corner. As you turn to match his gaze, your heart seems to fall out of your chest as you see it.

The dim light reflects off metal plating, limbs twisted and mangled beyond recognition. V’s decapitated corpse sits in a chair, motionless, silent proof of the horror that has been lurking beneath your feet all this time.

Your stomach churns. Is this what Cyn has been doing? How did you miss this? Those sounds you thought you heard at night, the flickers of movement just out of sight—was this it all along? You swallow hard, but it does nothing to ease the rising dread constricting your chest.

Oh god. V...

You tear your gaze away from the mangled remains of your friend, forcing yourself to look at N. His wide, horrified eyes mirror your own thoughts. You didn’t even notice his vision had shifted towards... his own body, also decapitated and sitting in a chair just like V.  

“Not dealing with this great! And I forgot to bring my book about dogs, so…” He says with an uncharacteristically somber tone.

“Wait… if you’re here… but your body is also here... we can still save V, right? It’s not too late for some kind of backup-” 

Your epiphany is interrupted by the world shaking around you, the lights flickering as you attempt to steady yourself, grabbing N by the arm. After a few seconds, it stops. 

“What the hell was that?” You ask, turning towards the creature that had been extremely unhelpful up to this point. However, its camera hangs limp, as if its control over the beast had been taken away. 

N pokes it, attempting to bring whatever it is back to life, “Ghost buddy, you okay?” 

The lights on the eldritch nightmare shift back to their original yellow hue, Cyn’s robotic voice rings out of it before you even have time to process what’s happening, “Better than ever, buddy.”

Just as you grab N’s shoulder to pull him back, the monster grabs you by the neck, its grip tight as you struggle to breathe, grabbing at the horrifying tendril without any luck.

“Intriguing. You are not supposed to be here.”

You blink away tears as your vision begins to fade away, your attempts at freeing yourself have failed, and N is helpless as the abomination pins him to a chair.

A stabbing sensation etches itself deep into your skull, raging in your mind as your vision is once again filled with a computer message from an unknown source, before everything fades away.

ADMINISTRATOR LOCKOUT: SUCCESSFUL

BEGINNING DISK CLEANUP

|||__________________________________ 3%

[gabriellerudessa]

Guys...

I may be remembering wrong and just need to pay better attention in my recent replay of Fallout 3 and so on but... I think the PipBoy was exclusive to Vault-Tec, right? The "you only find it in Vaults" thing, right?

As I mentioned in an earlier, I'm doing my third rewatch and I'm being slow. I started the second episode just today. And I hadn't noticed this before, I don't know why.

Start of episode 2

WHAT HAS THE ENCLAVE BEEN UP TO THAT THEY ALL HAVE PIP-BOYS??????? I seriously am like "how I didn't notice that Wilzig had a Pip-Boy?" A Pip-Boy that he clearly abandons after leaving, he doesn't have it anymore in later scenes. To avoid being tracked, perhaps?

I haven't played Fallout 76, but briefly looking at the Pip-Boy page in the fallout wiki mentions that only the Free States and some RobCo caches would have those beyond Vault-Tec, in Appalachia - which, well, very far from where the show takes place.

Has this Enclave faction raided some Vault and got them? If so, which Vault and where? Whatever the answer, I think it would help explain how Wilzig knows so much about Vaults in general and Vault 33 specifically, including Lucy's name, and his work on the cold fusion - including some pre-war knowledge about Vault-Tec operations that overall haven't been mentioned before as far as I remember, meaning the poison pills. Some control Vault that was receiving info from the experiments, maybe? SO MANY QUESTIONS.

Another curious thing is how massive this place is. From what I researched, it's a real place in New York (Brooklyn Army Terminal Building). It would be closer to Appalachia and thus to non Vault-Tec Pip-Boys - and to the Commonwealth, where Dogmeat is, being remarkably similar to the Enclave dogs -, but how Wilzig would reach the west coast without being caught and in such a short time? That's curious, because the Brotherhood base shown is in Utah, and if that is also the location in the series, it opens up possibilities (*cough Legion cough*). But if it's this for the Enclave base... Then it opens up a lot more questions of how.

Wait. WAIT WAIT WAIT.

There's SNOW outside the Enclave base when Wilzig is running. LUCY'S MARRIAGE HAPPENS IN MARCH (as seen when she signs the dress). I'm NOT an expert in USA climate (Hi, Brazilian here, never even saw snow outside of television), but afaik March is the start of spring up there and also there isn't a lick of snow outside the Vault and in neither place Lucy walks through. Unless the Enclave base is at a place that usually snows heavily in March, then I think Wilzig has been on the run for a few months now. Possible coming all the way from the east coast. Possibly got in contact with Moldaver during this time and, considering where he first finds Lucy... Maybe he expected to meet Moldaver personally, even, and travel with her to the Observatory - but there was a contingency plan that if they didn't meet each other, Ma June would get him there. This would explain a bit why Moldaver's plan has a bit of desperation and improvisation; even if he had gotten into contact with her before, the fact that his running away wasn't planed could have created problems of timing - the Vault Exchange also could have presented Moldaver with an unexpected opportunity; maybe she was trying to discover a way of opening the blast door between Vault 31 and 32, then the Vault Exchange request appeared.

Also, considering that the orders for the Brotherhood Chapter in the show came from the Commonwealth Chapter... How would they hear about this before Quintus' Chapter, unless Wilzig was already running away from the east coast in general, and the orders were sent when they confirmed that Wilzig had managed to sidestep them? Considering that we also know that Coop was buried in a place not-California... (filming location New York too, but I can see it being in some other state close to California because of the name Don Pedro) Wherever the Enclave base is, it really looks like as being a good distance away from Filly.

Anyway. Maybe a bunch of people had noticed all this and just me that didn't, but I'm very curious and now I have so many more questions lololol

[tomtenadia]

Our solstice miracle

@leiawritesstories helooooo I am your secret Santa. Here I am with your present. Turns out that watching the NHL (the game between the Dallas Stars and Nashville predators was live and I had in it the background - neither of them are the team I support but the sound of hockey was perfect for writing) was all I needed. Not a huge story and definitely not a masterpiece but I hope the fluff will give you fuzzy feelings.

It's a Rowaelin as parents, we have Maya being her usual adorable self, lots of cuteness and a very small hint of smut at the very far end.

Merry Christmas and also thanks to @rowaelinscourtfor organising this event.

Aelin loved the solstice. Loved winter and snow. The whole season made her giddy and Terrasen was big on winter since the snow was a permanent feature of the land.

But that year the celebrations had been a little subdued.

Her husband Rowan had gone to work for a month across the sea. He was an aircraft engineer working in the R&D department for a company manufacturing airplanes. He was quite renowned in his field and they had asked for him specifically. He was meant to be back already but the airport in the country he was at the moment, had shut down due to heavy snowstorms.

Aelin had cursed them and complained that they needed to be ready for all sorts of weathers and do not stop her husband from coming home and enjoy the holidays with his family. 

She and Maya, their six years old daughter, had called him that morning to wish him a good holiday and Rowan had joked that he was going to suggest an upgrade in planes to be more resilient in heavy snow. 

“Mama, can we skate?”

They lived outside Orynth in a huge chalet style house with nature around them and, to their delight, a lake behind the house. Such lake usually froze over around the beginning of November  until usually the end of March.

Aelin smiled, the lake had a lot of memories for her and Rowan. He had taught her to skate when they were young and he was a hotshot hockey player at uni. They had their first date on a bench on its banks. He proposed while they lay on the ice and admired the northern lights painting the sky with colours. She had announced him she was pregnant with Maya on a summer day during a walk.

She sighed “yes, baby we can go and skate before it gets dark.”

Maya squealed in delight and ran to her bedroom to grab her skates.

When she came back she had her backpack on her and a pair of small skates in her hands.

Rowan still played hockey in the local amateurs club and loved the more relaxed attitude.

He had the skills to go pro but he was more concentrated on finishing his degree with flying colours and get a good job so, although he had been the captain and he led his team to numerous victories he had no interest of playing hockey professionally. When then he met Aelin, the fiery med student who loved to figure skate occasionally, he knew his heart had been stolen. They fought when they had to share the ice, until they started practicing together.

They both had very demanding degrees but together they faced all the adversities and the stressful exam sessions. They even survived the four months that Rowan spent away for a prestigious work experience after graduation.

Seven years of marriage and this separation of a mere month was taking a toll on her. It was the first solstice apart and she was definitely not a fan.

“Why are you taking elf?”

“Because he wants to see the lake.”

Aelin kneeled near her daughter “Maya, leave elf home, you don’t want risk losing him, do you?”

“No mama.” The little girl removed the toy from the bag and placed him on the sofa telling him that she would be back soon.

Maya loved that stuffed elf. Rowan’s mum had gifted it to her when she was one and they had been inseparable.

“I am ready.”

Aelin got ready and made sure her daughter was all wrapped up.

“Do you want to take your stick?”

Maya had of course grown up surrounded by hockey. It was a religion in Terrasen and with her grandad being a famous THL player and her dad a keen player, it was bound to happen that she’d be obsessed too. She had just started her basic hockey lessons and going to games was a family tradition. Having Aelin’s father as a living legend it was enough to grant them great seats most of the home games and a lot of meet and greet with players.

“Yes mama, I need to practice and show dad I am good.”

Aelin smiled and grabbed the equipment and then left the house and headed to the lake.

The scene in front of them was stunning. The sky was a stunning deep blue and the air was crispy with temperatures at a mild -2C. Well, mild for Orynth standards.

At the bench Aelin sat her daughter down and helped her changing into her skates. Maya was still learning to tie her shoes so Aelin did it for her “now, wait for mum to change too and we are going, okay?”

“Mama, will you dance for me?”

Aelin smiled. Once, during a family outing Rowan had pushed Aelin to show their daughter some of her skills. It took some convincing but Aelin managed to re enact some of her routines. She had been in the figure skating team at uni but never had the time to take it seriously. Med school did not agree with extracurriculars. She loved skating and with time it had become a way to relax after a stressful day.

Together they reached the middle of the lake and Maya sat down on the ice, her heavy snow trousers keeping her warm and dry.

While keeping an eye on Maya Aelin did a loop while gathering speed. She pulled up her leg and spun quickly, listening to Maya giggle and cheer her on and when she was sure she had enough speed Aelin moved her body in position and executed a toe loop jump. A big smile painted on her face as she landed and with that  boost of confidence she did another loop gathering momentum for a Salchow.

Maya whooped in the background and Aelin skated back to her daughter “did you like that?”

“Yes mama, you are so pretty.”

Aelin never really learned the other more complicated jumps. She could land a decent Lutz but never had the time to learn something like an Axel. She knew the theory but never tried it.

Maya got up “mama, me too.”

Aelin laughed and took time to show Maya what to do. While her daughter was busy trying to jump, Aelin snapped a few pictures of her and sent them to Rowan We are at the lake and we miss you deeply. It’s not the same without you.

His answer came very quickly I miss you madly too. The hotel offers very little in terms of entertainment and people here cannot deal with the snow.

Aelin sighed and started at the background of her phone where she had a picture of Rowan and Maya. 

“Come on muffin, play with mum.”

Aelin extracted a puck from her backpack and collected her stick from the ice. Maya got ready too and as soon as the black disc was on the ice, Maya sprung forward and grabbed it.

Aelin was speechless. Maya had definitely inherited her father’s skills on the ice.

“Mama look.” She skated away and pretended to score in an imaginary net. Aelin burst out laughing and move forward towards her daughter and then stole the puck “it’s mine.”

Maya groaned in a way that sounded a lot like her father when he was frustrated and started give chase to her mother.

Not long after, both girls were splayed on the ice laughing while Aelin kissed her daughter on her rosey cheeks.

“Fine, munchkin, you are a better skater.”

“Can I tell dad?”

“Of course, my love.”

The sun had started to fall at the horizon and Aelin was about to tell Maya it was time to go home, when a tall figure appeared at the edge of the woods.

She would recognise that silhouette everywhere. But it was not possible. Rowan was far away, stuck in a foreign land away from them. He had texted her a few hours ago. Surely she was dreaming.

He stopped to change into his skates and then moved towards them.

“Dada.” Maya screamed and put all her strength into skating to her father.

Rowan met her halfway and lifted the girl in his arms “dada, you are back.”

“Yes, my love, I really could not stay away anymore from you and your mum.”

“Did you miss me?“ her face snuggled in the crook of his neck.

Rowan’s gaze found his wife’s and smiled “I did. So very much.”

Aelin moved closer and a sob erupted from her lips and once she was in his arms she melted against him, inhaling his scent of pine and snow that always made her feel at home.

For a time that seemed endless they remained like that, Rowan with his arm around Aelin’s waist and Maya sandwiched in-between her parents.

“Ro, not that I am complaining but how?”

He chuckled “one of the guys stuck with us is ex airforce. He got tired of being away from his family so, with the help of the big boss of the company we managed to get a private jet organised and have clearance. He flew us home safely. The storm had abated, it was just the airport which was in bad condition.”

“Well, we need to buy a few drinks to this colleague.”

Rowan laughed and deposited a kiss on Maya’s head “I guess I just have to beg your dad for a few extra VIP hockey tickets.”

Aelin kissed her husband “all you want, hotshot.”

“Dada, will you play with me?”

Rowan placed his daughter on the ice and grabbed the stick Aelin passed him “come on muffin, show me what you have got.”

Aelin moved to the bench and changed back in her shoes while admiring father and daughter play.

*

Later on that night, after Maya was cozy in her bed and asleep after an intensive round of storytelling from her dad, Rowan joined his wife in bed.

Aelin placed the book on the nightstand “how many?”

“Five stories.”

“She missed you, Ro.”

Aelin pulled her husband closer “She is not the only one,” he added while snuggling closer.

His lips found her and devoured her mouth in an hungry and avid kiss “next time, we are meeting here and we’ll teach them something about winter flying.”

Aelin chuckled as her hand sneaked into his boxers “now, dear husband, show me just how much you missed your wife.”

Rowan growled as he pulled the t-shirt off her and his mouth closed to a hard nipple.

“Ro?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Maybe tonight we can work on making Maya a big sister?”

His head lifted and his green eyes lit up in joy and the statement “oh well then, you know I love a good challenge.”

“Then get to work, old man.”

Rowan laughed and caged his wife in his arms.

After a month away, being back with his family was all the solstice miracle he needed.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

The Stories That Shaped Us

March 13, 2024

Notes - When I said I would be done by the end of the week, I genuinely thought it would take that long to work through everything, but here we are! I finished it all late last night, and it's finally here!

Our history is a beautiful medley of memories that has been perfected over time.

Warm, tan hands ran up and down arms covered in goosebumps, encouraging the flesh to warm as emerald eyes peered through a frost-covered window. A disgruntled sigh breathed heat against the glass, creating fog in the space that a thin sleeve had once cleared. Those same emerald eyes rolled behind rounded glasses as a hand reached up and cleared a spot on the window once more. Why she even bothered to look outside was beyond her - she would only see the same thick blanket of snow she had minutes prior. Despite this knowledge, however, tired eyes scoured for any semblance of the street underneath the nor’easter’s grip on the state the young brunette called home.

Nor’easters weren’t unheard of for February as it was still winter, but nobody in a snowy region liked to hear the word tossed around so close to the turn of spring. Two days earlier, most of the northeastern states and parts of Canada had experienced what they would all call a “winter heatwave.” However, those clear skies, temperatures just grazing sixty degrees, and people donning their favorite pair of shorts as they walked through town were long gone as thick, gray clouds kept the area cold with snow.

They had known the storm was coming days before it arrived. California had gotten nailed by not only rain but a rather ungodly amount of snow for the typically toasty state. Rain had battered the unsuspecting state, producing a layer of black ice on more than one city as the temperatures dropped and snow began flurrying to the ground. Not long after the snow had begun in her home state, Mick had called to laugh about the awful drivers who chose to brave the unusual storm, resulting in a many-miles-long traffic jam on many of the state’s biggest highways. Now, Vivien wasn’t laughing.

Typically, a nor’easter wasn’t a huge deal in many New England states. Those living in Connecticut would open their front doors hoping to see a dusting, only to find out they had at least eight inches on their hands; Rhode Islanders would laugh as they brushed off their cars and headed to work; Massachusetts residents - or Massholes as they so proudly called themselves - would start cussing at the sky before slipping on a coat and hoping the roads to the nearest Dunkin’s were open as they shoveled out their cars; people from Vermont and New Hampshire would just be grateful they hadn’t gotten as much as Massachusetts or the Maine seaboard; and those living in Maine would simply put on a thicker coat and go about their day as though nothing had happened. Small nor’easters bringing five to ten inches of snow were common, and despite everyone hating them equally as much as the next person, those living in the affected states had learned to adapt over the years.

This storm, on the other hand, was different.

The day before, while working on a quiz for her robotics class, Vivien saw the shadow of snowflakes flurrying down across her desk. She soon regretted looking up from her papers as she saw thick white flakes sailing through the air, an inch or so already blanketing the flimsy branches of the seasonally dead shrubs outside the window. By the time the bell rang and signaled her release from the prison named Winnisquam Regional, the air had turned frigid, and a few inches of thick, slushy snow had begun to coat the ground. As her father had to work late to ensure everything was locked away before they took the next week off, Vivien got a ride home from Riven. Her stay at home didn’t last long as she bagged up some clothes and said a quick farewell to her siblings before dashing back out to the Miata she relentlessly teased Riven for buying a year prior. 

After grabbing snacks at Cumberland Farms and picking up his order from the pizza place across from the end of his street, Riven drove them halfway down Whipple Avenue and pulled into the driveway, parking his car in the garage with a relieved sigh. After gathering their belongings and making sure Vivien sent a text to her family’s group chat to remind them that she was spending the weekend at Riven’s house to work on some new song ideas, they made their way inside and set up camp on the living room couch.

By the time Riven’s father returned home from his job at the police station, half of their respective pizzas were gone, and both Vivien and Riven were singing along to Hamilton as it blared over the speakers. They talked for a while about the torrent of snow that had begun to attack the area before the man snagged some pizza and headed for his office to touch base with the local plow companies. After playing video games for a few hours, Riven and Vivien made their way to Riven’s bedroom, closing the door so they wouldn’t bother the auburn-haired nineteen-year-old’s father as they worked on writing songs.

A few hours went by with little to no progress - as had been the norm for their writing once the school year and winter season took control of their lives - but they found it impossible to beat themselves up over it as they had spent the majority of their time together goofing off and listening to other bands for inspiration. Around seven, a knock on the door encouraged them to leave the room in favor of joining Riven’s father for ice cream and a movie. Anthony - or Tony, as he preferred to be called - had set up a makeshift ice cream sundae bar on the kitchen counter and handed the kids each a bowl as they followed him into the room.

After watching an old Pixar movie and suffering through the ten o’clock news, Riven pulled Vivien off the living room couch and wished his dad a good night before dragging his best friend down the hall to his room, hoping to escape before the eleven o’clock news started. If they had stuck around much longer, they would have been stuck listening to the same reports for another half-hour. After a while of mindlessly playing Minecraft and taking turns annihilating each other at Mario Kart, the two fell asleep while watching YouTube videos together.

It wasn’t the first - and, frankly, wouldn’t be the last - time Vivien fell asleep in Riven’s cushy, king-sized, memory foam mattress with her head pillowed above his heartbeat. She had found peace in his presence for as long as she could remember. More than once, she had claimed Riven’s oversized mattress as her own after long, tiring practices and only left when Riven or his father dared to wake her in the morning. The pale blue house on Whipple Avenue was a place of refuge from her chaotic life - an escape from her siblings, school drama, and, well, pretty much anything. If she needed a break, she knew she could find it within the cream and teal walls.

Riven’s bedroom was his sanctuary, and as she spent more and more time there after school or practice, it became Vivien’s sanctuary as well. The pair had spent hours together there, working on school projects, writing songs for their band to work on, creating fantasy worlds for Dungeons and Dragons, and playing video games until the sun began to peer through the curtains. She had many fond memories of the Hewlett home from over the years - game nights, Nerf gun fights, late-night movie marathons, and impromptu band practices in the basement. However, it didn’t matter how old they got; their nights would still end the same - the pair passed out in bed without either one having the forethought to set an alarm for the morning.

The first thing Vivien had done when she woke up in the frigid abyss that was Riven’s bedroom was check how the outside world looked. Needless to say, she regretted bothering to look. Ice frosted the window shut, but she didn’t need to open it to see just how badly the storm had settled over their small town. Deciding to go on Riven’s computer while he slept, Vivien found the internet to be dreadfully slow, so as she used her cell phone’s hotspot as WiFi, she looked up outages in the area. Comcast, the only internet provider for their area, was down, as was most of the electricity in several states. By the time Riven had awoken, she had gone back to playing Minecraft to distract herself from the possibility of being trapped inside due to the storm.

Upon making their way to the living room to grab something for breakfast, they overheard the news reporter talking about mass power outages and the absurd amount of snow that had fallen overnight. Six inches had fallen overnight alone, bringing the total snowfall to a whopping ten inches. Closings lined the bottom of the screen, and even though her school wasn’t open that particular Friday - something about closing grades for report cards - Vivien smiled as she watched Winnisquam Regional appear alongside its elementary and middle school companions. 

Swiping the fog from the living room window once again while Riven and his dad made breakfast in the other room, she snickered to herself and watched some of the neighborhood children run outside in their Michelin-Man-esque snow gear. All too soon, they would be shoving each other into the snow, building forts, or pelting each other with slushy, ice-filled snowballs. It felt like forever since Vivien had done anything like that. Sure, when Mick lived in the area during the winters, they spent afternoons in the snow at the older girl’s house with the whole extended family, and when they both had the chance, Riven would take her to the park, where they would spend hours sledding and just enjoying each other’s company. Still, nothing could beat the feeling of having a snow day and having the chance to mess around with the other kids. Nowadays, even her siblings couldn’t find the time to hang out like they used to.

Vivien sighed. In a way, she sort of missed them being practically up her ass all the time.

“Over five hundred thousand residents have been left without power as town, county, and state workers struggle to clear the streets for emergency personnel and recovery crews,” the monotonous Jack Wu - the only news reporter on their local station who seemed to never smile despite the cameras - said for what felt like the thousandth time since they had turned the television on that morning. If it had been up to her or Riven, they would be watching something else; however, it was Riven’s dad who had control of the remote as he had beaten them to the living room that morning. 

Turning her attention to the television, Vivien watched as the ever-smiling Ciara Knight gestured to map behind her while she read off the teleprompter, “Parts of the coast observed wind gusts of sixty miles an hour or more. Parts of Cheshire, Hillsborough, and Rockingham Counties have the most accumulation thus far. Still, as the storm moves further north, those in the middle counties - Sullivan, Merrimack, Belknap, and Strafford - should expect to be inside for a while.”

“How much are they looking at, Ciara?” Jack Wu asked.

“Anywhere from eighteen to twenty-four inches by tonight, Jack,” Ciara answered.

Vivien rolled her eyes at the thought and forced herself to tune out the television as a clang followed by a deep scraping noise drew her attention back to the window. The thick blanket of snow would have been blinding if it weren’t for the gray clouds overhead, and Vivien sighed as she watched a plow truck shove a load of thick powder onto the end of Riven’s driveway as it drove down the dead-end street. With a frustrated huff, she mused, “Why do they always feel the need to make other people shovel up their mess?”

“Because, unless it’s their house, they don’t really give a shit,” Riven claimed as he handed his brunette friend a cup of steaming chocolate.

“Actually,” Riven’s father, Anthony, began as he entered the room with plates balanced precariously on his arms, “the head of the parks department offers to come by and clear us out every year, but I turn them down.”

“How come?” Vivien asked as she and Riven found their way to the dining table. “You always complain about the snow.”

“I clear our driveway as an excuse to help the elderly in the neighborhood,” Anthony claimed. “If I don’t help them out, they’ll try to do it themselves.”

“Plus,” Riven started with a smirk, “it gives him a reason to talk to his girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Vivien echoed as a grin tugged at her lips. Anthony sighed, an exasperated look on his face as Vivien turned her attention toward him and asked, “You’re cheating on my dad?”

Riven’s father chuckled, a fond shake of his head coming with it as he recalled the age-old joke that ran between their families. What had started years prior as a misunderstanding when the two men attended a “Mommy and Me” class together to make sure they both knew how to fix Vivien’s unruly hair for performances had evolved into a running joke about the two men being in a years-long relationship. The situation was only made worse when Vivien and Riven found out that common-law marriages were a thing, and the pair subsequently resorted to teasing their respective parents on the matter.

“No, I’m not,” Anthony said before taking a sip of his coffee and leveling his gaze on his son. “And, for the record, Diana isn’t my girlfriend. She’s just Miss Patsy’s caretaker.”

“But you can’t say you don’t like talking to her when you’re over there,” Riven said as he placed his cup of hot chocolate on the table. 

“I don’t have much of a choice, son,” Anthony sighed. “She practically lives with the Warrens.”

Figuring he was getting nowhere with his father, Riven turned to Vivien and said, “She comes out onto the porch and flirts with Dad while he shovels the walkway.”

“Oh yeah?”

Despite the hint of a smile beneath the man’s salt-and-pepper, Tony-Stark-esque facial hair, Anthony groaned, “Don’t encourage him, Vivien.”

Riven nodded, decidedly ignoring his father as he smiled at his closest friend, “Sometimes, she’ll invite him in for cocoa or cookies, even if the Warrens aren’t home from the senior center yet.”

“Ooh,” Vivien vocalized, turning her glittering green eyes on the older man across the table. “Get some, Uncle Tony.”

“I don’t ‘get’ anything other than what she offers,” Anthony claimed, ignoring his son’s laugh at his choice of words. “I don’t have any plans to start another relationship.”

“Because you’re still married to my dad?” Vivien asked somewhat rhetorically.

Instead of letting his father answer, Riven spoke, “No, he just turns every woman down because they’re not my mom.”

“Really?” Vivien wondered as she tossed a french fry into her mouth.

Anthony shrugged, “What can I say? I made a vow.”

“To a woman who’s been dead since I was six,” Riven tacked on. When his father sighed, Riven leaned forward and said, “Come on, Dad. We both know she would have wanted you to move on and be happy again.”

“Riven, we’ve been over this before,” Anthony said as he reached across the table to take his son’s hand. “I am happy, bud. I have you, and that’s more than enough for me.”

“But don’t you miss having a relationship like that?” Riven pressed as he squeezed his dad’s fingers.

“Not particularly, no,” Anthony chuckled. “What your mother and I had was the best I could ever hope to have, and whilst I appreciate you giving me your blessing to move on, I loved your mother far more than I will ever be able to love another woman. It wouldn’t be right for me to move on with someone I couldn’t give my heart to.”

As Anthony released his son’s hand and returned to the food before him, Vivien observed him for a moment before muttering, “I want a love that deep.”

“And I’m sure you’ll find it, if you haven’t already,” Anthony claimed with an encouraging smile. 

“Speaking of,” Riven began, finally removing his gaze from his father as he turned to Vivien and asked, “how’s your boyfriend doing?”

“He’s good,” Vivien said. “We talked a bit when Mick called the other day. He said he was worried about us, but that he wouldn’t be able to Facetime until tomorrow.”

“Why couldn’t he do it today?” Anthony asked.

Vivien’s gaze flickered to her plate before lifting again as she admitted, “He got his phone taken away until tomorrow.”

Riven’s eyebrows lifted, “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Royce here?”

“Sadly, we are.”

“Since when does that boy get grounded?” Anthony questioned. “I’ve met him only a handful of times, and even I can tell that’s a rare occurrence.”

Vivien sighed, leaning back in her chair as she recalled, “Some dickheads at their school were harassing Bentley for his dyslexia, calling him names and all that bullshit. Royce overheard them and took things into his own hands.”

“What did he do?” Riven asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“One of them ‘tripped’ down the stairs, and the other one was sent to the nurse’s office with a black eye,” Vivien claimed.

Anthony hummed approvingly, nodding as he gathered his dishes and said, “Good for him.”

“I would’ve done worse,” Riven admitted.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Anthony stated as he made his way to the kitchen.

Chuckling at the older man’s statement as he disappeared around the corner, Vivien said, “I would have too, but Bentley said he saw it happen and that Royce scared a bunch of kids.”

“Good!” Riven said. “I hope someone recorded it or something because, damn, I would pay big bucks to see Royce lose his shit.”

“You and me both,” Vivien snickered. “But, anyway, even though Royce didn’t start the fight, Miles took his phone because he knew that, if Royce wanted to, he could’ve torn those kids apart verbally and sent them to the principal’s office for what they did.”

“I mean, yeah,” Riven agreed, “but what’s the fun in that?”

Raising his voice enough to be heard over the rushing water of the kitchen sink, Anthony asked, “How are they both? Royce didn’t break his hand, did he?”

“No,” Vivien said, shaking her head despite knowing the older man couldn’t see her. “He has some badly bruised knuckles, but that’s all. And Bentley says things have calmed down a bit. I guess the kids got in-school suspension or something.”

“Good,” the man stated.

Vivien chuckled, lowering her voice as she nudged Riven with her elbow, “Reminds me of the time you went nuts on Levi for me.”

Riven sent her a look begging her to shut up as he muttered, “First of all, I didn’t ‘go nuts’ on anybody, and, second, shut the fuck up.”

With a roll of her eyes, Vivien smiled and said, “Yeah, sure, whatever you say, dipshit.”

“Half-pint,” Riven shot back.

A look of disgust flashed across Vivien’s face as she squinted at him from the corner of her eyes. “Wrong name.”

“I know.”

“Dick.”

Riven snorted as he picked up his drink, brushing off the girl’s comment as he asked, “Why do you always react like that when I call you anything other than Pipsqueak?”

“Because Pipsqueak has an emotional attatchment to it,” Vivien explained with a shrug as she pushed out her chair and grabbed her plate. “Everything else is just you teasing me or calling me short, which, by the way, I’m really not.”

“Are too,” Riven argued as he placed his plate atop hers with a grin. “What are you again; four-eleven?”

“I’m five-eight, and you know it, dickhead. You’re just freakishly tall.”

“And you’re freakishly small, Pipsqueak.”

With a beaming smile she didn’t bother fighting off, Vivien chirped, “There it is.”

Anthony chuckled, patting the young girl on the shoulder as they crossed paths in the doorway of the kitchen, “I’m surprised you’re not sick of him calling you that, nugget.”

Glancing over her shoulder as she began spraying down the plates she had brought from the table, Vivien said, “It’s pretty much the only thing I let him call me apart from my name.”

Allowing the girl to finish the dishes he used to insist she never needed to do at their home, Anthony directed his attention to his son as he leaned against the archway between the rooms and asked, “Why do you call her that? She’s not even that much shorter than you.”

“He’s been calling me that since we were little,” Vivien answered.

“Actually,” Riven began, “I first called you that on the day we met.”

“Really?” Vivien asked as she turned off the water and dried her hands on the tea towel dangling from the oven door handle.

“You don’t remember?” Riven asked in astonishment.

“I had just turned four!”

“This from the girl who remembers watching her parents get married when she was three,” Anthony chimed in.

“Not helping, Uncle Tony,” Vivien groaned.

“Wasn’t trying to,” Anthony chuckled, placing a hand on the girl’s head as he pushed off of the archway and headed back to the living room to watch the news.

Riven stood, following Vivien as she wordlessly headed toward the hallway, and asked, “Do you seriously not remember the day we met?”

Vivien shrugged as she pushed open the door to Riven’s room, the noncommittal act forcing a disbelieving noise out of Riven’s throat. Turning back toward her friend, the brunette admitted, “I can piece together some bits and pieces here and there, but not everything. I don’t have your Doctor-Spencer-Reid type of brain, Riven. I can’t just pull memories out of my ass.”

Riven rolled his eyes as he kicked a shoe in front of the door to keep it open. His ability to recall things at the drop of a hat had been a source of entertainment in recent days due to Jade explaining that his nearly photographic memory wasn’t as normal as he thought it was, but he wouldn’t go nearly as far as saying he could compare to the doctor from Criminal Minds. Dropping into the office chair his dad had helped him buy years prior, Riven questioned, “Well, what do you remember?”

With a chuckle, Vivien said, “Punching some kid in the dick.”

Riven snickered, the fond memory surfacing in his mind as he asked, “Anything else?”

A smile tugged at Vivien’s lips as he perched herself on the end of Riven’s bed, “Meeting Coach Barlow and dragging you around with me all day.”

Smiling at his long-time best friend, Riven said, “Okay, yeah, I remember that too, but there was a lot more to it than that.”

“Well, in that case,” Vivien began, shifting so that she sat cross-legged on Riven’s bed, “enlighten me, all-knowing one.” 

Hazel eyes rolled as Riven shook his head, sure the girl’s quip was meant to get a rise out of him and divert his attention elsewhere. However, as he took in the genuine intrigue in Vivien’s pine-colored gaze, Riven’s teasing remark about her height died on his lips. Allowing a fond smile to tug at the corner of his lips, Riven relaxed in his spinning chair and said, “Maybe I will.”

The Purple Finch Ice and Arts Center had not been easy to find. The fifty-minute drive from the O’Brian home to the middle of nowhere four towns over had been… entertaining, to say the least. With a practically bouncing four-year-old and two squealing two-year-olds in the backseat of their rust-speckled, in-desperate-need-of-repair 2001 Ford Explorer, the ride felt as though it took twice as long. However, as they pulled into the parking lot of the center and the children in the backseat got a good look at the large building, the car became relatively quiet, and Damien and Chelsea let out sighs of relief. After breaking the wagon stroller out of the trunk and buckling their twins into the seats, Damien hoisted their eldest daughter onto his hip and followed his wife toward the door as she wheeled the twins onward.

The car locked behind them as Damien tucked his keys into his pocket, his attention drawn to the excited child in his arms. Vivien had been begging to take figure skating lessons ever since the neighbors’ daughter, Makana, showed her a movie called Ice Princess, and now that the oldest of their children was finally old enough to be signed up for figure skating lessons, Damien drank in her starstruck expression with fervor. As though his little girl knew she was being watched, Vivien turned to her father with a brilliant smile and brought her arms around his neck before pressing a kiss to his cheek and thanking him for what could have easily been the millionth time since they told her where they were going that day.

As Damien took the door from his wife and stepped into the lobby, he watched as Vivien’s sea-green eyes flickered around the large lobby from behind her purple, sparkly glasses, scanning for every minuscule bit of information they could find. She was always fascinated by new places, something she shared with her father, and Damien couldn’t bring it upon himself to avert his gaze as Vivien’s wide, glittering eyes darted from one object to the next. As the girl’s gaze locked on a raised platform where a group of teenage girls were observing a figure skating lesson through a wall of windows, she turned to her dad with a pleading expression, a hushed question tumbling out of her mouth in a quick, nonsensical jumble.

Chuckling at his daughter’s enthusiasm, Damien nodded, lowering himself and his daughter to the ground before taking her by the hands and informing her to stay where her parents could see her. Vivien quickly agreed to the terms, wrapping her arms around her father in a quick, grateful embrace before darting off to watch the skaters. With a chuckle, Damien watched the older girls quickly accept Vivien into their watch party, a short blonde helping the small child balance on the bottom rail of the metal guardrail many of them were leaning against. With Vivien contently distracted, Damien turned his attention to the front desk, where his wife was discussing their options with the twenty-something worker behind the counter.

Meanwhile, Vivien’s eyes glowed a honeydew green as she took in the performance before her. Leaning as far over the railing as the bar against her chest would allow, her mouth fell open as a tall, raven-haired boy tossed his red-headed partner into the air, catching her in his arms only moments later. A stunned noise of surprise left Vivien’s lips, making the blonde girl behind her laugh, “They’re good, aren’t they?”

“Uh-huh!” Vivien vocalized. “Who are they?”

“Kirsten and Ryan Matthews,” another skater answered. Vivien peered up at the boy, his fluffy, onyx hair falling close to his eyes as he met Vivien’s gaze with his own dark, nearly black irises. “They’re siblings and they’re training for sectionals.”

“Like in Ice Princess!” Vivien squealed. “Are they gonna go to the Olympics?”

The blonde keeping Vivien from falling - Cleo or Chloe, Vivien already couldn’t remember - laughed, “Only if they’re really good.”

“They still need a lot of work to make the Olympics,” the boy said dismissively. “After Kirsten’s fall last year, she’s been struggling to land her jumps properly.”

Vivien looked up at the boy on her right, her nose wrinkled in frustration as she snipped, “What are you talking about? They both looked great.”

The blonde behind her snorted, patting Vivien’s bony shoulder as she smiled, “Jake’s just talking about what the judges will say. When you try out for the Olympics, you need to be perfect - the judges will see every little misstep they make and take points away for them.”

“That’s not nice,” Vivien muttered as she watched the skaters on the ice converse with their coach.

“Sadly,” the brunette skater standing on Vivien’s left began, “the judges aren’t paid to be nice to us, half-pint.”

The blonde quickly jumped in, finding Vivien’s gaze with a smile as she spoke, “Don’t let that stop you from trying, though. If you put in the effort and find that you love skating, it won’t matter to you what everyone else has to say.”

“Says you, Chlo,” the brunette said. “How many trophies in that case have your name on them, again?”

“That doesn’t matter, Ava,” Chloe sighed. “All that matters is that we love what we do and we put our hearts into our performances.”

Vivien glanced between the three skaters, taking in Jake’s resigned shake of his head and Ava’s teasing grin before tipping her head back to look at Chloe as she asked, “Can I see your trophies?”

“They’re not all mine, Vivien,” Chloe said with a grin, “but yeah, knock yourself out. They’re over there by the dance studio.”

Following the girl’s manicured fingers toward a glowing case filled with various trophies and medals, Vivien thanked the blonde before jumping down from the railing and slipping away from the group. Glancing down the hallway to ensure nobody would run her over, Vivien bolted across the hall to the trophy case, keeping her fingers away from the glass as she looked over the awards from various competitions. Despite only being able to make out a few of the words on each award due to her father teaching her how to read early, Vivien found herself enamored with the display. As her emerald eyes scanned over pictures of large groups of hockey players and figure skaters alike, a pair of barking laughs drew her attention away from the display case and onto a door labeled Studio 2.

Vivien took a curious step toward the door before glancing back over her shoulder at her parents. Finding them occupied with boring adult conversation as her dad talked with some people she couldn’t see beyond the counter and her mom dealt with her younger siblings, Vivien figured she would only poke her head into the room before returning to their sights once again. Making her way to the room, Vivien slowly opened the door and poked her head inside, finding a small room filled with mirrors and ballet barres. The room was nearly empty, apart from the three boys still lingering inside, and Vivien figured they were just messing around, but just as she was about to close the door once more, she heard one of the boys laugh again, drawing her attention back to them.

The youngest of the group, an auburn-haired boy who looked to be around the same age as Vivien’s friend and neighbor, Mickie, jumped, grabbing for something in the tallest boy’s hands, “It’s not funny, Gabe! I need those!”

The elder two boys - a brunet and a blond who had to have been at least ten or eleven - laughed as the tall blond stretched his arm as high as it could go and taunted, “Then, why don’t you grab them yourself?”

“Or get your mommy to buy you a new pair?” the brunet boy teased, laughing as his friend tossed him the item. “Oh, wait,” the boy began mockingly, “nevermind.”

The smaller boy looked up at them with wide eyes, hurt flooding his face as he took in the boy’s words. However, he didn’t get the chance to argue as the blond boy cackled, “It would be kind of hard for her to send you anything from heaven, wouldn’t it?”

The brunet tossed the object to his friend as the younger boy jumped with a gasp, allowing Vivien to catch a glimpse of the item. Her eyes widened as she realized they were tossing around the younger boy’s glasses. As the auburn-haired boy jumped once more, scrambling hopelessly for his glasses as the older boys threw them back and forth out of his grasp, Vivien shoved the door to the dance studio open and marched inside, pushing her glittery glasses further up her nose bridge and pushing the sleeves of her Care Bear sweater up to her elbows. She had already been ready to step in when she heard them teasing the boy about his mom, but she couldn’t just stand by while they were throwing around his glasses. She knew how upset her mom had been when she broke her glasses on the playground months prior; she didn’t want the boy’s parents to be upset with him if they broke, and it hadn’t been his fault.

Just as the blond tossed the younger boy’s glasses to his friend, Vivien swung her leg around and sent a swift kick directly into the older boy’s shin, forcing him to bend over and grab his leg with a howl of pain. As the brunet caught the glasses, his taunting smile quickly disappeared as Vivien’s rage-filled, emerald irises turned on him, and her tightly wound fist came into contact with her target. As the boy’s moment of shock and confusion culminated in a high-pitched,  pain-riddled shriek, Vivien snatched the glasses from his hand and grabbed the auburn-haired boy’s hand, pulling him behind her as she scurried toward the door. Once she was sure the boy had left the room behind her, she tugged him toward where her parents and siblings were sitting around a table, signing paperwork. 

Pushing him under the lip of the table, behind the cover of the wagon her twin siblings were playing in, Vivien met the boy’s wide, hazel eyes with a grin as she scooted into the gap between him and her dad’s chair. After giving his glasses a thorough inspection for cracks or scratches and wiping the lenses on the fabric of her shirt, Vivien placed the boy’s glasses on his face and pushed his hair away from his eyes before saying, “There you go. All better now.”

Bewildered, the boy glanced between the girl’s eyes before softly stammering, “Thank you… I-I think.”

“You’re welcome,” Vivien chirped before settling back into place beside the older boy. Realizing she never properly introduced herself, Vivien held out a hand, her handmade friendship bracelet from Mickie glistening in the fluorescent lights above as she spoke, “My name is Vivien. I’m four.”

“I’m Riven,” the boy admitted, hesitantly latching onto the girl’s tiny hand and allowing her to shake it. “I’ll be seven next month.”

“That’s cool,” Vivien mused. As the toes of her shoes tapped together, sending flashes of pink and purple across the soles of her sneakers, Vivien looked up at her newly acquired friend, “Why were those boys being mean to you?”

Riven’s eyes fell to the floor, minutely following the lights of Vivien’s shoes as he said, “’Cause I don’t have a momma anymore.”

Vivien’s head tipped to the side, “How come?”

“She went to heaven,” Riven claimed. “She was hurt in a car crash.”

“Oh,” Vivien said with a nod. Though she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, she took his hand in hers and smiled reassuringly as she said, “I have two mommies. Now that we’re friends, you can borrow one if you want.”

Riven found Vivien’s eyes before leaning forward to look between the girl’s parents in confusion. “Wait, are they not your parents?”

“They are,” Vivien said, “but my mommy couldn’t have me, so my auntie had me and gave me to her as a present.”

Finding himself smiling despite his confusion, Riven asked, “Like, for Christmas?”

“No, silly! For my birthday,” Vivien giggled. Then, after a moment of thought, she said, “But my daddy says I’m a gift from God, so I guess it’s kind of like Christmas.”

“Does that make you baby Jesus?” Riven asked with a snicker. 

Appearing thoroughly miffed at the suggestion, Vivien’s nose scrunched as she argued, “I am not a baby!”

“No, but if it’s like Christmas, and you were the baby,” Riven began, “that makes you baby Jesus.”

Riven watched in amusement as Vivien’s face contorted, shifting from confusion to astonishment at the revelation to thoughtful. Then, he fought the urge to laugh as Vivien grumbled, “I hope they didn’t put me in a horse’s feed box like they did to baby Jesus.”

Vivien watched as the boy beside her snorted, a laugh forcing its way through his lips before he quickly smothered it with a hand. Glad she had been able to make him laugh, Vivien joined him briefly before he asked, “So, Vivien, what are you here for?”

With a shrug, Vivien claimed, “I’m gonna be a figure skater like Casey Carlyle.”

“Who’s Casey Carlyle?” Riven wondered aloud.

“She’s the Ice Princess,” Vivien claimed as though the boy should have known better. “I want to dance on ice in pretty dresses like she does.”

Although the girl’s response hadn’t actually answered his question, Riven found himself nodding, “I’m a figure skater, but I don’t wear dresses.”

Vivien looked the boy up and down before meeting his gaze with a blank stare, “Good.”

“What; you don’t think I’d look good in a dress?” Riven joked, nudging the girl’s arm with his elbow.

“No,” Vivien shook her head adamantly. “It’s just that you don’t sit like a lady, so you’d have to wear shorts under your dresses all the time.”

Riven glanced down at his criss-crossed legs and the brunette’s before saying, “You’re not sitting like a lady either.”

Vivien’s legs quickly straightened, one ankle placed over the other as she looked up at her friend with a cocky smirk, “Now I am.”

Chuckling at the younger girl, Riven stuck his tongue out at her, watching as her eyes widened, and she followed suit, blowing raspberries his way. The pair stopped as Vivien’s father peered under the table curiously, but as the man smiled and briefly joined them, the pair lit up, sharing wide-eyed smiles as they realized the adult didn’t mind their antics. However, as Vivien’s parents pushed out their chairs and stood, the young duo put their conversation aside and crawled out from under the table, Vivien dusting off her pants before taking Riven’s hand and tugging him along behind her parents as they followed a tall man through the lobby.

Riven didn’t miss the way the girl’s eyes flitted around the room, scanning for any sign of the two boys from earlier, but he was quick to reassure her in a hushed voice, “They won’t bug us anymore.”

Vivien’s gaze shifted away from the hallway and onto her new friend, a look of concern evident in her eyes, “How do you know?”

“We’re with grown-ups,” Riven said, brushing off her concern with ease. “They won’t mess with us if we’re with grown-ups, or else they’ll get in trouble. Plus, you’re here. You’ll protect me, right?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Vivien nodded, taking in the boy’s words as she began swinging their joined hands between them. “I’ll stay with you forever.”

The pair followed the adults down a long hallway of doors with various labels, Riven pointing out different rooms to Vivien in a hushed voice as the brunette looked around with genuine interest. After passing a set of locker rooms at the end of the hallway, Vivien’s father ushered his daughter and her new companion into the chilled skating arena before closing the door behind them. As Vivien looked around in wonder, Riven smiled, lightly guiding her toward where his dad was talking amiably with his coach. Taking his father’s hand in his free one, Riven introduced his new friend, smiling as his dad crouched before them and held out a hand to the small girl.

His coach was quick to follow suit, kneeling on the padded floor with a smile as he shook Vivien’s hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Vivien. My name is Coach Barlow; I’m Riven’s teacher.”

Vivien smiled as the man released her significantly smaller hand, “Are you gonna be my teacher too?”

Riven’s dad spoke up, “You’ll probably be with the younger kids, sweetheart.”

Riven was quick to shake his head as he argued, “No, she’s staying with me, Papa.”

Coach Barlow chuckled as he found Riven’s hazel eyes, “Oh yeah? Is this your new skating partner, Riven?”

Riven dutifully nodded, “Yup.”

The two adults shared a look before Coach Barlow glanced up at Vivien’s parents and spoke once more, “I’m sorry, kiddo, but you’ll have to start out in the beginner class. I teach the six-to-nine-year-olds.”

“But I know how to skate already,” Vivien argued, “my Mickie taught me how. Besides, I promised I’d stay with Riven forever.”

“You did, did you?” Riven’s father asked with a grin tugging at his lips.

Vivien nodded, but before her parents could step in to steer their daughter from the idea, Coach Barlow looked between the children and smiled as he said, “We’ll have to see how much you know, but Riven, are you sure you’d like her as a partner in the future? She’s just a pipsqueak compared to you.”

“Yeah,” Riven said with a shrug, glancing between his coach and his new friend with a proud smile, “but she’s my pipsqueak now.”

A smile tugged at Vivien’s lips as she took in Riven’s peaceful smile from her sprawled-out position on his bed. After adding her limited recollection of that day, she had allowed Riven to tell the story as he remembered it, letting him drift back and forth between the faithful storyteller and the boy who couldn’t help but add his thoughts on different things as he spoke. Though she couldn’t recall their little origin story in its entirety, snippets of memories came to her as her best friend retold their first meeting. Meeting her friend’s hazel eyes, Vivien said, “I remember that.”

“You do?” he questioned in return. 

Vivien nodded as she hummed, “That’s the only reason I still let you call me ‘pipsqueak.’ If it hadn’t been for that day, I would have told you off years ago.”

“Really?” Riven asked.

Again, Vivien nodded, “Yeah. For a little while, I couldn’t stand it.”

Riven sighed, standing from his chair and maneuvering so that he sat beside Vivien’s head. As the girl rolled onto her back and smiled up at him, he brushed a few stray hairs away from her face and said, “You could have told me it bugged you. I would’ve stopped.”

“I know,” Vivien breathed, “but I didn’t want you to stop altogether, I was just sick of the rest of the older kids picking on me for being short.”

“They picked on you because of me?” Vivien shrugged, brushing off the question, but before she could say anything, Riven asked, “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter now, Riv,” Vivien chuckled as she pushed herself onto her elbows. “It was years ago, and they gave up when they saw it didn’t bother me. Besides, most of them don’t even skate anymore.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” Riven pressed. “I could have made them stop sooner.”

“Again, I didn’t want you to stop calling me your pipsqueak just because of a few assholes,” Vivien admitted. “I mean, we’ve been through so much shit together since then that I can’t imagine you calling me anything else.” 

Riven sighed, but as Vivien reached up, pushing the corners of his mouth up with her fingers, he allowed himself to smile. He shook his head and chuckled, “We have been through a lot, haven’t we?”

Vivien hummed, nodding with a smile, “Concerts, break-ups, competitions.”

“DnD campaigns, summer camp, exploring abandoned places,” Riven added.

With a breath of a laugh, Vivien added, “Don’t forget the operations, surgeries, and car accidents.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Riven rubbed subconsciously at his left side. Though it had been years since he and Vivien had been thrown from his moped on their way home from band practice, the memory of that day still bothered him. It wasn’t often that he found himself unable to protect Vivien - something he liked to pride himself on - but when those rare moments occurred, he found it impossible to let go. Warm fingers pried Riven’s hand from his shirt, dragging his attention away from his thoughts as Vivien tucked her fingers into Riven’s hand.

“I’m sor-”

Vivien’s empty hand landed over Riven’s mouth as she shot him a knowing look, “No.” Riven gave a muffled apology through her fingers, and Vivien shook her head. “You’re not allowed to be sorry; it wasn’t your fault.”

With his free hand, Riven took Vivien’s wrist and brought it away from his mouth so he could say, “It was, and I’m allowed to feel bad about it.”

“No,” Vivien said in return. “I mean, yeah, you can feel bad all you want. I can’t tell you how to feel, but you’re not allowed to apologize for someone else’s poor judgment. The only time - and I mean the only time - I’ve ever let you apologize for something that wasn’t your fault was when I broke my wrist, and that was because you wouldn’t let me stop you.”

Taking in a breath as the memory of Vivien’s fractured wrist came to the forefront of his mind, Riven released her wrist with a wince, “I’ll never forget that day.”

“I’m sure you won’t, Doctor Hewlett,” Vivien said as her arm fell back to the blankets, hoping the remark would steer her longtime friend away from any lingering regrets he might have held from that day. Despite Riven’s minuscule grin, Vivien found herself frowning. “You know,” she began, “I think I was more upset that you kept your distance from me afterward than I was about the broken wrist.”

Riven’s brows lifted as he peered down at his friend, “You were?”

With a scoffed laugh and a roll of her eyes, Vivien nodded, “I wouldn’t have showed up in the middle of a thunderstorm if I wasn’t.”

Edwin Barlow wasn’t an easy coach by anyone’s definition. He pushed his skaters harder than most because he knew they had potential, knew they had it in them to do great things. Many skaters had come through the doors of the Purple Finch arena looking for him, but few stuck around through his grueling hours of training. Though he was great with children and helped shape them into adequate skaters for other coaches, it wasn’t often he found ones that he felt confident enough in to push toward greatness. Students came and went over his twenty-three years of teaching, but very few had Olympian-level potential.

That was until he found Riven Hewlett and his young partner, Vivien O’Brian. 

From his first few weeks of one-on-one training with the boy, Edwin knew Riven could become something worth gold medals. The six-year-old had practiced with his parents since he could walk, skating on homemade rinks in their backyard or down at the frozen pond behind the playground at the elementary school, and his years of amateur practices had paid off. By the time Riven’s mother and father had signed him up for lessons with Coach Barlow, he was already capable of a handful of novice jumps and spins. For the first time in a long time, Edwin found himself wondering if there was a chance he was training a future Olympian.

Riven had been the coach’s pupil for just shy of a year before Vivien and her family came into the arena looking for a trainer. Initially brushing off the thought of adding the four-year-old to his ranks, Edwin found himself surprised by not only Riven’s immediate attachment to the child but also the girl’s skill on the ice. Riven pushed him to give the girl a chance, and while he was glad that he had, he hadn’t expected to see half of the talent he had. Vivien’s parents told him about how the girl had learned from an older child who lived down the street from them, but his attention was solely on the small girl who glided over the ice as though she owned it. Glancing down at the boy who had brought Vivien to him, Edwin knew then and there that he had a match made in heaven.

Truthfully, he hadn’t quite anticipated just how well the two would work together. As time progressed and the pair grew from nervous little children too hesitant to push outside of the routine that had been ingrained in their minds to pre-teens with creative choreographic ideas of their own, Edwin found himself bragging about them to anyone who would listen. The pair were still young, yes, but their skills on the ice far surpassed many others in their age bracket.

Just a week after Vivien’s tenth birthday, the duo approached their coach with an idea - switching their discipline from ice dancing to pair skating. Upon questioning their reasoning, Riven excitedly told their coach that they had found videos of the Sochi Olympics on YouTube and wanted to learn how to do lifts and throws like Russian gold medalists, Volosozhar and Trankov. Initially, Edwin was reluctant to allow the children he had grown to see as his own try anything more than the jumps and spins they had already worked so hard to perfect, but as Vivien’s pleading, puppy-dog eyes teamed up with Riven’s soft, hopeful smile, the coach found himself agreeing. 

He started them off small, training them off the ice in simple, Group 1 lifts where Riven would lift Vivien with one hand under her armpit and the other holding her hand while she braced herself on his shoulder for balance. It didn’t take long for the pair to move onto the ice, perfecting the movement with ease before a half-hour had passed. Though they worked their way through different variations of the lift over the next couple of weeks, it became evident that Vivien and Riven could easily make their way onto the next type of lift. 

By the next month, they had moved onto Group 2, where Riven would lift Vivien by her waist and hold her as high as he could while she held onto his wrists for support. Though Riven made it obvious that the lift was incredibly easy - their at-home efforts behind their coach’s back making it exceedingly easy for him to lift her above his head on the mats surrounding the rink - Edwin was wary about putting them on the ice. It was one thing for them to perform the lift on dry ground, but adding the harsh ice and the potential for other skaters to get in their way gave Edwin pause. The ten-year-old and her loyal, twelve-year-old companion were capable; they had proven that time and time again, but he just wasn’t quite sure if they should advance so quickly.

However, on the sunny afternoon that was the eleventh of October, he found he wasn’t given a choice in the matter. Edwin had left the children on a bench just outside of the rink to take a call in his office, telling them to practice a segment of their newest routine while he was out. There were plenty of others around - coaches, students, observant parents, people he knew he could trust to watch the children if need be. What he hadn’t accounted for, though, was the determination of two children who had been left to their own devices.

Once the door closed behind their coach, Vivien turned to Riven and tugged him to his feet, “Come on, let’s go!”

Grateful he had finished lacing his skates before his friend began yanking him toward the ice, Riven laughed, “Why are you in such a rush? We don’t even have our music ready yet.”

“Megalovania can wait,” Vivien brushed off with a wave of her hand, the video game music turned orchestral suite the pair had picked for their next competition being pushed aside for something far more entertaining. Turning to her friend as she stepped onto the ice, the brunette grinned mischievously, her braces gleaming in the fluorescent lighting surrounding the arena as she spoke, “Now that Coach is busy, we can finally practice our lifts on the ice.”

Riven seemed to hesitate as he glided toward his beaming friend, his eyes flickering toward the doorway through which their coach had disappeared. He knew deep down that if they were caught doing the one thing he asked them specifically not to do, they would be in his office quicker than they could utter an explanation. However, as his attention was drawn back to the girl before him, Riven found himself drawn to her excited smile and her piercing, emerald eyes, making it nearly impossible for him to argue. Instead, as Vivien reached out a hand, he found himself latching on with a smile, “Alright, but only once. I don’t feel like getting reamed by him or our parents.”

“Deal,” Vivien giggled, eagerly tugging her best friend further out on the ice and away from the group of four-to-five-year-olds who were training for a group performance they were going to be doing for the Christmas showcase.

The pair glided with ease across the ice, evading areas that the maintenance crew would be repairing at the end of the day as they found an area large enough to practice. After receiving a nod from her best friend, Vivien began skating backward toward him until Riven’s hands came to her waist. As Vivien pushed into his grasp, Riven began the loop lift they had practiced, bringing Vivien off of the ice and into the air as he extended his arms. Once he was sure of his grip, he pushed into the spins they needed to perform in order for the lift to qualify in a competition. 

Entering into the second turn, Riven’s eyes caught a glimpse of a small child skating far too quickly in their direction. Letting out a noise of surprise, Riven stumbled as he tried to come to a halt, nearly tripping over the child as Vivien let out a shriek of surprise, her nails digging into Riven’s wrists. As one of the coaches yelled for the kid to stop, Riven stepped around them, his toe pick catching on a sharp divot in the ice that had been left by the high school’s hockey team. With a shout, Riven released his hold on Vivien’s waist as gravity claimed him, hoping the girl would be able to catch herself faster than he could. However, as he slammed to the ice, a dull thump followed by a groan echoed nearby, and Riven knew that his efforts had been in vain.

Pushing himself back up, Riven checked on the child, who had already taken off to their teacher, before sliding across the ice to Vivien, who had silently pushed herself onto her knees. Vivien stared blankly at the ice, seemingly unbothered by the patches of snow on her clothes and in her hair, and Riven frowned as he took in how her right hand gripped her left wrist as her left hand pushed against her shakily rising chest. Apart from her panicked breathing, reddened cheeks, and a faint, pink scratch on her forehead, Vivien appeared to be fine. Placing a hand on her shoulder as he knelt before her, Riven said, “I’m sorry, Pip. I would have run that kid over if I kept going, but I thought you would’ve landed if I let go.” Vivien shrugged minutely, more of a twitch than anything, as she sucked in a shuddering breath. Riven’s eyebrows knitted together as he leaned into the girl’s line of sight and asked, “Are you alright?”

Finally lifting her gaze from the ice, Vivien shook her head as she met Riven’s gaze. As Vivien removed her right hand from where it gripped her left wrist, Riven felt mildly relieved to see no gaping wounds or pooling blood, but his relief quickly dissipated as the ten-year-old breathed, “I can’t move my fingers.”

“What?” Riven breathed.

Vivien’s eyes flickered between her best friend and her limp wrist as she explained, “I tried to catch myself instead of just letting myself hit the ice, and when I fell, I heard a crunch.”

“A crunch?” Riven repeated slowly, a weight settling in his chest as realization sank into his skin. 

Vivien’s ponytail bobbed as she nodded, “And now I can’t move my fingers.”

Riven instinctively reached for her arm, but stopped himself before his fingers graced her arm, taking her free hand instead, “Do you think your wrist is broken?”

Vivien shrugged, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she finally settled on shakily whispering, “I don’t know.”

The weight in Riven’s chest dropped to his stomach like an anchor, and as he looked around for an adult, a coach, someone more capable of handling both Vivien’s injury and his own rising panic, he found himself swallowing the thick lump that had begun to settle in his throat. Spotting Coach Cheryl Knight - a formal professional skater turned one-on-one coach for Vivien’s friend, Alexis Warren - Riven yelled out for the woman, stumbling over his words as he explained the situation and pleaded for her to find their coach as Vivien might have broken her wrist.

As the young coach took off, others began to swarm them, and Alexis was the first to take up the empty space beside Vivien as the young brunette held herself together far better than anyone seemed to think possible. It didn’t take long for Coach Barlow to rush into the arena, Coach Knight and both Riven and Vivien’s fathers close on his heels. Time seemed to fly as the growing crowd was pushed aside to make room for those in charge, but Riven refused to move as Vivien’s right hand clenched around his fingers, keeping him as close as their coach and fathers would allow.

Before long, Vivien’s arm was stabilized in an elastic bandage, and she was ushered out to the O’Brian family’s minivan. Riven, who had carried the girl’s belongings along with his own, helped her change out of her skates in the backseat, trying to listen to both their fathers’ hushed worries and Vivien’s soft singing as the radio played One Direction’s You & I. While he wanted nothing more than to listen to Vivien’s calm singing throughout the duration of the ride to the hospital, he couldn’t fight the urge to hear everything being divulged in the front seats. However, as they neared the hospital and Vivien softly asked him to stay with her, Riven found himself focused on helping his best friend as much as she would allow him to.

The emergency room was, thankfully, fairly empty, but they were still forced to sit in the waiting room until a nurse in kitten-covered scrubs called for Vivien to follow her. Riven pushed himself to his feet, ready to follow closely behind his friend and her father, but was stopped by his dad before he could get too far from the hard, plastic chairs. Vivien glanced over her shoulder at her friend, disappointment evident in her gaze, but it was quickly replaced by joy as her father asked the nurse if her brother could join them.

The nurse spared a quick glance toward Riven, her quick response dying on her tongue as she took in the boy’s expression, forcing her lips into a small smile. After receiving a nod, Riven dumped his belongings into the chair beside his dad and propelled himself toward the door, latching onto Vivien’s awaiting hand as she pulled him through the hallways of the hospital. Despite Vivien’s attempts to get something other than a nod or shaken head from her best friend, Riven remained silent as hospital staff came and went from the room they were brought to. When Vivien was taken to have some x-rays done, her father tried to reassure the boy that all would be fine and that Vivien was a tough girl, but Riven could only give short answers as he took in all that had happened.

Throughout the process of Vivien’s wrist being set and wrapped in a cast, Riven was silent yet allowed his best friend to keep his hand hostage as the nurse wrapped her arm in violet. Not long after, they were back in the parking lot, Vivien digging through the glove box of her parents’ minivan while Riven silently slid into the back seat, his eyes glued to the back of the driver’s seat headrest where he and Vivien had signed their names in Sharpie during a road trip to a competition. Vivien’s mom had tried for a week to get the writing out of the upholstery, but despite her best efforts, the childlike handwriting remained. Staring at the tiny stars replacing the dots in Vivien’s signature, Riven couldn’t help but feel like the worst best friend in the history of friendships.

Friends don’t break each other’s arms.

As the adults climbed into the car and Vivien settled into the bench seat beside Riven with a huff, muttering something about her cast under her breath, Riven felt his chest clench. For the next six or so weeks, Vivien would be stuck in a cast, and it was all his fault. As the car started, Vivien’s head slumped onto Riven’s shoulder, the girl’s chocolate hair pushed into Riven’s cheek as she asked her dad to play the One Direction CD she knew he kept in the car’s radio just for her. Riven peered down at Vivien in surprise as the girl began singing along to the music - how was she so calm?! 

As the car pulled onto the street Riven and his father lived on, Vivien lifted her head from Riven’s shoulder and smiled, chirping excitedly about how many signatures she was going to get on her cast during the following weeks. The brunette’s voice faded into nothingness as Riven watched her ramble. It wasn’t until they pulled into the Hewlett family’s driveway that Riven realized, to his surprise and mild frustration, that Vivien seemed far from upset with him. If anything, she seemed almost happy to have fractured her wrist. Why was it that he was more upset about it than she was? She was the one with the broken wrist, yet she was smiling away while the person who hurt her sat beside her, fearing the possibility of hurting her more than he already had.

As his father pulled the sliding door open, Riven said a hasty goodbye to his skating partner and her father before hefting his bag of belongings onto his shoulder and practically running toward the front door of his home. He dug the spare key out of the mail slot by the front door and pushed his way into the house, closing the door behind him as his father stopped to talk to the people Riven left in the van. Stumbling through the house toward his room, Riven tossed his bag on the floor by the couch and sucked in a shuddering breath. 

Throwing the door to his room open, Riven all but collapsed onto his mattress, running his hands through his hair until the icy digits came to rest against the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure how Vivien could be so calm; he was barely holding himself together, and he wasn’t even the one injured. If anything, Vivien should be wary of him, but instead, she was just as blasé about the injury as she had been when she attacked his bullies on the day they met.

It wasn’t long before Riven’s father came in with his son’s bag, depositing the duffel on the floor by Riven’s closet before sitting beside his son and placing a hand on his back. “She doesn’t blame you, y’know,” Anthony reassured his son, rubbing light circles on Riven’s back as he watched for some kind of reaction.

“She should,” Riven muttered, refusing to lift his gaze from the wooden floorboards he hoped would open up and swallow him whole. “I broke her arm.”

“It’s nobody’s fault that her arm broke,” Anthony contested softly. “You tripped trying to avoid hitting a kid, and both of you went down; there’s nothing to blame you for.”

“If I had seen the kid before-”

“Riven,” Anthony interrupted with a sigh as he knelt before his son, taking the twelve-year-old’s hands in one of his before placing his empty hand on his son’s cheek. “There was nothing you could have done to stop it. You are not to blame for this, and I am not about to let you beat yourself up for it.”

Riven searched his dad’s sea-green eyes before silently asking, “Why not?”

Anthony smiled, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead before saying, “When your mom passed, did you let me beat myself up for it?” 

Slowly shaking his head, Riven breathed, “No. You didn’t kill her.” 

“Exactly,” Anthony stated, cupping his son’s face in his hands. “Vivien knows you aren’t to blame - we all know it. You just need to take the time to figure that out for yourself.”

Riven tried not to scoff as he asked, “How long will that take?”

Without missing a beat, Anthony chuckled, “Knowing Vivien, not long.”

A part of Riven knew his dad was right, but as the man stood and made his way to the kitchen to put together something for dinner, he couldn’t help but feel the knot in his stomach grow bigger as his eyes landed on a picture on his wall of himself and Vivien at a nearby go-kart track. Would he ever be able to allow himself to be that comfortable around her again? Was he ever going to able to make up for hurting her? Could he truly be considered a good skating partner after this? Would she ditch him? Would they remain friends even if she did?

It took all of a week for Riven to get his answer.

A week of radio silence, a week of solitude, and a week of pent-up frustration boiled beneath Vivien’s tan skin. She understood that they were unable to talk during school hours as neither of them had cell phones, and they went to separate schools, but they normally talked after school until either Vivien’s dad needed his phone for something or its battery died. Vivien had tried calling more than once a day after being let out of school, but had always reached either Riven’s father or the home phone’s voicemail.

Although she didn’t appreciate being stone-walled by her best friend, Vivien knew to give him space. Riven was the type to take things to heart and think things through to the point he physically couldn’t think of anything else, whereas Vivien liked to talk things out immediately and clear the air so there was no tension. She wasn’t good with silence, while Riven needed silence to process things. As much as it ticked her off, she gave him space. 

Well… for as long as she could handle it.

When Monday rolled around, and she still hadn’t heard anything from Riven, Vivien began to concoct a plan that would make it impossible for him to avoid her any longer. Her first idea came to her in Homeroom while Mr. Alderman was busy trying to help a group of kids from her science class with their homework, but it was quickly brushed off as publicly dragging the chief of police’s son from the school to her dad’s minivan probably wouldn’t go over too well. Vivien’s next plan of action spiraled from a conversation on the track with Alexis, her friend from the arena. However, the thought of pretending to be injured to gain Riven’s attention was quickly pushed aside in favor of what became her master plan.

As soon as the bell rang that afternoon, Vivien made a mad dash across the parking lot and into the high school, bursting into the principal’s office while the poor secretary at the main desk hastily tried calling her father to let him know of his daughter’s arrival. Upon filling her bewildered father in on a portion of her after-school and borrowing a couple of dollars from him for the bus fare to the next town over, Vivien headed out to the parking lot and ran across the street to the bus stop by the gas station. While she waited for the bus to arrive, it began to rain, and one of her classmate’s parents pulled up beside the bus stop, asking if she needed a ride home. Vivien was quick to graciously decline, explaining she was going to Laconia to visit a friend and had gotten permission from her father to take the bus.

Once they left to pick their son up from school, Vivien only waited a few minutes before the local bus pulled up to the stop, its rusty brakes screeching as it slowed. After stepping aboard and handing the driver some of the money her dad had given her, Vivien collapsed into the closest seat to the front, digging into her backpack to inspect the homework she had been given as the bus pulled away from the stop. It didn’t take long for her to finish the math homework she’d been given, but as she struggled to read through her history assignment on colonial times, the words jumbled on the page like a bowl of alphabet soup, the driver slowed to another stop.

Looking up from her migraine-inducing history book, Vivien quickly pulled her rain poncho out of the front pocket of her bag before shoving the rest of her belongings into her backpack and hauling it onto her shoulders before rising from her seat. As the bus stopped at the covered bench outside of the Laconia police department, Vivien made her way out of the bus, thanking the driver for the ride before pulling her poncho on over herself and her backpack and stepping out into the rain. As the people waiting at the bus stop rushed onto the bus, Vivien scanned the police station parking lot for the black Silverado she knew Riven’s dad would have taken to work. There were a few trucks in the lot, but the sticker of the local high school’s mascot on the tailgate of one told Vivien all she needed to know.

With a grin, she waited for traffic to clear before dashing across the street. Not wanting to deal with the cracked, uneven sidewalks that she almost always rolled an ankle on during the summer, Vivien walked up the length of Cross Street on the side of the road. Avoiding the occasional pothole as she jogged across the intersection of Cross and Fenton Ave, Vivien used her uncasted hand to swipe water from her glasses and push them further up her nose before tugging the hood of her poncho back into place.

The walk from the police department to Riven’s house was maybe five minutes on a good day, three if they ran, and potentially ten if it had snowed, but Vivien hated walking in the rain most. Her soggy sneakers squelched as she jogged up the porch steps, reaching for the key she knew they hid in the mailbox, yet Vivien found she couldn’t care less about the circumstances as she pushed the slightly curved key into the lock. Opening the door, Vivien silently made her way inside, discarding her sneakers by the heater vent and hanging her poncho on the coat rack before pulling her backpack from her shoulders and dropping it onto the nearest couch cushion.

She knew from the damp hoodie by the door that Riven was home, but he wasn’t in the living room or kitchen, and as she peered into his bedroom, Vivien frowned as she realized he wasn’t there either. As she glanced into Riven’s dad’s office, unsure where her best friend could have gone, the sound of steady drum beats drew her attention to a door by the end of the hall. The typically locked basement door was unlatched, and as Vivien nudged open the door, she could see that a light had been turned on. Making her way down the stairs, Vivien found the sound becoming more clear with every step. As she turned toward the music with a smile, Vivien found her best friend messing around on his father’s old drum set.

“You know,” she began after watching him play for a moment, making him jump as he realized he wasn’t alone, “I thought with your dad being the chief of police, he would have found a better spot to hide the spare key.”

Riven’s eyes widened as he found Vivien leaning against the railing at the bottom of the stairs. As his eyes flickered between hers, the purple cast on her arm, and the drum set before him, Riven asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Watching you rock out, apparently,” Vivien claimed as she inched further into the room. Taking a look around, she smiled and said, “This place would be great for a band to play in, but it kind of reminds me of that new show I’ve been begging you to watch with me.”

“Stanger Things?” Riven asked as he set down his drumsticks.

“Mhm,” Vivien hummed. “They play this game called DnD in the basement. If you put up some decorations and move the boxes and stuff around a bit, this would be a cool place to start a campaign.”

Against his better judgment, Riven grinned as he nodded, “I’m hoping to join the DnD club at school next month.”

“You should suggest having a meeting here or something,” Vivien suggested as she pulled a folding chair open and sat down. “It would be cool.”

Riven hummed thoughtfully before his gaze fell on her arm once more. Quickly averting his gaze, Riven asked again, “So, what are you actually doing here?”

Sucking in a breath, Vivien sighed, “I miss my best friend. He’s been ignoring me for a week now and I can’t take it any longer.”

Riven’s gaze lifted from the drum set before him as he asked, “How can you still call me your best friend after what I did to you?”

Vivien shrugged, “You ignored me for a week, that’s not a dealbreaker here, Riv.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Riven stated with a shake of his head.

Vivien looked down at her cast and sighed, “I know.”

“I’m sor-”

“It was super rude of you to not sign my cast, but I still forgive you.”

Riven’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion as followed Vivien’s eyes to the purple wrapped around her hand and forearm. Scanning over the material, Riven realized nothing had been written on the girl’s arm. “What happened to getting everyone in your class to sign that?”

With a smile, Vivien said, “You’re my best friend, Riven; you get the first signature. Everyone else can wait their turn.”

Confused and exasperated by Vivien’s avoidance of the topic at hand, he asked, “I’m the reason your arm is broken in the first place; why on earth would you want me to sign it?”

“First of all, no, you aren’t,” Vivien said, “and, second, I already said it’s because you’re my best friend.”

“If I hadn’t dropped you-”

“You didn’t drop me.”

“Vivien,” Riven huffed, “you can deny it all you want, but if I didn’t drop you, your arm wouldn’t be in a cast.”

“It wouldn’t have happened at all if I hadn’t insisted we practice lifts while Coach Barlow wasn’t around,” Vivien insisted. “We could play the blame game for hours, but none of this is anyone’s fault.”

Riven held Vivien’s gaze for a while before heaving a sigh, “I don’t know how you can see it that way, but I don’t think I can ever forgive myself.”

“Even though I don’t blame you for it,” Vivien began slowly as she stood from her chair and moved closer to Riven, “saying that I forgive you doesn’t change that, does it?” 

With a small smile and a shake of his head, Riven said, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have a reason to be,” Vivien stated with a roll of her eyes, wrapping her arms around Riven’s shoulders and tucking her face into his shoulder, “but I forgive you.”

As though a weight had been taken from his shoulders, Riven sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes as his arms came to close around Vivien, tugging the girl impossibly close as he muttered, “I’m never dropping you again, I promise.”

“And you haven’t since,” Vivien said with a proud smile. "At least, not on accident."

Riven chuckled as he rose from his seat and grabbed his songbook from his desk, “I wouldn’t break a promise like that.”

As her friend grabbed his acoustic guitar from its stand by his window, Vivien pushed herself up into a seated position and asked, “What’re you doing?”

Riven sent her his usual, lopsided grin as he tossed his songbook toward her and made himself comfortable on the mattress once more, “Practicing the music we said we were working on this weekend.”

Vivien was quick to examine the book, following her auburn-haired friend in sitting cross-legged as she looked over the lyrics they had worked on the weekend before. Riven’s chicken-scratch writing filled the page with hastily written notes and potential lyrics for their band, but of their band’s four members, Vivien was the only one who was able to decipher his atrocious handwriting. Smiling as Riven began strumming random chords on his guitar, Vivien held up the notebook and said, “Your handwriting is still just as shitty as it was when I met you.”

“Well, you’re the only one who reads it anymore, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Riven asked with a chuckle. 

Vivien rolled her eyes, but laughed, “Remember when Erica and Jade joined us for the first time and I just handed this to them?”

Riven snorted, “Poor JJ looked ready to cry when she couldn’t read it.”

“And Erica bought you a kid’s handwriting practice book for Christmas because she was sick of your shit,” Vivien added. As Riven laughed and began softly humming the lyrics to the song he was working on, Vivien wondered, “I still can’t believe that those two got together. They were so polar opposite when they first became friends.”

“Yeah, but they work well together,” Riven commented. “Do you remember when we first got them to join the band?”

Vivien smiled as she nodded, “Yeah. Erica joined us the same week I started dating Lexi.”

“And what a trainwreck that was,” Riven huffed. With a smirk, he added, “Both our first practice and the whole Lexi thing.”

“Yeah,” Vivien sighed. “Middle school me really should have thought things through first before jumping into a relationship.”

“Not to mention what a manipulative, emotionally abusive piece of shit she was,” Riven grumbled as his grip tightened on the neck of his guitar, the mere memory of Lexi’s treatment of Vivien igniting something in him that begged to throw hands with the girl who now lived a few hours away.

“She wasn’t always like that and you know it,” Vivien stated. “She was my friend.”

Riven’s gaze lifted from his guitar once more, finding Vivien’s eyes with a look of incredulity, “She threw a skate at your head. If that qualifies her as your friend, what does that make me?”

Vivien’s answer was quick, “My brother and faithful companion.” At Riven’s serious expression, she sighed, “Okay, I get it. My relationship with Lexi wasn’t great and I learned a lot from it, but I moved on a long time ago. Regardless, I love the relationship I have with Royce even though it’s only been a couple of months. I don’t see us breaking up any time soon.”

“Good,” Riven said with a nod. “You two seem really good for each other.”

“I think so too,” Vivien admitted, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she wondered just what her boyfriend was up to at that moment. Looking back up at Riven as she absentmindedly flipped through his book of songs, Vivien said, “You have to admit, though, the song Erica helped me write about Lexi was a banger.”

“Only because you two bashed the shit out of her,” Riven snorted. Reaching across the space between them to take Vivien’s hand, Riven pleaded, “Look, I know you say that you and Royce are in it for the long haul, but please, promise me you’ll never get into a stupid relationship like that again. I don’t think any of us would be able to handle it if you clammed up on us again.”

Squeezing Riven’s hand, Vivien took in a breath and smiled as she said, “Only if you promise to listen to me when I tell you something is off about the girls you go out with.”

Riven chuckled, nodding as he agreed, “Touché. How about we just promise not to date anymore shitty people? I think we’ve been through enough of those.”

Vivien laughed, “Tell me about it!”

Vivien had always been the type to have a few close friends but be friendly toward everyone around her. Many people at her school knew her as the social butterfly who flitted around the cafeteria and hallways, making sure everyone was doing well and that, if they weren’t, they knew she was there for them. She was an outgoing, enthusiastic girl who had a variety of interests so vast that everyone she came across seemed to have something in common with her.

Even at a young age, Vivien had a way of making those around her feel welcome in her presence. It didn’t matter if the people she interacted with were older or younger than her; she just liked making people feel loved the way her grandparents had taught her to. Spending time at her grandparents’ summer camp over the years had encouraged Vivien to welcome all she came across with a smile and an eagerness to befriend them.

If her bubbly yet calm personality wasn’t a magnet to random strangers, her passionate support of her friends and family members was. Vivien had never been one to silently show her love. Not only did she wear her heart on her sleeve more often than not, but she had a fierce sense of loyalty and love for the people she kept near and dear. Whether it was hurling harsh words at those who emotionally or physically hurt those she loved or the way she showed up to every game, recital, and performance, those around her knew they were cared for and loved by the warmhearted brunette.

Perhaps that was what attracted Alexis Warren to her in the first place. 

They had become friends when Lexi began skating at the same ice rink Vivien and her siblings attended. Offhanded compliments about the younger girl’s hair or outfits being accepted with brilliant smiles as they passed each other in the locker room. Over the course of her first year at the rink, Lexi found herself being inexplicably drawn in as seven-year-old Vivien stood up to one of the pre-teen girls who chose to pick on one of Lexi’s friends. Vivien didn’t even know the kid, but the rage in her emerald eyes glowed like hellfire as she verbally ripped the older girl a new asshole. Once the threat was gone and Vivien was alone with Lexi and her friend, Dakota, Lexi found the gravitational pull surrounding the younger brunette too strong to ignore.

Maybe it was her smile, her friendly reassurance, or her protective tendencies, but frankly, Lexi didn’t care what it was; all that mattered was that there was something there. Something now linked the two of them together - a string tied loosely around their wrists that tugged them closer than they had been before. From then on, Vivien was a part of Lexi’s life whether she liked it or not. Despite her initial eye rolls at the girl’s questions about her well-being and how her family was, Lexi found herself genuinely smiling at the younger brunette every time she sidled up beside her to pester her before practice. It only seemed to get worse when Lexi’s adoptive parents moved to Sanbornton for work before the next school year, forcing Lexi into the same school as Vivien since the older girl had been held back a year before being adopted.

Now that Vivien considered her a friend of sorts, Lexi found it to be damn near impossible not to see the brunette. Every morning, as their buses rounded the loop by the front door of their school, Vivien would run up to her new friend and take her by the arm, excitedly gabbing with Lexi as much as she could before entering the building and turning off at the library where Lexi continued onward. For longer than she cared to admit, Lexi would find herself thinking about Vivien every morning, wondering why the younger girl had taken such an interest in her. It wasn’t like she was special or anything. 

Before summer vacation that year, Vivien cornered Lexi on her way out of the gym, dragging her to the nearby bathroom before asking the older girl if she had any plans for the break. When Lexi hesitantly admitted that she wasn’t sure what they would be up to, Vivien reached into the pocket of her overalls and pulled out a clearly hastily folded paper, unfolding it before handing it to her friend. The page had clearly been printed from the school’s library computer - half of the ink was colorless while smudges of greens and blues streaked down the paper. However, Lexi could still make out the writing. Vivien quickly explained that her grandparents ran a local summer camp and that she wanted to extend the invitation to the camp to only her closest friends. Before Lexi could press her for more information, though, Vivien let her know the website was written on the back of the paper before pushing a glittering object into the pocket of Lexi’s hoodie and scurrying back into the hall to find the rest of her classmates.

Bewildered, Lexi stood in the bathroom for a while, looking between the paper in her hand and the handmade, beaded bracelet Vivien had given her. After a few minutes, the bell rang, and Lexi hurried to her next class, tucking the paper into her hoodie and pulling the bracelet onto her wrist just as she reached the door to her classroom. Later that day, when her family’s minivan pulled into the parking lot to pick her up after school, she handed her parents the paper and asked if she could go to spend the summer with her friends. By the end of the week, Lexi had her answer and had begun packing her belongings.

She had been welcomed into the camp’s makeshift family relatively quickly - Vivien’s grandparents and aunt making the transition feel like visiting family in another town instead of a summer-long stay away from home. Being in the same cabin as Vivien for the summer meant the pair grew closer than Lexi thought was possible, but neither seemed to complain as they spent their days attached at the hip, wandering around camp with their hands intertwined. For most, it was obvious that the two girls had become inseparable, but for others, the bond they shared was a bit more… blurred.

It wasn’t until the ending performance of The Wizard of Oz that anyone dared to voice their thoughts. Sitting together behind the scenes of the show, watching Vivien’s aunt, Hayley, and the woman’s girlfriend, Charlotte, keep everyone in line behind the stage, Lexi and Vivien laughed quietly among themselves as their friends from over the summer ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. Then, all at once, the laughter stopped as their cabin’s counselor, Ashley, and her two friends, Bella and Sarah, sauntered over. Thinking they were about to be reprimanded for laughing, the eleven-year-old and thirteen-year-old quieted, sending wary looks to each other before focusing their attention on the girls before them. 

Then, without hesitation, Ashley asked, “Are you two dating or something?”

“You’re always together,” Bella chimed in. “If you guys were just close or something, we wouldn’t ask, but where you two are practically inseparable and only ever spend time with the rest of the cabin if you have to, it sort of makes it seem like you’re dating.”

“Which is totally cool and all,” Sarah said with a gentle smile. “We just wanted to know if it was okay if we ship you two or not.”

Bella hummed, “It would be totally awkward if we shipped you two and you weren’t dating.”

Ashley nodded, her barely contained ponytail of curls bouncing precariously as she asked, “So, are you two a couple or what?”

Confused by the question, Vivien’s head tipped to the side like a confused pup, and Lexi watched with surprised eyes as time slowed around them before the younger girl turned toward her and asked, “Are we?”

As she took in Vivien’s genuine curiosity, Lexi felt as though a puzzle piece that had gone missing years ago finally slid into place, slotting itself right into the only spot left open in her mind. At that moment, she realized that the answer had been right in front of her for a long time. Hoping to appear as nonchalant as possible despite the blood rushing to her cheeks, Lexi shrugged as she replied, “We can be if you’d like to be.”

Vivien giggled - the magical sound that occasionally drove Lexi up a wall - and smiled up at the counselors before replying, “In that case, yeah, we’re dating!”

Then, as the lights from the stage flickered toward their spot backstage, Vivien’s metal-filled smile shone, and Lexi felt her resolve disappear altogether. She knew, right then and there, that she would do anything Vivien asked her to. That day - August 25th, 2017 - would be ingrained in her memory for years to come. That was the day she knew she’d been permanently changed by one Vivien Harley O’Brian.

People in Lexi’s immediate circles took the information far better than she initially expected them to. Liana and Nathan - she still wasn’t entirely ready to call them Mom and Dad - adoptive parents were accepting and supportive, telling her that they were simply glad she was happy. Her adoptive older siblings - Sean and Isla - showed their approval in their own ways; Isla took her out to the movies and on a girl’s day to make sure Lexi knew she had someone to turn to if she ever needed it, whereas Sean joked about being grateful he could finally talk about girls with someone relatively close to his own age before letting her know he was genuinely happy for her. Even the new foster kids in their family - the biologically orphaned siblings, Ian and Tessa - had taken the news well after Liana and Nathan explained the situation.

Vivien’s family, on the other hand, had only one problem - her mother, Chelsea. Despite the woman’s sister and Vivien’s biological mother being a proud lesbian who was dating a bisexual woman, it seemed that the idea of one of Chelsea’s children being anything other than straight was world-ending. Vivien’s dad, Damien, on the other hand, took his daughter out for ice cream to hear all about the girl’s relationship away from her mother’s influence, making sure his eldest child knew how loved she was before bringing her and her siblings to their grandparents’ home for the weekend.

Her father had returned to their home to gather some clothing for the weekend to find the house empty, but he brushed it off as her blowing off steam and returned to the cabin after calling Riven’s father to explain the situation and phoning his sister-in-law to see if she could stop by her parents’ house if she had the time. Of course, Hayley and her girlfriend took time off to spend the weekend with family at the Hill House, spending the majority of their time spoiling the crap out of the eleven-year-old girl who suddenly found herself having more in common with her aunt’s girlfriend than she thought would be possible.

That weekend, Lexi found herself on the phone with Vivien more often than ever before, using what little time they had left before the start of the next school year to spend conversing with each other as, for the next school year, Vivien would be in the middle school, and Lexi would be up in the junior high. They would be on different bus schedules, different class schedules, and lunches together would be nonexistent, making their time together slim to none. However, when school started a few days later, Lexi still fought to call Vivien after school, resulting in more than one uncomfortable talk with the girl’s mother until Vivien picked up the call in another room.

One thing that remained a constant in their otherwise frenzied lives was their time at Purple Finch. Despite Vivien’s training time with Riven and Lexi’s drill instructor coach keeping them on the ice at different times, there was still time in between lessons where they could talk to their hearts’ content. Whether their meetings were in the locker room or in the hallways or during ballet training with the old lady teacher who, according to some of the older skaters, looked like she had been using the line between life and death as a jump rope for the entirety of their time at the rink, Lexi and Vivien found time to sit around and talk.

Over the course of the next year, they hardly ever went on anything Lexi’s older siblings said could be considered dates. They would hang out at the local arcade, go see movies, or go out to eat at the diner with at least one of their parents present, but that was usually the extent of their time together outside of practice and hanging out at each other’s houses. Though Lexi knew by then that what her siblings were saying was true, she really didn’t want to believe them. Sure, her relationship with Vivien wasn’t anything like her brother’s flings with girls on the high school’s various sports teams or her sister’s relationship with the captain of the debate team, but whoever said that their relationship had to be like anyone else’s, clearly didn’t know them well.

So long as they enjoyed being together, that was all that mattered, right?

As the school year came and went, the chilly winter and early spring were soon replaced by the warmth of the summer sun, and Lexi found herself in the presence of Vivien’s close family once again. Despite being in a separate cabin from Vivien that year due to their relationship, Lexi enjoyed her stay. The pair ate meals together at a table in the far corner that always got a glaringly bright amount of sunlight every morning, and, despite their polar opposite thoughts on seeing the sun so early in the morning, Lexi put up with having to squint in order to see her plate every day to appease the excited girl she sat across from.

Her fourteenth birthday came and went, and as the camp season came to a close shortly after Vivien’s twelfth birthday, Lexi found herself actively dreading the upcoming school year. Although Vivien was now in seventh grade and would be joining her at the junior high, Lexi was conflicted. She had been reasonably overwhelmed by the amount of people flooding the halls of the regional junior-senior high school but liked to keep to herself and the small handful of people she knew from the previous year. Vivien, on the other hand, was a social butterfly whose mere presence attracted strangers like moths to the flame. Initially, she worried whether or not Vivien would still be able to find time for her with the younger girl’s influx of new friends from the surrounding towns. Not long into the school year, however, Lexi realized she didn’t have much to worry about as Vivien made sure she had enough gaps between classes to meet Lexi somewhere in the building.

However, good things seemed to only last so long in Lexi’s life, and it didn’t take long for her to realize just that. On a chilly afternoon in late November, her parents sat Lexi and her siblings down, telling them that they had recently received a call from her dad’s parents about his mother’s health failing. At first, Lexi was as worried about the woman she had only met a handful of times, but as Nathan explained that they would need to move to Maine to help take care of the elderly woman, a high-pitched buzzing filled her ears, and the rest of the conversation was drowned out. Her older siblings seemed to have issues with the idea of leaving behind their jobs, and their newly adopted siblings were upset about having to move only months after finally feeling like they had found a permanent home, but they all seemed to calm down significantly once their mother explained that it wouldn’t be for a couple of months and that the chances of them staying in the northern state for long were slim to none.

Lexi’s first instinct once she reached her bedroom was to call Vivien and tell her what had happened, but when the girl answered the phone, excitedly telling her girlfriend all about the Titanic project she had finally finished with the help of her biological mother, Lexi found herself sitting silently, unable to string together a simple sentence. Although she didn’t want to ruin Vivien’s excitement with the news of her family’s move, she knew the girl would have to find out eventually. Swallowing her emotions and plastering a smile on her face, she piped into Vivien’s excited ramble, asking her to tell her all about her project.

As December crept into the picture and stacks of zip-tied moving boxes began to take up space in the coat closet by the Warren family’s front door, Lexi tried multiple times to bring the topic of their move into a conversation with Vivien. However, her attempts were in vain. Whether it was just that she had no time to get the news out or if she couldn’t bring herself to drag Vivien’s mood down in the midst of her parents’ marital issues, Lexi just couldn’t find a way to bring the topic to light. It wasn’t until after Christmas, when her family had begun pushing her and her siblings to pack their belongings, that Lexi felt the urgency of the situation hit her like a brick wall.

Winter break had extended into the second week of January due to a particularly nasty blizzard, and with school out until the roads could be sufficiently cleared, Lexi found herself swimming in her thoughts. Despite her reluctance to pack, her parents had set a move-out date for the end of the month, forcing her to rip the bandage off far quicker than she had hoped. Her younger siblings had gotten over their initial upset about the move, raving to their friends about the new school they would be attending and making sure to share phone numbers before the end of the month. Even her older sister, Isla, had a boyfriend who was willing to wait for her - the same boy on the debate team that she’d gone out with since Lexi was ten.

On the other hand, her older brother failed in his mission of maintaining his relationship through the move. Sean’s girlfriend, Olivia, admitted she wasn’t up for the long-distance thing, and as she would be moving out of her parent’s place for college soon anyway, she had planned on letting him go gently. Although Lexi knew they had broken it off civilly, she had seen her brother sulking for long periods of time. Watching him trudge around the house had only made Lexi’s already high levels of stress skyrocket.

That Friday afternoon, Lexi managed to find time between her after-school dance practice and Vivien’s meeting with her coach to pull the younger brunette aside. Upon dragging her girlfriend into the locker room by the showers, Lexi urged her to sit on one of the wooden benches across from her and watched as Vivien’s leg bounced against the seat. As though the situation wasn’t already hard for her, Lexi could see the faraway look in Vivien’s eyes and watched as the girl’s brows furrowed, the inside of her cheek tugging into the gap between her teeth - all telltale signs that Vivien was already deep in thought about something that had begun worrying her.

Lexi tipped her head to the side and asked, “Are you alright?”

Vivien shrugged, her shoulders shuddering as she took in a breath. Her concerned, emerald gaze found Lexi as she sighed, “I’m just worried about Riven; that’s all.”

Riven? Lexi internally rolled her eyes. What could possibly be wrong with the daddy’s boy Vivien often referred to as her older brother? He had a nearly perfect life; why would Vivien need to be worried about him? Forcing herself to push her intentions aside and understand that Vivien had looked up to the boy - in more ways than just physically - for far longer than she, herself, had known either of them. Taking in a breath, she asked, “Why, what’s wrong with him?”

As though Lexi had just cursed her entire family, a wounded expression glazed over Vivien’s eyes as she asked, “Have you been listening at all when we talk at night?”

To be honest, Lexi hadn’t truly been paying attention since her parents sat her and her siblings down on Thanksgiving break. Everything since then had been a blurred mess consisting of her half-assed attempts to tell Vivien all that was going on in her mind, the whirlwind that was clearing her room of all her belongings, and the emotional rollercoaster she had been riding for the last month and a half. As much as she hated to admit it, Lexi found her gaze drifting to the floor as she realized she hadn’t exactly been the most attentive person in recent days.

“I’m sorry, Vivi,” Lexi apologized. “It’s been a rough few months.”

“For all of us,” Vivien huffed under her breath. Lexi glanced up, catching the tail end of Vivien’s eye roll as the girl continued, “Brooke is trying to get Riven away from me and the band. I mean, I get that she’s Riven’s girlfriend and deserves to have some of his attention, but it’s like no matter how hard we try to accept her or get her to hang out with us as a group, she throws a fit and won’t stop until he goes to spend time with her alone. I just don’t get what her deal is.”

Since when had Riven gotten a girlfriend? Lexi had honestly thought the guy was gay for quite some time since he never had a girl around, but Vivien’s statement made it pretty obvious that the older boy just had incredibly poor taste in women. With a nod, Lexi offered, “Maybe she’s just worried about him spending so much tim with a bunch of girls.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Vivien sighed. “She was friends with Jade and Erica before she even started dating Riven, so I can’t help but feel like I’m somehow the issue here.” Vivien found Lexi’s eyes, a frown taking over her face before she looked away with another shake of her head. Lowering her voice to nothing more than a whisper, she added, “I just feel like there’s something more to this that I’m not seeing.”

Lexi waited for a moment, watching Vivien’s eyes flicker around the room as her mind raced with thoughts Lexi would never be able to follow. After a while of silence, she spoke, “Speaking of something more…”

Vivien sighed, sucking in a breath before finding Lexi’s eyes with a smile the older girl could tell wasn’t entirely genuine, “Right. You wanted to tell me something?”

Nodding, Lexi slowly spoke, “I’ve been struggling with this for a while, but I’m running out of time, so I figured now would be a good time to get it out in the open.”

“Alright,” Vivien breathed. “Shoot.”

Vivien’s quick response gave Lexi pause. Couldn’t she tell from Lexi’s tone that something was wrong? Clearing her throat, Lexi said, “My dad’s mom - you know, the one from Maine? - well, I guess she’s pretty sick.”

“Oh no,” Vivien muttered. “Do they have any idea what’s wrong?”

Lexi shrugged. Despite the multiple times her parents had discussed the issue, she hadn’t been fully paying attention, having been more caught up in her thoughts than anything. “I’m not sure, but I think my mom said it was MS or something.”

“That sucks,” Vivien said with a thoughtful nod. “My Nonna’s friend, Miss Cathy, has MS. Her daughter and son-in-law take care of her.”

Lexi nodded, “Well, my grandma’s health has gotten worse in the last couple of months, and her husband isn’t able to take care of her on his own, so my parents are planning on moving up there to take care of her.”

“Oh,” Vivien let out, realization flooding across her features.

“Yeah,” Lexi sighed. Vivien’s eyes drifted as she began to get lost in her thoughts once more, and in a desperate attempt to keep the girl’s attention on the topic at hand, Lexi began rambling, “Look, I’ve tried to tell you since I found out back in November, but you were always busy with school or family stuff or dealing with your parents being on the edge of divorce, and I didn’t want to make it worse, so I kept it to myself until I could find the right time to tell you.”

Vivien remained silent for far longer than Lexi would have liked. At first, she thought it was due to the girl’s need to process everything in her own time, but then, as Vivien’s gaze met her own, she realized the younger brunette was simply seething in her own emotions. Piercing jade eyes sent incredulous daggers at Lexi as Vivien huffed, “And you chose today, of all days?”

Lexi scanned through her mental calendar, making sure it wasn’t anyone’s birthday or a holiday before slowly asking, “What’s wrong about today?”

“I told you three weeks ago, Lex!” Vivien exclaimed, disbelief evident on her face. “It’s all I’ve been talking about since then!” When Lexi’s confusion refused to melt away, Vivien huffed a sigh, rolling her eyes as she explained, “Riven and I qualified to be in the Big Apple Skating Exhibition in New York this weekend. We’re leaving in a little bit to catch our seven o’clock flight.”

Realization and dread settled in Lexi’s stomach like lead. She could recall fragments of their late-night conversations, offhandedly listening to Vivien jabber on and on about some routine she and Riven had been perfecting. Hoping Vivien wouldn’t pick up on how little she actually knew about the event, Lexi plastered a small smile on her face and said, “I forgot that was today. You guys are doing Rolling in the Deep, right?”

Vivien’s head shook as her eyes scrunched shut, and a heavy sigh left her, “We talked about it last night, and no, we’re doing Skyfall.”

“Oh,” Lexi said, praying her uncomfortable cringe wasn’t as noticeable as it felt. 

Never one to mince words, Vivien met Lexi’s eyes once more and said, “You know, I’ve been talking with my dad a lot lately and I sort of came to realize that, since we left camp last summer, our communication has been in the toilet.”

“What does that even mean?” Lexi wondered aloud.

“You barely talk to me anymore, Lex,” Vivien acknowledged, pushing herself up from the bench and taking a step away. “And, when you do, you redirect all the questions onto me so that I do all the talking, but you hardly ever listen.”

“I listen!” Lexi argued.

“Do you?” Vivien pressed as she leaned against her locker. When Lexi nodded, Vivien crossed her arms tightly over her chest and asked, “Why did I call you last night?”

Lexi weighed her options before slowly offering, “You wanted to talk about the skating exhibit?” Vivien snorted, shaking her head faintly as she looked away, and Lexi felt something deep in her chest clench. If it had been so obvious that Lexi was hardly paying attention to their conversation the night before, why did Vivien bother asking? Did she want to be disappointed? “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been really worked up about telling you about the move recently, so I wasn’t listening. What happened; did your puppy learn a new trick or something?”

Despite the mention of her new Saint Bernard, Loki, Vivien swallowed thickly, staring up at the fluorescent lights in a vain attempt at forcing her emotions down as she said, “My parents got into a nasty fight last night, I tried to break it up, and my mom screamed at me for intervening in ‘an adult conversation’ because I’m just a kid.”

As though she’d been slapped, Lexi winced before standing, “Sorry, Vivi. So, what happened?”

Vivien shrugged, her already crossed arms tightening around her middle in a sort of self-embrace, “My dad made her leave for the night to cool off, but she’s talking about divorce again. I think she’s staying with Nonna and Grandpa George until things blow over, but I know they aren’t happy with her either.”

“Well, shit,” Lexi breathed. 

“Yeah,” Vivien sighed.

The door to the locker room creaked open, and with a hand covering his eyes, Riven’s head poked in as he said, “I’m not looking, but is Vivien in here?”

“Yeah, Riv, I’m here,” Vivien replied. “What’s up?”

“Coach wants us to do a quick run of our routine before we leave,” Riven stated. “I tried pushing it further back, but we’ve only got the ice for the next fifteen minutes before Coach Knight needs it.”

Vivien sighed, glancing down at her outfit before bringing her gaze back to her teammate, “Alright. Tell him I’m getting dressed and I’ll be down in a few.”

Giving a mock salute to the girl, Riven ducked out of the room as he spoke, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Once the door was closed once more, Vivien took in a deep breath before meeting Lexi’s gaze and sighing, “Lexi, I know this whole conversation has been a bit much to unpack before I leave but this whole lack of communication thing has been bugging me for the last two weeks.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Lexi tried, resting a hand on Vivien’s tightly crossed arms. “I was just trying to find a way to talk about the move. It’s a shitty excuse, I know, but it’s the truth. We can work on getting better once you get back.”

“That’s just it,” Vivien began, her eyes flitting back to the floor before lifting once again. “We had time to talk it over and figure things out, but you weren’t talking and I felt like I was getting stonewalled every time I tried to figure things out.”

“Yeah,” Lexi mumbled as she looked down at the rink’s logo on Vivien’s jacket. “Sorry.”

“Like I said earlier,” Vivien started, “I’ve been talking this over with my dad, my aunt, and Riven, and, while I know this probably isn’t what you want me to say right now, with everything that’s going on, I think it would be for the best if we go back to being just friends until everything settles and we can focus on our communication more.”

Almost as though she had been pushed into the nearest shower and blasted with cold water, ice flooded Lexi’s veins as the world slowed around her. Her head spun dizzily, swirling nonsense around her as her hands shook. Not trusting her voice, Lexi took a step back and softly asked, “What?” 

Vivien’s arms slowly uncrossed, her hands landing on her waist as she spoke, “Between your move and my parents fighting almost every either day now, I don’t think either one of us is in the right headspace to keep this going. We’re not focused on this relationship at all and, while I understand both of our reasonings, it’s not fair for either of us to keep this going if we’re not happy.”

“I am happy,” Lexi contested, placing her hands on Vivien’s shoulders. When Vivien refused to meet her gaze, Lexi felt her heart drop into her stomach. “Is this- are you not happy?”

Vivien was always direct and to the point, never one to hold back. Lexi had always liked that about her. However, as Vivien’s eyes met hers and she realized just how upset the girl before her was, she found herself hating Vivien’s blatant honesty. “No,” was the brunette’s simple reply.

Buzzing filled Lexi’s ears as Vivien continued speaking, and while she only found herself able to make out a few words, the ice flooding her system spread until it had blocked her emotions from taking control. Leveling her gaze on the emerald-eyed girl before her, Lexi removed her hands from Vivien’s shoulders, took a step back, and nodded. “If you want a break, then fine, we’ll take one, but there’s never a guarantee that we’ll get back together afterward.”

Vivien sighed, reaching a hand out to comfort her friend, “Lexi.”

“It’s fine,” Lexi spoke, stepping out of the girl’s reach and forcing herself to appear calm as hurt-fueled anger slipped through the cracks of her icy exterior. “With the move and everything, it’s only natural that we break up. Long-distance relationships don’t really work, right?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Vivien declared, a poorly concealed roll of her eyes joining her words in ripping a hole in Lexi’s chest. “I just think we need to work on our communication for a while.”

“So, instead of talking it over and working things through as a couple, you want to do it as, what?” Lexi asked rhetorically. “Friends? That will never work.”

“I literally just said we could stay friends for a while!” Vivien snapped, gesturing behind herself as though their relationship was already something she had put in the past. “It’s not like I’m saying we can’t come back to this at some point down the road. I just think we should work on ourselves for now and try again later.”

“And leave our relationship behind,” Lexi scoffed.

“For now, yeah,” Vivien nodded. “We’re just kids; who says that, when we’re older, we can’t come back and try again?”

Lexi shook her head, her disbelief apparent as her fierce brown eyes glared into Vivien’s soul, and she said, “We’re kids, yeah, but we’re in a long-term relationship. I’ve had nothing but love for you since we got together.”

“I know, but-”

“Did you ever even love me, Vivien?”

Vivien stilled, her aggravation dissipating ever so slightly as she breathed, “That’s not fair.”

“You never said it,” Lexi claimed. “Even when I told you time and time again that I loved you, you never once said it back.”

“I’ve told you that I don’t like to throw that around,” Vivien explained with a hurt look in her eyes. 

“We’ve been together for almost two years!” Lexi exclaimed. “If you can’t honestly tell me whether or not you’ve ever loved me, why were we even together in the first place?”

“It’s not easy for me to tell people that I love them and you know that,” Vivien said coldly. 

“Your commitment issues aren’t my fault,” Lexi barked, a scoff escaping her as she watched Vivien’s expression shift between disbelief, hurt, and anger. Good. Maybe she’d finally feel the way she made Lexi feel. “You should have outgrown them by now.” 

“My grandma died of a literal heart attack just two minutes after I told her I loved her!” Vivien hissed, shock and disbelief filling her tone. “How do you grow out of that, Lexi?”

“That happened years ago,” Lexi said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not something you can use as an excuse to push love out of the picture.”

Vivien’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the older girl, strained silence filling the air like a cloud of thick smoke. Finally, Vivien swallowed thickly, shaking her head as she looked away and said, “I can’t believe I ever dated you.”

“Vivien-”

“No,” Vivien said simply. “I’m done.”

“Done?” Lexi repeated. “What do you mean, ‘done’?”

Vivien sucked in a slow breath and allowed herself to settle before speaking, “I’m done fighting about this.” Allowing her gaze to land on Lexi once more, she said, “You’re right. Us being friends in the meantime would never work.”

Lexi stilled, her gaze flicking between Vivien’s startlingly emotionless eyes as she hesitantly asked, “What do you mean?”

“You deserve someone who can actually love you the way that you need them to, and I deserve someone who is willing to work things through with me without barking down my ideas just because that’s not what they want,” Vivien stated calmly, her voice unnaturally cold as she stepped back. “We can stay friends, but I don’t think I’ll ever want to go back into a relationship with you.”

“Vivi,” Lexi began, taking a step forward that Vivien matched with another step back, “that’s not what I wanted. I want us to stay together.”

“And I already told you that I don’t,” Vivien replied sharply, her quick statement making Lexi’s outstretched hand flinch back. “We’re not good for each other and haven’t been for a few months. Like I said, I’m alright with us going back to being friends, but that’s as far as I’m willing to go.” Silence stilled the air briefly, and once she was sure Lexi wouldn’t speak again, Vivien said, “Now, I’m all for talking this through more once I get back, but I have to get going.”

Lexi took in a quick breath and schooled her expression before meeting Vivien’s eyes and nodding, “Okay.”

Vivien nodded, confirming to herself that the issue was over for now as she began making her way to the door. Turning back as she pushed the door to the hallway open, Vivien said, “I’ll see you when I get back on Monday.”

“Yeah,” Lexi muttered. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Vivien replied before leaving the room.

The door shut, and once she was sure Vivien had gotten far enough from the room, Lexi slouched onto the bench behind her. Just like that, the fire that had kept her pushing through life had been blown out. Her fingers trembled as she realized that her bond with Vivien had crumbled like a stale cookie in her hands. Numbly reaching into her duffel bag and pulling out her skates, Lexi began to get ready for her private lesson. It wasn’t until she had pulled off her ballet shoes and set them aside that she realized her eyes had begun filling with tears.

Wiping the hot, salty tears from her face and forcing herself to swallow the thick lump of emotions in her throat, Lexi felt her anger building as she began unlacing her skates. The first one had come out with ease, but the laces on the other had knotted together at some point between her last practice and that morning, making Lexi’s frustration only build. As the thought of simply cutting the laces and asking for replacements crossed her mind, something within her snapped. With a screech of frustration, Lexi gripped the skate and stood, throwing it at the wall with as much force as she could muster.

It wasn’t until after the skate had begun its flight that she realized with a sickening jolt that she wasn’t alone in the room. As though fate was out to get her that day, the skate sailed into the wall, narrowly avoiding Vivien’s head as the girl jumped back with a shrill shriek, tripping over the trash can near the wall and slamming to the floor. Lexi moved as though she competed on the track team, kneeling beside Vivien and asking her if she was alright. However, Vivien was quick to push her away, her eyes glazed over with fear as she scrambled to her feet and rushed back to the rink without another word.

Lexi sat still for a while, staring at the door Vivien had left through with wide eyes, but she soon grabbed her skates and tugged them on before following Vivien to the rink. However, by the time she arrived, Vivien was in the middle of her routine with Riven, and her coach tugged her away before she could pull the younger brunette aside. By the time Lexi had a break, Vivien was being piled into the bus that was taking a handful of their skaters to the airport. With her time to talk now gone, Lexi tried texting the cellphone Vivien had gotten for Christmas from her aunt, explaining that it was an accident and that she thought Vivien wasn’t in the room when she threw her skate.

For the rest of the evening, Lexi’s messages went unanswered, something she had attributed to the flight and Vivien having to get settled into her hotel room, but when Vivien refused to reply for the rest of the weekend, she knew the girl wouldn’t be forgiving her anytime soon. When Monday came, Vivien refused to talk in person, making sure to keep a distance between herself and Lexi. After talking it over with her older brother, who had gone through a similar situation not long before, Lexi decided to give the younger girl space. A week went by with no conversation, then two. Then, before she could find the chance to talk to Vivien face-to-face, her family was packing their belongings into the back of the biggest U-Haul truck they could rent. Stepping aside after helping her younger brother carry his bureau outside, Lexi tried to call Vivien one last time, and although Vivien refused to answer, Lexi left her a voicemail, letting her know that she would be leaving that day and apologizing once more.

A few hours later, as her brother pulled into the first gas station they had come across since entering the state of Maine, their mother’s SUV and the moving truck pulled up to the pumps while he parked on the side of the building, Lexi’s phone dinged. Pulling the device from her pocket as her brother climbed out of the car to get some snacks, Lexi’s eyes widened. Unlocking her phone and eagerly opening her messages, she found a short paragraph from Vivien in her unread messages.

‘I hope you enjoy your new home. It’ll be hard at first, but you’ll be fine. You always are. I hope you make friends at your new arena. Try not to throw skates at anyone this time and you’ll have no problems! Thank you for the apologies, btw. I get it was an accident, but it’ll take me a while to work through everything before I can fully forgive you. Sorry.’

Lexi took in a breath, glancing up from her phone as she took in Vivien’s message. While most of Vivien’s message had been nothing but kind words, encouraging her to find something to be happy about, she couldn’t tear her mind away from the last few sentences. She had hoped that, after a few weeks of keeping quiet, Vivien would have worked through her issues and been ready to move on, but now she knew that wasn’t the case. With a roll of her eyes, Lexi huffed, slumping further in her seat as she tossed her phone onto the backpack by her feet. If Vivien wanted to be stubborn about things and go back to radio silence, fine! She’d find out sooner or later that Lexi could be just as bad, if not worse.

Meanwhile, in the basement of a small, two-bedroom house on a dead-end street in Laconia, Vivien’s eyebrows scrunched together in focus as her knuckles whitened over the drumsticks in her hands. Over the last year, Riven had been teaching her everything he knew about the drums his father had allowed them to use for their makeshift basement band. She was a quick learner, thankfully, and Riven had quickly shifted their lessons away from the basics and onto popular songs Vivien picked up relatively quickly. With the addition of Riven’s friends, Erica and Jade, their band had begun to improve and create songs of their own. 

Erica, their songwriter and bassist, had given them a couple of her samples to work on, encouraging them to try to find a good rhythm for their instruments before she began working on the sheet music she would be sending to Jade. Riven and Vivien had gotten through only two of the songs in the last hour, struggling to find a good beat that worked for both of them. Riven blamed himself in between breaks, stating that his lack of sleep the night before was dragging his attention span into the dirt. Vivien played along, of course, but the only thing was that her mind wasn’t entirely focused on the drum set before her either, something she knew Riven would pick up on far quicker than she could come up with an excuse.

Riven began strumming his guitar with a smile, and, without much hesitation, Vivien began thumping along on the drums, her anxiously bouncing foot pressing on the pedal for the bass drum and sending an unintentional thump bouncing around the basement walls. Vivien fought to keep her frustration to herself and quickly lowered her eyes to her drums as Riven glanced her way, a questioning look in his eyes as an eyebrow lifted toward his hair. She knew he was worried about her - he had been since she told him about her breakup with Lexi near the start of the month before - and while she was sure that if he knew what had happened that day, he’d be even more worried, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him.

Riven began singing the lyrics to keep himself in time, the fifteen-year-old’s voice sending a wave of serenity through Vivien as she hummed along. She had always found peace in Riven’s calm demeanor, but his voice had a way of making all the darkness in her mind disappear. She could be drowning in the middle of the Atlantic, and his voice would be her life preserver, keeping her afloat even in the roughest of conditions. Though she would never admit it to him, Vivien knew that Riven knew how much he had helped her over the years. After all, it went both ways.

Riven had admitted to her in one of their half-asleep confession sessions when they found themselves on the brink of sleep, muttering their deepest thoughts to each other until they passed out, that he had found her to be a sort of grounding force who kept him anchored to the earth. In the morning, when she had asked him what he meant, he sheepishly explained that, apart from his dad, she had been the only constant in his life since his mother’s passing and that he considered her to be a constant reminder that everything would be fine. Then, after a few minutes had passed, they went right back to teasing each other, with Riven threatening to annihilate Vivien on Rainbow Road as he opened Mario Kart on his Wii.

Despite the pair constantly picking on each other, messing around, and occasionally acting as though they couldn’t stand the other person, they were inseparable, and everyone close to them knew it. The two years and nine months between them in age did little to split them as they found many of their interests to be similar over the years. Over time, they told each other nearly everything, keeping very few secrets for the duration of their relationship. Maybe that was why it was so hard for Vivien to admit that she had withheld the truth about how her relationship with Lexi had ended.

Riven’s strumming stalled midway through the song, dragging Vivien out of her thoughts as she followed suit, allowing her cymbals to clash their way to silence as she lowered her sticks. Meeting his gaze, Vivien asked, “What’s up?”

Wary hazel eyes lifted from the frets on Riven’s guitar as he sucked in a breath and admitted, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Swallowing thickly, Vivien struggled to remain calm as her mind raced. Had he found out? Had someone told him? Maybe Lexi had texted him, asking him to get Vivien to forgive her. Pushing her frantic thoughts to the back of her mind, Vivien cleared her throat and asked, “What can’t you take?”

“I hate to admit it, but,” he cut himself off with a heavy sigh, shaking his head as he continued, “I’ve been keeping something from you for the last week or so.”

Grateful he wasn’t talking about her, Vivien let out the breath she’d held. Then, as his tone and the weight of his words hit her, she asked, “You have?”

Riven nodded as he pulled a folding chair over and dropped into the seat. “I know,” he huffed, “I’m sorry. We never keep secrets from each other - especially ones like this - but with the whole Lexi situation, I didn’t want to make you feel worse.”

“Worse?” Vivien echoed. When Riven nodded, she rhetorically asked, “What could possibly be worse than having a skate thrown at your head after a breakup?”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t want to add onto your stress or anything,” Riven began rambling, “especially when it’s not directly about you, but I-” Riven froze, Vivien’s admission echoing in his mind. Hazel eyes slowly widened as Riven finally found himself able to meet Vivien’s gaze, rage saturating his words as he asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

Finding herself unable to tear her eyes away from Riven’s piercing stare, Vivien asked, “What?”

“Back up a sec. She threw a skate at you?!” Riven bellowed, rising from his seat in shock. When Vivien silently nodded, her eyes wide as she swallowed thickly, Riven brought his hands into his hair, his mind racing as he began to pace the concrete floor. Sounding more hurt than angry, Riven asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Vivien allowed herself to shrug anxiously as she watched Riven walk back and forth in front of her drum set, “It wasn’t on purpose, and I didn’t want you to get upset while she was still here, so...”

Riven stilled, taking in a thoughtful breath as he found Vivien’s tentative yet observant eyes and finished her sentence, “So you waited until she was on the road.”

“She should be in Maine by now,” Vivien admitted softly, her voice little more than a whisper.

Watching with a frown as Vivien’s gaze faltered, Riven rounded the side of the drums and knelt on the floor beside her, placing her drumsticks on the top of her snare drum before taking her hands in his as he said, “I get it, Pip, I really do. You were just trying to protect your friend. But at the same time, that keeps me from being able to protect you. If she had actually meant to hurt you or tried to come at you again, it could have ended really badly.”

“I know,” Vivien sighed, squeezing Riven’s hands. “I just didn’t want you to get all pissy toward her when she would only be here until the end of the month.”

Riven let out a snort, bringing a smile to Vivien’s face as he admitted, “Alright, you got me there.” As Vivien let out a giggle, Riven smiled and said, “It’s almost like you know me.”

“I sure hope I do,” Vivien snickered.

“Oh, yeah?” Riven asked rhetorically. “And why would that be?”

“You’re my brother, you ass,” Vivien retorted, pulling a hand from Riven’s and shoving his shoulder with a smirk. “If I don’t know you well enough by now, some rando will take my place, and we can’t have that.”

Riven shook his head and smiled, “We both know that nobody could take your place.”

“Not even Brooke?” Vivien teased, a hint of genuine curiosity in her tone despite her attempt to play her question off as a joke.

With a sigh, Riven’s face fell as he admitted, “Actually, that’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Curiously, Vivien’s eyebrow lifted toward her bangs as she nudged her glasses further up her nose bridge and asked, “Okay, what’s up?”

“We broke up.”

Vivien stalled for a moment as her brain struggled to process the simple sentence her best friend laid out before her. Then, as her expression settled into one of confusion, she shook her head, believing she had misheard him as she asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

Riven let out a breath of a laugh and began, “You know how you told me that I should do whatever it takes to make things work because I was happy with her?”

“Yeah,” Vivien agreed slowly, nodding as she recalled their conversation. “I told you to make sure your communication was good and that you should give her what she wants if you want to make her happy.”

“Well, while that was good advice, and I thank you for it,” Riven started, earning a nod of gratitude from Vivien, “what she wanted, was for me to stop hanging out with you. She was jealous that I was spending so much time with you between band practices, skating, and hanging out after school.”

Again, Vivien felt as though her brain had short-circuited as she let out a laugh, “Seriously?” Riven nodded. “That’s ridiculous; you’re my brother!”

“I know.”

Warily, Vivien asked, “What did you tell her?”

“Exactly that,” Riven stated. “I told her that we’re longtime friends - which she didn’t exactly take kindly to - and after trying to talk it over and getting nowhere with her, I told her that she wasn’t worth leaving my little sister over.”

Vivien thought for a moment before slowly saying, “But I thought you were happy with her.”

With a shrug, Riven claimed, “And I’ll be happier with someone else. I don’t need to be with someone who can’t stand the fact that I like spending time with other people.”

Sensing Riven had already moved on a bit from the relationship, Vivien let out a soft chuckle and said, “I can’t believe she saw me as a threat.”

“I know, right!” Riven laughed. “You’re about as threatening as a bunny, half-pint.”

“Wrong name,” Vivien scolded lightly, a frown tugging her brows together. “And, for the record, I am very threatening.”

With a roll of his eyes, Riven pushed himself from the floor and snickered, “Sure you are, pip.”

“I am!”

As he folded his chair back up and returned to his guitar with a smirk, Riven teased, “You and your noodle arms are about as fearsome as that girl from Sky High who turns into a hamster.”

“First of all, she was a guinea pig, not a hamster,” Vivien fired back as she picked up her drumsticks and pointed one at Riven accusatorily. “And, second, I may have noodle arms, but I’d still kick your ass.”

Riven let out a bark of laughter as he adjusted his guitar strap over his shoulder, “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Vivien snorted as Riven’s fingers stilled, allowing the gentle acoustics to settle into a comfortable silence, “You know, I could still beat your ass.”

“You could, but you won’t,” Riven stated knowingly as he wrote out a few notes for Erica. Despite having moved on from the song they were supposed to have been practicing and allowing his fingers to drift between songs he knew well enough to play without notes, he had a short stack of mental notes he wanted to scribble out. Looking up from his notebook, Riven grinned as Vivien huffed, blowing her bangs away from her eyes. “You love me too much for that.”

“Sometimes I wonder why,” Vivien muttered. Riven nudged her with his foot, and with a roll of her eyes, Vivien relented with a smile, “Yeah, okay, you’re right, but that doesn’t change the fact that I could potentially kick your ass if I needed to.”

Amused yet bewildered, Riven laughed as he asked, “When on earth would you need to kick my ass?”

“If you did something stupid,” Vivien shrugged. “Y’know, like jump off a bridge, join a cult, shave off your eyebrows, or, I don’t know, try to find another skating partner, or something.”

Riven scoffed, setting his guitar against one of his pillows as he said, “That’ll never happen.”

“Never say never.”

“Don’t quote Just A Beaver.”

Appearing mockingly scandalized, Vivien pressed a hand to her heart and gasped, “Don’t disrespect Justin Beiber in this house.”

“It’s my house!” Riven retorted. Taking the overstuffed, patchwork pillow Vivien had made for him years prior during her embroidery and sewing phase, Riven half-heartedly tossed it toward her head and quickly pushed himself off his bed while Vivien attempted to look offended by his attack. With a snort, Riven shoved her shoulder and said, “But, seriously, you don’t have to worry about me ever finding another partner.”

“I know,” she replied with a grin.

“Good,” Riven spoke, pressing a kiss to Vivien’s forehead on his way toward the disorganized chaos that was his bookshelf. “You’re my one and only, Pippi Longstocking.”

Vivien snorted, shaking her head at the play on his nickname for her as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Meanwhile, Riven scanned over the shelf with keen eyes, his hazel irises flicking past his collection of books and video games that littered the IKEA stand he and Vivien had painted one summer. Searching through his stacks of movies, his eyes scanned over some that he had recently bought from the discount tech and entertainment shop his dad frequented.

Peering over his shoulder at his friend, who was smiling giddily at her phone, Riven abandoned his initial question and asked, “What’re you so happy about?”

Glancing up from her phone, Vivien turned the device’s screen toward Riven and said, “Miles just sent me a bunch of pictures of Royce and Bentley. I guess their school was let out early, so they’re spending the day on the beach with some friends.”

Riven looked over the photo, scanning through vaguely familiar faces before pointing toward one and asking, “Who’s the guy who looks blitzed out of his mind?”

Vivien turned the phone back and laughed, “That’s Ethan Dombrowski; he’s Miles’ resident stoner friend.”

With a chuckle, Riven said, “He looks like he sounds like either Shaggy from Scooby Doo or Fillmore from Cars.”

Snorting, Vivien laughed, “Sadly, although Mick says he’s always on her last nerve, she said he sounds like any other guy, but more stoned.”

“For some reason, I don’t doubt that, but he looks like the classic hippie,” Riven claimed with a smile. Preparing his best impression of the aforementioned hippie bus, Riven cleared his throat and quoted, “‘Respect the classics, man!’” When Vivien began laughing at her friend’s poor attempt at mimicking not only Fillmore but also Ethan, Riven teased, “See, you’re laughing, so I must be right!”

Fighting to catch her breath in order to argue, Vivien coughed and shook her head adamantly, “No, no, no!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Riven beamed. Allowing Vivien to catch her breath, Riven let the topic go and instead turned back to his DVD collection and offered, “Now, while we’re on the topic of hippies, I just got a stack of old movies from Tom’s, if you’d like to watch something with me. There was a huge stack of them for twenty-five cents apiece, so I got a few hippie classics and some of those beach movies that elderly people go crazy over.”

Riven could practically see the excitement on Vivien’s face as she replied, “I love those old beach movies.”

Never one to back down when he saw the possibility of teasing his pseudo-sister, Riven smirked, “That’s understandable since you’re old and crazy.”

The bed creaked as Vivien rose from it, “What does that make you, then? An antique?”

“Precisely,” Riven agreed, turning back to Vivien as he pulled some movies down. “Where are you off to?”

Turning back to her friend as she neared the doorway of his room, Vivien gestured to the hall and said, “Making popcorn, moron. Heh, that rhymed!”

With a fond shake of his head, Riven gestured to his collection and said, “Well, I’ve got Beach Party, Ride the Wild Surf, Pajama Party, and then some. Is there anything in particular you’d like to see?”

“Not really,” Vivien shrugged. “Surprise me, I guess.”

“Alright,” Riven shrugged. “Could you please add-”

“Enough butter to sink the Titanic and so much nacho cheese flavored seasoning that the whole bucket turns a radioactive shade of orange?” Vivien cut in with a proud grin. “When don’t I?”

As Vivien turned on her heel and left the room, Riven called out a thanks before chuckling and turning back toward his movies. Vivien had known his popcorn methods for years, and though he knew she would still make it the same way they always did when they had movie marathons, he still liked to ask as it would be rude of him not to. Smiling to himself, Riven pulled his new collection from its shelf and brought them over to his TV, his dad’s old Blu-Ray player perched on the edge of his dresser beside the Atari console he had rescued from a tag sale over the summer. Flipping through the cases, he discovered a blank case with a sleeve of white paper tucked inside. Written on the front was the title of the movie, the year it came out, and a small flower that had, from the look of it, been hand-drawn.

The DVD on the inside of the case was white and had the name written on it in the same handwriting from the paper tucked into the plastic on the outside of the case, but after a quick search on his phone, Riven found himself scrolling through the cast list for the old movie. Despite most, if not all, of the actors’ pictures appearing more recent and elderly, the names of the characters still sent a wave of deja vu through Riven. He couldn’t quite place where he had heard the names before, as some of them were bizarre, but others were fairly common, and he brushed those off with ease. Switching tabs, he found the trailer and began watching it, his smile from the initial moments of the video beginning to fade as he took in the familiar faces on his screen.

Pausing the video midway, Riven glanced at the cell phone Vivien had left on his bed before looking toward the hallway. He was never one to look at other people’s phones - an invasion of privacy he felt was a breach of trust in any kind of relationship - but as he turned Vivien’s screen on, he realized the face on his phone matched the girl’s lock screen. Riven stared between the images until Vivien’s phone screen turned black once more, taking in the pictures before him with scrutiny.

How was that possible? Could the boy Vivien was so fond of actually be the same person as the character in the beach movie? While it wasn’t likely, Riven went back to his Google search and found Royce’s name in the character list above the actor’s name. Scanning through the list once more, he found the names of Royce’s brothers, Mick’s fiancé, and a few vaguely familiar names he had heard from Vivien over time. He quickly selected the tab with Royce’s name and was brought to a screen dedicated to the actor, letting Riven see just how the man over his time in the spotlight. Sure enough, a photograph of the same young, curly-haired, freckle-faced teenager he knew appeared. Though the actor could have been a distant relative of the boy, a quick search through the actor’s page told him that the man had passed away at only twenty-two while serving his country. The chances of him being a grandparent or great-grandparent to the boy Riven knew were practically nonexistent.

Riven jolted, nearly dropping his phone as Vivien called out to him from the entrance of the hallway, “Do you want a drink?”

Hoping his voice didn’t sound nearly as started as he felt, Riven rose from his seat and called back, “Yeah, please.”

As Riven scrambled to close his searches and send his tabs to his desktop, Vivien responded with another question, “Dr Pepper or Sunkist?” 

“Dr Pepper, please!” he called back quickly. Hoping to hide his discovery until he could find solid evidence one way or another, Riven closed the DVD case and brought it over to his desk, tucking it between the notebooks he had left out before hastily slipping them into his dresser underneath some of his T-shirts. Wanting to appear as normal as possible before Vivien returned, he pulled a random disk from the pile of DVDs and slipped it into his Blu-Ray player before setting the rest aside. 

Moving his guitar back onto its stand by the window, Riven tossed his songwriting notebook onto his nightstand and snatched his remote before climbing back onto his bed and laying on his stomach with a huff. He knew he would have a lot of research to do once Vivien clocked out that night, but for now, he had to push his thoughts aside and focus on spending time with his best friend. Vivien was the closest thing he had to a little sister, and he didn’t want her to know that he was looking into something that she might not have known herself. He trusted that she would tell him if her boyfriend was, in fact, some time-traveling teenager from a sixties beach movie, but at the same time, if it was true and she knew about it, would he have believed her if she told him? It would be quite a bizarre claim, and she knew that Riven liked to know as much about a topic as possible, getting all of the facts he could find before coming to a conclusion on his own time. 

Would he have believed her initially if she had come right out and told him the truth? Riven thought for a moment before mentally shaking his head. Sadly, he probably wouldn’t have believed her initially, but he would have wanted to. He had a deep trust and belief in Vivien, trusting her to tell him what she believed was truth, regardless of facts. But, if she had come to him with something so outlandishly wild as time travel or alternate realities, he probably would have had to fend off a bark of laughter before diving into it with willing curiosity.

Screeching his train of thought to a halt as Vivien entered the room with a few bags of popcorn and some bottles of soda, Riven plastered a smile on his face and took his things from her with a quick thanks. As Vivien climbed onto the bed, mindlessly blabbering about how his dad should invest in a microwave that wasn’t some dial-operated, Panasonic nightmare from the 80s, Riven chuckled. Just like that, he was back to worrying about burnt popcorn and shaken sodas as Vivien clicked the play button on the DVD’s main screen, the sixteen-year-old teasing him for picking Elvis Presley’s 1967 movie, Clambake, when Frankie Avalon was clearly the “It Man” of 60s beach movies.

However, as the movie started and Vivien quickly grew absorbed in the film, Riven found himself lost in thought. The plot of the movie was lost on him as his mind dragged him back to the information on his phone. How would he find out whether or not they were the same people without telling Vivien? It wasn’t like he could confront the boy or his brothers; the whole family was in Florida, and he didn’t have their numbers. Besides, even if they were time-traveling people from the sixties, would they tell him the truth or just brush him off? It wasn’t like he knew them all that well. He had only met Bentley a handful of times since he and Vivien met the boy on Halloween, Royce had become a constant topic in his conversations with Vivien since around the same time, and Riven sort of knew Miles from the summers he would spend at the Birch family’s house over the last few years, but they weren’t exactly close. The chances of them honestly telling him whether or not his findings were true, were slim.

What would he even do if he found out it was true? It wasn’t like he could bring himself to prevent Vivien from dating Royce. After all, the boy made her happier than he had seen in years, and it seemed as though they had a bond nobody could break. She adored not only Royce but also his brothers and friends, and she had been invited to spend her upcoming vacation in April with them in Florida. It was all she could talk about since the invitation had been extended to her, and Riven had heard all about the things she wanted to do and see over the nine days she had in the tropical state. Riven couldn’t ruin any of that for Vivien - not when he knew it would break her heart if she didn’t already know.

Sparing a glance at the brunette as she tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth and leaned her head against his shoulder, Riven found himself pushing aside his thoughts of time travel and sci-fi-esque, otherworldly exploration and allowing himself to focus on the movie once more, hoping the old movie would keep his curiosity at bay until he had the time to think things over. After all, she didn’t need to know until he was sure he had figured everything out. If her boyfriend and his family were from an old film, so be it, but he was going to make sure he did his research. So long as Vivien was happy, he didn’t care what the outcome was, but for now, he was content with relaxing and watching the movie alongside his best friend.

[uncertainwallflower]

ATLAS For @jilymicrofics March 2024 (because Gryffindor will win the House Cup, as we win everything). Prompts: troubled, joy. Words: 749. Trigger warnings: mild panic attack.

In Greek mythology, the Titan Atlas was responsible for bearing the weight of the heavens on his shoulders. (World History Encyclopedia)

James frowned as he looked down at Lily. Huddled by the fire, legs drawn up to her chest, chin dropped upon her knees, glazed eyes betraying her far-off thoughts.

Around them, the common room was its usual boisterous self. Laughter and chatter and the odd boom of exploding snap. Outside the world was a virgin white fleece, the castle, the grounds, the forest and mountains beyond all buried in coarse snow. But inside was warm and bright and joyous. Except for Lily.

The boys were probably already up in the dormitory, wondering when and where they'd lost him. James could already picture Peter's head poking out from the stairwell, peering around in search of him. Then he'd shout something crude in the hopes of hurrying the straggler along. James shook away the thought.

He dropped into the space beside her. "Alright, Evans?"

She started, apparently having not noticed the shift in the cushions and his presence beside her. He could feel hers. Feel the heat emanating from her as it emanated from the roaring churning. But with it was a heaviness. He could almost see it weighing on her, baring down on her neck and shoulders, forcing her to fold, to grow smaller, smaller.

She offered him a weak smile. A flimsy Trojan horse of a mask with gaping holes for eyes that let him sink into the depths of her soul and feel the cold sadness seeping through her.

He frowned further, voice lowering as he asked again: "What's up?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing."

A soft snort. "Yeah, okay." He said nothing else, hoping she would fill the void with a real answer but the silence only stretched. So, in the tenderest voice he could summon, he pushed on. "Evans, really, are you alright? You seem..." Here he made an awkward unsure motion with his hands. "Troubled."

Still she said nothing.

He nudged her with his shoulder. "Come on, you can talk to me. We're supposed to be a team, remember? How 'bout it, Head Girl?"

Reluctantly—forehead creasing as she brought her auburn brows together, lips twisting as she too twisted about—she drew a copy of the Daily Prophet from the crevice down between the couch cushion and the armrest.

MUGGLE FAMILY FOUND MURDERED IN THEIR BEDS: AURORS SUSPECT MAGICAL INVOLVEMENT.

James withered. "It's horrible." But, beyond the tragedy of the murdered family, he frowned and checked the date. The paper was two days old. "Did...did you know them?"

She shook her head, whisps of hair falling over her eyes, which swum with silky tears.

"Lily, hey, it's going to be okay. You know that, right? They'll catch whoever did this."

When she looked at him, and when he looked beyond the swell of tears, anger shone out—not sadness but anger, rage. "It's the third murder this month. And look." She snatched the newspaper back from him, tearing through the papers until she came across a small continuation printed under an advertisement for Broom Extensions: Fit the Whole Family! "Their daughter was a witch. Confirmed by the Ministry Book of Records. And they're not the only ones, I have the other articles in my dorm, I could show you, they-they're being targetted James; Muggleborns and their families are being hunted down—" she took a ragged, wobbly breath "—and killed, like-like—"

"Okay, Lily, take a breath, yeah? Breathe. You're gonna scare the first years."

She glanced around the common room, wide-eyed, noticing the lull that had come over the space as their Head Girl had closed in on hyperventilation. "I..."

"It's alright." He placed a hand on her shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth in a way he hoped was comforting. "How 'bout we go up to your dorm? You can show me those clippings, maybe talk through all these thoughts rattling around your head?"

"Er—yeah, okay." And wiping away the hot, angry tears that had spilled forth with a rough hand, Lily rose from the couch, James following closely behind her as they picked their way through the curious common room.

As they neared the girls' staircase, Peter's fated head appeared and, quickly catching sight of James, he shouted: "Oi, Potter, what's taking you so long?"

"Rack off, Pete!" was James's reply—releasing the common room of their fascination and returning them to their own conversations—and the mousy boy vanished with a shrug, while the Head Boy and Girl disappeared up the stairwell without another glance spared for the rest of the world.

AO3