#this is longer than i intended it to be - again

[shanastoryteller]

Congrats on finishing See Something Say Something!! I checked the notification of the first AO3 email sent out and you initially planned on five chapters.

Would you say that the ending changed considerably since you started in October? Or has that stayed the same?

thank you!

it stayed the same lol. while my fics getting wildly out of control and becoming way longer than i anticipated is pretty common, i'm pretty much never changing overarching plot when this happens. the story that i become interested in telling is typically the story then i end up telling

almost every story can be made shorter or longer. it's less about what happens and more about how that information is conveyed. things that really tend to affect writing length are perspective and breathing room

the shortest fic i have on ao3 that's not part of a series is You Were (Not) Meant For Me (posted 11 years ago, jesus T_T). the premise is that claudia was a witch who intended trained stiles to be a witch and she arranged his marriage to laura hale, the future hale alpha. this is a traditional pairing as talia's husband was also a witch married to talia in service of the pact. except claudia died before she could train stiles or tell him about the engagement. stiles starts learning magic after scott is turned. derek falls for stiles and feels like he's betraying his sister by loving him, betraying stiles by not being the alpha he deserves and not telling him about the arrangement claudia made, and hates himself the entire time, but not enough to stop himself

that's a 100k fic easy

it's 1,696 words

it's extremely limited perspective (derek's) and it's made up only of limited snapshots of moments with very little context. there's no seeing what's happening, only told, which i think would quickly grow boring if it was longer and if the real point of the story wasn't derek's self hatred and how he fails to deal with it. that's the part of the story that isn't told, really - derek does think explicitly that he hates himself, but we're also seeing it in the way he talks and thinks about himself and the people around him

by contrast we have survival is a talent, which is obviously my longest fic. we're over 500k and we've got quite a bit to go

perspective doesn't just refer to character pov, but audience pov - are you being told a story, or are you experiencing the story? this is also tied into breathing room. there's no wrong way, i've done both and will do both, but one certainly requires more words than the other in my experience

siat is told only through draco and harry's perspective, but it's all happening in real time. the audience is being taken along for this story. the thing is that that things in real life don't all come tumbling one after another, not all questions have immediate answers. when depicting character growth and a plot unfurling, i think it's really important to include breathing room to give the audience time to feel that growth and change. i'm stricter about this with siat than anything else i've written, probably sometimes to its detriment. i want you and the characters to have time to feel the effects of emotional revelations and plot hints. i want you to have the time to question and wonder about things the same way the characters do

one time a friend criticized the good place for including the portion where they were alive again on earth because it wasn't as interesting as being in hell, but i disagree. we needed that breathing room both to live with the effects of character growth of going through hell and to have time for the effects of their actions on the plot to settle before they moved forward again. i stopped watching agents of shield because we weren't given enough breathing room - there was never a chance to see the characters not in crisis, the world was always ending, ect. the alchemyst book series has the first like 3 books taking place over a day and a half. i got tired of it after that. there's no breathing room

a story where i gave up on the concept of breathing room was build your wings on the way down. i liked that fic, but i wanted it finished, and to do it with i think optimal pacing would have made it twice as long as it was. so i said screw it, avalanche time, everything is happening all at once right now. there's very little breathing room there, which i think doesn't work too terribly in part because everything is so urgent and everyone is stressed so not being able to catch you breath sort of fits

See Something Say Something did not need to be 215k, although i'm not at all complaining. i feel very happy with how i told this story. but the basic premise - sam getting his powers early, getting involved in the large hunter world secretly from his family, and dean feeling misplaced and worried about how much sam needs/wants him - could have been told a hundred different ways and all would have pulled it off, so to speak

i considered doing the the entire fic from dean's pov (as a sam girl i love his pov because all he thinks about is sam and he's so insane about it) which would have effectively cut out basically the first five chapters. i thought exploring the slow realization of what's going on purely from dean's pov, with the audience having not insight would have been really interesting, just like what I did in dumb luck or good ghost with dean slowly figuring out that sam didn't die in the crash. another thing is the inclusion of all the side characters which i did to make the world feel rich and real, but we didn't need all these outsider povs to get the basic point across. very rarely is something vital being conveyed by an outsider pov, but it reinforced and adds to the main characters. i also initially didn't have wincest, which obviously added a ton of words. i loved exploring dean's self hatred and fear and sam's obliviousness, but bringing them to a place of ignorance to acceptance to happiness is a lot longer of a journey than just dealing with dean's propriety love as an unhinged co-dependent older brother. again, i'm sticking by all these choices, i made them because i thought it was the best way to the tell the story i was most interesting in telling, but my point is that you didn't need them to tell this particular story

it was also how i told the story. we spend a lot of time wallowing in character's emotions, especially dean's and sam's, but the others as well. part of this fic is convincing you that these two brothers should fuck, actually, and doing that effectively is going to take some time, especially at this point in their lives when things are pretty normal. comparatively, fucking your brother after starting the apocalypse is pretty small potatoes. i wanted you to understand these people, to feel what they were feeling, to not feel that it was inconceivable that jess would be willing to share her boyfriend with his brother, to buy all their relationships with each other in a way that isn't purely based on convenience

part of the reason i wrote dumb luck or good ghost before see something say something was that i felt i needed a firmer grasp on who the characters are before getting into who they were and who they could be - especially john, who i feel is exceptionally difficult to write without over excusing his actions or over villainizing them. the reason john doesn't get a single pov in see something say something is that while he's a motivating and underlying factor in much of the story, the story isn't about him. it's about the effect he has on those around him, and i didn't want to sully the pureness of that effect by introducing his internal dialogue, regardless of how persecutionary or absolving it would be. it's just not about him. it's how he responds to others and how they respond to him in turn

anyway! this is another example of something ending up longer than expected, but yeah. the plot of see something say something didn't change much from posting of the first chapter and my stories rarely do - i have plot points in siat that have been there since i posted the first chapter that are still relevant and happening. "harry and draco just. cut dumbledore's fucking hand off" my beloved

[kingkat12]

prom night (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, mature/dark themes, Roman adores reader so much aghhhh<33, fluff, Roman is bad with words lol, blood, mentions of death, attempted kidnapping, amnesia, Dr. Pryce is scary omg, dead dove do not eat tbh, silly bf Roman because why tf not

summary: going to prom with Roman Godfrey had been a dream of yours for longer than you could remember-- but suddenly, that was the only thing you could remember. seriously. what the fuck happened last weekend, and why is Roman keeping you in the dark about it?

word count: 16,708 (oh my fucking god)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12

a/n: celebrating 900 followers (??? WHAT) with the biggest chapter yet!!! I've spent a month preparing it, and this has been the chapter I've been building up to ever since I started this series... I suggest you read it in one sitting because I intended it to be read that way, (although I know that is a lot to ask!!! not necessary boo), and I'm sorry about everything in advance aghhh😭 I would also like to give special thanks to @mentallyscreamingsincebirth for being such a great support and for guiding my brain through this enormous chapter, THANK YOU LYNDI<3 much much love, ENJOY, and read at ur own risk!!!<333 MWAH

Have you ever thought about death? Of course you have, everyone has-- but have you ever felt it?

Have you felt it lingering in your forearms, like you're pressing them up against a flaming stove? Have you felt it pressing at the sides of your head, waiting for it to cave in on itself? I always thought it would feel like going to sleep; that no matter how you pass, you reach a point where your mind flips over into delirium, and then you feel drowsy until it's over. Yet somehow, I was suddenly convinced it was nothing like that. I was sure that it felt like nothing but pure panic, accompanied by a crippling fear unlike any other. Because it hurt, everything hurt, and I was sure I'd be stuck in an endless loop of hell where I would forever be semi-conscious and in excruciating pain. 

And why?

Because right now, I was sure I was dead. 

That I was done. Deceased. Expired. I was so, so sure, and I had no idea why everything was black, why I couldn't move, or why I felt my lungs freeze over with the inability to breathe. 

It lasted for too long. Way too long. An eternity. 

Up until it felt like a scream was being dragged out of me by force, like someone had grabbed hold of my tongue and tugged me forward-- a bright light shone through my lids before they sprung open in pure panic, and I arched off the bed with a shriek. It felt like I was taking my first breaths again, and I clawed at my chest as my nails dug into the fabric of my shirt, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how?--

"Pryce, do something!" 

"Mr. Godfrey, sit down!--"

"Do something!" 

I was still screaming when my hands were pried off my skin with an annoyed groan, still heaving for air as a man in a white coat now hovered over me. He forced my left eye to open wider with his cold, bony fingers, shining the light directly at my pupil. He was searching for any lack of reaction as I emptied my lungs, crying out in fear; it wasn't until I felt the scent of a familiar cologne fill my body that I started to fight my screams of panic. 

I was sure it was Roman who was now pinning my hands down to the bed-- his indexes were pressing against my wrists, checking my pulse, the classic Godfrey move. He usually only did that when he was trying to make a point about him making my heart race, and that's how I was certain it was him.

Once the doctor finished, my cries had largely quieted down. All that was left was a series of whimpers and shaky breaths. "What's happening?" I struggled to ask, my voice cracking. I saw the doctor scowl at Roman, clearly frustrated by something. My lower lip quivered; why was I here? What was happening? 

Why couldn't I remember anything?

When the doctor spoke, he was still not looking at me; "You're at the Godfrey Institute, getting what is considerably the best care in the world," He moved away, tutting as he sat down on the chair opposite the bed I was lying on. Coming to my senses, my eyes traced the room. The walls were painted an uncomfortably bright hue of white, and I was afraid I'd go blind looking at them for too long. However, the doctor's voice caught my attention once more; "You don't seem to be concussed, but I'll check your reflexes. Have you exhausted your lungs, or must I put you under as well? If you keep screaming and resisting, you will only make things harder for yourself."

"She'll be fine!" Roman barked, letting go of my hands. With swift, nervous steps, he now stood by my side as he stroked through my hair. I could sense his anxiety through the slight tremble in his fingers, and he squeezed my shoulder with his free hand as he spoke to the doctor with a lowered voice, as though I wouldn't hear him if he softened his tone; "She will be, right? Pryce?"

Doctor Pryce rolled his eyes as he looked over at the metal tray beside him, scanning the neat display of medical instruments. "Did you bring this girl to me to question my care, or because you trust that I'm the best?"

"I'm!--"

"I was the one that delivered you into the world, Roman, don't forget that. Your mother trusted me with your life, so you have all the reason to exert some patience and trust me with this very simple task," Pryce picked out his preferred instrument and leaned forward, pressing on a button that made the back of my bed raise. 

I yelped, still trying to catch my breath; "What's happening?" I breathed, hoping to contain the wave of tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. It felt like I had died and come back to earth. "Please, why-- why am I here?"

With one final anxious glance at Pryce, Roman finally looked down at me. It was the first time I had been properly acknowledged. "Hey, you," he said, gently running his fingers through my hair. "We were in a car crash, and you passed out. This is Doctor Pryce, and he's just making sure you didn't faint because of anything serious. You could've also lost consciousness because of shock, fear... Many factors. This is just a precaution."

"Car crash?" I echoed. "What-- Why can't I remember?-- Ow!" 

A panicked cry escaped me, and I looked down to see Pryce with what looked like a hammer, striking the supple area beneath my knee socket. My leg jumped up automatically, and the doctor let out a satisfied hum before he moved on to my other leg. "Miss, do you get enough sleep?" he asked. "On the regular, that is?"

I had never been this disoriented in my life. "I don't-- I don't know?"

With an exasperated sigh, Pryce muttered a simple alright. He sat back down in his chair, now gazing at me with a blank, neutral look. Something told me he had practiced that exact expression for his patients. "You seem to have experienced what is called a situational syncope. You must've gone into a deep state of shock, which caused your blood pressure to drop, ultimately knocking you out. Based on the tests we got done on you when you were unconscious, there seems to be nothing wrong with you," 

I forced down a sob as I squeezed my eyes shut. My body was still frozen with panic. Despite my efforts, I couldn't conjure the memory of the supposed car crash; what was happening to me? "There has to be something wrong!" I cried. "I can't-- I can't remember anything!"

Sighing, Pryce got up, but not without glaring at Roman once more. "You might have a minor case of amnesia. It's most likely short-term and will resolve in twenty-four hours, or it might not," He moved to a nearby table, writing down something on a computer. "It might be time to lay off the nocturnal activities, Roman. It's important that she sleeps."

My face had never been redder. Never. To be told to lay off sex in front of your boyfriend's family doctor? Awful. Not something I recommend anyone else go through. 

However, in true Godfrey fashion, Roman didn't seem to care about that part. "Thank fuck," he said, letting out a relieved breath as he bent down to kiss my forehead. I could sense the ease settling in his body, and it made me wonder when it could transmit to mine as well. "So she's completely fine?"

"Yes," Pryce grumbled, absentmindedly tapping away on his keyboard.

"No internal bleeding, no injuries?--"

"She's fine,"

Roman nodded, and I thought that would be the end of it until he spoke again; "Will she remember... everything?"

My blood ran cold. Something about the way he said those words made me feel like it was ominous. I blinked, staring up at Roman as my heart beat hard in my chest. 

Pryce's clacking stilled. He turned, moving sharply, as his eyes narrowed; "For your sake, I hope not,"

It only took me a second to reach for Roman's hand, grabbing it as fear ran through my veins. "Rome," I echoed, begging him to look at me. I needed to know. It didn't feel like a simple car crash; why was I still shaking? Was this normal? I was terrified that I wouldn't remember anything. "Please, you have to-- you have to tell me what!--"

"Shh, it's okay," Roman cooed, wiping that terrified look off his face in an instant. "Everything is fine, see? The nice doctor says you just need to sleep, so what do you say I drop you off at your place and make sure you sleep well tonight?" 

I could hear Pryce snicker as he got up, gathering what he needed from the room. "The nice doctor," he echoed, shaking his head. Everything he did felt oddly sterile. Everything from the smile to the polite tilt of his head. "Sleep would be the best remedy, yes. And maybe some shopping."

Roman scrunched his nose-- "Shopping?"

Pryce nodded, pointing to my shirt which I had partially clawed up. "Shopping,"

I couldn't imagine I would ever get any redder than this. Why couldn't amnesia take this memory too? I wanted to disappear-- however, when I thought about the black void I had been thrust into before I awoke, I changed my mind. I was happier than ever to be alive. When Pryce left the room, I let out a shaky breath as I locked eyes with Roman; "Rome, please tell me how the fuck we ended up in a!--"

My words were stolen as two large hands grabbed my face, and my favorite pair of lips came crashing down onto mine. Roman was now partially on my bed, rushing his kisses as he pulled me close in sheer desperation. "You had me so scared," he breathed. "So, so--"

Grabbing onto Roman's hair for support, I could only yelp as he practically toppled me, kissing me with urgency. "You can't do that," he begged. "You can't, you-- you can't--" 

I was beyond overwhelmed. Exhausted. Still, I could sense that Roman had almost been as scared as me. "Please, Rome!--"

"What would I have done if you got hurt?" He grabbed my face harder, forcing me to look into his teary eyes when he relented his attack on my lips. "It would've killed me. It would've killed me." The desperation, the panic, was evident in his big, green eyes as they searched mine. 

When would this be over? "I don't even know what happened!" I cried. "I don't remember, and it scares me! What if I won't-- won't remember it?" 

I hoped he would tell me. I hoped Roman would sit me down and tell me in excruciating detail. However, his brows came together and drew upwards in a look of pure pity; "It doesn't matter. Look at it like it's mercy,"

"Mercy?" 

"I'm glad you don't remember," Roman breathed, pressing a passionate kiss to my lips before he leaned his forehead against mine. "I don't want you to remember it... I'm kinda glad you don't. You don't need to remember the bad stuff, right? I only want you to be happy. Happy, safe, and with me. Forever."

Forever. 

I let out a shaky breath which fell against Roman's lips, defeated. It still lingered in my body-- death. Like something really, really bad had happened. 

... Had it?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The air smelled like freshly mown grass although it was growing freely all around us, untamed. The long branches of the willow tree kneeling above us swayed with the breeze, and the leaves rustled with a gentle buzz; it was beautiful to look up at, even in the dark of the night. 

Roman was lying next to me, eyes shut in peace that had only recently settled in his body. His chest rose and fell in slow, calm motions as his brown hair wove into the long strands of the grass. I had an inkling that he was getting comfortable with it now-- with the idea of forever. That I was his for as long as he'd have me. That he had someone to go through life with, after all this time finding solace in fleeting moments of intimacy with the girls that were lucky to be near him at the right moment. 

Roman was unbelievably beautiful. Unreal. 

I still had no idea what happened that day I woke up at the Godfrey Institute a week ago, convinced I had died. It was hard not to think about it, but sleep had done me good-- Doctor Pryce had been right. My memory of the incident hadn't returned, and I had a feeling it never would. Every so often, I would get specs of it when I heard a particularly loud car, or whenever the smell of diesel got very strong from Roman's red jag, but that was the end of it.

However, the whole car crash incident had set Roman off into a weird state of possessiveness. Not one night had passed without him sneaking in through my bedroom window, lying next to me to make sure I wasn't on my phone until three a.m., and that I was getting enough sleep. I had watched Roman doze off into slumber countless times, both next to me and on top of me, and I had loved to stroke his hair and watch him sleep every time. It was the only time I felt he ever got to rest properly. Never ever during the day. Which is why, now that Roman was doing the same for me, I started to feel more at peace with what had happened. With the crash. With what I didn't know. As long as I had Roman, I would be fine, right? I was sure of it now.

Not only had the car crash left Roman and I in a weird state, but my parents as well. They were wary of me needing to get enough sleep and rest, so they had given me a rather strict curfew up until prom night. This curfew also involved not having Roman over as much, meaning we had to get creative-- so here we were, lying next to each other in the grass at his secret hiding place around midnight, where we had previously exchanged our blood. 

"Rome," I whispered, watching the swaying willow branch above me. "You put on an alarm, right? I can't be out for too long, I'm scared my parents will find the pillow concoction we put on my bed and know I'm not home..."

He hummed, his eyes remaining closed-- "We have about thirty minutes until I have to take you back. I'm keeping track of it,"

"You don't seem to be keeping track of anything right now,"

"Nonsense,"

"... You look like you're sleeping,"

"But I'm not, am I?" Roman's eyes met mine, his lashes hanging heavy over the green color of his irises. With a tug at the corners of his lips, he sung a short, mocking line; "I don't want to close my eyes!--"

Oh no. "Rome, don't!--"

"-- I don't want to fall asleep, 'cause I miss you, baby!" His laugh was as melodious as his half-assed attempt at serenading me. 

I snorted, no longer sleepy. This was beyond cringe. "You're an idiot,"

"And yet you're crazy about me," Roman purred, moving closer to me on the grass. The tips of his fingers, which had barely grazed mine a minute ago, were now running along the back of my hand in soft motions. "That says more about you than it says about me."

I turned my hand as I smiled to myself, feeling my chest burn with the warmth I got from being near him. If only he knew I was more than crazy about him. If only he knew. "Yeah, you're right," I mumbled, intertwining our fingers with a content sigh. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

I didn't deem my words to be as heavy as Roman suddenly made them seem-- it was as though the leaves stopped rustling. As though the air no longer smelled like grass, and the only thing I could smell was suddenly only Roman's heavy, expensive perfume. Something stilled. Was it the waves of the water nearby? His eyes softened with his next exhale, pupils rounding out. It was almost as though I could see the pounding of his heart as his chest fell. "I don't know how I ever lived without you in the first place," he confessed. "It kills me that you were so close all this time, and... I didn't notice."

Thinking back at the time when Roman would barely look my way was excruciating, even now. "It doesn't matter--"

"We had chemistry together," he breathed. "You were so close." Roman no longer looked at me, and instead turned his gaze to the hanging branches of the willow tree we were lying beneath. "I used to think I was the center of the universe, y'know? That the world was mine, along with everyone living in it. I thought I was everything I ever needed, that no one else truly mattered except for me, but then..." He cleared his throat, an empty look in his eyes. "This is getting cheesy, isn't it?"

Silly, silly boy. "You were literally singing at me a minute ago, I think I can take you being sweet,"

The small upward tug of Roman's lips lifted an ache in my heart. "The past doesn't matter. But the future does, as long as you're in it with me,"

I love you, I love you, I love you. It was echoing in my head. "Grow old with me, Roman?" I hoped it would come off as a joke. I hoped he'd sense the smile in my words, the lightness in which I proposed the hypothetical. 

But he was so serious. So, so serious, as he turned to meet my eyes. And just for a second, I was scared he'd open his mouth and tell me he couldn't get old-- I had read too much of that upir book. "I don't want to get old," he mumbled. "Old people don't have a lot of sex."

It was impossible not to laugh. "They probably do,"

"... Gross,"

Rolling my eyes, I gave his hand a squeeze. "I'd have sex with you. You'd still be the Roman I lo--" 

Fuck.

Oh, fuck. 

I choked my words with a cough; "This damn grass," I cursed. "I might be allergic..." Gathering courage, I glanced over at Roman as I held my breath. 

He seemed to be holding his too. 

It took longer than expected for any of us to say anything. With small movements, Roman slid his hand up to my wrist, pressing his index against my pulse. 

I cleared my throat, breaking out into a nervous laugh. "Okay, let me clear that up. The coughing made it sound like I was saying something that I wasn't saying."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Why was my throat so dry? "I was gonna say that you'd still be the same Roman I long for."

"Oh..." He seemed both relieved and disappointed. I couldn't read him. It was too dark. "Okay. I'll hold you to it when we're eighty, then."

My heart was still racing. Had I gotten away with that or was he letting me? "So you're basically saying you won't be jumping me when we're old? I'm disappointed. And on top of that, I think you'd still be yourself at eighty, no? Or will you no longer be so nympho when you reach a certain age?"

"... You have a point," Roman's classic smirk was back-- I had never been happier to see it. "I'll always want you, I'm afraid."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what,"

"Are you a hundred percent sure about that, Rome?"

"I'll do you one better. Hundred and one,"

It was impossible not to smile. I loved him so much it hurt; I needed to mend it. "... Even if I turn into a worm?"

The groan he let out blended in with the ringing of the alarm he had put on.

As Roman pulled me up from the grass, I realized how much I loved everything about this night. I loved that he wanted to see me so bad that he was sneaking me out of my room. I loved the feeling of my hand in his, loved the sight of his smile, loved every inch of him. I only wished we could stay this happy for an eternity-- an eternity with him would be so unbelievably nice.

And if Roman loved me too, I'd let him love me forever. 

I'd love him till the day I died, tirelessly, endlessly.

... Even if he was a worm.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

There was a lingering warmth in my body, yet I waited for the other thing to leave. The feeling. The doom. The terror I didn't remember.

And while I waited, prom was a wonderful distraction.

My parents were out of town for the weekend, which allowed us to skip the awkward photos in the hallway that were usually customary for prom. I was sure Roman would've rather died than go through that.

Actually, I was half convinced someone else had told Roman to man up and ask me to go with him, because it seemed like I was getting too much of the good thing recently. It didn't make sense to me that he wanted anything to do with something like this. And for a second, I was convinced I had been right about it all along; when I walked down the stairs of my porch, it was impossible not to smile from ear to ear at the sight of Roman in his tux. He was sitting on the bonnet of his car, smoking a cigarette as always-- 

... Without so much as a reaction to me in my dress?

It felt like my whole body was on fire, like I was one of Roman's cigarettes. My smile faltered as I approached, not saying a word. I held my breath, watching the green of his eyes pierce mine. He didn't blink. He didn't budge. He simply held his cigarette to his lips, exhaling the smoke through his nose. 

Something felt off. I should've known Roman Godfrey wasn't the classic prom-man. "Do you not like it?" I breathed, feeling my confidence collapse as I toyed with the fabric of my dress.

Roman's eyes immediately darted down to my fingers-- "Don't tear at it. I know you like doing that," He held out his cigarette as he scanned me. It took a few seconds too long. With quick steps, he got off of his car; "Get in."

What? "No,"

Roman turned to me, cocking a brow. "No?"

"No," This was nerve-wracking. "You're being weird. Tell me what's wrong, or I turn around and go right back in again."

Visibly taken aback, Roman let his cigarette fall to the ground before he pressed his heel to it. In our moments of intense eye-contact and silence, I could see the way he had styled his hair differently tonight. It wasn't slicked back or messy, which were the two alternatives he always alternated between-- no, it looked like he had put effort into giving it a bit more volume, like something out of an old Hollywood film with James Dean as the lead. I couldn't understand him, where he stood in front of me in his ridiculously expensive tuxedo; it was obvious that he cared about this, so what was happening here?

"Nothing is wrong," Roman finally answered. "I just don't have the words."

"Words for what? What's going on?"

"Nothing is going on," he muttered under his breath. "It just makes me feel stupid."

"What does, Rome?" 

"I... have never been good at finding the right words. I always screw these things up," Frustrated, Roman put his hands in his pockets as he no longer met my gaze. "Saying you look good doesn't feel like enough... and telling you that you look beautiful feels weird, because I don't use that word for anything and that makes it sound rehearsed, so... I'm screwed. I'm looking at you, and I'm blanking. My heart is beating too fast."

Oh.

Oh.

"Take your time," was all I managed to say. I love you regardless was the thing I would have loved to add. 

Roman chewed on his lip, sitting down on the bonnet of his car again. He dared to meet my eyes as he reached for my hand; I took it, ready to take a step forward, before I caught Roman shaking his head. "You'd help me if you did a twirl," he said, a smirk nudging at the corners of his mouth. "Come on, now."

My heart lightened with the giggle that escaped me, and I could only blush as I did as told. 

"There you go," Roman cooed, warmth dotting his cheeks when I faced him again. "I like your dress. You kinda look like a cupcake."

"What? I do not! This is a-line!"

"A what line?"

"No, it's!-- Oh, forget it," Men.

Roman laughed, reaching for my waist to pull me in between his long legs. Softening his grin, he glanced down at my dress; had I not been watching him so intently, I wouldn't have caught the way his eyes subtly rounded out when they met mine. "I never realized how unfair it is,"

I frowned; "What's unfair?"

"You. Looking like this. Making every other girl on the planet look like an afterthought," Roman paused, his smirk softening with something genuine; "And it's not just tonight, y'know? It's everything about you. It's the way you laugh, it's the way you think, it's all that is you, along with how you look at me like I'm not completely messed up. You're just perfect." Roman stilled, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric around my waist as his smile turned self-conscious. "Sorry, that probably sounds cheesy as hell... What the fuck is up with me these days?"

If only he knew. If only he saw that I was fighting the welling of tears in my eyes. I love you, I love you, I love you. "As long as you don't start singing again, I'll be fine,"

Roman's smile was soft, and so was the kiss he gently pressed to my collarbone. Everything about the way he was holding me made me blush. "Come on," Roman cooed, a mischievous look shimmering in his eyes. "I can't wait to arrive with the prettiest girl in town. Everyone's gonna hate us even more than they already do, and I need the fuel of their spite and fear to survive."

I rolled my eyes, muffling my laugh against the following kiss. "Okay, Pennywise. Just keep the carnage to a minimum tonight, alright?"

"Deal,"

Just as Roman was about to lean in to kiss me, I remembered something important-- I grabbed his shoulders, watching his eyes widen as I pinned him to his place. "And we need to keep you far away from Brooke Bluebell tonight, by the way,"

"Uh, not that she was on the agenda, but... why?"

"Rumour says she's bought a needle. For revenge, and all,"

Roman let out a laugh of disbelief before it dawned on him that I wasn't joking. "Oh," he breathed, frowning. "Seems like there might be some carnage after all, then."

"No, that's not funny!--"

"Come on, it kinda is!"

"Roman-- ugh, fuck it, let's just go!" I placed a soft kiss to his lips; "Don't say I didn't warn you."

After more back and forth banter, it was finally time to get going. However, as Roman opened the car door for me and I sat down in the seat, I was hit with a major deja vu when he started checking out his hair in the rearview mirror. I knew that he did that every time before starting the car, this wasn't something out of the ordinary-- but for the first time since the incident, I remembered something clearly. 

I remembered just a fragment. A feeling. I had been upset the day of the crash, and so had Roman. Had we fought? 

It was at the tip of my tongue, there was a faint taste of exactly what had happened, and I was about to roll right into the memory when Roman put his hand on my thigh. I looked over at him, my breath high in my chest; he noticed it immediately. "You okay?" he tried.

It was lingering in my forearms, like I was pressing them up against a flaming stove. It pressed at the sides of my head, waiting for it to cave in on itself; death. It felt like a countdown.

Counting down.

Tick.

Tick tick.

I will know soon.

I put my burning hand over Roman's, forcing a smile;

"Never been better," ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Walking around at prom, hand in hand with Roman Godfrey as he talked to a couple of his friends, was only something I had imagined in my wildest dreams. I used to bury my face in my pillow and blush just at the thought of him even looking at me.

Back in those days, I had a specific image in my mind; since I hadn't ever thought I would go to prom with Roman, I imagined I'd be there with someone like Daniel. Someone I didn't like. I don't know, it wasn't too important. However, my date would be the type to not want to dance, and I would be left sitting with him by some table while everyone danced. And this would (of course) be the point where I'd imagine Roman walking up to me, charming, cocky, and high on his sky-high self-esteem, to reach for my hand. He'd ask if I'd like to dance, and I would glare at my date before giving Roman an affirmative yes.

Then we'd dance. Slow. Close. 

And in my dreams, Roman would look me in the eyes and tell me that he had loved me all along, that he would love me and only me for the rest of his life, that he had secretly been pining for me since the day he first saw me, that he was actually planning to propose right now actually, and then the whole prom would stop and gasp in jealousy as he got down on one knee, and then!--

I bit down on my lip, suppressing a laugh at the memory. It seemed so childish, now more than ever. I told myself to excuse my old, stupid daydreams; the mind wanders when you're crazy about someone.

Roman squeezed my hand; "What are you laughing about?"

Fuck. "Oh, just..." I glanced up at him, smiling uncontrollably. Alas, now that Roman was my boyfriend, I didn't need all of that ridiculous stuff. I only needed him by my side, and that'd be enough for me forever. "I just remembered something stupid."

Roman cocked a brow, the green of his eyes shining down on me despite the darkness of the room. "Keen on sharing?"

"Not so much,"

"Alright," he said, tsking. "Pervert."

"Hey!" My cheeks turned a peculiar shade of pink which I hoped wasn't visible beneath the dim lights. Why did he have to say stuff like that while standing next to his friends? Not that they were listening, anyway. Nonetheless, the cheeky look on Roman's face told me everything I needed to know about it. "It's nothing like that!" I tried. "It was actually kind of sweet..."

"Oh, yeah?" Nodding, Roman's hand went to the small of my back, excusing us before he started leading us away from his circle of friends. "Tell me, then."

"It's stupid!" I giggled, my blush deepening with the kiss he pressed to the top of my head as we walked. Giant man. 

Roman rolled his eyes; "Tell me before I spike the punch and get us kicked out," We had now reached the other side of the room, and he turned me around to press my back against the wall. Like this, he was towering over me as always. Just the sight of it made my heart beat harder. 

"It should be illegal," I muttered under my breath, reaching for his tie. Sweet-talking him would hopefully be distraction enough. "You in a suit--"

"Tux,"

"Tux," I didn't want to tell him about my childish dreams about prom. I was aware how stupid it sounded, anyway. I didn't need to give Roman more things to tease me about, did I? "You're very, very handsome."

"Aha," he hummed, unimpressed. "How long would my sentence to be, then?"

"If it was illegal?"

"If it was illegal,"

"Hmm... I was thinking six years and nine months."

Roman bit down on a grin. "Do I spot a subtle sixty-nine reference?"

Yes. "Pervert,"

We shared a laugh as my hands slid down his tie, but my brows drew together when I felt something hard between the top and second button of his shirt. My mind flared red lights-- "Is this what I think it is?" I asked, gazing up at Roman as my eyes rounded out. 

He didn't seem to understand my reaction. "I always wear it," he said, shrugging. "Didn't want to take it off."

"Ah," I suppose it was sweet. That's all it was. It most certainly didn't remind me of my least favorite passage from The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir;

There are even some upirs that are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

... Certainly not. 

"I like feeling you close," Roman murmured, his long fingers now running past my waist as the sound of his voice pulled me back into the moment. "I don't like being apart from you, and having your blood with me at all times... feels like I'm carrying a piece of you, which I technically am." He bent down, his soft lips brushing against my ear-- it made my breath hitch. "What do you say we get as close as we can later tonight?" he whispered, a small kiss to my ear following. "Just you and me... And me in you?"

I could only smile. Especially as I spotted Brooke Bluebell and her cheerleader friends by the punch a little further away from us. I was sure my smile started to look rather sinister as my hand went into Roman's hair, pulling him closer as my eyes locked on Brooke's. 

Fucking cheerleader whore. I hated her. I hated everything she represented. And honestly? I couldn't quite remember why. All I knew, was that seeing the jealous look on her face made my heart race with pride and joy.

... Something told me that Roman and I deserved each other. We were both evil in our own ways. 

"That sounds perfect," I purred, leaning my head against the wall as Roman pressed soft kisses to my neck. "My parents aren't home, so..." I could feel him smiling against my skin at the reminder. It was such an exhilarating feeling. Especially when I knew Brooke was watching. 

"Great," Roman murmured, pulling away to look down at me with a mischievous look shimmering in his green eyes. "Can't wait to fold you and hear you whimper."

My blush deepened in record time; "Pervert,"

Roman only grinned. I was sure he was gonna say something much, much worse, something that would've made my toes curl on the spot if they weren't currently pressed against the front of my slightly uncomfortable heels, if one of the prom chaperones hadn't started walking towards us with hasty steps and a grumpy look on his face. It hit me that we were probably standing too close for his liking, and that he was there to make sure the students were being appropriate, which... let's face it, we weren't. 

I shook my head with panic as Roman opened his mouth to speak, and he seemed to catch onto what was happening rather quickly. With a quick nod, he took a long step away from me and held his hands up with a cheeky grin as the strict-looking chaperone approached. "Yes, officer?"

The chaperone sighed, passing fed-up glances between the two of us. I wondered where I had seen this man before. He was certainly someone's father who I had seen around drop-off hours. "I'm not the police," he grumbled. "You can put your hands down, Godfrey--"

"I invoke the fourth amendment!" Roman chimed in, winking at me. It was impossible not to smile.

The chaperone proceeded to groan, shaking his head; "Just-- no touching, okay?"

"Of... anything?"

"You can hold her hand, Godfrey, but anything else--"

"Oh, so it applies to things like... if I touch the wall?" Comically slow, Roman pressed his finger to the wall, hissing as though he was being burned by the law. "I'm a man of many crimes, as you see, officer!" He lowered his voice to a whisper; "I even touched the punch earlier! Actually, now that I think about it, I think I deserve to be kicked out... Can't believe I have allowed myself to commit such atrocities." With one last pout, Roman held his hands out to the chaperone, bowing his head in defeat. "Take me, oh, lead me away, kind sir! I will serve my time, and I will do my due diligence!--"

"Enough!" The chaperone barked. "As long as you didn't spike the goddamn punch, you're free to go!"

And with that, Roman's gig was up. He bit down hard on his lip to suppress his smirk, not to great success. "I wouldn't dare to, officer," he cooed, reaching for my hand in the smoothest manner known to man. 

The chaperone rolled his eyes, probably rethinking all his life choices, as Roman led me away with the both of us trying not to topple over from the laughter we were suppressing. 

"You're crazy," I said, squeezing his hand. I was worried my eyes had formed hearts. 

Roman shrugged, glancing down at me with a knowing smile. "And you're crazy about me," he murmured. "But, speaking of crazy..." He raised our hands, making me do a little twirl as I giggled. When I faced him again, Roman wrapped his arms around me as he glanced over at the punch not too far away from us; "What do you say actually spike it?"

"... What?" 

"It could be smart," he purred, swaying with me a little on the dance floor. "Brooke and her girls have been drinking it all night, and they just walked away... Maybe if they all get drunk off their asses when they come back, they won't be able to take their needle-revenge on me?" 

Roman was right. We had kept a bit of an eye on them all night, just to make sure they were at a safe distance at all times. It was a fun game, if I were to be honest, but... Roman was right. It was an unusual occurrence that he was, so I couldn't help but smile as I felt myself get convinced. 

"Fuck it,"

What ensued, were three nerve-wracking minutes at the table with the large punch-bowl. I stood in front of Roman, blocking the view of any possible chaperones as he skillfully got a silver flask out of the pocket of his jacket, and we spent a good amount of time positioning ourselves to make it all look casual, as though we weren't pouring straight vodka into the punch. Why Roman had any on him in the first place was a conversation for another time.

The second we saw Brooke and the cheerleaders approaching again, I felt my breath hitch-- had we made it or were we about to get caught?

However, Roman's timing was impeccable. With a smooth slither of his hand down to mine, he pulled me back to the dance floor, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to be escaping the scene of the crime at this pace. 

And suddenly, it felt like I had entered that silly dream of mine. Cause now, we were dancing. Slow. Close. The remnants of our silly escapade were visible across our lips, corners pulling up into knowing smiles as we held each other close. Roman's cologne was alluring as always, and so were his big, green eyes; I could see everything now. The scar on his right cheek, the way his pupils practically pulsated at the sight of me, the way he was drinking me in, the beautiful upturn of his nose, all to the way his warm breath fell against my cheek.

Roman's long, slender fingers intertwined with mine as his other hand rested at the small of my back; it was perfect. Better than I could've ever imagined it. It was intoxicating. Deadly, in the best of ways. 

If I were to say anything, now would be the moment. If I were to say the words that I had longed to say, now was the time. All I could hear was the sweet sound of Roman's breath, the dimmed shuffling of the tulle of my dress, and the mellow remnants of the slow song playing in the background. "Rome," I breathed. "There's something I need to tell you." My heart had never beat harder in my life, I was sure of it now.

I was sure of it.

Roman let out a short hum, lovingly nudging his nose against mine. "I need to tell you something too,"

The more I thought about the beating of my heart, the more I was sure it was going to beat its way up my throat. "Yeah?" I tried. Breathless. Breathless. 

"Yeah," Roman closed his eyes, gently pulling me closer. "But this might not be the place to tell you."

"I beg to differ," Something told me all my dreams were coming true in one go. If he was gonna say what I thought he was gonna say-- "There might never be a better moment than right here, right now." Please. Please. I wanted to beg him to say it first, if he wanted to say those three words at all. 

It felt like the air was a tissue. A tissue falling into me, which was pulled out with Roman's next intake of air. Every breath felt sharp, yet exhilarating, yet draining, yet filling, yet emptying.

"Not here," he whispered. "You'd have a heart attack."

It felt like I was about to have one anyway. "I doubt it," God, I was about to spill, wasn't I? "What if I go first?"

Roman's brows drew together as he pulled away just a centimeter or two, looking more confused than ever. "What?"

My mouth pulled into a line. Was I reading this wrong or was this one of those situations where I just had to grow a pair of balls on the spot and walk on the burning charcoal? "Like... if you're saying what I think you want to say?"

"And what do you think I want to say?"

"... Uhm," It hit me that my mouth had never been drier. Could I do this? Should I do this? "The... thing?"

"What thing?"

"That you, y'know... That you--"

"That I what?" Roman's words were insistent, rushed. It almost scared me into silence. "Baby?"

My lower lip trembled as I gathered the courage to let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. This was my sign to retreat. With a defeated sigh, my eyes shied away from his as my cheeks burned. "Forget it,"

"But..." Roman looked beyond lost. "Okay, I feel like I'm messing things up here. Let's start again."

"Start again?--"

"Start again," he insisted, his green eyes burning into mine as I dared to meet them again. "You were gonna tell me something."

Fuck no. Now, I was sure that'd be a fate worse than death. "I-- I don't know, I'm a little lost now, could we just forget?--"

My nervous ramble was interrupted by a loud groan from Roman. At first, my eyes widened at his weird reaction to me stumbling over my words, all until I realized his phone was vibrating in his pocket. Thankfully, the song in the background wasn't so quiet and slow anymore, and nobody around us seemed to mind. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, letting go of my hand to fish out his phone. "This is fucking ridiculous, who in their right mind is calling at this time of night?!--" 

Roman's anger came to a halt as he saw who was calling him. I was praying to all the Gods I could think of at the moment that it wasn't Letha. 

"It's Peter," he said, eyes rounding out. "I haven't gotten a hold of him in a while, I-- will you kill me if I take this?"

I let out a sigh. Typical. I suppose some things simply remain a dream. "No problem," My ass. 

"I'm sorry," Roman tried, placing two fingers beneath my chin to tilt my head up, placing an apologetic kiss to my lips. It was quick, hurried-- something told me I'd remember it. "I will be right back, and then you're gonna tell me that thing, okay? I'm dying to know. Dying."

"Sure," 

"Just-- meet me by the door leading to the hallway, okay? Not the exit, not the one leading outside, but the--"

"Hallway, yeah. I got it,"

The look on Roman's face told me he was genuinely sorry. That was a consolation, at least. "We're gonna talk, I promise. I really need to tell you what I wanted to say,"

I swear, if he ended up telling me he was getting a new car instead of telling me he was in love with me, I'd wack him with the first heavy purse I'd find. "Go, Rome,"

Roman disappeared from the crowd rather quickly, making his way outside with hurried steps, leaving me alone and frustrated on the dance floor. Muttering curse words under my breath, I waddled to the door leading to the hallway, leaning against the wall next to it with a disappointed sigh. The momentum of that whole conversation had left me a bit of a panting mess, and my heart had yet to slow down. I wondered how I was supposed to get out of telling him that I loved him. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl!

However, as I scoured my brain for something else to say, I felt the familiar smell of overly-sweet perfume fill my nostrils.

I stiffened in fear. 

Oh no.

My mouth dried in record time as Daniel approached me, his stride calm and calculated. It was odd to see him out of his blue varsity jacket, yet he hadn't disappointed; his tux was blue too. The more I kept thinking about the color blue, the more I thought about the ocean, and the more I thought about the ocean, the more clearly I saw myself holding Daniel's head underwater until he drowned. 

Daniel's smirk was nastier than ever. I couldn't believe I ever thought it was cute. "There you are," he purred, getting too close for my comfort. "You look like you're having the time of your life, as always."

I snorted. "Well, what do you expect of a brainless slut, as you so poetically called me? You've always had a way with words,"

"Damn," Daniel mumbled, pulling his hands into his pockets as he chuckled. "Did I really say that?"

"Yep," Asshole.

He nodded; "Ah... It seems you remember that night more than I do, then," Daniel's perfume had now infiltrated both my nose and my will to live. If only I could melt into a puddle on the floor and become immaterial-- that would've been mercy enough. 

"I bet you haven't come here to apologize, am I correct?" I asked. 

Daniel shrugged, amused. "I was actually coming here to ask you for an apology,"

"Me?! For what?" He never failed to say outrageous things, I could give him credit for that much. 

However, Daniel seemed taken aback by my response. "Are you really going to act like nothing happened?" 

"What?! Are you talking about you and I those thousands of years ago?--"

"No," Daniel's face fell. "I'm talking about what happened last weekend." 

Something was awfully wrong. My intuition made the hair at the back of my neck stand up to the sky, and I realized I was pressing myself up against the wall. "Last weekend?" I mumbled. What did I do last weekend? I couldn't remember. All I could remember from last weekend was waking up at the Godfrey Institute because of the car crash--

Wait.

Daniel took a step forward; "I've been waiting for you to get away from that boyfriend of yours for a while," he said, his words low and threatening. "Cause you and I are gonna go have a little talk, aren't we?"

"About what?" My voice came out frail, scared, as my breath continued to catch in my throat. For a second, my attention darted to the person coming out through the door to the hallway, and it reminded me that I was in a room filled with people. Roman was coming back any time now, too. Nothing could happen to me. "I don't know what you're--" 

And then it happened. Daniel stepped forward with speed I didn't know he had in him, and he jammed his foot between the door as he grabbed me with strength I couldn't fight. He clasped his hand over my mouth as I tried to fight him off, yet to no avail-- it didn't take many seconds before he managed to get me through the door, dragging me down the hallway and away from the party. 

I let out a cry against Daniel's palm as my heart raced. Biting him didn't work, as my teeth barely grazed his skin-- I tried to dig my nails into him, yet I didn't manage to reach any exposed skin. The grip he had around me was crushing, and I knew my ribs would ache for days to come. 

"We're gonna have a real nice talk," Daniel hissed into my ear. It was disgusting to have him so near, repulsing. His breath was unsteady as he spat his words, yet there was an exhilarated tone to his voice, like he was getting the biggest kick in the world out of this. "And I'm gonna let you go in one piece if you stop-- stop resisting!" 

Daniel managed to drag me down the hall and around the corner before he threw me down. I hit the ground with a hard thud, wincing as I tried to get up with my heart threatening to beat out of my ears. However, Daniel bent down and grabbed a fistful of my hair, twisting me to look at him as I cried out in pain, eyes watery with tears as I met his angry blue eyes. I tried to drive my nails into his hand, yet he only tightened his fist in my hair-- the pain was blinding. 

"Your spoiled brat of a boyfriend won't even pay for the damages," Daniel hissed in my face. His breath was warm, but in the most unpleasant way; it made me squirm as a tear spilled down my cheek. "Not a cent! The fucking Godfrey lawyers are blocking everything my family could've ever gotten as a compensation!"

I didn't manage to kick him away, no matter how hard I tried. "For a car?!" I yelled. "For a fucking car, Daniel?! Let me go!--"

"It's not about the car!" Daniel shouted, a few drops of spit landing on my face as I grimaced. "It's about the person driving it, you psycho!" 

"I don't-- Fuck!" It was impossible not to curse at the agony. It didn't help that he was now dragging my head backwards, making me wonder whether he'd snap my neck. Would he? Would he actually? "I don't remember anything! I don't-- I don't fucking know! Were you in it?!"

This only seemed to anger him further, and Daniel proceeded to bend down next to me to properly get up in my face. I wondered whether he saw how clumpy my mascara was getting from the heavy tears weighing down on my lashes. I wondered whether he perhaps was hard right now from staring at the terrified look on my face. I wondered if he'd be sadistic enough to shove his dick down my throat if he was. These thoughts only made me panic more, yet I felt my body going limp from the pain; my hands were still fighting. I was still trying. There was no way I'd give up, but it also felt like there was no way for me to win.

"Not a single thing?" Daniel hissed, fury burning in his eyes. "You don't remember how you and your prick boyfriend left my father bleeding in his car? You don't remember how he swerved off the road and got the front of his car completely smashed in?!"

The more I tried to conjure the image, the more the feeling of all-taking panic and dread infiltrated my veins. I tried to claw his hands out of my hair, my nails digging into his skin, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how?--

My current state unlocked the one I had been in on the day of the crash. 

And with the panic, I remembered everything. 

Tick. 

Tick tick.

I could almost hear Roman's voice. 

Tick tick tick.

Right now, I was there.

I was living through it again.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The sun was blinding, although the air was cold. I hurried down the steps of the school that day, running to Roman.

"Where were you?"

I was confused. "I was just!--"

"I've been waiting here for, like, ten minutes!" Roman hissed, getting up from the bonnet of his car. He was in the middle of what I could only call a fit of fury, and his hands were flying as he marched towards me with heavy, angry steps; "Get in the fucking car!" He grabbed a hold of my arm, forcefully pulling me toward him.

I let out a squeal of shock, yet I didn't resist. It was impossible not to jump when he put me in the passenger seat and slammed the door behind me. "What the hell, Roman? What's gotten into you today?!" 

When he got in the driver's seat, he didn't waste any time turning the engine on. "I don't like you lingering in math class," he grumbled, fixing his hair in the rearview mirror. Typical. If Roman had been a woman, he'd have been the type to get extensions and acrylic nails; I was sure of it, with how obsessed he was with his looks. "I don't need you fraternizing any more with the enemy than you already have."

"The enemy?-- Are we talking about Letha?!"

"Yes!" he barked, driving out of the school parking lot with a little too much speed. Had he not been the son of Olivia Godfrey, I was convinced he'd have about a dozen parking tickets for this type of driving. 

"Roman, are you serious right now?!"

"Dead serious,"

"You're being crazy!"

That was it for Roman, who immediately started yelling; "Don't fucking talk to me about crazy! You wanna see real crazy?! Let me crash the car and laugh as we bleed out on the side of the road, then you'll see that I'm acting more than reasonably!"

Instinctively, I reached for the handle of the car door. My breath was stuck in a loop in my chest, too thick to pass my trachea. "Please stop shouting," I echoed. "You're scaring me."

Roman's ears were red with anger. I used to think it was a cute trait of his, all until he threatened to kill us both in this vehicle. However, at the frail sound of my voice, he glanced at me for a second or two as he leaned one arm on the rolled-down car window; his big, green eyes rounded out with the realization, with the weight of his words. "I'm not--" He cleared his throat, returning his gaze to the road. "I'm not being serious. I wouldn't actually do that, you know me."

I could see the guilt settling in the lines of his brows coming together, yet my breath had yet to escape me; it was hard to think while being suffocated. "Stop the car,"

"Baby, I'm about to get on the highway!--"

"-- Stop the fucking car!"

Roman's anger returned as he struck the steering wheel, ignoring the way I jumped; "Fine!" With the speed he was driving at, it didn't take long before he managed to park by the road. He turned to me with a fed-up look in his eyes, one that brought my blood to a boil. It only got worse with the next words rolling off his tongue; "Christ, woman, what is it?" 

For the first time in my life, I hoped I'd get superpowers and lazer-blast his stupid head off. Watch it blow and fly away in chunks, with his blood splattering all over the car. I bet it was the same dark-red color as his beloved Jaguar. Without saying a word, knowing I'd only spew profanities at him if I stayed, I made my way out of the car despite there not being a walkable road in sight.

"Hey-- Come on!" Roman yelled, watching as I started walking away on the side of the road. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

I shivered with the incoming breeze. "Far away from you!" Pissed out of my mind, I wrapped myself tightly in my jacket and ignored the sight of a car passing by me at full speed. 

Roman got out of the car with haste, following me with urgency in his steps. "I'm not gonna drive us into a tree, I was just trying to make a point!" he yelled, dragging his hands through his hair to make sure his hairstyle was preserved in the wind. "Baby, please, come back here!--"

"It's not about that!" I yelled back, turning around to face him. Now, there were only a couple of meters between us as we gazed at each other, one with remorse, one with fury. "You say that you trust me, and then you explode when I come back a few minutes late from my class with Letha!"

"Well, of course I'm!--"

"No!" I barked, clenching my fists. "You've been acting so damn weird ever since the day we exchanged the ancient blood capsules, or whatever the fuck they are! You're being erratic! Are you still on cocaine, maybe? Have you relapsed?"

Roman's mouth opened and closed, offended. "I'm not on drugs!" he shouted, flailing his hands to make his point. "I'm not crazy!" 

"Rome, you can tell me!" It felt as though my heart was beating out of my chest, and I pressed my hands to the thumping motions of it. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes; this whole week with Roman had been so weird, intense, and it had all come down to this. All this pain, all these emotions. "I'm your girlfriend, I care about you more than anything else in the world, you can tell me if you're back to!--"

"I'm not on drugs! I'm not crazy!" He was chanting it to himself now. 

"I can get you the help you need, Rome, please!--"

"I'm not!" With the last boom of his voice, Roman seemed to grow taller on the spot. I was sure I was imagining the way his pupils dilated, the way his jaw twitched, and how he genuinely seemed to be growing an inch or two on the spot, as though he was about to pounce on me. 

Was I maybe tired? That had to be it. After math class, my brain was always fried, anyway. Nonetheless, my breath hitched in my chest as I took a step back in blinding fear-- yet what I thought was a step back, was more of a step to the left. I didn't have much control over my body as my hands trembled, paralyzed at the sight before me. Roman didn't look like himself. It was him, I was sure it was the man I loved, yet something was so terribly off. 

I hadn't realized I was standing in the road.

I was frozen to my spot.

I couldn't move. 

And as the sound of a car honking repeatedly hit my ears, I saw nothing but the way Roman's pupils shrunk in an instant. Sheer panic filled his eyes. I barely registered how he got to me, but it took him less than a second when it should've taken him at least three. 

Roman was too late, yet exactly on time-- it felt like a breeze wrapped itself around me with the swiftness of light, and before I knew it, I screamed as I was lifted off the ground and swept up in his arms. Too scared to register where we were, I only felt the prickling of grass in my hair as I soon heard a crash, a bang, and an alarm going off. 

I held onto Roman's strong body for dear life as my high-pitched screams refused to subside, and tears welled up in my eyes which were squeezed shut in fear. He had wrapped himself around me in a protective hold and made sure I had landed on top of him in the grass by the road, a little too far from where we should've naturally landed, and Roman clutched onto the fabric of my jacket as he tried to shake me out of my shock. 

It didn't work. My throat was getting sore, and I was trembling like a wet, abandoned kitten. 

"Are you hurt?" Roman called out. "Hey, are you hurt?!"

With my next sob, the words came rushing out; "N-No!" 

He let out a sigh of relief as he pressed me tighter to his chest, now stroking the back of my head and kissing my teary cheeks. "You're alright. It's okay, I'm here, you're alright," he cooed, gently rolling me down to the grass beside him. 

I didn't want to let him go. I held onto his hair like a newborn, sobbing. "I'm sorry! I-I'm so, so-- so sorry!--"

"Shh, it's okay," Roman kissed my lips which were salty with tears. "It's not your fault, it's okay. Try to breathe, alright?"

I would've stayed like that, horrified and shell-shocked at our near meet with death, had I not heard pained groans in the distance. I dared to open my eyes, and immediately saw the cloud of smoke coming from the car with the peeping noise. There was a man groaning in pain, and his body was splayed over the steering wheel. And just as I didn't think it could get any worse, I saw the indent of a footprint in the car door-- 

My shaking subsided as I rose from the grass, sitting up in a zombie-like state. My eyes refused to leave the image before me. 

Had Roman... kicked the car away?

Had he kicked a car coming our way at about a hundred kilometers an hour?

Before I could ponder it any longer, Roman grabbed my chin with the gentlest touch known to man and turned me to him. He didn't have a single scratch on him. Shouldn't he be gasping in pain at the blow of landing on his back with me on top of him? His eyes were round, worried, as he scanned me for any injuries. "How does your head feel? Are you dizzy? You didn't hit your head, did you?"

"No," I breathed. "Roman, the car--"

"Fuck that for a second, do I need to take you to a hospital?" The look in his eyes quickly went from worried to crazed, like he was angry that I was choosing to have sympathy for the person in the car instead of caring about myself first. 

I blinked. Once. Twice. "Roman?"

"Yes?"

"The guy in there might be dead. Or dying," 

"I know," he echoed. "But he might also be bleeding."

"Exactly," With shaky steps, I tried to raise myself to the ground. The beeping of the car was driving me mad with guilt and worry. "He might be bleeding, so we need to--"

"Call an ambulance, I know," 

"No, we need to check if he's!--"

"Bleeding? Dying? Yeah, I can't," Roman grabbed my hand, forcing me to look into his eyes. They were round with a look I hadn't seen before, like he was trying to convey something I'd hopefully understand. "I shouldn't go near it when it's that much fresh blood." He squeezed my fingers before he brought them to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "And you're about to faint."

"... What?" 

"You have about five seconds,"

"How do you?--"

"I'm not crazy," Roman said, an end statement. "I'll make sure you won't remember most of this, but trust me. I'll take care of it."

The worst thing was that he was right. I couldn't do anything to stop it when I started seeing white spots, and I let out a panicked yell. It felt like my head was caving into itself; that was a feeling that would stay with me. I covered my ears before I realized I couldn't feel my toes, and just as I went down, Roman went up to catch me in his arms.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

And as I faded out of the memory, it took longer than expected to snap out of it.

I was done.

Done.

I was so, so sure, and I had no idea why everything was black, why I couldn't move, why I felt my lungs freeze over with the inability to breathe.

It lasted for too long. Way too long. An eternity. 

Again.

Up until it felt like a scream was being dragged out of me by force, again, like someone had grabbed a hold of my tongue and tugged me forward, again-- the bright lights of the school hallway shone through my lids before they sprung open in pure panic, and I arched off the ground with a gasp for air.

It felt like I was taking my first breaths again, or like I had been drowning, all over again. I clawed at my hands, my nails digging into the fabric of my dress, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how, again?—

There was a release. I no longer felt like my neck was about to snap, and there was no longer pressure on my scalp as I was released from Daniel's grip on my hair. My body fell limp against the floor as I heard a loud thud to my right along with a shrill cry of pain. 

As I slowly came back to my senses, I realized that Daniel was being repeatedly punched against the lockers by none other than Roman Godfrey. There was no way for him to fight off the repeated attacks, no way at all, as Roman's fist landed blow after blow with no mercy.

"Rome," I wheezed, coughing and wincing as I tried to get up from the floor. I barely had any power in my body anymore-- it didn't work.

The sound of his nickname had Roman letting go of Daniel in an instant, who fell limp to the floor with a cry of pain. Roman looked completely out of it; his green eyes were wild with fury, worry, and an untameable thirst for revenge. I hadn't seen him like this before, so possessed. 

He opened his mouth to say something, yet Daniel let out a wail; "He can't even walk anymore, Godfrey! You fuckers left my father in a coma, and when he woke up, he was fucking paralyzed from the neck down!" 

My head was pounding. This couldn't be true. This was a nightmare.

"You ruined his life!" Daniel yelled, tears spilling down his cheeks as he tried to get up. "And you ruined mine! You took my father from me, and he will never be the same again!"

Roman took several deep breaths. It was clear that he wanted to beat Daniel to a pulp, yet he was holding back. "You think I wanted any of that?" he tried, balling his fists. "Accidents happen all the fucking time!--"

"He says you kicked the car!" Daniel shouted. His voice was shaking. Profusely. It dawned on me how scared he truly looked. "That you-- you kicked it off the road!"

Roman's fists remained clenched. "Did you maybe have too much of the punch?" he asked, attempting to incorporate a calm tone. "You can't possibly be hearing yourself now, Goldman. Explain how I'm supposed to have kicked away a car coming at me at full speed?"

Daniel's lower lip trembled as it caught a few of his tears. "Everyone knows something's wrong with you, Godfrey. It's just a matter of time until someone figures out your secret," A beat. A snarl. "You're a freak."

There was a long pause. Roman was so furious that he could only glare. I could see the way his jaw clenched and how his hands were now balled so tightly they were shaking. 

Daniel caught onto it. Despite looking scared out of his mind, tears still staining his cheeks, he conjured a victorious smile which only confused me further. "You gonna hit me again? You gonna beat me to a pulp in front of your girl?" He nodded towards me, a mocking laugh following as his eyes shone with evil glee.

Roman's eye twitched. I held my breath. 

"You think she'll stay with you once she knows what you're capable of? You think she'll still be yours?" Daniel wiped his nose, staring up at Roman through his brows with his vicious eyes. "You and I are one and the same. The way she looks at me, the hate, the disgust? You're going to know exactly how I feel."

"No," Roman hissed, breathless. "I'm nothing like you," 

"Oh yeah? Do you really believe that?" 

"You're scum!--"

"And you're a fucking sadist, just like me!" Daniel didn't even try to wipe the grin off his beaten face. He simply sighed as he rested his head against the lockers, closing his eyes as though he was reliving his best day; "Bet you would've killed to see the look she had in her eyes when I nearly snapped her neck in half, just before you came... The tears, the fear. She has these pretty whimpers when she's in pain, y'know?" Daniel opened his eyes, staring up at Roman through his brows. "Are you going to let me get away with that?"

I couldn't stay quiet anymore; the panicked cry I let out was unlike anything I ever had before. "No, don't listen to him!--"

"I would've left her here for you to find, just like what you two did to my father!" Daniel chanted. "I would've ruined her, and it would've been all your fault, Godfrey!"

That was it. It was over. I knew it the second those words filled the hallway. His fault. 

Roman snapped. He yelled out in fury, and his hands flew to Daniel's neck where he was on the floor, crushing his windpipes along with any hope for breaths or protests. The look in Roman's eyes was too wild, too uncontrolled, too unstable for my liking-- he looked like he was two seconds away from snapping his neck like a twig, just like what Daniel would've done to me.

"Stop it!" I screamed, terror freezing me to my spot. "Stop it, Roman, stop!--"

"Do-- it!" Daniel wheezed, grinning. "Show her-- what a monster you are!"

My heart was pounding in my ears. No, no, no!

Roman's voice boomed throughout the hallway; "I will break your fucking hands if you touch her again, do you hear me?!"

The amusement in Daniel's eyes quickly disintegrated into abject horror. It was the lack of air. This was the moment he realized one very crucial detail; that all his taunting, all his encouragement, could actually get him very, very badly hurt. "W-Wait--"

"Do you hear me?!"

"Y-Yes!--"

"I will tear you apart!" Roman yelled, tightening his grip. "Is that what you want?!"

Daniel's face was turning a peculiar shade of purple as panic settled in his body. His hands went to Roman's, clawing at them, but to no avail. It was essentially a match he couldn't ever hope to win. It would've been impossible. Roman was too strong, too quick, too sharp-- Daniel didn't stand a chance.

I didn't think it could yet worse, yet somehow it did. In a moment which shouldn't have been possible, not so easily, Roman dragged Daniel's sputtering body up along the locker, lifting him from the ground with no exertion or effort. It made me gasp as I propped myself up from the floor, tears rushing down my cheeks as I watched the scene before me, scared into silence.

When Daniel's legs were dangling off the floor, I knew he had a few seconds before he was out. It was clear in the way his eyes started bulging and how his hands fell limp by his sides. 

Roman's last words were chilling; "Let me show you how much of a monster I can be,"

Daniel let out a short, defeated wheeze. Had he not been choking, it would've been a laugh. He had won, but now he had to pay the price. He squeezed his eyes shut with his last efforts, ready for the beating of his life, all until--

"No, that's enough!" I cried, exhausted by the terror. "Roman, enough!"

It was as though something changed in Roman at the sound of my voice, and the veins were no longer bulging from his hands as he realized the weight of what he had been about to do. With that, he let go of Daniel, who collapsed down along the lockers for the second time tonight; air rushed to his lungs with massive gulps, and his face was no longer purple from the blood rushing to his face.

Now that I remembered everything from the day of the crash, I saw the similarities. The way Roman seemed somewhat taller, how unnaturally wide his pupils dilated, and the way his jaw twitched. 

For the first time, I was seeing him for what he truly might be.

For what he... was. 

Upirism lives beneath their skin, scratches at their teeth, and corrupts their minds through dark urges in constant attempts to drive them to the edge of genesis. Do you suspect you are a upir, or do you recognize a darkness in your loved ones? 

I do.

I do.

Gulping, I finally found the courage and strength to get off the floor. My hands were shaking, and so were my knees-- I was sure my mascara had stained my cheeks at this point, and I felt more breathless than ever as I faced the man I loved. 

What made everything worse, was that Roman looked more beautiful than ever. Hair disheveled, broad shoulders raising with every shaky breath, lips parted. The tux only added to the sight-- he was perfect. Despite the sleeves of his jacket being rolled up, and a part of his shirt being untucked from his pants, he was perfect, and he always would be. His round, green eyes were barely green with how big his pupils were, pulsing with adrenaline; "Are you okay?" he asked, taking a step forward and away from Daniel. "Are you hurt? You were practically unconscious when I came--" 

Roman's words came to a halt when he saw how quickly I took a step back.

My breath was stuck in my chest. I couldn't speak. 

"You look scared. Don't be," he tried. "He's fine, see?" Roman turned around to face Daniel's body, where he lay limp and barely conscious, and proceeded to shortly kick him. 

It made me gasp, clasping my hand over my mouth as Daniel let out a pained whimper. My stomach felt uneasy-- I really didn't want to throw up here.

When Roman saw my horror, he immediately took a step away from Daniel. It hadn't yet dawned on him why I was so scared. "I'm so sorry about this," he said. "I'm sorry I stepped away. I should've never left your side."

I tried to speak, yet nothing would come out. Only tears rushed from my system, peaking at my chin before dripping down to the floor. 

Suddenly, there was a loud cheer from down the hall, a reminder of the prom going on just a door away. It made me jump, frozen in fear.

It was clear that Roman found it to be ironic, and he alternated between glancing down the hall and looking at me. "You still look good," he mumbled, a trying smile tugging at the corners of his perfect lips. Those perfect, plush lips that used to softly press against mine. Was he hoping we could go back inside and act like nothing had happened? "I have a comb you can use, if you want? The mascara is easy to wipe away, I think, and I bet there'll be no one in the restroom, so we can both go and fix ourselves and--"

When he took another step forward, I took another step back.

Roman stilled. His eyes softened with hurt. "Baby,"

I shook my head. That was the only thing I could do.

"Didn't you hear what he was saying? He wanted to-- wanted to do all these awful things to you, I had to do this,"

I couldn't breathe. 

Roman insisted; "I was just protecting you," Despite his calm tone, I spotted the slight shake he had to his hands. "Don't think about all that bullshit he said, okay? He's not in his right mind, he's clearly insane!--"

"His dad, Roman!" My ability to speak returned to me with my growing frustration.

"-- Was a very sad, tragic thing, yes! I'm not denying it!" With the next step Roman took, I stayed in place. He let out a string of controlled, short breaths, trying to calm himself down. "But he didn't have to come after you. I would've given him the money he needed, but it's my mom who controls the assets. All our dear Daniel had to do, was to talk to me. No one had to get hurt."

I squeezed my eyes shut, yet my tears still fell past my lashes. 

Roman let out a sigh which resembled a soft hum. "All that matters is that you're okay. That's all that matters. To me, you're all that matters,"

As his big hands framed my face, holding me when he finally got close enough, I still didn't open my eyes. I couldn't. I was scared out of my mind. Roman's touch was no longer a comfort-- it was chilling to know that they were choking someone less than a minute ago. 

"Are you scared?" he whispered, worry coating his deep voice. "You don't have to be scared of me, I'm not-- I'm not some monster."

I couldn't believe him. His words echoed in my head. Let me show you how much of a monster I can be. 

Let me show you.

"I'm not," Roman insisted. He didn't sound like he believed it much himself. "I'm all yours, only yours. That's all I am, and that's all that I ever will be. You need to know that."

Let me show you.

"Please look at me," 

Let me show you.

"Please," he begged. "I-- I've made some mistakes, but I'm still your Roman. Can't you stomach it anymore? Is me wanting to protect you repulsive to you?" 

I shook my head; not at all. My hands found his chest, feeling it raise against my palms. I used to lay there. Fall asleep there, listening to his beating heart. 

"What did you want me to do, then?" Roman whispered. "You're my everything. You're everything. I couldn't let him get away with doing all of that, I-- I couldn't. I'm sorry if it scared you, I'm sorry you had to see me like that, and I'm so sorry I ever left... I should've stayed with you. I'm a fool. I should've stayed and heard what you wanted to tell me."

I didn't need to look at him to know he was crying, now. His voice was breaking. Actively. It shattered me. 

"Cause... you still want to tell me, right?" 

Something told me he knew what I had wanted to tell him.

My hand crept further up Roman's broad chest as I quietly sobbed, my whole body shaking. My fingers were at his neck, tracing his soft skin.

Roman's grip on my face tightened in desperation, yet his voice came out in a frail, low murmur; "Please-- Please tell me," 

I love you. I love you. If only Roman could read minds. I couldn't conjure the words, not in this state. 

My silence only broke him further. Hopeless, he pressed his tear-stained lips to mine in a sheer cry for mercy. "Please," he whispered between repeated kisses I couldn't reciprocate. "Please-- Please--"

My fingers had managed to slip between the two top buttons of his shirt, and they now grazed the vial of my blood around his neck. As Roman continued to kiss me, desperately pressing my body up against his, I let out a sob as I twisted the capsule, just like I had once practiced; his breath hitched as I wrapped my hand around the vial, clutching it as I pulled it away from him without a word.

Roman's hold on my face disappeared as his hands floated an inch away from my face, his big eyes watery with hurt and confusion. 

I told myself it was for the best. The blood had poisoned his thoughts for too long. 

My first step away was slow, trying.

Tick.

Tick tick.

My second was quickly followed by a sprint down the hallway, away from Roman, away from Daniel, away from everything.

Tick tick tick.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Have you ever thought about death? Of course you have, everyone has-- but have you ever felt it?

It felt like I was dying for the hundredth time this week. The agony was pressing at the sides of my head, and it made me hope it would finally cave in on itself just to spare me the torture of being awake. 

It was the fear that brought me to Letha's doorstep. The thing I didn't want to be true. Everything had balled up into a ginormous travesty of a boulder, and I could no longer try to push it over the side of the mountain-- I was no Sisyphus. 

I couldn't begin to comprehend how shocked Letha must've been when she opened the door. She opened and closed her mouth, scanning the mascara which had stained my cheeks, and the state of the top of my hair. "What the fuck?" she cursed under her breath, grabbing my hand to pull me inside. "What are you doing here? What happened?"

I felt like a shell of the person I used to be. Like I had been cracked open like a lobster, with someone actively scooping out my insides. Letha's house smelled of expensive fragrance sticks you'd buy from Rituals-- I recognized the one she had in her house at the moment, the ritual of hammam. It was her favorite, I remembered that much. I felt at home. It was an odd feeling.

"Your dress," Unsure what to do, Letha bent down to fix the way my dress fell. "Seriously, what happened?--"

"A while ago, you said you wanted to tell me the truth about Roman," My voice was sharp, hollow, as I stared at the girl who was once my best friend. I had cried into her shoulder before, we had shared countless laughs-- what had I done? "What was it?"

Letha stilled with shock when she straightened up, meeting my troubled gaze. "Shouldn't you be at prom?"

"Letha, I need!--"

"Where even is, Roman, actually?"

"You need to tell me!" I cried. "You need-- I need to know, I need to hear it from you, because I need someone to tell me that I've gone crazy!"

With slow motions, Letha stretched out her hands to place them gently on my shoulders. "Let's take some deep breaths, okay? Whatever this is, I bet you and Roman will get through this. Did you have a fight? It can be painful to argue with your boyfriend, and it really can feel like you're going crazy. I get it, and--"

"-- I have this book," I interrupted, feeling my tears press up against my lashes once more. "It's really long and dreadful, but I've read the whole thing over and over about five times now."

The worry streaking across Letha's face turned into a look of confusion. "Okay...? As long as it's not Fifty Shades again, I'm listening,"

It was odd to speak to someone that knew me so well. She knew I had read that stupid book several times, despite how ridiculous it could be at times. It almost threw me off. "The more I read the book, the more I saw the... similarities with Roman,"

Letha grimaced; "Fifty Shades?"

"No! The other one!"

"Oh, alright. Phew,"

I groaned, rubbing my temples. I was exhausted. "You said I deserved to know the truth about him, so I'm begging you, Letha, to put everything aside," My breath struggled to steady. "What was it?"

Her palms lifted from my shoulders. "I-- I don't know how to say it, or whether I should tell you at all. I only ever mentioned it because I thought you were in danger, but--" Letha stilled. It was clear on her face that she knew she had said too much.

"Danger?" I echoed. "Letha?"

With a quick hitch of her breath, Letha made her way past me with hasty steps and disappeared into the living room.

"Please!" I followed her, watching as she paced back and forth in the big room, anxiously biting her nails. "Letha, I need to hear it from you, I need to know that I'm wrong, I need to hear that it's something else than what I think it is!"

"I-- I don't, I can't!--"

"Tell me!"  I needed to hear it out loud. I burned to hear it from someone else than the voice in my head.

"N-No, I!--"

"Letha!"

"It's too-- I can't!--"

"Say it!" 

Letha stilled with the boom of my voice. She stared back at me from across the room, no longer pacing as she finally dared to face the crazed look in my eyes. There was a long pause, a silence that laid itself over us like a cold blanket-- "What book was it?" she breathed.

"The--" I hated this title. "The avoidable vampirism, the--" I couldn't say the word. I couldn't.

Letha nodded. It was barely noticeable, and it resembled an involuntary tic. "Yes,"

Yes?

"Yes, he is,"

"Say it," I whispered. "Please."

Letha closed her eyes, resigning;

"Roman's a upir,"

The house was dead silent. You could've heard a pin drop. There were faint remnants of the wind brushing past the large tree outside the property, with the rustling of the leaves filling the sonic void. Letha wasn't moving. Neither was I. How does one process such news? It was a peculiar feeling-- I felt like I had already known for a long time. There was no shockwave, as I had expected there to be. 

"Ah," was all I said. It left Letha to raise a brow, visibly off-put by my reaction. 

I nodded to myself a couple times, glancing around the living room I used to know better than the back of my hand. A small huff escaped me, similarly to a laugh; I wondered whether my brain was melting. It surely felt like it. 

For a second, I thought that was it. That there would be no blow to the reveal. That I was handling it surprisingly well, and that it'd be the end of it. However, the more breaths I took, the less I felt like I was breathing. The less I felt I was breathing, the more I could feel the painful thumping of my heart against my ribs, every beat serving as a reminder that I was still alive, still in this moment, still processing. 

My breath got stuck in my throat with the next heave-- my hands flew to my necklace, trying to find the clasp. It was too tight, too tight. With shaking fingers, I tried to get it off, needed it off, right now. It didn't work, no matter how hard I tried, and my eyes welled with tears as I ripped my necklace off with a gasp, hoping I'd finally be able to breathe. The beads rolled along the hardwood floors as I clutched at my chest, hitting my chest in hopes that air would fill it.

Letha's big, green eyes were filled with worry as she rushed to me, unsure how to help. "Hey, hey, breathe, okay?--"

The corset of my dress was suddenly an agonizing pressure around my waist, and my fingers went to the ribbons at the back to slacken it. It didn't work, no matter what I tried, and the sob I let out was followed by a broken plea; "Help-- H-Help!--" 

Letha hurried to get behind me as I slowly sank to the floor, choking on my tears as she untied the ribbons at full speed. My hands were tearing at my dress, choking with my last breaths as I descended into the heap of tulle around me-- I tried to scream, yet no sound would come. 

In a last attempt, Letha grabbed the ribbons with full force and pulled them apart, ripping the fabric in half as my corset finally came apart. 

What followed was a mix of a sob and a heave, a choked sound filling the room as I leaned forward into the tulle, taking sharp breaths of release. I could finally breathe. I was breathing again. I wept into my hands as Letha's soft hands stroked my exposed back, sitting down on the floor next to me as she brought my body as close to hers as she could. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'm so, so sorry."

I shook in her arms, drowning in tears. It was true. Roman was a upir. I had been right all along, yet I had also been stupid enough to suppress it. The sadness, the heartbreak, that hit me felt like a death-sentence, and I held onto Letha as my whole body trembled with the realization; "I love him," I cried. "I love-- I love him!"

"I know," Letha stroked my hair, sighing. "I tried to get to you before you got that far, but there always comes a point when you can no longer do anything. I've learned that the hard way, now."

This was worse than death. "What do I do?" I breathed. "I don't-- I don't know what to do!"

"... You know what you have to do," 

It only made me clutch onto her harder, and I squeezed my eyes shut in hopes of stopping the stream of tears. I wondered how I had any more of them in my system. "I don't-- think I can!"

"I only want what's best for you," Letha cooed, patting away my fallen tears. "And I know that Roman can be charming, and he can be very nice when he wants to be, but... now that you know what he is, how are you going to believe him ever again? He's lied to you all this time, and he would've never told you himself. You're aware that he's putting you in danger every time he's near you?"

I shook my head; "N-No, Roman would never!--"

"If you read a whole book about upirs, you probably know what he's capable of?"

"He'd never-- never hurt me!--"

"Maybe he wouldn't hurt you, but you know he can control people, right?" Letha sighed once more, tilting my head upwards so that I would meet her eyes. "He did that to me our whole childhood. His favorite thing to do in the winter was to make me stick my tongue on metal poles and watch me cry when I couldn't detach it."

What? "But!--"

"How can you ever be sure that your actions are yours?" Letha's eyes were so intense, so desperate to get her point across. "How can you ever trust him again?"

How many times hadn't I thought he was mesmerizing me? I could count them on my fingers, but the thought was still unsettling. "I... don't know,"

Letha shifted to sit on her knees, watching my mascara paint my cheeks with long, black streaks. "I'm glad you came to me," she murmured, softening her look. "I'm glad you see that I'm the only one that can help you. We should put everything behind us and stick together again, and we have to. I'm all you have now. Roman... he's dangerous. You're safe with me."

I was so, so tired. I didn't have the energy to fight the free help coming my way, yet... something felt off. "He's not dangerous," I tried, in denial. "He's--"

"He's what?" Letha insisted, hardening her gaze. This was giving me whiplash. "Seriously! He could snap any day, can't you see?! And who would be closest to him the day he's overcome with thirst?" 

"No!--"

"It'd be you!" Letha grabbed my face, and it only made my tears flow faster, hanging from my quivering chin. "It'd be you, and I can't lose you again, not in that way!"

The more my vision blurred, the weaker I felt. "I love him,"

"I know,"

"I-- I love him,"

"But you need to love yourself more," she whispered. Letha let go of my face, wrapping her arms around me in a warm embrace. She smelled just like she did all those months ago. My best friend, Letha. I missed her more than anything. 

How could I ever love anything or anyone more than I loved Roman? I didn't have space for that in my body. I didn't have the capacity. 

"Do it for your life," Letha pleaded, her voice smooth as honey. It felt like she was talking me to sleep. "Please."

A life without Roman? I couldn't imagine it. Not when we had promised each other forever.

But... forever for him probably meant forever. 

Roman is a upir. 

Roman is a upir.

I let out another cry into Letha's shoulder; this was a nightmare I wouldn't ever wake up from.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

When you get devastating news, you never think of what happens afterward. It's similar to when someone dies-- you get the news, in comes the shock, and then you get handed the papers on what to do with the body. No one ever thinks about having to design the flyer for the funeral, right? 

There is a certain weight in your body as you go through the motions you know you have to go through. Your hands feel heavy as you hold your next meal before your mouth, realizing that life moves on, whether you want it to or not. You still need to drink water, eat, wake up, and function. 

And just as I opened the door to my empty home, I felt all of that at once. I wanted to freak out and sob in despair to the end of my days, yet I had to get back home. I had to get out of the clothes Letha had given me after I ruined my dress, I had to eat something to fill my rumbling stomach, and I had to sleep. How was I supposed to do any of that when it felt like my world was crashing down on me?

It felt like someone had pressed a button at the top of my head, putting me on auto-pilot. I didn't even notice that I was still wearing my jacket as I made my way to the kitchen with heavy steps, mindlessly opening the fridge and taking a... cucumber?

Why was I holding a cucumber?

Fuck it.

I couldn't think. I didn't even close the fridge. My mind was empty as I put it down on the kitchen island, not even bothering to find a cutting board. I didn't want to think. The more I thought, the more I thought about Roman. Roman and his perfect lips, Roman and his beautiful laugh, Roman and his green, green, green eyes. Roman, the man I loved. Roman, the upir. 

Involuntary tears rushed down my cheeks as my face remained stoic. I was exhausted. I had no idea how I was still moving. My hands were mindlessly tapping the kitchen surfaces around me, hoping I'd somehow find a knife that way. Not that I'd be particularly successful, but maybe I didn't want to be? I wasn't even planning on washing the cucumber. Maybe I hoped the germs would kill me. Could you die from an unwashed cucumber? I had no idea. There was probably a higher possibility that Roman would kill me first. 

... I hated that thought. 

I wish I didn't have to have it.

However, as my hands found the selection of knives, I heard a sound coming from behind me. It came from the other side of the kitchen island, the one I had my back turned to. I didn't think much of it first; houses creak all the time, surely. But then came the scrape-- a deliberate, jarring screech of a chair being pulled out from the kitchen island.

My parents were out of town. 

Someone was in my house.

Someone was pulling out a chair.

I froze, every muscle in my body locking up, my breath catching in my throat.  The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps sent a chill crawling down my spine. They weren’t hurried or hesitant-- they were purposeful, unhurried, as though whoever was there wanted me to hear.

I gripped the counter with trembling fingers, my pulse hammering in my ears. I didn’t dare look back, but every inch of me screamed to run. My fingers brushed the cold handle of the biggest knife I could find, finally. The familiar fight-or-flight surged through me, but I couldn’t choose. All I could do was grip the knife and hold it as though it were a lifeline.

When the footsteps stopped, I thought for a moment that maybe, just maybe, I had imagined it. 

But then-- the breath.

A low, soft exhale just inches behind me.

Now or never. I spun around with a panicked yell, the knife held high, ready to plunge it into whoever had invaded my home-- My scream got stuck in my throat when the blade pointed at the chest of a tall figure standing in the dark, his face barely illuminated by the faint glow of the refrigerator light.

Roman.

Roman didn't even bother to stop me, didn't jump away, nothing. The tip of my knife was barely dipping into his solar plexus, yet I was sure it would've been enough to draw blood on any other person; it didn't even pierce his skin. 

I couldn't believe what was happening. He somehow didn't look like himself-- it was Roman like I’d never seen him before. His expression was blank, too blank, the kind of blank that made my stomach churn. He didn’t flinch at the blade hovering just below his sternum. His green eyes locked onto mine with a kind of detachment, as though I wasn’t holding a weapon to his chest at all.

“You done?” he said, his voice carrying an eerie stillness.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. My knuckles whitened around the handle.

Roman’s eyes flickered down to the blade, then back to me. “Put it down,” he said, his tone measured but firm.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Roman took a quiet step back, glancing down at the large knife I was holding at him with an unreadable emotion shimmering in his big, green eyes. "Right..." he huffed, sucking in a sharp breath. His gaze darted up to meet mine in the dark of the kitchen. "Is that how you want to do this?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. There was no other way, not when I knew the truth. 

Roman’s lips parted, and the breath that escaped wasn’t human—it was low, steady, and calculating, like a predator sizing up its prey. His gaze locked onto the knife, then slowly dragged up to meet mine. His pupils were darker now, swallowing the green of his eyes, and the silence between us stretched too long.

“If you’re gonna do it, don't hesitate,” Roman's voice was soft, yet laced with something cold and merciless. He took a single step forward, the tip of the knife now pressing harder against his chest. “You won’t get another chance.”

I gasped, stumbling back, but Roman didn’t follow. He stayed in the shadows, his figure looming over me like some unholy force. “Fine. This is how it's gonna go,” he continued, his tone so calm it made my blood run cold. “You’re going to put that down and listen. No running, no screaming. I deserve that much."

I tightened my grip on the knife, my chest heaving. “Why should I listen to you?"

A huff-- Roman was pissed. "Cause I'm really not in the mood for chasing you. It'd be over in less than three seconds, and that's never fun," Roman's voice dropped to a near whisper; "You wanna fight me, or do you want to be smart about this?"

I didn't lower my knife. I couldn't. "Alright," I breathed. "Talk, then."

Roman tilted his head, studying me, his lips curving into the faintest ghost of a smirk-- it didn't reach his eyes. "There you go," he said. 

"Good girl."

(a/n: ... are u still breathing? cause I'm not!!!! AGHHH😭 thank you for reading this if you got this far, this is so so much lore so if your brain is overheating pls pls go grab an icecream, you deserve it, and I LOVE YOUUU MWAHHH CAN'T WAIT TO SHOW Y'ALL THE REST OF THIS STORY!!)

here are all the chapters!<3: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12

loveliest taglist of all time:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

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@taintandviolent

[hirayalore]

Can I please request Sirius with a single mama who happens to be a muggle? He would be such a good daddy 😭😭😭

[ sirius black x muggle!reader | fluff | in an alternate universe wherein there was no wizarding war | 3.1k words ]

note. well this got way longer than intended and yet for some reason still doesn’t feel enough??? anyways halfway through writing this i realized that jily is supposed to be 18 when they got married so for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that they’re in their late 20s hehehe,, hope you’ll like this one! 🫶🏻

Sirius got to meet you through Lily.

The meeting was unexpected, really. It was during the time James and Lily were preparing for the wedding, and Sirius, being the designated best man and all, was tasked to deliver some important items for the ceremony from the Evans home to the Potters. 

He knocked on the front door, clad in his usual attire of faded jeans, black shirt, with a leather jacket worn around his shoulders. His motorbike was still running in the driveway, an indication that he wasn’t planning to stay long, but as soon as you opened the door and locked gazes with him, Sirius suddenly thought that perhaps it would be okay to hang around even for a few minutes or so.

He flashed a smile, a smile he knew turned up the charm and made his handsomeness look a bit devilish, and stepped a bit closer, his hands placing themselves on the front pockets of his pants. “I didn’t get the wrong address, did I?” he asked. “Although if I did, I don’t think I should be in the position to complain.” His smile transformed into an easy smirk.

You stared at him, analyzing him, taking in the sight of his dark tousled hair and the manner in which his piercing eyes looked back at you, before opening the door a bit wider. “I take it that you’re Sirius Black?”

“The very one. And you are?”

“____ ____,” you said your full name, extending a hand out for a handshake but when Sirius took it, he didn’t do what you were expecting him to do.

Instead, he brought it closer to his mouth, pressing a kiss on your knuckles. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he replied smoothly, prompting your face to feel a bit hot.

As you were about to utter a response, Lily came behind you and saw what was happening. She rolled her eyes and playfully shoved Sirius’ shoulder, causing him to drop your hand. 

“What?” he asked, mock innocence on his features but he was already laughing.

“Don’t even think about it, Black,” she warned, though she too was chuckling. She then handed him the things he came for without delay. “____ is off limits.”

“Why? Is she taken?” he asked, glancing at you as if waiting for you to confirm it yourself.

“No,” Lily answered before you could (again), “but she’s my best friend.”

“And? I’m your fiancé’s best mate. Wouldn’t that technically make us meant to be?” He smirked, eyes flickering to you once more. “Don’t you agree, love? I reckon you’re the maid of honor too—my perfect match as the best man.”

You laughed, a soft melodic sound that he got momentarily mesmerized by. “Well, I see Lily was right about what she told me about you. You do seem like a menace.”

“But charming and handsome nonetheless?”

“Sirius,” Lily walked out of the threshold and began gently pushing him to the direction where the motorbike was parked, “go before I hex you,” she said. “Or worse, uninvite you to the wedding.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave.” He relented, waving a hand before heading to the vehicle and placing the fetched items in the compartment. 

Before he revved the engine, preparing to leave, he gave you one last look which consisted of a rather heart-fluttering grin and a very flirtatious wink.

Lily turned to you as he sped off, already reading what was on your mind. “No,” she said, her tone final.

You laughed. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.” She scoffed with a teasing smile, marching back inside the house and leaving you there, still staring at where Sirius rode away.

****

The next time Sirius got to see you, it was at the wedding itself.

It was a small ceremony. James’ parents were there, all happy and excited for this new chapter of their son’s life, and as for Lily’s family, only her parents came to attend.

Her sister, Petunia, still had an unprovoked dislike towards wizards, a feeling that apparently couldn’t be ignored even for one day in order to be part of her sole sister’s special day.

As for other attendees, aside from some friends they went to school with back at Hogwarts, there were quite a number of Muggle friends and relatives, mostly from Lily’s side. It was for that reason that the event felt… mundane, you could say, with the absence of magical decorations and whatnots—but in the best way possible, as it gave the whole affair a more intimate and solemn feel.

“Padfoot, you’re going to turn into a giraffe if you don’t stop craning your neck like that,” Remus retorted with a chuckle.

Sirius gave him a lopsided smirk, dropping the cigarette between his fingers and extinguishing it on the ground.

He was trying to search for you among the busy crowd, curious on where you might be. It wouldn’t take long before the entourage would be asked to take their positions and he would have the excuse of having your arm latched to his, the both of you ultimately walking across the aisle as the best man and maid of honor.

After a few more giraffe-like actions of trying to catch a glimpse of you, he finally saw you talking with Lily’s parents, a baby girl not more than three years old wearing an adorable dress carried in your arms. He didn’t think much of it, assumed that she was a flower girl, though he did notice a bit of similarities between your appearance and the little lady, such as the shape of your eyes and the color of your hair.

“Excuse me,” Sirius arrived just in time beside you as the Evans went off to greet a relative, “I believe that you’re my partner for the day?” he cheekily said.

His smile was directed to you at first, but it swiftly shifted to the toddler who you still had in your arms.

“This is Esther.” You introduced with a fond grin. “My lovely daughter.”

You watched as his eyebrows rose in surprise. 

“Daughter?” he repeated, though the manner in which he said it had no malice. “Well, that explains the pretty eyes.” He chuckled before doing a courteous prince-like bow to Esther. “Pleasure to be of acquaintance, Ms. Esther.”

Esther giggled, hiding behind your hair in bashfulness, though still peaked as Sirius like she was initiating a prompt peek-a-boo game.

“Where’s this cute one’s dad?” he asked next. You could tell that he was attempting to sound nonchalant about it, as if the question wasn’t being asked to check if you were single or not again despite confirming it last time. It seemed like what he wanted to confirm this time was your current relationship with the father of your child.

You shrugged. “No idea. Probably off at someone else’s bed.”

“I see.” He laughed, sounding a bit too pleased.

When you eyes met again, your lips curved upwards as his eyes twinkled.

****

For the rest of the ceremony, you and Sirius shared conversations then and there. 

You reckoned that without Lily’s focus on you, there was less chances of her reprimanding you if she saw you willingly involve yourself with the heartbreaker that is Sirius Black. You weren’t lying when you said that she had said several things about Sirius prior to your first meeting, all of which involved not letting your guard down and being seduced by his ‘bad boy charm’.

“He’s generally nice,” Lily told you. “As a friend, that is—I can’t say much as a significant other—but I do know that he made loads of girls cry and curse his name back then.”

And as Sirius made you laugh after one joke and another, you could understand why. He was the type of guy who knew what the ladies loved and used it to his advantage; the type who was aware of how good looking he was and yet acted as if he didn’t, this effortless aura surrounding him that pulled you in ever so naturally.

Whenever Esther was whisked away by a friend or any elderly couple that were enamored with the presence of a child, Sirius took it as an opportunity to level up his advances. He’d compliment you, look at you with a gaze that made you a bit weak in the knees, and spoke in a voice that was all velvety and smooth—giving you an even clearer picture that this definitely wasn’t the first time he went his way to woo a woman.

“Look at those two,” you said upon seeing Lily and James sway along the rhythm of the slow music, caught in their own world at the center of the dance floor, “I find it hilarious that he’s the lad she ended up marrying. Do you know how many times she complained about him whenever she came back from Hogwarts?”

Sirius snorted. “Well, in her defense, James was a bloody tosser. He followed her around, trying to get her to go with him for even one date.”

You hummed in agreement. “Yes, but I also heard that he was an arse, always messing with Severus.”

“Oh, you’re familiar with Snivellus?” He appeared amused for a second, daresay proud at the awful nickname—but then realization dawned unto him, and he shifted his expression to a more controlled and behaved one. “I mean, Severus, yes. Severus Snape—I didn’t know you knew him too.”

Your nose wrinkled.

Instead of answering his question, you tilted your head slightly to the side before uttering out what you have been itching to say since he began blatantly showing interest to you. “I know your reputation, Sirius,” you began, “and I’ll have you know that I have no time for funny business.”

“Great. Neither do I.”

“I have a daughter.”

“Yes, as you have introduced me to the little one earlier.”

“And does that not bother you? Or do you like knowing that you can have someone with a child wrapped around your finger?”

His features softened in an instant. “Love, I don’t know what you exactly heard from Lily, but I’ll tell you this. I won’t deny how much of a menace I’ve been when we were still studying, but it has also been a few years since we graduated. I’m not entirely the same lad as I was.”

You were skeptical. No matter how talking to him throughout the evening gave enough proof to support his case (he did prove that he was a man of substance and who knew how to lead a meaningful conversation), you were also wary of putting all your trust in him. After all, this wasn’t the first time that a man charmed you and made the implication that he was going to treat you the best, only to flee the moment you made it apparent that you needed him.

“Okay,” you said.

Sirius chuckled. “Okay? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“As it’s supposed to be.” You shrugged. “It’s a free country. You can do anything you want, as they say.”

****

It has been 11 months since Sirius and you became a couple officially.

Was Lily mad?

She was furious. She scolded you nonstop for days, saying how she didn’t lack in warning you about Sirius and that you should be careful about letting men in your life, especially since the last man you let in was not only an embarrassment, but someone who had made it apparent that not everyone can stay true to their promises.

She was right, of course. You weren’t naive and you for sure were smarter this time around. There was no moment that you ever made it easy for Sirius the second he declared his intentions with you, always being transparent of your feelings and whenever he did something that you didn’t like. Your mindset was always that if he were to give up because of your ‘pickiness’ or ‘unrealistic’ demands, then it would save you the time of investing your feelings yet again to the wrong person.

But Sirius was a different breed. He was persistent. He met each ridiculous request with ease and listened to every concern you addressed to him with commendable willingness to change. Though there were still moments wherein his inherent mischievousness jumped out, when his sharp tongue rolled out at the presence of others and you saw a side of him that you didn’t particularly like—at the end, Sirius knew when to apologize and how to show you that he wasn’t all talk in saying that he was ready to change for the better for you.

As for his relationship with Esther… well, you thought that was the most compelling thing about being with Sirius, just seeing him effortlessly take on the role of her father figure without being asked to.

“Oh, Merlin, you must be the most adorable little lady in the world, darling,” Sirius cooed at Esther as he adjusted the backpack worn behind her shoulders, dressed in light denim overalls with a white shirt underneath.

She was going on a trip with your brother, along with his wife and two kids, and was going to be picked up a few minutes from now. Sirius had insisted the night prior to sleeping at your place to help you pack Esther’s things, given how the trip was going to last three days, and when you woke up this morning to prepare breakfast and some snacks she could bring, saw that Sirius had already prepared it for you.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” you mused.

“I don’t.”

“Then how—” you cut yourself off at the reminder of him being like Lily, a wizard, and the sight of the smirk plastered on his face. “Right, right. Almost forgot about that one.”

“Sirius,” you heard your daughter chime while you checked her belongings, making sure that everything was set, “will you still be here when I get back?”

Sirius smoothed her hair. “Hm, that depends, love. You know I don’t actually live here, don’t you?” He teased her.

“But you’s always sleeping here!”

“Yes, because I like spending time with your mum.” He chuckled. “And you, of course. You can’t quite sleep without me reading you your favorite storybook.”

She nodded. “Tha’s ‘cause I likes it when you read it.”

“More than you like listening to Mummy?” You jumped in the conversation, crossing your arms in fake hurt. “I’m wounded, darling.  Aren’t I supposed to be your favorite?”

Esther grinned rather sheepishly. “You’s still are, Mummy. But when Sirius reads me my storybooks, he makes the characters all come to life!”

Before you could process the implication of what she said, two loud honks from a vehicle outside announced your brother’s arrival and Sirius was quick to take advantage of the distraction, ushering you to greet your brother outside while he helped with bringing Esther’s things to the car.

Once all things were settled, you kissed Esther’s cheek goodbye, a wet smooch that she giggled to, and said your farewells to your brother, his wife, and your two nieces that you hugged tightly and gave sweet kisses to as well before you stepped back in the driveway, waving as they drove off.

You turned your heel around the second the car was far enough, looking at Sirius who was leaning casually on the door frame of the front door.

“What?” he asked, but you knew that he was already aware of what the look meant.

You reached him as you entered the small house. “Do you use magic whenever you’re reading books to Esther?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“No, absolutely not.” 

You raised an eyebrow, in which Sirius finally grinned. 

“Okay, maybe sometimes.” He yielded. “But I promise, it’s all harmless. I just make the drawings move and run around her bedroom.”

“You…” a sigh escaped your mouth at his statement, “you make the drawings move? And, and run?”

He nodded. “It’s a simple charm, really. Makes Esther all excited too. Sometimes she even requests that I make them life sized so she could play with them.”

“Is that even allowed?”

“Well, she’s a kid, so I reckon she’d blame it to her imagination if she ever does remember this in the future.” He laughed.

You couldn’t help but laugh too, seeing his point yet still being in disbelief at the reality of all of this. You were never that weirded out by magic—in fact, you were amazed by the existence of it—but as someone who grew up with completely mundane stuff, you still couldn’t grasp its possibility and how casual Sirius was whenever the topic arose.

“You’re lucky she adores you, Sirius,” you told him, laughing and shaking your head. “If not, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself out of this one.”

The grin was still on his mouth as he gently hauled you closer to him. “What can I say? My charisma is universal.”

“I think I beg to differ.” 

“Oh, are you saying that it doesn’t work on you? You haven’t fallen for my irresistible allure yet?”

“And if I were to say no?”

He kissed you, slow and lingering, enough to make your head spin a bit at how his lips moved with cognizance of what you liked. When he pulled back, he flashed you a rakish smirk that had you weak in the knees.

“Then I’ll have to change that. Can’t have Esther’s gorgeous mother not fall for me, can’t we?”

“You’ll survive.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Another kiss. You grinned at how you could feel the intent behind the gesture.

“But seriously,” you pulled back momentarily to look him deeply in the eyes, “thanks for being there for Esther. I appreciate how you make her laugh and all. I can see that she likes being with you.”

He smiled in response. It was sincere and warm, a side of him that you have come to witness and love for the past months. “No need to thank me, darling. The kid isn’t hard to adore either. I’d say I’m honored to be part of her life.”

You continued to gaze at Sirius, his words making you feel fuzzy and gooey inside. You never thought you’d get to this point of yours and his relationship. You always assumed that he was going to get tired one way or another, or perhaps realize that dating a single mother was not for him, but here he was, smitten with you and treating your daughter as if she was his own.

“Fine, I’ll take it back.” You slyly pulled the collar of his shirt down so you could be the one to kiss him, Sirius smirking against you as you did. “Maybe I’m not immune to your irresistible allure after all.”

He laughed, the beat of his heart syncing with yours. 

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[gwyndolence]

Gwyn smirked right back, rubbing goadingly back against the slave's length a moment longer as he took Kell's other hand and guided it to his waist to join its fellow. "Don't you worry, I fully intend to savor you. And that takes far more than one night." He slipped a hand behind him, curling his fingers around Kell's length, biting eagerly at his bottom lip as he watched the human move impatiently underneath him through hooded eyes. What a sweet sight Kell was when he was wanting. The slave was lucky that Gwyn wasn't in the mood to torment him in truth. "Though I'll try..." He pressed slowly back into that sweet, blunt pressure at his entrance, a breathy sigh escaping the sith as Kell's cock teased him open. He took him slowly, steady until he was flush to the younger man again and Gwyn hummed with satisfaction, shifting to stroke his hands down Kell's chest, circling his hips in an indulgent grind to feel the stretch and heat of the other man buried inside of him. "How's that, darling?" He purred, "You aren't going to surrender too quickly, are you?"

Kell couldn't help the whine that slipped passed his lips at the feel of Gwyn's lips wrapped around his cock, his fingers flexing in the sheets. So tempting to thrust up into that warmth, but he knew with how worked up he'd been throughout the night that he wouldn't last long. Better to cum while he was fucking the master, though of course that was all up to how Gwyn himself was feeling. Still, the human's hips jerked up somewhat as the sith's attention turned to the tip of his cock and he groaned once Gwyn moved away. He stared up at the older man, giving him a playful little grin. "There better be another time." Kell replied, one hand moving to grip the master's hip as he straddled him, the human rocking his hips up somewhat impatiently. "Always time for that later, handsome."

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 14

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: some period-typical attitudes about women and marriage, Geta still being a bit of a jerk

Chapter word count: 4.1k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13

Chapter 14

The distant crowing of a rooster woke Daphne from her sleep, as it did every day. She didn't remember returning to the hut and going to bed, but there, on the floor, their tunics lay discarded, encrusted with dirt and dried grass, showing plainly that what had happened the night before had been no dream. She stirred, felt Romulus's arms around her, and turned around to face him. The little square of sky outside the window was starting to lighten, just enough for her to see his features, the sharp jaw he now kept clean-shaven, the long, curling lashes covering his eyes, the lines of his face smoothed by sleep, making him look like a boy, the plump lips slightly parted. At the sight of those lips, Daphne couldn't suppress a triumphant grin, remembering the night they'd just had. He'd given up that particular battle at last.

But it wasn't just the memory of their passion that made her linger in bed and watch him sleep with such a tender ache in her chest. As she lifted her hand to caress Romulus's cheek, her eyes caught the ring on her finger, and, tentatively, she allowed herself to think of Galen. To her surprise, the pain was no longer there, and with it, the guilt she'd usually felt about Romulus had vanished as well. In finally knowing Galen's fate, she had been able to let him go. Now she was free, free of the doubt and the grief, free to love again.

And this man, this mysterious, unfathomable, infuriating man lying next to her, was he to be her love? She knew so little about him, still. He had only told her a bit about his time in the army, and of his family, all he'd said was that he had an aunt in Hemesos. And there was the matter of whoever had attacked him. Daphne hoped that it had been some mere personal dispute, over money or perhaps even a woman, and Romulus was hiding due to his desertion from the army rather than fear of this unknown villain. She knew it was baseless speculation on her part and she would never know for certain unless he told her, but she tried to convince herself of it. For if Romulus was only hiding from the army and no other mortal danger, she could persuade him to stay...

It may have been her sigh at this thought, or her caressing hand, or the second crowing of the rooster, but he woke just then, blinking in the brightening light, which turned his eyes to a warm shade of amber. "Kalimera," he said, smiling sleepily at her.

"And to you," she replied, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, his cheek, and finally his lips. Now that he was no longer pushing her away, she fully intended to kiss him as much as she could.

He smiled into her kiss and seemed to have gone back to sleep, but when Daphne sat up, his arms closed around her. "Don't get up yet," he mumbled, his lips seeking hers even though his eyes were only half-opened. "It's too early."

"I must. There's the garden and the animals to attend to."

"What about me? I need attending as well."

Daphne laughed. "I have to milk Amalthea in time, or she won't give as much milk and we'll all go hungry."

"Fine," he grumbled, releasing her and burying his head in the pillow. "But come back soon."

She got out of bed and pulled on a clean tunic. "You can help, you know," she said, pausing at the door. "That way we can finish sooner and have more time to ourselves." Romulus's eyes opened, and she laughed again as he launched himself out of bed and chased after her, eager as a child running to the Harvest feast.

In truth, the chores that morning took longer to finish, for they were too busy chasing each other through the garden rows and kissing long and deep whenever they ran into each other's arms, getting more dewdrops on themselves than on the herbs. Daphne didn't mind. She didn't even care if her neighbors on the nearby hills could hear their voices. She had never laughed so much, silly little giggles over nothing at all, not since Galen, not since she was a girl. She had never seen Romulus laugh so much either, his whole face lit up as he leaned down, trying to catch her lips with his, the dimples she'd never noticed before framing his smile like a pair of loving arms. Gone was the scowling, angry man she'd pulled out from the stream months ago.

And he was so keen to help. It gave her hope that perhaps she could persuade him to stay, to build a life with her amongst these hills.

Once the garden was watered and Midas was let out to eat the fresh grass, Daphne fetched a jug and went to the milking stand, where Almathea was already waiting. The two kid goats frolicked nearby—they had been weaned for a while now, but they still kept close to their mother during the milking, remembering that Daphne had often given them some of the fresh milk afterward.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Daphne said to Romulus, while she washed Almathea's udder. "You said you'd help."

He approached warily. "Won't she kick?"

"Nonsense. You've seen how gentle she is. Come." She took his hand and placed it on the udder. Feeling a strange hand on her, Amalthea gave a little jerk, and Romulus jumped away as if the goat was a cobra.

"She was going to kick!" he said accusingly.

"No, she wasn't. You weren't, were you?" Daphne said to the nanny goat, who gave a soft bleat in reply, sounding all innocent. Romulus glared at them both, looking for a moment like his old self again. "Here," said Daphne, guiding his hand with hers. This time, Amalthea stood still. "Now, don't pull on it. If you do, she will kick. Just squeeze, like this..."

A spray of warm milk streaked into the jug, and Romulus let out a laugh of surprise and delight. "See?" Daphne said. "You're learning."

She tried to extract her hand and let Romulus milk on his own, but he held her tight. "Don't I get a reward for being such a fast learner?" he said with a suggestive grin, as the milk continued to fill the jug with its rich, creamy foam.

"You're an incorrigible cheek, that's what you are." But she couldn't help smiling back and leaning over to give him a peck on the lips.

"Ah, yes, but you love me anyway," he said, returning her kiss.

His words sent a jolt through Daphne, like the dry lightning often seen over the hills on a clear summer sky, tearing up the haze of happiness and contentment within her. Did she love him? She didn't know. She had loved Galen, but that was a long time ago. Of all her lovers, none had ever made her feel this way, not even the shy schoolteacher in Adala whom she'd almost married. She had wanted to marry the schoolteacher not out of love, only out of loneliness and a desire for security. With Romulus, who had no family, no roots, and no past, could she have a future with him?

Romulus must have noticed her hesitation, for he drew back slightly and gazed at her with concern. "What is it?" he asked. "Is something the matter?"

"No," she said, smiling quickly to reassure him. "Nothing's the matter." Thankfully, at that moment, Amalthea gave a little bleat to remind them that the milking was not quite done yet, and Romulus's attention was diverted.

Returning to the kitchen, Daphne strained the milk and set out the breakfast things. Romulus seemed to have some trick up his sleeve. He set a bench in front of the cot, snatched the bread and cheese from her protesting hands, and laid them all on the bench, along with a pot of honey and a bowl of olives. While Daphne watched, bemused, he went over to the door, where a tray of apricots, the last of the season, was being dried in the sun, picked some of the freshest ones, and added those to the spread as well.

This done, he turned to Daphne and gave an extravagant bow. "Domina, your feast awaits," he said.

"A feast?" she said with a laugh. "What's the occasion?"

"Does one need an occasion to celebrate? Can we just celebrate life, love, us?" He took her hand and led her to the cot. "Come. I'll show you how the Romans feast. It should have been the evening meal, but there's no time like now." She sat down, but he shook his head. "No, no, carissima, you must lie down. Lift yourself up on your elbow. That's the proper way."

She had no idea what he was doing, but it amused her to see him this way, a playful, mischievous side she had never seen in him before. So she obliged and lay down on the cot as he'd instructed.

"Is this how people feast in Rome, lying on their side?" she asked, as he lay down next to her.

"Yes."

"Seems a rather uncomfortable position."

"It does, doesn't it?" He strained for an apricot.

"So why do you do it? It can't be good for your digestion."

He paused and appeared to be thinking about it. "I don't know," he said sheepishly. "It's just something everybody does."

She grinned. "Well, if we're having a feast, we're doing it the Osroenean way, by sitting up like sensible people."

Romulus grinned back at her and sat up, but then he insisted on feeding her, breaking up the cheese, dipping the bread in honey, and choosing the juiciest apricots for her.

"Why are you being so sweet?" she asked between mouthfuls. "What are you up to?"

"Why do I have to be up to something? Can't I just be sweet?"

"You never used to be."

"What are you talking about?" he said in mock offense. "I am sweet!" He scooted closer to her until she was on her back, and peppered her with kisses from her foot to her face as he spoke. "I'm as sweet as the morning dew"—kiss—"as sweet as fresh honey cakes"—kiss—"as sweet as your lips"—kiss—"as sweet as your..."—and here he reached his hand under her tunic.

"Stop it!" She laughed and swatted him away.

He laughed as well, a rich, deep sound that seemed to echo all through her and arouse her in places she didn't even know about. He settled down next to her and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger.

"Come with me to Hemesos," he said suddenly.

"What?" she said, still laughing. She thought he was in jest.

"It's almost autumn. I'm well enough to travel. I want you to come with me to Hemesos."

Her laugh died away. She lifted herself up on one elbow to look him in the face. He was quite serious. "And what would I do there?" she asked, in a small voice.

"Meet my family. You can stay with them. And, once I'm reinstated, you shall become mistress of my domain," he said, as if there was no question about it.

This was the first time he'd spoken freely about himself. "Your domain?" she asked carefully. "What kind of a domain?" A fearful thought occurred to her. "Is your family wealthy then?"

Romulus smiled at some inner joke only he knew. She didn't like that smile. She didn't like how it excluded her, kept a secret from her. "I guess you can say that," he said. "My mother and her sister came from a line of priests. My maternal grandfather was a high priest of the great god Elagabalus. Now my aunt's grandson inherits the position."

They didn't worship Elagabalus in her village, but Daphne had met enough tradesmen and shepherds from Syria to know that a high priest of Elagabalus was not someone to be trifled with. She got up and sat away from Romulus.

Well, she'd always known he was a patrician, had known it ever since she'd first set eyes on him. It shouldn't surprise her that he came from wealth and nobility. But it was different to hear him confirm it, to see the chasm between them taking shape and widening.

"I have my own domain here," finally she said, trying to hold on to her dignity. "This hillside, my garden, my hut. My goats, my donkey, my bees. They're all here." She touched his face and brushed his curls away from his forehead. "This is all I need." She didn't mention that he was here as well, amongst the things she needed. "What would I want with some fancy city mansion?"

"A mansion?" Romulus laughed. "Oh my sweet laurel, you won't get just a mansion. Once I punish those who wished to harm me, I shall give you an empire. This beautiful body of yours will be draped in the finest silks of the Orients, these raven tresses will be adorned with all the jewels of India and bathed in the most fragrant perfumes of Arabia. There will be no need for you to toil away for your daily meal. There will be slaves and servants to cater to your every need. They will worship you like the goddess that you are..." His eyes shone with a fervent light she had never seen before, and it frightened her a little.

"I'm not sure I'd like that," she said slowly. "I'd much rather stay here."

His face fell. "Even when I go back?"

"You'd have to go without me."

He sat up. "You're refusing me," he said.

"I guess I am," she said evenly, turning away so she wouldn't have to look at him, wouldn't have to feel his dark eyes boring into hers.

When he didn't say anything for a long time, she stole a look at him. His expression was dark, harsh, as he took in her answer. She had the feeling nobody had ever refused him before. "And if I should get you with child?" he asked, grabbing at her belly, his touch no longer gentle.

She thought of the wild carrot seeds that she'd been taking since they started sleeping together, and it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that there would be no child, not if she could help it. But she didn't want to tempt his dark moods.

"What of it?" she said warily.

"That child would be mine, by right. Would you still refuse me then?"

His tone, so arrogant and so male, irritated her. "By right? You forgot, we are not married. By right, any children we have would belong to me."

"You would raise my child as a bastard? How dare you!"

"How dare I? How dare you? Who do you think you are, the emperor himself? Nobody tells me what to do! Not my father, not my husband, and certainly not you!" She pulled her tunic down and bolted up from the cot. At the door, she stopped. "And anyway, I've made sure there will be no child, so you can stop counting on it!"

"Daphne, come back here!" Romulus shouted, but she ignored him. Slamming the door shut, she strode into the front yard and dropped down on the bench under the laurel trees, anger burning her chest like a brazier. So he was just like other men after all. Always thinking he knows best, always thinking everything and everyone is his to control however he pleases. She'd had enough of that from her father; she'd be damned if she would endure it from a man who was practically a stranger to her.

Was he, though? Was he really a stranger to her, still? She thought of what he'd said to her, "But you love me anyway," so cocky and sure of himself, yet it was belied by the desperate way he'd held her and kissed her, like he was begging her to assure him that she did love him.

Well, did she?

She asked herself again, and this time, she allowed herself to be truthful, even if it was only in her own mind. Yes. She did love Romulus, despite all her effort to harden her heart against him. She loved him despite not knowing anything about him. She loved him despite her mind telling her it was foolish. Now she must pay the price of heartbreak. Mere moments ago, she had dreamed of asking him to stay, of building a life with him. Now she had to face the harsh truth that it was not to be. He would never give up such wealth and position to stay with her. He couldn't, just as she couldn't give up her freedom to stay with him. And she wouldn't ask him to choose.

With the unerring instinct of an animal to sense distress, Vulcan limped over, plopped down next to her amiably, and started to nibble on the hem of her tunic. His antic made her chuckle, and her anger and pain simmered down somewhat.

"What am I going to about him, Vulcan?" she asked, looking at the goat's injured leg that Romulus had tended with such care.

At that moment, the door creaked open. Romulus stepped out and gingerly sat down on the other end of the bench, looking like a boy waiting to be reprimanded. Daphne turned away, determined to maintain whatever remnants of control she still had over her heart. Vulcan left her tunic and limped over to Romulus to get a few head scratches, before ambling away again.

They sat in silence for some time. Eventually, Romulus reached out and put his hand over Daphne's. She wanted to pull away but couldn't bring herself to, and cursed herself for it.

"Forgive me," he said, clearly seeing her acceptance of his hand as an encouraging sign. "I didn't mean to shout at you. I didn't mean any of it. You don't have to come with me if you don't want to. I only want you to be happy." Gone was his grandiose declaration, gone was his boast and bluster. He sounded so genuinely worried that he'd offended her, and he was holding her hand so gently yet so anxiously, that it took all of her self-control not to turn around and draw him into her arms.

When she continued to say nothing, he asked, "What did you mean when you said you've made sure there will be no child?"

She sighed. "It's nothing to do with you. In fact, I would welcome a child." It was one of her bitterest regrets that Galen had gone away before he could have given her a child. "But to have a child out of wedlock would mean submitting both myself and the child to my father's wrath."

"No, I mean you haven't—you haven't—"

She whipped her head around to face him, her anger flaring up again. "And what's it to you what I've done or haven't done? It's me that has to carry the child, is it not?"

"I just don't want you to hurt yourself on my account."

Finally she understood the source of his concern, and her anger cooled off completely. "You don't have to worry," she said in a much softer voice. "I'm cleverer than that. I just take some herbal tea. That's what I give to most of my patients in Adala as well. I only use surgery as a last resort."

He nodded, looking relieved. Still holding her hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed her palm, his touch going straight to her very core.

"Perhaps—" he began. "Perhaps after I am reunited with my family in Hemesos, I can come back for you—"

"No." She pulled her hand back. Though it felt like she was ripping her heart away, she had to do it. "I can't live there. My whole life, I've never even seen a house made of stone. I only know mud bricks and straw. I would die if you put me in a mansion of marble and gilt." He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head, anticipating his next words. "And you can't stay here either. You're not a farmer or a shepherd, just as I'm not some great lady." He was looking at her as if she was breaking his heart, and even though she knew any gesture of affection would only increase her pain, she cradled his cheek in her palm anyway. "Let us treasure the time we have now, and when it's time for you to leave, go with an easy heart."

"What heart?" he whispered, leaning close to press his forehead against hers. "My heart will be here, with you."

She had to laugh at that. "Save those pretty words for your highborn city ladies. Out here we have no use for them."

"Of course," he said with a grin, his own grief momentarily forgotten. "Out here you're more hands-on, aren't you?" He closed the distance between them with a kiss, and there was no more talk of Hemesos that day.

Still, the thought was never far from their minds. It hung over them like the heat that hung over the valley, long after the hills had cooled down in the night air, and shrouded their kisses and their embraces in a melancholy veil. Try as she might, Daphne could never bring back the laughter and the innocent joy of that morning after Romulus had first kissed her. But perhaps it was for the best. He was leaving, and this would, if not ease their parting, then at least help her become used to the pain.

***

Soon, there was trouble of a different kind, to distract Daphne from Romulus's imminent departure.

That day, she came back from her usual rounds in the village to tell Romulus that the merchant caravan had been spotted two valleys away. It should reach the village in a couple of days, longer if it was a large caravan.

He looked shocked. "But you told me they would come after the Harvest Festival!" he said.

"Perhaps they're a bit early," she said, trying to hide the shaking of her hands as she rubbed her eyes. It had been a hard day, and a long one. "Besides, I don't think there is going to be much of a Harvest Festival this year."

"Why?"

"There's fever in the village."

Romulus's eyes widened in alarm. "Is it swamp fever again? I thought you said they were on the mend."

"Yes, but other people are sick now. It comes every summer. We're used to it." What she didn't tell him was that over half of the village had been struck down, including her own brothers, and more and more people were falling ill every day. In all her years, she had never known swamp fever to be so deadly. It was all the more reason for Romulus to get away as soon as he could.

She packed more medicine and a change of clothes into the saddlebags. "I'm going to stay with my mother to help take care of the sick," she said. "I'll ask Ione to keep an eye on the garden and the goats. And you—" Her voice choked, and she swallowed before continuing. "Go down the hill and make your way to the stream—you remember the path, don't you, when we went to Adala? Wait there, and the caravan is sure to pass by soon."

He nodded with unaccustomed compliance. But that night, as he held her in his arms, he whispered, his breath hot and desperate on her neck, "Come with me. Please."

She was glad that it was dark, so he couldn't see the twist of her face as she tried to swallow a sob that rose with abrupt ferocity to her throat. "You know I can't," she said. "Please stop asking me."

He was still asleep when she set out for the village early the next morning. She gave him one last look before walking down the hill, hoping in her heart of hearts that he would be gone, far gone, by the time she came back.

Surprise! With the news that the Fantastic Four trailer is going to debut next Tuesday (February 4 for F4... very clever), I thought I'd get this update out of the way before the JQ tag is flooded with F4 content. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs, @deliciousfestsalad (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Okay already the single most annoying trend in Arcane discourse is emerging on this post which is the compulsive need to stack the characters onto some kind of moral leaderboard based on their perceived politics. Which is neither the point of the show nor the point of this post.

Silco is a horrible little rat man who has no qualms about using drug addiction and violence to control people and his being in a position of power is overall a net negative for Zaun (although no more than any of the other people who are gunning for the job) and he also is a revolutionary, in the objective, descriptive sense of wanting to change the existing political structure of Piltover and Zaun. Not all revolutions are social revolutions that rearrange the existing class structure. In fact the tensions between national identity and class loyalty are one of the main political divisions within many independence/national liberation movements; plenty of Marxists from oppressed nations have written about this.

Part of Silco's tragedy as a character is that I think he could have been a very different person in the midst of a thriving Zaunite nationalist movement, which theoretically could have held him accountable to the kind of broader vision of improving the lives of everyone in Zaun that he, Vander and Felicia seemed to be talking about in their youth. But there is no broader Zaunite nationalist movement, and an isolated revolutionary can quickly become frustrated, bitter, and self-serving.

Ekko is the single most unproblematically selfless, good-hearted character in the show and he absolutely has the most liberatory, egalitarian vision for how his particular small community is organized. And I also wouldn't call him a revolutionary, an anarchist, or a community leader of Zaun as a whole, beyond the scope of the Firelights. He has carved out a small space of what seems to be relative equality and compassion within the Firelights' commune, but that is a mitigation strategy for the inequalities of their society. It works on a small scale when there are enough resources to go around, but we see how precarious it can be when demand increases and their main resource, the tree, comes under threat. The Firelights are active in disrupting the distribution of Shimmer in what is more or less a gang war with Silco, but there is no indication that Ekko is trying to change the overarching political structure of Piltover and Zaun or even thinks that's possible. We don't really see enough of the Firelights' community to know exactly how it is run and how decisions are made. Ekko may very well have broader political ideas about how society as a whole should be structured but we don't hear them clearly articulated, which is why I hesitate to put a political label on him or almost any other character in the show.

This really deserves a longer meta that I will hopefully have time to write soon, but to me THE key to understanding the political landscape of Zaun in the show is the lack of broad collective struggle based around either class or national identity.

On a Doylist level I think this is because the show is written by liberals (again, I say this in a descriptive not pejorative sense) who don't believe revolutionary change is worth the risk of extremism, instability and violence it could produce--and, even if they did, never intended that to be the main plotline of the show.

On a Watsonian level, I think all of these characters living in the wake of a defeated uprising, culminating in the massacre on the Bridge of Progress, explains everything we see. What kind of political actions emerge when most people think successful collective struggle is impossible? Accommodation to power in the hopes of minimizing harm to those you care about, no matter how humiliating and unsustainable a strategy that is (Vander). Vigilante violence that may inspire admiration but is ultimately accountable to no one (Jinx). Looking to one lone hero as a figurehead instead of relying on political self-activity and self-organization (the Jinxers). Positioning yourself as a strongman who has the correct ideas and will do anything to accumulate the power necessary to execute them (Silco). Trying to make things better on a small scale for the immediate circle of people you care about and maybe a small part of the community you can impact (Ekko). None of these characters have a bulletproof strategy for broader social change because that is not the main focus of the show.

It’s very funny to me when people call young Silco an anarchist because he once threw a Molotov cocktail at a cop. That man is a bourgeois nationalist if I ever saw one. If anything he’s sort of a moderate developmentalist—a lot of the demands he lists out in his independence proposal are about economic sovereignty that would allow an independent Zaun to compete with Piltover as a trade nexus via the Hexgates. He wants a state and he wants to be at the top of it. This is not a commentary on the merits of anarchism or nationalism as ideologies, I just think it’s funny cause he’s one of the only characters in Arcane with a well-developed, self-aware set of politics and Smash The State ain’t it.

[hy6erion]

can I ask for s one-shot (or headcanons) for Mel Medarda x Winged!Reader? You can do fem or gn reader. It's all in your preference :3

𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

⇢ 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 (⁀ᗢ⁀)

✰ Mel is not a woman who reacts openly, but the first time she sees you, she pauses. Just for a second. Then, she tilts her head slightly, as if she’s considering a new piece of art—one she intends to own.

✰ She is used to people trying to impress her. But you? You exist outside of expectations. The wings, the way they move, the power they signify—it’s something she cannot ignore.

✰ Her first words to you are deliberate. A simple “Fascinating.” Not an introduction, not a pleasantry. Just fact.

✰ In Piltover, power is about perception. Mel understands this better than anyone, and she ensures that your presence is felt in every political room.

✰ She places you beside her at council meetings, not because you need her influence, but because she enjoys the way the others scramble to reassess their power dynamics.

✰ Your wings are a statement—one she wields masterfully. When people falter, unsure of how to address you, Mel remains silent, watching how they adjust. It tells her everything she needs to know about them.

✰ There are moments when she brushes a hand against your feathers in public. A brief, fleeting touch, barely noticeable to others—but enough to remind you that she is always aware of you.

✰ Mel does not tolerate inelegance, and your wardrobe is no exception. She ensures that the finest tailors learn to work around your wings, crafting designs that enhance rather than conceal.

✰ Gold-threaded embroidery woven along the edges of your feathers—because if they are to be displayed, they will be displayed properly.

✰ You catch her once, tracing the golden accents with her fingers in quiet contemplation. When she notices your gaze, she merely smirks. “Art deserves to be framed.”

✰ Mel loves the way they shudder involuntarily when she trails her fingers over the base.

✰ The sheer power of them, the way they flex with your emotions before you even speak.

✰ How they wrap around her in moments of quiet—warm, secure, absolute.

✰ The fact that no one else dares to touch them. Not without permission.

✰ The first time you take her flying, she is unreadable. She does not clutch at you, does not react in fear—but the way her fingers tighten just slightly around your wrist betrays something unspoken.

✰ Afterward, she is silent for a long moment. Then: “Again.” No hesitation. No embellishment. Just the certainty of someone who has seen something they need to experience once more.

✰ The second time, she doesn’t just hold onto you. She leans into it, letting herself be weightless, trusting you entirely. It is a rare thing for Mel Medarda—to let go.

✰ Late at night, when even she is tired, she leans against your wings—not to be held, not to be comforted, but simply to exist within your presence.

✰ When you’re alone, she lets herself be touched. Not just kissed, not just desired, but held. Wrapped in warmth, in wings, in something that is not strategic, not planned—just yours.

✰ There are mornings where she stays in bed longer than necessary, her hand tracing idle patterns against your feathers. If you call her out on it, she merely smirks. “I like to appreciate what’s mine.”

✰ Mel Medarda does not fall for people.

✰ Mel Medarda does not need people.

✰ And yet, when she watches you, when she feels the brush of your wings against her skin, when she sees you standing beside her as if it is the most natural thing in the world—

✰ She wonders if, for once, she has chosen something not for strategy.

✰ But simply because she wants to.

[drunkwithmouthwash]

There was something that made me think for a while: if she was first intended to be Anya's partner, how u came up with the idea of her being with jimbob at some point? I would like to know bc there's a big gap there n all. I mean, a healthy to unhealthy gap. It made me curious abt the reasoning! Also I didn't rb before your post sorry for that 😩

(Sorry for late response dear)

I guess that decision was affected by my own personal feelings towards the characters during the creative process :’) The first time I watched a let’s play of MW, I was left feeling very protective of Anya and I HATED Jim with a burning passion. So, originally, Sammy was gonna be an ex-military, roughed and kinda buff, and she was going to protect Anya (here’s a rough sketch I made of that, plz don’t mind the anatomy or flawed perspective, I was experimenting 🤣)

But as days went by… You know, I kept having MW in the brain, and started to realize that the one that had actually made a VERY PROFOUND IMPACT on me had been Jim. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and thinking about him would make me so angry. Like, I really, REALLY FUCKING HATED him. But it got to a point in which I was like “…Wow. I don’t know how long it’s been since a character has made me feel something so intensely.” And then I started to appreciate him more for the character and the villain that he is. He is SO WELL DONE, like I bow down to Wrong Organ. So… little by little, love started to bloom from that hatred, and I wanted to use Sammy to express those feelings :’3 (Don’t be fooled tho, the love and hate I feel for him go hand in hand and neither replaces the other. I still hate him for his actions in the game and rejoice whenever I see fanarts of him getting what he deserves, lawfully or violently, but I love him as a character all the same, and who am I kidding? I do find him physically attractive, he’s my type lmao).

Now, in regards to Jim and Sammy’s relationship, I’m obviously well aware that Jim is not a sweet pea, and that if they were to be together romantically, it would be a terrible, terrible relationship. Since Sammy is a self insert, I decided to have her know better than to stay with him, and, well… that reminded me of a personal experience that I had with an ex boyfriend of mine :’) Thankfully, my ex was NOT NEARLY AS BAD as Jim (it would be like comparing a newborn tabby kitten to a full grown tiger lmao), but I still knew that he was no good for me and that I deserved better, so I broke up with him. However, I was still so madly in love with him, and stayed in love with him for around 10 years 🫠 I went to therapy, “got over him”, and then cried for him again the next time I saw him. Took me a LOOOOOT to finally get over him for good, but I was able to have closure. And, well… I decided to base Sammy and Jim’s relationship on that. She knows she deserves better, and she’s not afraid to hold him accountable for the things he says and does, but deep down she’s still very much in love with him (and those feelings will ultimately doom her) YwY

Anyway, I should probably wrap this up before it keeps getting longer 😅😅 I’m so sorry

Thank you for coming to my ted talk ❤️

[marswasnothere]

hello my liege. I come offering a thought.

I'm not very familiar with the timeline of Daniel getting his tattoos but. How does Max react when baby badger Daniel gets his first tattoo and/or the thigh tattoo?

We know Daniel's tiny shorts were already driving Max crazy, so how does he feel when he sees the colorful ink peaking under them?

Daniel tattoo primer we love you

Ship and a lighthouse to represent home and traveling the world. It says “No Regrets, Only Memories” and is symbolic of his journey to F1. Got it in 2013 when he was announced as the new Red Bull driver - it was his first tattoo. He thought if he got a big one he’d only get one (he was wrong). It’s front and center on his right quad.

Let's say Daniel got this over winter after his first season (half season) at Red Bull, and doesn't tell Max until he posts a pic of it on instagram a few weeks later. Max messages him immediately and asks him a bunch of questions, why he got it, when did he, where, did it hurt, why that style, what does it mean to him, such and such. Daniel answers them all with diligence, just answering questions to his coworker :)

Then they're at the factory together and finally Max can see it in person. But Daniel's wearing long pants, because it's january and he's a cold little baby. Daniel goes to the toilet and Max follows him, asking to see the tattoo. Daniel says "yup sure :)" and shimmies his jeans down all the way to his thighs to show off his newly tatted thigh to Max.

It's smooth. Has to be smooth. Had to be shaved down to be tattooed on, duh, but its still smooth. After like three weeks of healing. Did Daniel shave? It's... so big too. For a first tattoo?

"Well if I get my first one and it's big," Daniel says, gesturing at his leg, "then I won't get another. It hurt quite a bit so that's enough convincing for me, haha."

Max stays in the toilet's longer than intended to will down his hard on. No wanking on company time.

A few weeks later, and Daniel's wearing shorts again. Max can't function.

[jason-t0dd]

"Mhm.." There's a small comfortable silence between them for a moment before Jason speaks up again. "Since I think I'm gonna be here for a bit longer than intended, want to watch a movie while you're clinging to me like a koala?" He asks, idly running his fingers up and down her back.

blows a cuddle pollen at you and then pushes you towards jason

go give him a hug, he needs it

Kenna stumbles as she gets pushed, groaning slightly as that uncomfortable itch under her skin makes itself known again.

“Seriously? I thought I was done with this!”

@jason-t0dd

[raiiny-bay]

some WIPs from the 80s AU i never finished

[someiicecube]

I had this post sitting in my drafts for a while and I was suddenly reminded of it haha. 

Anyway, we all know this line from the main character synopsis, right? 

Only humans?

Is this purposeful on the writer's part to specifically mention the curse can only affect humans? Or are humans the only creatures mentioned because that's all the main character has had the chance to... curse with their touch?

Can the curse affect monsters?

Currently, we can't know one way or the other. 

Even if we did touch Leander, bare hand and all, it's Leander. The main character is under the impression that, because he's such a strong and powerful mage recommended to us by the mysterious doctor Kuras himself, it's just something he can do apparently—  although, we as the players know that's not all there is to it... just what is it? Is it part of his supposed monsterous-ness? Does he really know a spell that can protect against our curse? What's Leander's Jungle Juice really made out of? We can't tell yet...

Chosing Leander in this context is such a strategical plot point because he cannot answer our initial question. Is Leander not affected because he cast his little protection spell? Or is Leander not affected because he is/has become a monster?

However, we still can assume that the main character doesn't have full knowledge on what they are capable of with their curse— ya' know, probably being mostly surrounded by humans and such. So, the idea of touching even a monster is probably not a theory anyone wants to test (unless you're a mage, then please do it on some random monster and not the LIs for funzies... unless you want to).

Could this be a seed the writers are planting? Maybe, maybe not. But leaving the question unaswered (by Leander), again, makes the player and main character cautious by nature.

But what if they did slip up?

What if they slipped up and it happened on accident? 

Your bare fist colliding into Ais' chest, skin-on-skin but still a solid blow. Your hand desperately reaching out for Kuras' own, just wanting to feel his warmth once more only for a moment. Your palm sweeping against Vere's shoulder, pushing him away, your skin brushing along the thin translucent fabric. Or your fingers digging into Mhin's wrist as their dagger hovers right above you, their pulse hard against your uncovered touch.

It's startling. It's something you didn't mean to do. Fear grips you immediately; dread rises as your stomach falls. You are as quick to let go of them as your eyes are to look them in the eye and...

Nothing.

While, it wouldn't come as a shock to either Vere or Ais. Kuras, who the main character wouldn't know is an angel at this point, and Mhin are another eyebrow raiser for sure. It didn't affect them, when you know it should. If it doesn't affect them... that would only make the MC raise many more questions about Leander in turn. Ah, what a dramatic way to reveal the fact that the person you fancy is a monster.

Other notes and thoughts:

While, yes, an interesting idea to think about. I'm torn between wanting the monsters to be immune and 'fuck it, this curse affects everyone, even your pet rock ain't safe'. I can't help but feel this idea also lowers the stakes of the MC's curse... if done wrong.

Let's say this, the curse doesn't have an effect on monsters, right? But for each monsterous LI there will be a catch. Say, Vere, for example; a monster who lusts for power beyond him... having a human like yourself with such a deadly curse, well, who's to say it wouldn't give him a few ideas on how to use you it. What? You're still planning on finding a cure? Oh no, but you have him now, don't you? Why need a cure when you have him, your curse, and your soon-to-be mindless worshippers at your feet?

(Won't lie writing some of Vere's points made me think of Leander, but that's manipulation for you)

Or think Kuras, a doctor, an angel who passed through the shroud to watch over humanity. How would Kuras feel if the person he's grown so close to decides their curse isn't worth getting rid of now that you have him— can't you see the danger in yourself anymore?

Or try with, like some previous theories once said for us touching Leander: it doesn't affect him now... but eventually he will devolve into madness like the rest of everyone. But don't just apply that to Leander, now think of everyone else. Imagine finally finding someone you can touch without consequences. It's something that gets your blood rushing and heart pounting with a feeling your haven't felt in a while! However... the more and more you do so, you've noticed they've changed. They're more irritated, they've been having more headaches than normal, and their once beautiful smile twists into something dreadfully familiar. Congratulations, you've made your beloved mad with love! Here's the bad ending! Yipee!

Really, in the end it's all a balancing act, the stake were there and you don't want to take them away before the climax. If you do, place something else in its steed— something to raise them even further than what was initially thought possible.

[ohnomalora]

Excerpts of EarthMix at Fandom Live presented without context

[twistedhxart]

That Balthair, Conláed's father, intended to release Lucio in the near future was a thought that the prince had often considered. The king could be very strict and stubborn, just like his eldest son, but at some point his sentence would be served. He could not remain their prisoner forever.

Conláed couldn't come up with an answer, but he actually took it upon himself to ask his father about this.

But would Lucio really consider wiping them all out as soon as he got the chance? Would he kill the rest of the royal guard? His father, his mother, him and his siblings? The look on his face said so. He was probably even more dangerous than they all assumed.

In thought, Conláed looked at his plate again and stirred the stew once more before deciding to leave the rest. There was no point in philosophizing any further on the subject. Lucio seemed to be in the mood to hurl more insults at him.

“I will. But now I'd like to go to bed.” Or at least retire to one of the rooms they could occupy here. “Stay a little longer if you want, I'll pay for the food and beer.”

The prince didn't seem annoyed or angry, but rather dejected.

There's a small swell of pride in his chest at seeing the other stutter and stammer in disbelief. Lucio doubted the Little Princeling had ever been spoken to in such a way. And while Conláed didn't seem as high and mighty as other royalty he'd met in his lifetime, he still pissed Lucio off. Perhaps it was the invisible collar and chain binding them both. Maybe he was irritable because he was hungry or in pain from the food he'd forced himself to eat for the sake of their cover. And why should he?! What does it matter to him if the boy gets kidnapped for ransom or dies? Sure it'd be painful, but even these witches and warlocks couldn't actually kill him. Could they?

Perhaps that's why he protected the boy. At first for amusement, but it was starting to get dull. The boy had his head in the clouds more often than not.

Smelling the blood rushing to the Prince's face, Lucio's tongue licked over the points of his fangs in his mouth. The action and thought of draining him causing him to clutch his chest in pain. Breathing normal, but his brows are furrowed. He'll have this stupid King's head. He'll pillage all these god forsaken villages once free.

The mention of his freedom, brings a small pained laugh from the vampire.

"You are also a fool if you think I'd ever be willingly released from this hellish prison shackled to you. Do you truly believe your father would let me loose upon the lands I devastated... how long ago was that?"

He rolls his eyes, like it mattered. The plague he wrought upon these lands would be recorded somewhere. A young man, pale in face, his hands brought death to their doorsteps. Snatching children from their cradles...

"No. It's safer for you all to keep me here. Go ahead and ask at your leisure, see what he says."

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

It took 2 people to fully convince Crosshair to do a 180 on the Empire - but neither of those people were Bad Batch members.

They couldn't be. What would a squad of defective clones who had been disobeying orders since day 1 know about loyalty to an institution determined to establish order for the good of the galaxy? What would they know about finding purpose in being "good soldiers"?

Now, I DO think the seeds of Crosshair's eventual defection were planted by his brothers. Hunter pointing out that "Blind allegiance makes you a pawn" and then telling Crosshair "All you'll ever be to them is a number" are statements that are proven later to be true. But it takes Cody and Mayday to drive the lessons home.

Cody and Mayday share several characteristics that place them in unique positions to influence Crosshair:

Both are regs who accepted and befriended Crosshair - Cody says he specifically asked for Crosshair for the mission, and Mayday is upfront and friendly to Crosshair right from the start. (Contrast this to the other regs getting up to move tables when Crosshair sits to eat, or the other clone troopers who walk past Crosshair to get onto the shuttle without even sparing him a glance.)

Both are commanders. (I believe Crosshair ultimately respects authority for the most part: even when he was arguing with and challenging Hunter in "Aftermath," he still deferred to Hunter's orders until his inhibitor chip was intensified and he was then promoted to commander.)

Both are loyal soldiers who have served the Empire well - again, these regs are still commanders even under the new government. And we all know how important loyalty to the Empire is to Crosshair at this point.

Both save Crosshair's life during their missions.

In short, both are regs, but they are still soldiers Crosshair can quickly identify with and trust.

I think it's key that Crosshair encountered Cody before Mayday, though. And despite their similarities, both soldiers drive home different points.

CODY

Cody is one of the few regs we know Crosshair already respected - and still respects, given that Crosshair almost smiles when he recognizes him.

(Some proof in case it isn't apparent: Crosshair goes from frowny face...

...to relaxed almost-happy-if-you-squint-just-right face)

Anyway, while Cody does drop some hints early on that he has doubts about the Empire, he is willing to carry out the mission to rescue "Governor" Grotton, showing he will follow orders to a certain extent. However, he shows more restraint than Crosshair might have: he doesn't attack the civilians despite their obvious mistrust of the soldiers, he comes to an understanding with Tawni Ames, he's NOT willing to follow an order to execute her, and he is clearly dismayed and disappointed by her death.

And so, at the end of a "successful" mission, Cody more plainly reveals the depth of his dissatisfaction with following orders against one's own moral scruples:

Hunter had said "Blind allegiance makes you a pawn." And Cody, unwilling to blindly and unquestioningly be a pawn - or act like a battle droid - any longer, goes AWOL.

But that lesson alone isn't enough to make Crosshair turn on the Empire. Instead, he needs Mayday to give him the final push.

MAYDAY

First, Mayday indicates how appalled he is by the idea of anyone leaving their own behind - which we know is a sore spot for Crosshair. But most importantly, Mayday has demonstrated since he was first introduced that he strongly believes in soldiers being loyal to and looking out for each other (which is far different than just being loyal to the Empire).

Second, Mayday unknowingly challenges Crosshair's belief that serving the Empire provides meaningful purpose. (Remember that one of Crosshair's main arguments to his brothers about joining the Empire was so they could "find purpose again.")

Then, he unwittingly goes for the jugular and rips apart the motto Crosshair had adopted.

And then, in case Crosshair has any lingering doubts about the answer to Mayday's rhetorical question, Nolan decidedly answers the question for him.

Hunter had said "All you'll ever be to them is a number," and he is proven right in the most heartbreaking way.

Crosshair had accused his brothers of not being loyal to him; unfortunately, now he sees what true disloyalty looks like. And for Crosshair - severe and unyielding - realizing that he has misplaced his loyalty by giving it to an entity that mocks him and casts him AND those he cares about aside for doing so... this is the final straw.

Thankfully, Crosshair has now rediscovered the people who are worthy of his loyalty.

[peaktora]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒: 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ˚◞♡ ⃗ dad!satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊you and your daughter make breakfast for gojo’s birthday. unlucky for you, gojo’s a little impatient.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊1.3k words. established relationship. the reader is referred as “mommy” by the kid & “wife” from gojo, but other than that there’s no use of fem terms.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊ for the sake of this scenario everyone pretend it’s december 7th & it’s gojo’s birthday

you hold the bowl of pancake batter, its creamy consistency clinging to the sides. with a gentle tilt, you pour the batter onto the pan, creating round pools of golden goodness. the batter spreads, forming wonky circles that sizzle and bubble as they cook. the aroma of the pancakes fills the air, a tantalizing scent that promises a delicious breakfast. you can’t help but turn up the heat so that they cook faster.

“mommy, i think i’m turning into a minion,” your daughter calls out from behind.

you turn around, only to find her sitting at her mini table. her eyes are fixed on her tiny fingers, that are spread out in front of her.

“what do you mean?" your words hang in the air momentarily before you turn your gaze back to the stove. with a flick of your wrist, you flip the pancakes, their golden surfaces glistening in the warm light.

“’m turning purple! look!”

you take another glance back. her hands in the air being the first thing you see. but, then you notice the bag of blueberries sitting on the table.

your lips quiver as you fight to stifle your smile. “baby, it’s the the blueberries you’re munching on that are making you purple.”

her eyes widen, she lowers her hands, and this time she looks at them with a slight pout.

you return to making pancakes, plating the few that seemed to be done. one was on the verge of being burned, and you intended to give it to gojo. he's been calling you nonstop ever since you came downstairs this morning, asking for updates on his birthday breakfast. you're sure if it hadn't been for your baby girl (who insisted on giving her father breakfast in bed), you'd have forced him get up and do it himself by now.

"mommy, can we put blueberries in the pancakes? pretty please?”

“of course.”

you don’t need to turn around to know what your child is up to. you hear the unmistakable sound of her stuffing blueberries into her mouth. a soft giggle escapes your lips as you imagine the adorable scene unfolding behind you.

"yay!! speci...purpl...pancakes!" the excitement in her voice is evident, even with her mouth full.

"hey! if you're gonna be putting blueberries in the pancakes, you can't be eatin-" just then, your phone rings.

you catch a glimpse of the screen, noticing the familiar contact photo under 'my love'. oh, he's definitely getting a burnt pancake. you might even make another on purpose.

knowing he'll just ask about breakfast, you decide to watch it ring. he calls at least twice before his voice echoes through the house, urgently calling for his daughter to answer the phone. with blueberry-stained hands, she skips to the counter, reaching for your phone and answering it.

“hi daddy!” she waves in the camera.

“hi my sweet girl, what’s your momma doing?”

she turns the phone around, and through the camera, gojo can see you plating the remaining pancakes from the pan.

“those are the boring pancakes, mama’s making purple ones next!”

“can i have some of the boring ones first? i’m starving,” your husband whines.

“no, no, no! mama said you have to wait.”

“can i see that?” you fumble, trying to find a clean spot on your apron to wipe your hands off.

your daughters huffs at gojo, eager to hand over the phone and retreats to her table.

on the screen, you’re greeted by the sight of gojo’s smile and his relaxed, sprawled-out posture.

despite his sweet face, you hover your finger over the end call button anyway. “bye satoru.”

his smile drops. “that’s not even fair. it’s been—what—an hour?”

“with lots of breaks thanks to you.”

“you can talk to me and cook…bonus points for me being able to watch you.”

at that, you roll your eyes.

he frowns. "what?”

“a few more minutes of waiting won’t hurt.” you press the "end call" button, cutting off gojo’s pleads mid-sentence.

he’ll be fine.

you gently place your phone on the counter, shifting your focus to your little one. with a warm smile, you ask, "you wanna add the blueberries now, baby?"

"huh?" she mumbles, raising her head from where she was plucking at her fingers. "what did y’say?”

you playfully shake the bowl of leftover pancake batter in front of your face, capturing your daughter's attention. it's your way of letting your daughter in on the secret, a non-verbal cue to convey what exciting plan you have in store next. “you ready?”

"yes!" she runs towards you, giggling uncontrollably. in her hands, she's got the bag of half-eaten blueberries. the ones you specifically told her not to keep munching on, but she couldn't really resist. as she draws near, she extends her hands high into the air, a silent request for you to lift her onto the counter. without hesitation, your arms embrace your little one, effortlessly hoisting her up. in a matter of seconds, she’s perched on the counter.

you both scoop a handful of blueberries, and sprinkle the berries into the bowl of leftover pancake batter, watching as the vibrant blue jewels disappear into the mixture.

just as you two start to get lost in your pancake-making, a faint sound of footsteps echoes from upstairs. your girl’s eyes widen as gojo sluggishly descends the stairs, rubbing his eyes and tousling his hair.

for a split second, you manage to catch his attention. you raise your brow, wondering if he ever learned the basics of patience (or if he learned patience at all). but, true to his slow demeanor, he remains unfazed, maintaining his relaxed pace.

with a sleepy smile, he joins you at the kitchen counter, wrapping his hands around your middle. the feeling is pure warmth, like a human blanket. it's amazing how, even after so much physical contact, his touch manages to make you feel cozier with each touch.

you lean in closer to him, trying to catch what he whispered in your ear. "hm? what was that?"

“food?”

you sigh, “I wanted us to all eat it together. when it’s done?”

he groans and retreats, making a beeline for the ready-made pancakes. you catch his eye and shout, "uhn uh!"

as your daughter continues to drop blueberries in the bowl, you quickly place your hand over her lap to keep her steady. with your other hand, you tug on gojo's sleeve. you give him a gesture to come back, and he follows your lead.

“I’ll do it,” you say.

you head over to the counter where the finished pancakes are, and plate a single piece. as you bring it to him, you glance at the black crispy top and think, "I definitely should've made more of these."

you slide the plate in front of him, and your daughter cringes at the sight. “ta-da! happy birthday baby! since it’s a special day I tried a new recipe and…” you shrug.

gojo licks his lips, bites them, and lets out a breathy laugh. he keeps glancing at you and then the pancakes, repeating the sequence.

you nod your head and motion towards the food with an open hand. “I thought you wanted to eat?��

glancing cautiously at his daughter, he replies, “wow, babe. you really outdid yourself this time. burnt pancakes?” he turns to you. “and you said you were a ‘better cook’ than me.”

you ignore his comment. “maybe I should make these more often? I kn— “

“oh, absolutely. I mean, who needs fluffy, huge pancakes when you can have charcoal—“ he picks up the pancake, “discs?”

with your daughter's laughter in the background, it creates a unique blend. it adds charm to your conversation, despite the contrasting moods.

you cross your arms, “you should be proud I made them without shape cutters. pretty creative,” you pause. “now eat up.”

“there’s no way in hell y—“

“daddy has to put money in the swear jar!”