#thank god for redemption arcs
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fuck you (roman godfrey x reader)
WARNINGS: 18+, angry sex, oral sex, extremely foul language, angst, toxic relationship, accidental creampie, reader should run
summary: being in a relationship with Roman Godfrey has its perks, but is he really telling the truth?
word count: 5,304
a/n: this is part 2 of long legs (link here), enjoy!! wrote this over a span of three hours because this idea has been stuck in my head lol
I didnât take Roman for a liar until recently.Â
Because up until now, everything had been perfect these past few months; Iâd spend every Saturday at his place, sleeping next to him, having breakfast with him, and then taking our routine stroll through Clifford Park just for the shits and giggles. I loved that more than anything in the worldâ At one point, I had to stand on the look-out for park patrols, holding my laugh while he etched our initials into the lamp we had stood beneath that night we became official.Â
Our time together had been incredible so far. He had taken me out on elaborate dinners, and then refused to let me get out of bed the next morning before twelve because of his new âcloseness-ruleâ;Â âIâm not detaching from you until noon,â
And who was I to say no? Especially not when it felt this good.
Now that I had his undivided attention, was the centre of all his affection and his designated person to call at midnight, I felt like I was floating.Â
Up until last week.
Roman had showed up on my front door with his signature smirk to pick me up for dinner, dressed in his classic Armani suit, hair styled back. âReady to go?â
I couldnât help but smile, getting up on my tippy-toes to kiss his cheekâ I was always so damn happy to see him. âYeah, I just have to grab my shoes. Come in,â
A soft blush became apparent in Romanâs cheeks, stepping into my apartment as I disappeared back into my room. âThe place is right around the corner, so donât stress,âÂ
âYeah, I know!â I said from the other room, rummaging through my collection of shoes. âWe could stay at my place tonight, actually, so we donât have to grab a cab to yours! Thoughts?â
Roman hummed, leaning against the wall in the hallway. Something told me he wasnât so into that idea.
I stopped in my tracks, grabbing a pair of shoes before I came back out. "... No?â
Roman ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a slight chuckle. âI donât know, I just⌠I like my bed,â
I couldnât help but feel confused, but I brushed it offâ maybe this was just a Roman quirk I hadnât seen yet? It was probably not that deep. Right? Shrugging, I put on my shoes, grabbing my keys and my purse on the dresser. âAlright...? Cab fareâs on you, then, because I lent the rest of my spare cash to a friend earlierââ
In a swift motion, Roman snaked his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him as I yelped in surprise. He let out a warm chuckle at the look on my face, leaning down to capture my lips in a sweet kiss. âEither we get going now, or I eat you for dinner. Iâm fucking starving,â
Giggling, I pulled him in for another kiss. âFine. Iâll be dessert, then,â
Roman let out a satisfied sigh against my lips, excitement shimmering in his green eyes as he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the apartment.
However, I couldnât shake the feeling that something weird was going on. As he led me through the restaurant with a hand on my back, I realized this was the moment where the wheel in my head had started to turn. Even as we sat down to eat, the question of why he didnât want to stay over at my place started gnawing at me.Â
I had all my things at my placeâ My makeup, my shampoo against frizz, my clothes. I always had to walk around with my stuff if I was planning to sleep over at Romanâs place, feeling a bit like a nomad because... he hadnât given me a drawer at his place yet.Â
The mind-wheel continued to turn; why hadnât he offered me a drawer? We had been official for months. For a man that was so damn adamant about being okay with a committed relationship, the more I thought about it, the more I started to see the cracks in the facade. Was he inadvertently telling me he didn't want to be in a commitment anymore?
Romanâs voice brought me back to reality; âWhat?â
Fuck. Had I been so swept up in my thoughts? âPardon?â
âYouâre not saying anything,â he said, putting his elbows on the table as he leaned forward. âWhatâs going on in that pretty little head of yours?â
This is where my guilt started gnawing at me as well. Why was I even thinking these thoughts about the sweetest boyfriend I had ever had? âOh, nothing, just...â And suddenly, it dawned on me that there was one thing that would ease my mind about this issue; âJust wondering if youâd want to meet my friends soon. Iâve met some of yours, but youâve never met any of mine.â
Romanâs eyes widened slightlyâ I wouldnât have caught it if I wasnât watching his reaction like a hawk. With a chuckle, he pulled away from the table, wrapping his long, slender fingers around the cutlery once more; âIâve met your friends,â
âOnly in passing,â I mumbled, reaching out for my glass of water. âIâd like them to know the man Iâve been talking about for months. And I think youâd like them.â
Roman nodded, turning rather quiet. Something about it made my pulse quicken.
âOkay,â he eventually said. âIâll meet your girls.â
I let out a shaky breath of relief, sipping my water with a bright smile on my face. Maybe I was just overthinking this, as always? âWhat do you say about next week?â
・ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠・ďž
And next week rolled alongâ today was the day. I had told my girls that Roman said yes to meeting them at our favourite bar downtown, and I was now checking my makeup in the elevator up to his penthouse. I couldnât wait for them to finally get to know the man I was so crazy about, because honestly? I was dead tired of having to defend our relationship to them.
And I also didnât like that it was starting to sound like they were right about him all along.
As the elevator doors opened and I knocked at the entrance, I held back a jump of excitementâ I couldnât wait. However, my excitement quickly died down when Roman opened the door, dressed inâŚ
A white t-shirt and his pyjama pants?
At first, I let out a short chuckle, leaning up to give him a kiss. âRome, get dressed! Silly man,â I made my way past him, putting away my stuff on the dresser nearby. âWeâre supposed to meet my friends in, like, twenty minutes!â
The sigh Roman let out had my heart dropping in seconds. âYeah, about that...â Something about the dead expression on his face gave me a hint about his next words; âIs it okay if we take a rain check? I donât really feel like going anywhere tonight.â
My smile fell. â... Are you serious?â
Roman shrugged, reaching out to pull me into a hug, leaning his head on top of mine. âWell, theyâre your friends, I think theyâll be fine if you just show up,"
I didnât hug him backâ I stood still, holding back the urge to push him off of me. âBut... you didn't even have work today,â
âSo?â Roman kissed the top of my head, stroking through my hair. Was he perhaps hoping that the affection would dull my disappointment? âItâs been a bit of a lazy day, sure. Everyone needs those. But donât let me stop you from having fun with your friends, you should go!â
I put my hands on his shoulders, prying him off of me. It felt as though my heart had sunk all the way down into my heels. âYou... said youâd meet them,âÂ
Had this been any other instance, I wouldnât have caredâ Iâd have told him to stay in, that it was okay, but it was really bothering me now. Maybe Roman hadnât changed after all? Had I deluded myself into thinking he had just for the sake of being with him?
âI know, but we can take it another time. Right?â With a sigh, Roman reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. âWhy are you getting so upset about this?â
Noâ this was it. I couldnât take it anymore. âAre you really asking me that?â
Roman didnât even look confused, just... annoyed. âYeah?â
I had to put a lot of energy into not letting my lower lip give in to a quiver. Standing in front of the man I loved, feeling shut down and upset, I finally let it out; âDo you know I donât even have a key to your place?â
Roman furrowed his brows, clearly not expecting those words out of my mouth. âWhat does that have to do with anything?â"
âThe one time I left a toothbrush here, you returned it to me!â I balled my fists, hating that this was making me feel like a whiny child. âYou donât want to sleep over at my place, you donât want to meet my friends, and the one time we ran into your mother, you introduced me as your friend!â Saying it out loud only made it more clear to me. This was not okay, nor was it normal.
Romanâs eye twitchedâ it was obvious that he didnât like to be confronted about this head-on. He shook his head, looking further annoyed and uncomfortable as his gaze wandered around the room, refusing to meet mine.
âThe only thing that has changed, is that youâre no longer fucking those women with the ridiculously long legs!â I said, feeling my tears press up on me.Â
This was it for Romanâ he groaned, turning to me with a rather angry look on his face; âWhat the fuck is up with you and your hang-up on the long legs?ââ
âBecause, Roman, those women were beautiful!â I cried, unable to hold back the tears any longer. âAnd maybe youâd let them keep their toothbrushes here, because maybe it would be easier for you to embrace someone you think is on your level!âÂ
Seeing the stunned expression on his face, I angrily wiped away the tear that had rolled down my cheek, grabbing my stuff. I reached for the door, taking one last jab before making my leave; âI shouldâve left with Peter when I had the chance,â
It was in this moment that Roman put his hand on the door, slamming it shut with all his might. The bang echoed through the apartment, making me jump and look back at him with wide eyes of shock; the look on his face made my heart threaten to beat out of my chest.
Romanâs breath came out in short, ragged motions, chest heaving with anger. The way his eyes widened with fury had me worried, and his lips shut tightly into a line as his jaw clenchedâ I had to take a step back. I shouldâve known better than to provoke a man like this.Â
âIf you need a key to know that Iâm crazy about you, then I might have to rethink what Iâm doing here with you,â he said, his words coming out like a low growl. âAre you that fucking insecure?â
âYou make me insecure!â I let in a big heave of air, flailing my arms around as I tried to find the right words.Â
âYeah?â Roman snarked. âWell, if Iâm so fucking horrible, maybe you should go back to Peter! Go ahead!â
Had I not been so terrified, I wouldâve cried all over again. âFuck you,â
Romanâs eye twitched once moreâ âFuck you, too,â
âFuck you!â I couldnât help but grow more and more agitated; I had never been this hurt in my life. âFuck you and your snoring!â
Romanâs lips parted in confusion, quickly retaliating; âOh, yeah? Fuck you and your incessant need to be late to everything!â
âAm not!â This was starting to make my blood boil. âFuck you and your stupid suits!â
Roman seemed to be feeling the same; âFuck you and your heels!â
âFuck you and your hair!âÂ
Somehow, I felt like this fight was shifting into something else.
âYeah? Well, fuck you and your short fuck-me dresses!â Roman took a step away from the door, nearing me with dangerous steps. âThatâs just not appropriate to wear in my fucking office!â
It didnât take long until this had turned into a screaming match. âFine, I will wear nothing but baggy jeans and enormous sweaters, even during the summer! Would that make you happy, asshole?âÂ
Roman groaned; âYouâre such a fucking bitch, do you know that?â he yelled, nearly hovering above me. âOf course it wouldnât, you know thatâs not what I meant!â
âWhat the fuck do you want me to wear, then?!ââ
A beat. âWhat about nothing?â
It didnât take long for the both of us to understand what was happening, our eyes widening at the same time as it dawned upon us. It also didnât take long until I flung myself around his neck, our lips meeting in a fiery, angry kiss. Roman lifted me up in no time, my legs wrapping around him.Â
âFuck you,â I breathed in between kisses, feeling my heart beat against his as he carried me further into the apartment.
âWill do,â he said, reaching his bedroom in no time with his long steps. Roman laid me down on the bed, wasting no time crawling on top of me.Â
I was still unbelievably angry at himâ but somehow, those emotions had turned into flashes of passion. Something told me that our relationship wouldnât last at this rate, and it only made me more desperate for him. With tears in both our eyes, we somehow managed to get out of our clothes in between hungry kisses, not wanting to be apart even for just a second.
I let out a tiny sob as he kissed down my stomach, feeling my anger simmer in my chest, raging through me like a storm. Roman was so damn infuriating, but I couldnât bring myself to let him go. I really, really didnât want to let him goâ was this how we would end?
My back arched off the bed and I let out a soft gasp as I felt him lick a wet stripe up my sex; somehow, the pleasure was starting to feel like a relief from the tornado of feelings ravaging my insides. Feeling his tongue trace tight circles around my clit was way too damn overwhelming at this moment, making me want to cry out in more ways than one. âRomeââ I breathed, feeling another sob bubble up in my chest.
However, it quickly died out as he sucked down on my clit, lapping me up, making me feel like I was on the brink of pure ecstasy.Â
Roman knew how to dull down my brain. He knew, and he knew it very well. Right now, that was more of a blessing than a curse.
âRome, come back here,â I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his soft hair. âI canâtâ I want you close.â
Roman hummed, his wet lips never leaving me as he made his way back up my body with kisses along my stomach, my chest, my collarbones and my neck. âThought you hated me,â
I looked up at him, meeting his hard gaze as his lips hovered inches above mine. âNot fully,â I whispered, reaching forward to touch his face. Sometimes, it was hard to believe someone so beautiful could be real. âOnly a little.â My hands traced his brows, the curve of his nose, the hollow of his cheeks, touching him as though he was made of glass.
And something about my softness seemed to affect Romanâ his green eyes rounded out, looking down at me with an unintelligible emotion I hadnât seen in him before. Leaning back down, he kissed me once more, no longer able to hold back.
With his chest pressed against mine like this, I couldnât help but feel soothed from the absolute agony coursing through my veins. I was so, so scared that this would be it, that this night would determine whether or not we stayed together or notâ and right now, I put away all our differences, all our hiccups, everything that was damn right infuriating about him, because at the end of the day... I loved this man.
And I hated myself for it.
I let out a gasp as he entered me, giving in to a sigh of relief against his lips. Nothing could ever top this feeling, nothing and no one could ever make me feel this good, and I knew it.
âFuck you,â Roman whispered against my lips, his breathing further challenged by the feeling of being engulfed by my wet heat in this moment, rolling his hips against mine. âFuck you for driving me crazy like this.â
Feeling his cock deep inside of me like this was enough to make me submit, my fingers going into his hair as I let out a shaky moan. âFuck you, too,â I wrapped my legs around him, wanting him closer, feeling my breath hitch in my throat as his thrusts soon enough grew more rough.Â
Roman reached down to grab my hips, making me meet the harshness of his thrusts. It was clear that he wasnât in the mood for being gentleâ he wanted to take his anger out on me, and I was going to let him, whether I wanted to or not.Â
A deeper, darker part of me loved this. Loved this feeling of having no control, knowing I had no say in what he was doing whatsoever. I could only tighten my fist in his hair, holding on as he continuously thrust his cock deep into me, letting out a string of breathy curses and moans.Â
I could feel my legs getting sore as Roman suddenly said something that made my heart stop; âI love you,â he breathed, his grip on my hips tightening. âStay with me.â
What? What was going on? I let out a cry, letting my body go limp to take his thrusts. My eyes widened as I realized that in this moment, I suddenly had power over our relationship, probably for the first time ever. I could decide whether or not I wanted to stayâ he was begging me.
However, it was incredibly hard to make such an important decision when my legs were trembling and my whole lower body was in a state of the highest euphoric feeling on earth. âLiar,â I eventually said, my anger flaring up again at the memory of the events this past month. âYou donât love me, Rome... A-Aahââ
Angered, Roman pulled out of me without warning, flipping me over on my stomach. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, making me wince, as he used his other hand to prop me up to make it easier for him to enter me again. I let out another cry of both pleasure and anger, grabbing at the bedding beneath me as he spoke; âItâs you... For me, itâs only you... Shit,â
Roman let go of my hair, allowing my body to go limp beneath him. With the little power I had left, I instinctually moved my hips to meet his thrusts, wanting more.Â
This was possibly the biggest mind-fuck I had ever been through, my brain shutting down as I felt his dick slide in and out of me continuously. My tears continued to press up on my eyes as I felt my orgasm building. âI loved you,â I breathed, feeling his hot, laboured breath against my shoulder and his hair brushing up against the crook of my neck. âI loved you, so, so muchâŚâ
It dawned on me that I really, truly did. I had loved him, but I couldnât love him anymore.Â
As Roman grabbed my hips, somehow shifting the angle of his thrusts, I let out a cry as he brushed up against my sweet spotâ this was enough to drive me over the edge, coming harder than I probably ever had before. I muffled my string of moans against the bedding beneath me, feeling a tear roll down my cheek, completely spent and overwhelmed.
It didnât take long before Roman came as well, the harshness of his thrusts coming to a halt as he spilled into me. My eyes widened at the feelingâ weâd been so swept up in the moment that we forgot about the condom. Fuck.
I heard Romanâs breath hitch as he pulled out of me, taking in the sight of his cum slowly leaking out of me.
It made me shudderâ crap. I rolled over on my back, feeling how much my thighs and hips ached. It was a strange feeling, accompanying the satisfaction of post-coital rapture. I also couldn't piece together whether I liked the feeling of his cum seeping out of me or not. Had the relationship not been in this state, I probably would've found it rather... hot.Â
I watched Romanâs chest raise up and sink, his green eyes meeting mine. None of us knew what to say, the sound of our panting filling the room.Â
As everything started to dawn on me, I wiped away my remaining tears, sitting up in the bed despite knowing the cum might stain his sheets. Fuck the sheets. âI should go,â I mumbled, not meeting his eyes anymore. âMy friends are probably waiting...â
With a sigh, Roman shifted on the bed, laying down next to me. His fingers reached for my arm, hoping to pull me back down and into his embrace. âStay,â
I looked back at him, unsure what to feel. I couldnât believe what I was about to say; âNo,â
Romanâs expression remained unchanged, possibly expecting that answer. âIâll go with you, then,â
âNo,â I got up, looking for my clothes that had been scattered somewhere on the floor. âI need to go the pharmacy, get a plan B, and then meet my friends. I donât have time for you anymore.â
That was definitely something he hadnât expected. Roman sat up, lips parted in confusion as he watched me get dressed; âWhat is that supposed to mean?â
I felt my lower lip tremble as I got hit with a newfound sense of clarity. âIâm not getting what I want in this relationship. This isnât good for me. So until you get your priorities straight, Iâm leaving you,â As I finished getting dressed, I turned to him. âThanks for this, Rome... Have a good night.â
Leaving the bedroom with tears in my eyes, I did my best to hold back yet another sob. I quickly put my shoes on, not wanting to waste another second in his ridiculously big penthouse. I wiped away the mascara stains on my cheeks in the hallway mirror when Roman appeared, back in his clothes.
âJust... Letâs talk about this, okay? Letâs not make a rash decision,â he said, nearing me. âWe can make this work. Give it some time.â
It was hard to look at him right now, especially when he looked this sexed-up. I didnât even want to answer him, making my way to the door.
âCome on!â Roman was starting to sound more desperate, reaching out for my wrist. âThis can work!ââ
I turned around, my gaze hardening. It was so damn hard to resist him, and I needed to get my decision confirmed. âSay it again,â I said, knowing what would ensue.
Confused, Romanâs brows furrowed; âThis can work...?â
âNo,â This was it. This was the moment. âTell me you love me, now that weâre not in bed. Mean it.â
Roman froze, and it was clear that his mind was working overtime. I held my breath, hoping that I would be proven wrong, that this was something we could overcome. However, with a shaky breath, Roman let go of my wrist, taking a step back. He lowered his head in newfound shame, giving me a silent approval to leave.
Sighing, I felt as though my heart had broken into a thousand tiny pieces. Â How was it possible that I had let him disappoint me over and over? âThought so,â I took one last look at him, feeling a sob build in my throat. âBye, Roman.â
・ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠・ďž
It had been a week since I had seen Roman, and it had been a week of pure agony. I hadn't stopped crying, having to take a week off of work, buying takeaway dinners every day because I didn't have the energy to get out of bed most of the time.Â
Agony. Pure agony.Â
Quite frankly, it made me feel ridiculous. I couldn't believe that I had let myself fall apart because of a man. But this wasn't an ordinary manâ This was Roman. The previous-love-of-my-life Roman. Man-of-my-dreams Roman. How could I expect myself to be okay after a breakup like that?
Waking up on Saturday was even worse. The day I would usually have to follow his ridiculously cute 'closeness-rule'. The day we would take our stroll in the park.Â
However, a small voice in my head asked me; why can't you just do that yourself? And that was exactly how I ended up back in Clifford Park under that same lamp as usual. A small part of me hoped he would show up, but another part of me went into a tiny panic over that thought.Â
I stretched out my hand to let my fingers run over the cold metal where Roman had etched in our initials. In truth, I had found it quite stupid when he had suggested to do itâ it was something kids did, teenagers, not grown adults? However, in this moment, I couldn't help but realize how romantic it was. That we were eternally etched onto something, a tiny memory of us and what we used to be.Â
The lamp was starting to feel like a tombstone for a beloved, and I wiped away the tear that rolled down my cheek, not necessarily loving the thought of crying in public. Forcing myself to leave, I lowered my head as I passed by a man with a rather familiar scent, trying not to think too much about it. But my curiosity got the best of meâ I turned around, watching the man in the familiar coat turn back around. Had he looked at me too? Was that who I thought it was?
I immediately sped up. I shouldn't be here.
・ďžâ˘âŕ¨âĄŕ§â⢠・ďž
Another week had almost passed, and I was starting to feel better. I had found out that the ache in my heart could easily be subsided by a glass of wine or a day out with my friends, but nothing could fill the hole Roman had left in my soul.
However, I had hoped that I would feel better about the whole ordeal at this point. Who needed a man that couldn't commit? Definitely not me.
... Definitely not.Â
It was a Friday now, and I had just gotten off of work. I was getting ready to leave for drinks with my friends once more, seeing as that was the best remedy. And when I heard a knock at my door, I opened it without a second thoughtâ it was probably one of my girlfriends asking to borrow a pair of shoes, as always.Â
Meaning, when I saw who it was, I completely froze as my lips parted in shock.
There he was; Roman let out a shaky breath as he met my gaze. His hair wasn't styled, lying in soft waves over his forehead, and he had ditched his usual suits for a casual, formal look. Typical Romanâ he couldn't even show up looking like a normal human being. Ever.Â
However, I wasn't about to complain. I held my breath, unsure what to say or do.Â
And suddenly, he spoke up; âDid you know I failed math class?â
I couldnât help but let my jaw fall, giving him a look. "... What?â Is this really what he chose to say right now? It was definitely not what I had expected.Â
Roman shrugged, not meeting my gaze anymore. âI had to redo it over and over again, probably up to three times,â he mumbled, putting his hands into his pockets. "When it comes to important things, I usually fuck it up. Majorly. And it seems to apply with... this as well."
My knuckles were turning white by the sheer force I was holding onto the door. It felt as though I couldn't breathe, turning to stone.Â
"I'm also bad at sharing," Roman continued, looking up from the floor. "Really bad. And I'm sort of legally not allowed to give out spare keys to anyone, because of security reasons my company has put in place. So I'm sorry that it didn't cross my mind. But, wait, hold onâ" He pulled one hand out of his pockets, reaching out his palm to me.Â
And there it was. A key. With a shaky hand, I took it into mine, trying not to pay too much attention to the feeling of his hand against mine after so much time apart.Â
Roman let out a relieved sigh, nodding to himself. "The thing about the toothbrush... Fuck, I've been thinking about it endlessly, and I see how it looks now. I genuinely thought you'd probably want it back, it didn't even hit me that you might've wanted a toothbrush at my place, and I have nothing against that. It's... cute, actually,"
I let go of the door with my other hand, putting the keys into my front pocket. I did my best to steady my breathing; I hadn't been this overwhelmed in a while. "Roman, I didn't expect you hereâ"
"âAnd the thing about my mother," Roman was practically rambling on at this point. Was he nervous? "She's insane. I don't introduce her to anyone, actually. If she found out we were dating, she'd probably put you through hell and back to see if you'd be the right fit for the 'future of the company', as she says. I wanted to spare you. So, again, sorry. Should've cleared that up."
Another shaky breath escaped me, not knowing what to say.Â
Roman nodded to himself, glancing around the hallway to check that we were still alone. "And... I freaked out about meeting your friends. I have an inkling that they hate me, which they sort of have all the right to do,"Â
"Oh, Roman," I took a step forward, mostly out of pure habit. I had to stop myself from reaching up to his face and stroke through his hair. "Why didn't you just... tell me?"
Roman shrugged, looking rather embarrassed. "You didn't tell me that it bothered you,"
I sighedâ he was right. "I'm getting a deja vu. I thought we were supposed to better at communicating, now,"Â
"I know," Without being invited in, Roman stepped into my apartment, checking it out. It was so typical of him to assume that he would be welcome despite our fight, but I couldn't help but find it sort of... attractive. Arrogant man. I closed the door behind us as I watched him, crossing my arms over my chest. It looked like he wasn't planning on leaving any time soon, sticking out his hand to bump the lamp on my ceiling as though he was bored; "Did I ever tell you I love this place?"
Grimacing, I rolled my eyes. The time he didn't want to stay over at my place was still lingering in the back of my mind. "As if,"
"No, I do," He turned to me, a tiny hint of his signature smirk appearing on his lips. "It's just that your bed is ridiculously tiny. Did you ever notice that I'm longer than your bed?"Â
I scoured my brain for that information, flustered. How was it possible for someone to be so charming? Giving up, I shook my head and admitted defeat. I wasn't going to win this mental battle against myself, and I knew it. I wanted him here, whether I admitted to it or not.
Allowing his smirk to grow, Roman's green eyes shimmered with hope. "It seems this will take a while.... Looks like I might have to spend the night,"
I bit back a smileâ bastard.
#roman godfrey#hemlock grove#smut#x reader#roman godfrey x reader#corporate!au#bill skarsgard#bill skarsgĂĽrd#fanfiction#oneshot#fanfic#why is roman such an ass#x you#thank god for redemption arcs#toxic love#toxic relationship#angst#angst with a happy ending
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hgnggggg cringe russian clones
#clone high#ivan the terrible ch#catherine the great ch#cathivan#my art#thank god ivan had his redemption arc
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AU in which Heimdall attempts to use his sword as a sword.
#god of war#god of war ragnarok#heimdall#kratos#gow fanart#my art#digital#instead of just thwacking Kratos with the sheathe like an idiot#Kratos does his best to spare him bc prophecy#maybe knocks him TF out instead#redemption arc Heidi?#I just want more than 30 mins of Heimdall thanks#I will also look for any excuse to draw Heimdall feral and in bifrost hues
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100% gay, 100% PISSED
OC: Maryska (she/her)
#id hate to be on the other side of that knife.... or would i???#my art#my characters#maryska#we read her chapters on the final revision pass and god im love her#shes so big and buff and scaryyyyy#also been thinking about her book 3 arc so much#its all gerard ways fault that shes getting any kind of redemption#so thanks gerard lol#maryska lindahl
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#god of war ragnarĂśk spoilers#kratos#god of war thor#god of war odin#santa monica studios#video games#tell me this ain't what happened#bitch ass odin#like admittedly thor wasnt a great person/father#but i think he wanted to do better#couldve been the start of thor's redemption arc#also poor thrud#all my niggas hate odin#thanks for coming to me ted talk#still on hiatus but i wanted to do this real quick#i miss doing memes
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diantha being like "i can't believe he has the power to destroy a whole city nowđ" to which augustine immediately replies "OH YEAH HAHA TRUE BUT GUESS WHAT ELSE WE FOUND OUT" as if this is a silly little joke and lysandre wasn't literally going "no i won't do anything... but what if i did tho đŤŚ" like 30min prior
#samtxt#they're sooooooooooooooooo stupid thank you god. this was everything i wanted and more#i'm not even mad that i had to wait nearly 10 years for my lysandre redemption arc i'm just vibing
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saskia i am on my hands and knees begging for some ysabel info! whatâs her backstory? whatâs she like during the game? sheâs so đĽ°đ
[PERSONALITY]
Ysabel is a noble, Lolth Sworn Drow, living in Menzoberrazan and is a School of Divination Wizard
Shes an chaotic neutral ENTP, Gemini, 125 years old and 1.60m tall
Ysabel is creative and intelligent, mischievous and cunning. Some perceive her as quirky, eccentric - funny, confident with a giant ego, but also power hungry and selfish, sometimes cruel. She has always been full of ideas, always thinking of new and better ways to do things. Sheâs always been curious, more often than not you find her with her nose stuck in a book. Her childhood bedroom was exploding with books about fungi or tomes like âThe past and present: a Scholars Guide to Divinationâ.Â
Sheâs also rather extroverted and a social chameleon, excellent at manipulation and persuasion, something her mother often took advantage of, as she would often use her children like chess pieces in her political affairs.
[BACKSTORY]
The noble house of DoâRahel is one of the 8 powerful houses in Menzoberranzan
Ysi has two older sisters (Yris, Yvory) and one younger brother (Ysmael, my warlock charlatan & very first D&D oc đ)
Their mother (Yaelryn DoâRahel) is a matron mother, a priestess of Lolth and a powerful and influential figure in Menzoberrazanâs affairs
As most intelligent people are prone to, Ysabel was more questioning of things like societal norms or rules and ideas than what was socially acceptable in the Cult of Lolth, something her mother often reminded her of through whipping. But her mother was also more progressive than some would believe - when her daughter showed more interest in the arcane than continuing her training as a cleric she encouraged it. She thought that having one of her daughters in the circle of the Sorcere was something that could be beneficial to her.
After a particularly nasty ambush on Ysabel (your regular weekend in the Underdark really) her mother assigned one of their warriors as her personal guard - a tiefling slave called Lucien (Side note but heâll be romancing Shadowheart in a future playthrough đ¤)
Lucien was in his early twenties and enslaved for around 5 years at the time, he was passionate and charming, warm and strong. But he was also as cunning as he was kind. Ysabel liked him, and often would spend more time with him than was strictly necessary. He had Ysabel figured out quickly, and noticed that traits in her that might be weaknesses in her mothers eyes, could be his opportunity. That growing close to her could be his ticket to get free.
But things didn't necessarily work out for him at first as he would have thought - both of them fell in love.
He would tell her stories of his previous life, about his ideals and morals, about the world above. How children do not fear for their life where he is from, how parents love their children unconditionally, how he missed feeding the neighbors ducks before he would go to school. Ysi would laugh at him sometimes, call him weak and soft. But sometimes she would indulge in his stories. Catching herself thinking of them in bed before she go meditating. How strange it must be to live so truly carefree.
The influence Lucien had on her was undeniable. Small and meaningless at first maybe but there nonetheless. There were glimpses of true kindness in Ysabel only he got to see. Glimpses of love - real love, not just the craving for flesh or power he was accustomed to from other Drow. He saw that he had shaken her morals and beliefs, slightly perhaps, but shaken. So when she finally wanted to set him free out of her own volition, instead of running when his binding spell was broken he asked for her to come with him.
She helped him to stage his own death and broke his bonds and let him go, but she didnât go with him. This would be a turning point in her life, something she regretted for the rest of her existence, something she kept thinking about for years on end.
For many years after, she buried herself in her tower. She never dared to think of why she said no, instead she sat in front of her mirror of memories, where she relived the time she had with Lucien. But in doing so, a part of herself, the past party in fact, was lost in it. Her present self was split in half. She was either overly good or overly evil, and she became known for being mad and for research and experiments that were even extreme by Drow standards.Â
She was in this state for at least 60 years. She had short periods of time where she managed to stabilize herself through experiments, but it never worked for long. Nevertheless, she made a name for herself, she was an extremely powerful wizard, was considered one of the masters of Sorcere and had a place in their council. (Much to their dismay. Assassination attempts from her colleagues were a daily occurrence tbh.)
[GAME TIMELINE]
House DoâRahel was infiltrated by Absolute cultists, leading to the almost death of her sisters Yris and Yvory, and the losing a handful of their staff members. Ysabel's mother also heard rumors of similar things happening in House Baenre and other houses all over the city. Sensing a bigger plot, instead of sending warbands like her colleagues, she only send Ysabel and a handful of warriors on a scouting mission. She was to gather as much information as possible. If she would see an opportunity beneficial to them - she should take it, and most importantly she was also to kill or capture any heretic or deserter of Lolth.
The trail they followed led them to the outskirts of Baldurâs Gate. She didnât know it at the time but she was on her way to Moonrise Towers when she was abducted. When she woke up in the Nautiloid, the tadpole didnât just strip her of her powers, but also stabilized her mind.
Being fully herself again after so long felt like having someone forcefully pushing a heart back into her. At the beginning of her journey sheâs manipulative (she does a lot of the âheroicâ options not because she thinks itâs the right thing to do, but because she thinks itâs a smarter way to uncover what is going on and/or because working with the Absolute would go against Lolth), sheâs also selfish and a bit cruel, but a lot of things she does suddenly donât feel the same to her anymore, and an top of that the problem with the tadpole - it forces her into introspection.Â
At some point she realizes that her companions remind her of Lucien, and the time she had with him. Her development throughout the game mainly consists of her realizing that she rather wants love and friendship than pure ruthless power. She develops a consciousness, empathy. Something Lucien already built the groundwork of so many years ago. She realizes she was too much of a coward back then, that she couldn't let go of all that power and desert Lolth even though that's what she really wanted. Surrounded by her new friends, she doesnât want to make the same mistake again. In her mind, sheâll never be truly good, much less a hero. But she doesnât want to be what she used to be either. Seeing real friendship, love, experiencing it for herself, she realizes the only times she wasn't hollow was with Lucien - and now, with them.Â
Her new friends act as mirrors to herself as well. She sees herself in Gale when he gets obsessed over the Crown, she sees herself in Astarion when heâs willing to kill all his former friends for power. And she sees herself in Laeâzel, Wyll & Shadowheart when it comes to the influence a God, Goddess or devil can have on you. They were all on the path she already walked on, and the guilt she is carrying with her over things she canât change anymore is overwhelming, so she stops them all, helps them see what is truly important.Â
About the reason she was in Baldurâs Gate in the first place, she isnât honest with her companions at first, she has obviously her own agenda like everyone else in that camp. She was forced to explain herself by Wyll when she let True Soul Nere kill the Gnomes. Having a tadpole in her head made everything more personal of course, she starts going against the Absolute not in the name of Lolth or for her mother but for herself and her own beliefs in Act 2.
After the game, her mind is still hers. Going through so much change and admitting her biggest fears repaired herself, like a curse she casted and then lifted on herself. Also, she and Astarion guide the Vampire spawn in the Underdark for a while, and she also researches for ways to make Astarion walk in the sun again (and I like to headcanon that she succeeds :3)
If you want to take a peak, here is Ysabels pinterest đĽş, and since i mentioned Lucien, here is his'.
#shadowglens#answered#thank you for enabling me sophie. i wanted to post an info dumb for so long but im such a lazy mf#im leaving kisses on ur forehead but im also running away in fear. god i already cut this down but it's still so long IM SO SORRY đ#you: whats her backstory; me: here is my essay. kdjfslkjflsf#ysabel do'rahel#ocs tag#bg3 spoilers#lucien lovera#& yes u guessed right. jekyll & hyde was my inspiration for her Lul. also redemption arcs are my unguilty pleasure :3#idk if i was really able to explain it but ysi's biggest flaws are cowardice and stagnation???#having a damn mindflayer worm in her brain gave her finally the kick in the butt to be honest with herself#i think even if her mind would have stayed intact she would still have stayed in the underdark. she just would have been unhappier about it#or worse. however u wanna call it#oh side note but she was neutral evil before the lucien times. then become somewhat CN (then was split into chaotic good/chaotic evil.)#her current desposition is chaotic neutral. just to clarify since it might sound weird
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â ď¸ rio's route dramatic route spoilers !!
#silvio simultaneously does the nicest shit in all these routes while saying the foulest cringe inducing lines..... bitch HOW#anyway thank god for his redemption arc/#arc/s(?)*#aerin.jpg#my post đŤ#l'hĂ´tel.ikepri#ikepri.silvio
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manga!lance knows he can't heal any of the wounds he opened during his time as the leader of Kanto's Elite Four so he spends the rest of his life trying to heal others and to stop people from making the same mistake he did.
it's the only way he knows how to help.
#thanks sapp im having feelings .#not necessarily relevant to my non redemption arc lance but đđ#gods.#yellowsforest#dash com.#ooc. Â Âť Â electric type enthusiast.
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it is in fact tourdust round two eve babey can i get an
#posted while frantically still making stickers#fob darien i believe in u do not let me down#also i truly do enjoy this song just not lil#tw violence#âjust received felony charges last year for beating & pulling a gun on my ex girlfriend in publicâ vert's 20 second part#sorry for that bit i just felt the need to express that i do not appreciate the fact that they are in this song#thank god daryl palumbo is there to give it a redemption arc#ok back to positivity my point here is i am very excited and will make Certain the pit goes hard to bmth#Spotify
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thinking about him again (scorpion)
#thank you charty for the bday present the brainrot is SO STRONG now#thinking about post-mm scorp back in harlem and shit god i love him#i love character development and a decent redemption arc <3#god i'm so fucking normal about him guys i'm soooooo normal about scorp#my favorite marvel villain that marvel forgets about/can't write :)
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lonely â
hyperfixationless â
unemployed â
#got a job (i think)#as a kitchen assistant. back to my roots#wow october this is the first good thing you've done for me since like 2015. october redemption arc???#too early to tell. but still#they haven't said the shift times so i hope to god it's not like 6am or i will die of like#morning anxiety. i shouldn't be anywhere outside the house between 5am-12pm it's illegal#if it's an evening shift that'll be so sexy#anyway.#ramble#watch it be like. a joke and i actually haven't got the job. or i have but now they've fired me for the vibes or something#will update if they do#also btw thank fuck bc i literally have no money left lol
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rewatching POI and god I forgot how much I just. do not like root. and how much I hated that she just progressively became more and more The Main Character/The Message and iâm just stuck here going ok can we be done with her yet
#for a show that had such great character evolution arcs hers was just. nonexistant. She Is Always Right She Does Not Need To Have Actual#Redemption Arcs She Just Gets To Say Iâm Godâs Favorite Now And Look Iâm A Good Person and we just have to roll with it#like ah yes this is good???? writing????? apparently?????#anyway yeah I hate root and she was my exâa favorite character which really explains a lot about Them :/#when she died I said thank fuck finally#and then she was the voice of the machine and I just yelled NO!!!!!!! the voice should have stayed the amalgamation & Iâll die on that hill#chatting into the void
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me marketing my oc Ambrose to people as a âmorally grey characterâ as if that grey isnât damn near black
#Human experimentation is his thing#Heâs immortal via potions that he tortured people to make#He is a horrible person letâs be real here#But he has a redemption arc#Bc of his tavern owner boyfriend#Strangers to rivals to friends to lovers#Ykwim#salix really said âI can fix himâ#And by god somehow he did#Ambrose is still a horrible person tho#But I really did tell my dm âhey i have a spare dnd character if you need a morally grey npcâ#She was like âoh cool thanks!!â#And Iâm like âoh I just fucked up didnât I-â#This will either be a perfect version of him for the campaign or the most horrible misunderstanding of a character#Just because I created him doesnât mean i particularly like him#Tbh Ambrose scares me#Not after the redemption arc tho#At that point heâs a sweetheart#oc art#oc#ocs#my ocs#original character#my art#dnd#dnd character#dnd oc#dungeons and dragons#dnd5e#dnd npc
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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - SEVEN
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy, abortion, alcohol, drug consumption.
MASTERLIST
You never spent much time on The Cut, unless you were being dragged by duty, mostly charity events for the local populations, fundraisers for their schools usually.
You always showed up in something tasteful but subtly expensiveâpearls, understated Louboutin heels, and a blazer that whispered wealth without screaming it.Â
Your mother taught you that.
Now, you sat in Poguelandia, doing god knows what.
The name alone sounded like some bad beach-themed party game. But you kept the snark to yourselfâmostly. Sarah swore to you this was her new "thing," her big redemption arc, and who were you to judge? It wasnât where you pictured spending any afternoon, yet there you were.
Pregnant. On The Cut. Drinkingâwell, holdingâa very flat ginger ale out of a plastic cup.
You smoothed your dress for the hundredth time, light linen in a neutral tone that looked effortless but cost more than most peopleâs rent, while pretending not to notice Pope and Cleo staring like you were a rare bird that had wandered into the wrong habitat.Â
Were they always this... intense? Did people on this side of the island not know how to look away when someone made eye contact? Your motherâs voice echoed in your head. Theyâre not staring at you, dear; theyâre staring at themselves in relation to you.Â
Whatever that meant.Â
To their credit, they werenât mean about it. Just... curious, as if youâd wandered in from a wildlife documentary called Kooks in the Wild.
You moved your weight around in your seat, hyper-aware of every grain of sand sticking to your hĂŠrmes sandals. Every time you shifted, you felt the grains grinding between the straps and your skin.
Shouldâve worn the espadrilles, you thought ruefully, but even then, this wasnât the worldâs most glamorous venue. Sarah had begged you to stop by, though, and you owed her. It was also good for you to leave the house instead of being cupped up inside all alone.
âOkay, seriously, whatâs with the staring? Do I have something on my face? Is my makeup smudged? Be honest.â
Cleo snorted. âNo, youâre fine, princess. Weâre just surprised to see you.â
You were still holding your sad little plastic cup. âJust thought Iâd participate inâwhatever this is.â You gestured vaguely at the mismatched chairs and string lights that looked like theyâd been stolen from someoneâs backyard wedding. âCommunity service?â
It was supposed to come off as witty. You werenât sure it did.
Pope choked on his drinkâsweet tea? soda?âand Cleo chuckled outright. âYouâre funny,â she said, and for a moment, you werenât sure if she meant it.
âThanks?â It came out like a question, and you wanted to die just a little bit inside.
Pope grinned, leaning forward with a chip in his hand. âYou donât seem like the kind of person who hangs out in The Cut, thatâs all.â
You blinked, feigning shock. âYou donât think I spend my weekends inâwhat is this, a glorified surf shack? Iâm crushed.â
Cleo laughed again, whichâfineâmade you feel a little better.
âNah, itâs just... youâre different up close. Not like, scary kook different. Just human. Yâknow?â
âGreat. Thatâs exactly what I was going for today.â
Pope gestured to the bar. âYou want a snack? Chips? Cookies? We have...three options.â
You straightened, eyes narrowing like a hawk zeroing in on prey.
Food. Your stomach growled loudly, as if it had been cued by a stage director. âWhat kind of cookies?â
He blinked, not expecting you to care. âUh... chocolate chip? Maybe oatmeal raisin?â
âAnd the chips?â You pressed, leaning forward now.
âSalt and vinegar,â Cleo piped up, eyeing you curiously. âBarbecue too, I think. Why?â
âOkay, shit, great.â You clapped your hands together decisively. âIâll have all of it. All the chips, both kinds of cookies. Do you have anything else? Pretzels? Popcorn? Random condiments? Iâm not picky.â
Cleo stared at you, her mouth slightly open. âEverything?â
âYes, everything. Is that a problem?â
She blinked, her eyes darting to Pope like he had an explanation. He shrugged helplessly.
âWomanâ she muttered under her breath. âDid you not eat for a week, or...?â
The salt and vinegar chips were divine, borderline transcendent, as you shoved another handful into your mouth. The truth was, you werenât just hungryâyou were still terrified. Every bite, every easy conversation with other people that werenât Sarah, was a game of jenga to you. One wrong move, one offhand comment, and your secret could be out in the open.
Six more days until this would all be... over. Until the secret growing inside youâthe one youâd barely admitted to yourself most morningsâwould be gone.
The past three days had been the best youâd felt in ages, cravings and all, thanks to Sarah. Sheâd slept over, stayed up late talking with you, making you laugh, distracting you from the endless pit what-ifs and why-mes.
It was the longest youâd gone without crying in three months. The longest youâd lived without feeling like you could suffocate at any given moment. With her help, it had been easier to forgetâto pretend that things were still okay.
But Sarah wasnât there, sheâd left earlier with John B, something about helping him with a tour.
âYou good, princess?â Cleoâs voice cut through your thoughts.
You blinked at her, realizing youâd been crushing the chip bag in your hands like a stress ball. âWhat? Yeah, Iâm fine.â
âYou look like youâre about to fight that bag of chips,â Pope said, grinning.
You forced a laugh, leaning back and tossing the bag onto the table. âNo fighting. Just... intense snacking."
You reached for the chocolate chip cookies he had offered earlier, focusing on the sweetness, the comfort of food that tasted good for once. Sweet, crumbly, safe. If only the rest of you life felt like that.
Pope and Cleo knew something was up, they all did, probably.
Sarah had been glued to your side, and it wasnât exactly subtle.
Her sudden move to âstay overâ at your place had obviously raised eyebrows, especially since you two hadnât had a proper conversation in months before all this. And there was the beach clean-up, Kie and JJ had been there when you felt ill, and while youâd been too disoriented to keep up with the cover story once Rafe drove you away, Sarah had stepped in later to handle it.
Heat exhaustion. Overworked. Totally fine.
Still, to your relief, neither Pope nor Cleo seemed inclined to pry, perhaps it was pity, or maybe they were just decent enough to let you keep the little shred of privacy you had left. Either way, you were grateful.
âSo,â Pope said, leaning back on his elbows and flashing you an easy grin, âHow are you finding our place? I mean, other than our fine selection of snacks.â
You swallowed a bite of cookie, forcing a smile. âItâs...charming. Rustic. A real je ne sais quoi vibe.â You waved your hand vaguely, trying to mimic the way your mother used to describe terrible restaurants weâd never go back to.
Cleo snorted. âYeah, thatâs one way to put it.â
âItâs cute,â You offered, looking around, âI can tell you guys put your heart into it.â
Pope smirked, lifting a brow. "That's nice of you to say."
You gave a small shrug, feigning nonchalance, but you meant it.
For all the mismatched chairs and questionable decoration, there was something undeniably warm about the place. You weren't used to thatâspaces filled with love instead of decorators and florists, it wasnât bad. Just different.
âI mean it,â you said, brushing crumbs from your lap. âItâs very authentic. âPogue Chicâ or something.â
Cleo laughed, loud and genuine, her grin lighting up her face. âPogue Chic?"
Pope chimed in, âHey, donât knock it. Weâre trendsetters. Ahead of its time.â
You smiled, but your mind was already falling back to the sand clinging to your dress and the ginger ale that tasted like disappointment. Youâd never say it out loud, but you admired them, that ability to make joy out of scraps. It was something you didnât quite know how to do. Not yet, anyway.
Cleo leaned forward, her elbows resting on the makeshift table. âSo, are we going to see you around more? Or is this just a one-time royal visit?â
You hesitated, twirling the rim of your cup between your fingers. âI donât know. Maybe. If Sarah keeps dragging me here, I guess I donât have a choice.â
âYou always have a choice.â
You didn't know if it was the way he said it, the tone he used, or just your hormones fucking you up, but suddenly there were tears in your eye sockets. You blinked rapidly, tilting your head back slightly and praying that the tears stayed put.
These kids, all of them, sitting here like they hadnât spent their lives scraping by, like they hadnât been hurt or abandoned or let down a hundred times over by people they loved and trusted. Yet somehow, they were still full of hope, full of life.
You envied that.
You wished you could bottle it, whatever it was that kept them laughing and fighting and welcoming someone like youâa result of privilege and mistakes and heartbreakâinto their home. It was humbling in a way that made your chest hurt.
âDoes that mean I can choose to order better snacks next time? Maybe some sparkling water? Flat ginger ale is a crime against humanity.â
Cleo snorted, still not fooled by your deflection, but she let it slide.
âGood luck with that, princess. Our snack budgetâs about three bucks and whatever we can steal from Kieâs pantry.â
Pope chuckled, tossing a chip in his mouth. âAnd youâre welcome to contribute if youâre so concerned about the menu.â
It surprised you, how easy it was to talk to them.
On paper, you had nothing in common. They were younger, grew up in a completely different world, and you were used to the polished conversations of country club luncheons and charity galas.Â
Here, things were different.
They didnât seem to care if you stumbled over your words, if your jokes were awkward or if you occasionally sounded like a walking trust fund catalog. They didnât care about your last name, your familyâs money, or any other things that had weighed you down for years.
That was disarming.
Youâd spent your entire life around people who mirrored your upbringingâkids who summered in the Hamptons or Barbados, adults who measured their worth in stock portfolios and vacation homes. Now, you were here, in this cobbled-together haven with salt-stained cushions, sitting with people whoâd grown up struggling for things you took for granted.
You thought it would feel more awkward or forced, but it didnât.
It was easy.
Pope sat on the counter, gesturing with a half-eaten chip. âSerious question. How do you even survive on Figure Eight? Do they hand you iced lattes and designer handbags when youâre born, or do you have to work your way up to that?â
You raised a brow, smirking. âOh, absolutely. The moment youâre born, they issue you a monogrammed diaper bag and a gold-plated pacifier. Itâs very exclusive.â
Cleo nearly choked on her drink. âSee, this is why we canât take you seriously.â
Your phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with your cousins name, interrupting the fun. You sighed, rolling your eyes before picking it up. âYes, Top?â
Topperâs slightly whiny tone spilled into your ear. âCan you believe Momâs threatening to rent out the beach house for the summer? Actual strangers, staying there. Whatâs next? Turning it into a hostel?â
âTragic,â you deadpanned, resting your chin in your hand. âTruly, a devastating blow for humanity.â
Pope fake-coughed, mumbling âwhite rich privilege problems,â while Cleo mouthed, âHostel!â and shook her head, laughing silently.
âI know. Anyway, Iâm coming over later.â
âWhereâs your invitation?â
You heard him scoffing, âIâm family, I donât need one.â
You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache. âTop, you canât just announce youâre coming over. I might have plans.â
âYeah, and Iâm your family, so those plans now include me,â Topper said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. âBesides, Iâll bring food.â
Across from you, Pope was already gagging dramatically, holding his stomach as if the mere sound of Topperâs voice made him physically ill.Â
âI donât know ifââ
âSee you at noon,â he interrupted. âLater!â
The call ended before you could even argue, and you set your phone down with a resigned sigh.Â
âLooks like Iâm hosting a one-man Topper pity party,â you said, crossing your arms and slumping back in your chair.
Pope clutched his chest. âWill you survive?â
You only left once the sun dipped lower into the horizon, you gathered your things promising Sarah youâd drive safely and talk to her tomorrow.
Cleo, Pope and John B were mid-argument about the best way to fix something in the shack. You felt lighter than you had in weeks.
With a few more quips exchanged and goodbyes said, you walked back to your car. That night, the ache in your chest wasnât completly unbearable. You werenât okay, but you werenât drowning, either.
Youâd been terrified of this afternoon all day, worried youâd stick out like a sore thumb or say the wrong thing.
But the Pogues hadnât cared about your awkwardness, your polished self, or even the giant invisible cloud you carried everywhere these days. They let you just be.
The drive home was quiet, but this time you even hummed along to a song on the radio, which was strange because you couldnât remember the last time you cared about music or even turning on that thing. When you pulled into the driveway and stepped into your house, it didnât feel as cold and empty as it did last week.
You set your bag down on the entryway table and kick off your sandals, the floors cool beneath your feet. Heading to the kitchen, you decided to see if there was anything decent for tonightâs impromptu early dinner with Topper. The fridge greeted you with a sad bag of lettuce, half a bottle of sparkling water, and a single container of leftover pasta you werenât sure was still edible.
âGreat,â you muttered, closing the door and moving to the pantry.
The situation there wasnât much better. Sarahâs latest health-kick contributionsâa bag of chia seeds and some organic trail mixâlaughed at you from the top shelf. You frowned, pushing them aside to reveal a dusty box of crackers and a jar of Nutella.
âGuess weâre going shopping tomorrow,â you murmured, grabbing the crackers and Nutella to snack on now.
You placed them on the counter and glanced around. The sink held a few dishes from earlier âa couple of coffee mugs, a bowl, a plate.
You sighed, rolling up your sleeves, might as well get this out of the way.
Normally, youâd have had someone else to take care of thisâstocking the pantry, cleaning the dishes, even deciding on the menu for your lunches. But lately, youâd been scaling back. You hadnât let anyone go, of course. You could never do that; the staff had been with your family for years, and many of them felt more like extended family than employees. Still, youâd quietly rearranged their schedules, giving them more time off.
They didnât question itâprobably thought it was some new phase, another eccentricity of a bored, privileged young woman.
Truth was, you liked doing these things.
Focusing on something small, tangible, gave your brain a break from drilling itself into a million dark corners. Folding laundry, washing dishes, even the routine of chopping vegetablesâit kept your hands busy and your thoughts manageable enough. It wasnât that youâd suddenly become a domestic goddess or anything. Most of the time, youâd forget to pick up groceries or burn whatever you tried to cook.
It wasnât about being good at it. It was about doing something.
You looked around the kitchen, noting the little imperfections you wouldnât have noticed before. A small water stain on the counter from where your glass had sat too long, the scuff marks on the cabinets where your chair scraped when you leaned back. They werenât problems to be fixedâthey were just signs of life.
And right now at that very moment, life feltâŚokay.
The house didnât seem as cold or empty when you were doing things for yourself, even if it was mundane work. You finish up wiping down the counters, glance at the timeâdefinitely cutting it closeâand head toward the dining room to tidy up a bit.
Topper was not the type to notice if the place is spotless, but you always liked things to look... presentable, yourself included.
You heard the doorbell ring in the distance, he was early as usual, probably checking his watch just to make sure he wasn't a second late.
"Of course heâs early," you muttered to yourself, a little smirk pulling at your lips.
You walked towards the front door, ready to greet him, but when you opened it, your eyes immediately locked onto the large takeout bag in his hand. It smelled... amazing.
Topper grinned at you, an exaggerated flourish as he held up the bag.
âGuess what I brought?â
âYou brought... Korean chicken wings? Really?â
âHell yeah, I did!â He stepped inside, completely ignoring any formalities and heading straight toward the kitchen, âThey just opened.â
He placed the bag on the counter with the confidence of a man who knew heâs just won âBest Dinner Hostâ without even trying. You peeked inside, the crispy wings drenched in a glossy, sweet-spicy sauce that looked downright delicious.
Topper laughed and took a seat, pulling out the wings, not even bothering with plates. âYouâre welcome.â
You rolled your eyes but sat next to him, picking up a wing, the heat of it still making your fingers tingle. The crispy exterior cracked open with a satisfying crunch as you bit into it. It was everything you'd hoped forâtangy, spicy, perfectly cooked. You nearly moaned in pleasure, not even caring that your cousin was watching you with that cocky grin on his face.
âYou look like youâve seen the light,â He teased, leaning back in his chair as he grabbed a wing of his own.
âI mean,â you said, savoring another bite, âthis might make up for you barging in uninvited.â
âBarging?â He clutched his chest dramatically, mock offense radiating from every inch of him. âI'm saving you from a night of sad dinners, and this is the thanks I get?â
You gave him a pointed look, but the corner of your mouth tugged upward despite yourself.
âFine. Thank you, Topper. Youâre the hero of the day. Happy now?â
âEcstatic,â he said, grinning as he reached for another wing. âWhatâs new? Still slumming it with my ex and the Pogues?â
âFirst of all,â you said, wiping your fingers on a napkin, âslumming it implies Iâm suffering, which Iâm not. And second, Sarahâs not a pogue. Sheâs pogue-adjacent.â
âPogue-adjacent?â He snorted. âYouâve been spending too much time over there.â
âLike youâre one to talk,â you shot back. âYou basically live at Kildare Brewing these days. Thatâs like, one pogue away from full assimilation.â
He opened his mouth to argue but then stopped, realizing you had a point. âOkay, fair. But only because they have good beer."
You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should even bring it up, but curiosity got the better of you. You hadnât heard about her in a while, and you knew by experience, that was never a good thing.
âSo... Ruthie,â you started, watching him over the rim of your glass as you took a sip.
Topper paused mid-chew, looking up at you like he wasnât sure he wanted to have this conversation. âWhat about her?â
âI mean, you two are still together, arenât you?â
He wiped his hands on a napkin. âWeâre⌠not talking right now.â
You tried not to look pleased, but a rush of vindication bloomed in your chest. You'd grown to hate her, plain and simple. Her recent proximity to your cousin had always baffled you. He wasnât perfect, but surely, he could do better.Â
âIâm surprised.â
âYeah, well,â he muttered, reaching for another wing. But then he stopped, like whatever he was thinking was messing with his head.
âWhat happened?â You asked, trying to sound more curious, concerned, than nosy.
You werenât sure if heâd tell you, but the look on his face made it clear something big had gone down.
He hesitated, debating whether to answer. Finally, he sighed. âShe... started a rumor about you.â
Your head jerked back in surprise. âAbout me?â
âYeah,â he grimaced like heâd swallowed something sour. âShe said you passed out at the beach cleanup and decided to spread some bullshit about you doing drugs.â
You just stared at him. âShe what?â
You werenât sure why you were so surprised.
You knew what she was capable better than anyone, especially when she was bored out of her mind.
âI didnât believe it,â he added quickly, his tone defensive, as if that made it better. âI told her to shut the fuck up about it, but you know how she is. She thought it was funny.â
âFunny?â Your voice was sharp now, âShe thought it was funny to spread lies about me? About drugs? What the fuck?â
âYeah, itâs so messed up. Thatâs why Iâm not talking to her. I told her if she couldnât act like a fucking decent human being, we were done.â
You blinked, stunned.
You werenât sure what shocked you moreâthe fact that Ruthie had stooped so low or that Topper had finally stood up to her. You shook your head, biting back another nasty comment about how awful she was. Youâd been saying it for months, and he hadnât listened.
No point in beating a dead horse now.
âItâs about time you saw what sheâs really like. Sheâs really bad fuckinâ news, Top. Always has been.â
He gave a low grunt, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter. âYeah. Took me long enough, huh?â
You didnât answer, just raised an eyebrow and sipped your water.
âSheâs always been weird about Sarah,â Topper muttered, almost to himself. âEven when we were together, sheâd find these ways to dig at her. Like that one time at Midsummersââ
ââWhen she âaccidentallyâ spilled her drink on Sarahâs dress,â you finished, rolling your eyes. âYeah, I remember. Sheâs always had this thing about trying to one-up her. Honestly, itâs so pathetic. But you never listen to me, so.â
âOkay, ouch.â He threw a crumpled napkin at you, which you easily dodged. âI listen to you sometimes.â
âDo you, though?â You gave him a pointed look.
âYeah, I do!â Topper protested, though the whine in his voice made him sound more like the teenager he used to be, back when heâd follow you around during family holidays like a puppy. âJust⌠selectively.â
âSelective listening isnât listening, dumbass. Youâre just proving my point.â
He narrowed his eyes at you but didnât answer, reaching for another wing instead. He took a bite, chewing dramatically, as if the exaggerated crunch would somehow end the conversation.
âLook, Iâve been saying for months that Ruthieâs bad news. Since she showed up at last yearâs Christmas party wearing a dress identical to Sarahâs, just in a different color. You thought that was a coincidence?â
Topper groaned, dropping the wing. âOkay, fine, youâre right. Are you happy now? Can you stop rubbing it in?â
You grinned, propping your chin on your hand.
âOh, IÂ could. But what kind of older cousin would I be if I didnât remind you how often youâre wrong?â
âYouâre not that much older than me.â
You shrugged. âOld enough to know better than to date someone that awful.â
âYeah, yeah, youâre a genius. I get it.â He looked over at you again, his gaze softer, this time, âBut seriously, youâve been off lately. If thereâs something going on, you can tell me, yâknow? Weâre family, even if I donât listen to you half the time,â he added with a small smile, though his eyes were searching, hoping youâd let him in.
It would be so easy to tell him the truthâthat you were pregnant, scheduled for an abortion in six days, and drowning in uncertainty and dread.
But he was still Rafeâs best friend, and the risk of this ever reaching him was too high. Instead, you forced a lightness into your voice.
âNothing I canât handle. And right now, I desperately need the bathroom.â
He looked at you skeptically, not fooled for a second.
âYouâre really okay?â he pressed, his voice dropping to a level that told you he wasnât going to let this go easily, "I texted and called before, you didn't answer. Thought you were resting from the scare."
Youâd been having such a calm, easy time with Sarah, you almost forgot about everything else. The thought of picking up the phone, letting all that anxiety and worry back in, just wasnât appealingâso youâd ignored his calls, but not on purpose. You were doing him a favor.
You plastered on a smile and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as you passed. âI promise, Iâm fine. Just felt a little light-headed and needed some peace."
His eyes narrowed slightly, unconvinced. âThatâs all?â
You forced a giggle, hoping it would sound more genuine than it felt. âYes, Dr. Thornton. Just needed to eat more or drink water or whatever the fuck it is youâre always telling me to do.â
âUh-huh,â he said, crossing his arms, watching you closely. âBecause youâve never just fainted before.â
âI guess thereâs a first time for everything. Besides, donât you think Iâd tell you if something serious was wrong?â
It took everything to maintain eye contact, your stomach twisting at the lie. He was family, and you wanted to trust him, to let him help you. But you couldnât. He hadnât even told you about Rafe and Sofia until you found out by yourself.Â
Topper tilted his head, considering you, then sighed and gave a reluctant nod. âAlright, fine.â
âOkay, if youâre done being weird,â You pushed back from the counter, grabbing your glass. âI gotta pee,â you announced casually, as if this was the most normal interjection in the world. The wings were good, but running away was tempting. And also, the pregnancy had made your bladder a ticking time bomb, and you really didnât want to risk any accidents. âIâll be back in a minute.â
You offered him one last smile, hoping it was convincing enough. He whined some sarcastic comment about your water consumption as you hurried away, but you barely heard him.
All you thought about was the blessed relief that awaited on the other side of that door.
You didnât usually spend this much time with Top nowadaysâyour own tendency to avoid âcloseâ family dramaâbut tonight had been oddly⌠nice.
Even if you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck half the time. Even if you hated lying to him. If heâd just pushed a little harder, maybe you wouldâve folded, let it all spill right there in the kitchen.
Every time you thought youâd come to a decision, another doubt would take over you, leaving you back at square one. You knew what you wanted, so why was this so hard?Â
Topper had looked at you with such genuine concern back there. The âif you need me, Iâm hereâ sentiment was the same one youâd grown up with, the kind of care only a cousin, practically a sibling, could have.
This was hard.
When you came back into the kitchen after taking your sweet time in the bathroom you immediately noticed something was off.
Topper was by the counter, staring at the half-eaten pile of wings by the table like theyâd personally offended him. He looked paler, tooâalmost like heâd seen a ghost.
âUhâŚâ You stopped mid-step, furrowing your brow. âWhatâs with the stupid face? Did the wings betray you or something?â
He jolted slightly, as if he hadnât even heard you come in. âWhat? No. No, the wings are fine. Great. Amazing, even.â
âOkayâŚâ You gave him a skeptical look, setting your glass down and crossing your arms.Â
Topper laughed, but it was this oddly nervous, stilted sound. He glanced at his phone, tapping the screen for no real reason, then shoved it into his pocket.
âYou know what, though? I totally forgotâI have something planned. Like, super important. In about⌠ten minutes.â
You stared at him, unimpressed. âYou forgot you had plans? Sounds fake, but okay.â
âSo unlike me!â He got up from his chair with such sudden energy that it made you take a step back. âAnyway, I should really get going. Donât want to be late. Uh, thanks for⌠hanging out. And for, uh, letting me use your wings as a form of therapy. Yeah. Later!â
And with that, he was sprinting for the door.
âTopper!â you called after him, confused and mildly annoyed. âWhat the hell is going on? Youâre acting fuckinâ weird!â
âNope, not weird! Just busy!â he shot back over his shoulder, not even looking at you as he opened the door.
You didnât have time to yell at him before he disappeared out the door, the sound of his Jeep starting up echoing from the driveway a moment later. You stood there bewildered, staring at the now-empty doorway.
Something was definitely up. He was many thingsâdramatic, stubborn, occasionally insufferableâbut shifty wasnât usually one of them.
You went back to the kitchen, glancing at the counter, ready to brush off his weird exit as just another of his dramatics, when your eyes landed on a random envelopeâ the one youâd been using to scribble down everything lately.Â
Extra small grocery lists, reminders, and, unfortunately, the number for the abortion clinic.
Rafeâs fingers curled loosely around the tumbler of bourbon, eyes set on nothing in particular. The lunch rush was winding down, country club regulars filing out.
Heâd been there for over an hourâfirst, the meeting, listening to those finance guys ramble on about numbers, projections, all that bullshit he usually liked to hear.Â
Heâd faked his interest well enough, but his mind had been miles away. Mostly thinking about you. And the company, of course, because that was his priority right now. Or, it should be.
The whole thing with you, three days ago, it was a slow-mind-burning headache he couldnât ignore, even if he wanted to. And he had wanted to, tried to, in fact.
He took another slow sip, hardly tasting the bourbon. Across the room, Sofia was working between tables, balancing trays and forcing her best country club smile.
All he saw when he looked at her was you, it only made him force down another swallow, running his thumb over the rim of the glass, mind somewhere between the company projections and the mess heâd made of things with you.Â
It was ridiculous that you were still in his head. He should be thinking about that deal, about locking down his place in the Cameron empire.Â
Rafe pushed the glass aside, signaling for the check when something caught his earâa conversation from a nearby table.
âYeah, she actually passed out the other day. Pathetic.â The voice was loud, sneering.
A dudeâs voice followed, fake sympathy dripping from his tone. âI heard she was a fuckinâ mess after the whole breakup.â
âOh, totally.â A different girl laughed, high-pitched and cruel. âSheâs probably on something. Can you blame her? Iâd be desperate too if he dumped me.â
It didnât take a fucking genius to know who they were talking about. Small town and all, of course, things got around, mostly turning into half-truths and petty rumors.
He stopped all his movements, jaw clenching. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table, the only thing keeping him from breaking something, preferably bones.
They were talking about you.Â
About some made-up version of you, the fact that these spoiled, airheaded brats thought they could shit talk about you like that, rip you apart for fun just because you werenât there to defend yourself made him sick.
He pushed his chair back and stood, crossing the room with long strides. He didnât care about the eyes following him as he walked up to their table, the laughter stopping the moment they looked up and saw the look on his face.
âWhat did you just say?â
The girl whoâd been laughing, a petite brunette with too much makeup and a self-satisfied smirk, blinked up at him, her smile faltering.
âOh, Rafe! We didnât see you there. We were justâŚjoking around,â she stammered, trying to backpedal.
âJoking?â He laughed, the sound making them flinch. âThat what you call it? Spreading some bullshit rumor because itâs all your pathetic little lives have to offer?â
The brunetteâs face went red. âI mean, we all heard about it. Iâm just saying what everyoneâs already thinkingââ
His fists clenched and his patience, already thin, snapped the second he heard the guyâone of those trust fund preps with an overdone tan and a too-tight poloâchime in.
âOh, come on, dude,â the guy smirked, leaning back in his chair, feigning nonchalance. âItâs not like sheâs worth all that trouble, is she?â
His entire body went rigid, and before he registered it, he was leaning down, letting them feel the weight of his glare.
âSay that shit again,â Rafe taunted him, something almost amused twisting at the edge of his mouth, daring him to keep talking. âIâd love to hear you repeat yourself.â
âRelax, manââ
He didnât even let him finish, eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a near whisper, more dangerous than shouting ever could be.
âYou think itâs funny? Talking about someone whoâs not even here to defend herself?â
The guyâs face paled, and Rafe swore he was seconds away from landing a punch, from wiping that smug grin off his face. Just as he prepared his fist, ready to make good on his threat, he felt a hand on his arm, a small, insistent tug.Â
âRafe,â a soft voice hissed. Sofia. He barely glanced at her, shrugging off her grip.
âDonât,â he snapped, his voice sharp, dismissive.
He kept his eyes on the guy, who looked more uncomfortable by the second, squirming in his seat.
Sofiaâs hand still hovering near his arm, cautious now. âRafe, come on, this isnât worth it. Youâre better than this.â
She looked scared. Scared of him, scared of the situation. He wasnât better than this.
Heâd never been, and heâd been good enough at lying and pretending for her even to think that.
You wouldâve known better.
Fuck, you wouldnât have wasted time talking.
You wouldâve yanked him back by his collar, shoved yourself between him and the guy, shot him that warning glare, daring him to keep pushing you so youâd have to drag him out by force. You always knew when heâd get like this, that edge in his voice, that look in his eye that told you he was seconds away from snapping. You knew better than anyone how to pull him back when he hit that switch.
But youâd never bothered with gentle.
Sofiaâs eyes darted around the room, clearly embarrassed, maybe even afraid of drawing attention. He knew this wasnât fair to her, that she hadnât signed up for this part of himâthe anger, the unpredictability. It wasnât in his nature to stay silent, to ignore things and walk away.Â
He could almost see itâfeel it, like a familiar bruise under his skin. Youâd shove him hard enough that heâd stumble back, half-pissed and half-shocked. Youâd get in his face, not even close to scared, cutting through his spiral. âWhat the hell is wrong with you, Rafe? You wanna end up in jail over some loser? Grow up.â
If youâd been here, you wouldnât have given him a choice. Youâd have grabbed his arm and dragged him away, kept a grip on him until heâd snapped out of whatever dark place heâd dropped into. Youâd push him until he finally let go, forced him to come down from that blinding fury and face the mess heâd just caused. It was the only way heâd ever been able to listenâwhen you pushed him to wake up, forced him to look at himself and see just how reckless, just how stupid he was about to be.
But Sofia? She had no idea.Â
She thought saying âyouâre better than thisâ was going to do anything, that with a light touch and some empty words, heâd suddenly be calm, reasonable, soft.Â
But heâd never been that way, never with you, never with anyone.
She hadnât done anything wrong; sheâd just seen the version of him heâd wanted her to see. The version heâd put together, patched up and polished, all so he could convince himself he was something he wasnât.
With her, it was easy to pretend. He could smooth his sharp edges, show her just enough of himself to keep her interested without letting her close enough to see the mess underneath.
Heâd let her believe he was the kind of guy who could just calm down, let things slide. The kind of guy whoâd listen. Heâd wanted her to believe he was controlled, calm. Sofiaâs softness had appealed to him, but now, it only highlighted the differences between them.
With you, heâd never had the luxury of pretending.
Youâd seen through him from the start, never let him get away with putting on some act.
You hadnât let him pretend to be better than he was, hadnât let him off easy when heâd tried to brush things off or shut down. You knew every side of him, even the ones heâd rather ignore. Youâd always known exactly who he was, who he wasnât, and youâd never been afraid to remind him.
He didnât want to let it go, didnât want to give the guy an inch of leeway to think heâd won this. Rafe sighed and released his grip, his hand falling from the table as he finally stepped back. Sofia relaxed, giving him a relieved smile, but it only made him feel emptier.Â
âYou talk about her again and Iâll fucking kill you, you hear me?âÂ
The guy sputtered, looking down, embarrassed and shaken. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like an apology, but Rafe didnât care enough to hear it.
Sofiaâs hand was still on his tail when he left, and as soon as he walked out of earshot of the table, she followed him, crossing her arms. Her eyes narrowed with an expression heâd never seen from her âdisbelief.Â
âWhat was that?â
Everything.
Rafe didnât speak. He was staring past her, back at the group, mind far from the confrontation and miles away with thoughts of you. She seemed to notice, her lips pressing together.
âI canât believe you did that. You threatened to kill him, Rafe. Over what, a stupid rumor?â
A stupid rumor? She was making him feel like he was out of control, irrationalâeven though he couldnât explain why this mattered so much.
âYou wouldnât get it. Itâs not your problem.â
She flinched a little, her face falling, but to her credit, she didnât look away. âYouâre right. I donât get it. Tell me.â
He wanted to believe that it could work with Sofia.
Nice girl, pretty too. She laughed at his jokes, and she didnât call him out on his bullshit, because she didnât even know that side of him existed. On paper, she was perfect. But she wasn't you.
He looked back at her, her worried eyes scanning his face.
It was frustratingâseeing the fear, feeling her judgment when she didnât even know what she was judging.
To her, this was just some meaningless outburst, something he could turn on and off at will. This wasnât her fault. He knew that. He hated how this wasnât something he couldn't put into words, not in any way that would make sense to her.
âForget it, alright?â his tone was harsher than he meant.
Sofia shook her head, clearly not willing to let it drop this time.
âWhy would you get so worked up over something like this?"
To her, thatâs all this wasâjust noise, harmless, inconsequential.Â
She looked up at him expectantly, her brows furrowed in confusion, waiting for some reasonable answer.
And it pissed him off, how she kept waiting, expecting him to offer some calm, measured response when he didnât even understand it himself.
Sofiaâs eyes softened, but it only irritated him further.
âSheâs nice,â Her words drifted out casually like she didnât know sheâd just cracked him open. âShe defended me, last week, when I was serving brunch.â
He couldnât stop the self-loathing.
You had always been that wayâready to defend anyone, even when you were the one hurting. Rafe winced, hating himself for it, hating that you could still be so good even after everything. He swallowed hard, keeping his expression blank.
âDid she?â he muttered, trying to sound indifferent.
âYeah,â Sofia replied, watching his reaction with mild curiosity. âGuess I wouldnât have expected that.â
Rafeâs jaw clenched, that familiar hurt in his chest.
His mind was already conjuring all the times youâd jumped in, backed people up, and called out anyone who crossed a line. Even when it came to people you barely knew.
It made him feel like the worst person in the world, knowing that youâd been there for Sofia of all people, that youâd shown her that same loyalty. It made him hate himself even more.
His phone buzzed, saving him from the inevitable conversation, his hand brushed the side of his face as he glanced down at the unknown number flashing across the screen. He didnât hesitate, before swiping the answer button.
âHello?â
âMr. Cameron, this is Dr. Harris from the hospital,â the voice on the other end said. âWeâve been trying to reach Miss Thornton about the blood work results from her visit three days ago. Unfortunately, thereâs been an issue with our system and a few patientâs data has been deleted, except for the emergency contact information.â
Rafeâs stomach dropped.
He was still your emergency contact, not by choice probably. The hospital was calling about your blood work.
Was something wrong?
His blood ran cold. âIs she okay? Did something happen?â The urgency in his tone made Sofiaâs eyes widen again, her confusion growing.
âWeâre concerned about a possible infection. We need to run more tests to rule it out, but the symptoms suggest it could be more complicated. We must check thoroughly to be sure.â
âAn infection?â
âYes, but it could be nothing serious. We just need her to come in as soon as possible for a follow-up,â Dr. Harris explained.
There was a pause as if he expected Rafe to say something reassuring or offer to pass on the message.Â
Sofiaâs brows knitted together as she watched him. âRafe?âÂ
âIâll tell her,â he said, the words cracked in his throat. The doctor thanked him and hung up.
He stared at the phone waiting for it to ring again with more news, a reassurance that this wasnât as serious as it sounded.Â
You probably hadnât changed your emergency contact because it slipped your mind.
He couldnât stand the idea that something could be wrong, and he was not the one you called when you needed someone. All heâd ever done was mess things up between you.
âWhatâs going on?â
How the fuck was he going to tell you when you'd blocked him everywhere?
He couldnât call, couldnât text, couldnât even show up unannounced without risking the usual argument that would end with you screaming at him to get out, or worse, you looking at him with that unforgiving stare.
He knew youâd locked every door, bolted every window to keep him out, and he deserved it.Â
âItâs nothing,â he said, the lie slipping out automatically. He could feel her studying him, waiting for another explanation he also didnât have the patience to give.
Maybe Topper could help.
The irony wasnât lost on himâheâd given your cousin the mission of checking in on you, playing the careful messenger while Rafe kept his distance. That was supposed to be him.
But the reality was you hated him now, hated him enough that Topper was a safer option and yet, the private information still landed on his lap. As if he still had the right to be in your orbit, let alone the person trusted with this kind of news.
It felt wrong.
He knew you were going to hate him even more for still having access to your private details. It wasnât really his faultâthe hospital called him. He should have hung up the moment the hospital mentioned your name, told them they had the wrong guy. But he didnât. He listened.Â
âIf you need to goââ she started, trailing off when he didnât answer. Her voice softened, tentative. âItâs about her, isnât it?â
Rafeâs jaw ticked, and he looked away, out at the horizon where the sun was setting.  âYeah,â he muttered, not bothering to lie this time.
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. He typed something out, then deleted it, then typed again.
Finally, he just went with the simplest thing he could think of and hit send.
Can we meet up? Tannyhill in 30. I think I know whatâs wrong.
He half-expected some lame excuse or joke from Topper. Instead, the text he got made the deep lines across his forehead make an appearance.
Shit, you do???
Did the fucker already know?
Did he suspect? Or was this just the kind of baited question someone asked when they thought they were the last to know something big?
He frowned, gripping the phone tighter.
If Topper did know, why hadnât he said anything?
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they announced one of the main writers for FFXIV: Dawntrail is the one who wrote the Shadowbringers trial series, "Sorrow of Werlyt", and the amount of people going "ew no that's the one that redeems Gaius" drives me kind of insane
That storyline takes Gaius and says "Behold this idiot, watch and be stunned as everything he ever said to anyone turned out to be fucking obviously wrong. Watch as the fascist imperialist philosophy he ingrained into his beloved children makes them run to their deaths, even as he pleads them not to, and they tell him to fuck himself and do it anyway. Marvel as he watches them die by your hand, you, who destroyed Gaius himself at the peak of his life, and he can do nothing to stop it", and that's a redemption arc to people
The only surviving kid only makes it because her brother acts to protect her, she doesn't make it because of any act of Gaius'
The entire story is literally "In case you somehow missed it in ARR and most of Stormblood, everything Gaius believed in was horseshit and there's no such thing as a 'noble general in the evil empire'". All his meritocracy bullshit vanished the second he was gone, no-one but his own children believed it or held onto it, and the empire put someone directly opposed to that belief into his old seat when he vanished. No-one cared, no-one else "believed", the Empire was never about that, it was only propped up in his own singular legion by him being there and the second he was gone the legion dumped it and moved on and only Gaius was too naive and stupid to see it.
I mean for fuck sake, the Empire digs up the chemical gas weapon he explicitly had sealed away and destroyed all record of after he's gone and if it wasn't for a particularly dedicated and enterprising catboy and his comedy crew of hardcore engineers, it would have caused the eighth apocalypse
Even the follow-up in patch 6.4, of the family portrait, isn't some "aw he good now" thing. The family portrait you help organise for him has to have four of its six members be projected onto the scene via a machine's reconstruction of them as normal people because they're dead, they threw their lives away because the ideology Gaius taught them meant they could only think to die fighting and nothing else. That's his loving family portrait: four ghosts stood at his back as his last living child smiles through her pain.
"well the people of Werlyt didn't kill him for conquering them" they let him clean up the mess he made (which meant watching his children be killed) and as "thanks" they're letting him stay there to live out the last third of his life or so attempting to atone by fixing the damage he did.
He's 56 at the time of ARR; the Empire he gave 3-4 decades of his life to is gone, it's a smouldering ruin, all but one of the people he loved is dead, his surviving daughter is scarred by the path he led her down, and what few friends he had are also dead. He learned that his beliefs were all horseshit and pretty much everyone around him except for himself knew it, he must live knowing that those beliefs got his children killed, all that he achieved that he once considered "good" was for nothing, he learned that the cool old emperor he idolised who had no magic but built an empire by pulling up his bootstraps and who told him that magic and gods were bad was actually an ancient incredibly magical sorceror attempting to resurrect his own god.
That's not a redemption arc, he's the most owned man still alive in XIV
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