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moonbaby26 · 3 years

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Title: Rare Company

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation from previous chapter. Several days after your initial meeting, Loki returns allowing some unexpected time together. And spurring you to wonder what could become of this, as well as trying to address what your own feelings might be for this new god.

Warnings: None, just fluff this chapter.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys

My Masterlist

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Things had fallen back into routine after a while. Even if you still caught yourself daydreaming from time to time. You had imagined working up the nerve to ask your father for permission to visit Asgard. No one from your family had in ages from all you could tell, and what an act of diplomacy that could be.

Instead of roaming far and wide as you normally would, you had more kept to these southern seas as well. That little voice inside you wondering if Loki would return. The forest nymphs had delivered word to your sea nymphs that he had departed back through what you now knew as the bifrost the very same day you had met him.

He’d only lingered a couple more hours they’d said, seemingly in thought within the forest before he’d called out for the bridge to reopen and had disappeared the same strange way he’d come.

You had taken the form of a dolphin today, idly swimming around the fishing boats you’d come upon in open water. They should know you symbolized luck. And if they seemed grateful, you’d gladly chase more fish into their nets in your boredom.

But it was then that another group of dolphins appeared, though you recognized them instantly for the nymphs that they were.

Excitedly they darted around you.

“He’s back, that prince of Asgard! And he calls for you, milady!”

The shock had been immense. You really hadn’t known if he would return. But you’d hoped, hadn’t you? And now he was actually asking for you by name.

Of course you must go to him. You were a goddess of your word after all.

———————————

And he was at the same beach you’d been on the first day he’d appeared. Through father’s magic, you could travel the hidden currents of the deep ocean, being wherever you needed to be within minutes rather than hours or the days that it would have taken mortals.

You swam slower though as you neared the shore, still underwater as you’d taken your spear from one of the nymphs once more. He was still a stranger to you after all. Though maybe that would change? It was hard to say why he really would have returned again.

There was a nervousness that was so foreign to you as you finally swam shallow enough to stand up and begin to walk from the waters. The gills on your neck that only opened when you were under for any real length of time, now dissolved back into smooth skin as the dry air reached you.

Your dress clung to your wet body as well, far more sheer in the sunlight, and for a moment you wondered if Asgardian culture was more modest in the view of their own bodies or not. You couldn’t remember reading about that.

Hopefully he would not think it obscene. But as you made eye contact with him, you really could read nothing in his gaze. Only his body language looked impatient as he sat in the weak shade of a tree long gnarled by the ocean’s winds.

You bowed lightly in greeting as you stopped before him, even though you still held your spear upright in one hand. “Prince Loki of Asgard, I am pleased to see you again.”

You did notice that fleeting look through his eyes at that, as if he was once again trying to decide your sincerity.

“You think me a fool, don’t you?” Was what he finally said though. Not quite as cutting in tone as the other day however, but still very guarded.

You straightened at the accusation, though curious to his point.

But he continued before you could respond. “You are no minor goddess, (Y/N) of the sea,” He repeated, seeming to mock your wording from your last meeting. “I read more on your kind once I returned to Asgard. Care to introduce yourself with less deception this time?”

You smiled before you could help yourself. So you were the deceptive one? When the very first time you’d ever laid eyes on him, it had only been a false image. What a strange choice of words.

But had he really done the same thing you had then? Gone home and studied you? Was he annoyed that there would be any subject he knew so little about? You wanted to know if your own studying had been enough though, as this time you answered him in the language of the Asgardians, or what you hoped was at least close enough to be intelligible.

“I did not lie to you. I am the daughter of the sea. Because my father is the sea...Poseidon, king of the sea, and god of the oceans, earthquakes, storms, and horses.” Which yes, made you a princess you supposed, niece of Zeus, and sibling and cousin to so many others in the pantheon of gods and goddesses that was the Olympus royal family.

His eyebrows raised a little as his own language came off your tongue. But you could see it would still take far more for him to really show himself impressed even as a slight smirk did cross his face for the very first time. “Your intonation still needs much work, goddess. We can keep to Greek for now.”

True, beginning to learn a new language just through the written word was far different than actually hearing it spoken. “I haven’t had much time to study since you first came.” You smiled back. “I did try.”

“Clearly.” He answered, though still seeming to be just the slightest amused you thought.

“So is that the only reason you have returned? To chide me for not announcing myself a king’s daughter?” You asked, but trying not to sound as curious as you truly were.

He did pause a moment, but you were realizing that seldom did he find himself without quick words. “Partly I suppose.” He responded. “But you also said that I was now a guest here. Unless that hospitality has been revoked, I am choosing to take more time from Asgard in a place where I will not be bothered.”

So he still was mostly wanting solitude after all then? Though slightly disappointing, you knew it was something you could well understand. You wondered if his family could be as chaotic as your own. “This is a good place for it then. To not be bothered I mean. And yes, I stand by my offer of your being a guest here.”

After waiting this many days you really would have preferred to be in his presence more than a few moments. But it would be rude to impose yourself as well. “I will leave you to yourself then.” You spoke, already resigning your own self to likely the rest of the day alone as a shark or a dolphin. Well, maybe something that could dive even deeper. You now felt like going lay in a trench somewhere actually.

“Wait.”

The call back surprised you, even as it had sounded more like a command, pausing your rising disappointment as you glanced back over your shoulder.

“I had actually intended just to read today. But as you evidently have been reading at times as well, unlike so many others I know-” There seemed to be quite a bit of resentment to whomever he was referring to there, “I could be inclined to return to Asgard briefly and fetch some books from our library for you as well if you would like to read with me.”

You stared at the abrupt invitation. Did he really mean for you to sit with him, reading together then? So he was not entirely averse to your presence any longer?

Your silent stare only had him keep talking as if he thought he might need to further persuade you though. “I am sure you would get a far more accurate representation of Asgardian culture and history from our own authors, rather than whatever it was you had clumsily dug up here.”

The air of superiority had returned to his tone as he’d mentioned their writers of course, but he was likely right. If you wanted to read about Asgard, what better source than from the Asgardians themselves?

“I would appreciate that very much,” You said truthfully, albeit still with some surprise.

“Then it is done.” He said decisively, then standing to walk back to the forest.

“Loki,” you called before you could stop yourself though. You also realized it was the first time you had said his name this informally. You paused, unsure if this was something he generally allowed or not.

But when he looked back at you, you saw no anger in his eyes. He looked a little caught off guard himself, but only for the briefest moment.

“I...” You tried to not lose your nerve. “May I follow you? Not to Asgard of course,” You clarified quickly. There were far too many protocols that could be broken there, “But close enough to see the bifrost open? I’ve never seen it.”

He hesitated to consider your request. You supposed any good steward of their kingdom would. But even if you were trying some attempt at subterfuge and intended to force your way to Asgard, what threat could a single Olympian really pose? Especially only a water goddess at that.

He must have agreed you were no real threat either as he finally nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

And once you had reached that clearing again, this time you were close enough to see the symbols his last entrances had cut into the ground. Such a unique way to travel you thought.

But you were smart enough to still keep your distance as you did back back away as you saw him look to the sky.

“Heimdall!” He called. “Open the bifrost, I need to return!” He said in his own language.

For a moment nothing happened, but then the birds began to fly as the trees shook in the growing wind. You could just see the sky, a swirl of clouds beginning before a light as bright as any of Zeus’ lightning bolts erupted down with that boom you had heard before. Loki disappeared into the light, the wind whipping all around you before the bifrost vanished back into those clouds just as suddenly and there was silence again.

“Amazing,” you breathed, just to yourself and any still lingering animals that may have heard you.

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It felt like far longer than it really was you were sure. Your anticipation just stretching out the minutes as you’d waited for his return.

But when he did come back, in all the same dramatics as his exit with the bifrost opening, then closing to leave him there again in the clearing, he now had a satchel of several books.

You assumed Asgard may be a good deal cooler in temperature than your sandy beaches for as much of him that was covered in clothing. So you tried to help find the best shade that you could, and with an unblocked pass for the cool ocean breeze as you sat together beneath more trees.

“I’ve put a spell on these to make them waterproof,” He commented, “Though do still take care, some of these are from Father’s personal collection.”

“That’s practical,” You admitted, not at all offended, but awed really that he would bring such rare items for your viewing.

It was a bit of a slow go for you though, everything being written in the Asgardian language. But you were happy to find that you could understand enough with some effort, and that the gist of the stories and the histories being told were still coming across to you.

You weren’t sure how many hours the two of you sat that way. Every now and again you could see one of the sea nymphs peeking out from where the waves were breaking, keeping a curious eye on the two of you.

Eventually it was him that finally closed the last book he had been working through though. “I suppose I should return.” He said.

You were gentle with the book you still had, closing it as well as you handed it back to him. You felt as if you should say something more, but a simple, “Thank you,” was all that really came to mind in this moment.

He quieted though, looking out to the sun, now low over the darkening ocean. “It is not as fully terrible here in Midgard as I first assumed.”

You chuckled, how often would he make a habit of these insults? “I suppose any place can have its good qualities.”

But you badly wanted to ask him what had brought him here in the first place then. If he was to come to the mortal realm, wouldn’t it have made more sense to stay to the north where he was already legend? Why come here to the lands of the Olympians?

“You do have a way of staring through a person when you’re curious about something. You realize this don’t you?” He asked you in return though, just observing your features then.

You blinked, genuinely wondering if he possessed telepathy and you hadn’t known it.

“You’re looking at me in the same way as when you wanted to see the bifrost. So what do you wish to know of Asgard that could not be found in those books?”

You hesitated. He was still a god after all, and you knew how fickle they could be. You didn’t wish to anger him with your nosiness, but it would also be rude to ignore such a direct question.

“Well...I’m wondering why you came to our land to begin with. No Asgardians have set foot here in many ages from what I can discern. Why would you be so different?”

“You think me different?” He responded immediately though. Concerning you actually, before he scoffed, “Then you are intelligent. I am nothing like those I came here to seek relief from. My fool brother and his equally boorish companions.”

“Thor?” You asked innocently enough.

But the look he gave you as that name came off your lips would have been far answer enough before it became the key that opened the gates.

“He has been completely insufferable since Father bequeathed him Mjolnir!” You could see Loki’s jaw tightening slightly, the frustrated expression growing and so similar to that angered one you remembered on his illusion’s face that first day in the clearing, when it’d been pacing and cursing.

“Is that what happened recently?” You asked reflexively, but still believing that you already had the answer.

“Oh, he’s been using the hammer for years of course. Yet it always belonged to Asgard, not him. A relic of our realm. But now it is truly his per Father’s public declaration. Thor’s hammer,” He mocked, “Worthy to the one who will one day succeed Odin to take the throne. Father has now cast Thor as his official heir in our people’s eyes with this blunder.”

You remained quiet to digest the information he was providing you. So Loki felt slighted, no disgusted actually to learn the throne was seemingly all but promised to his brother now. So had he really already had that high of expectations for it?

“I guess Asgard and Olympus aren’t so different after all,” You finally mused, though trying to keep your tone even rather than sounding patronizing. “I mean, Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon. Our three kings, they overthrew their father Cronus and locked him in Tartarus to claim rule. Admittedly Cronus had eaten Hades, Poseidon, and their other siblings previously though.”

Loki stared at you and you just smiled oddly then. “My family has not always been on the best terms with each other either.”

“Your grandfather ate your father?” Loki asked as if to reaffirm the insanity he’d just heard. “I thought that was just a myth.”

“No, father has the scars still,” You admitted. “Cronus devoured his children as he didn’t want anyone to succeed him. But my grandmother Rhea, she hid Zeus away when he was born. And Zeus forced Cronus to regurgitate the others later.”

“Ugh,” Loki said, making a face.

You laughed, glad you seemed to at least get his mind off of Thor for the moment. “That all happened ages before I was born though. Luckily it’s now more frowned upon to treat your children in such a manner. Those were the old ways.”

“And you do have many siblings don’t you?” He questioned. “I read the Olympians were quite, how should I say, prolific in their child bearing.”

“Truth I’m afraid. Which is why I like to keep to the seas rather than Father’s palace or Mount Olympus. At least you only have one Thor, rather than a dozen.”

“Gods,” Loki spoke, the evident horror in that thought too much to contemplate seriously.

But you were just smiling again, realizing how much the ice had finally been broken to even be having this type of conversation right now. You were honestly enjoying the back and forth. It would be a shame to not do this again sometime.

And you had to try and convey that, at least somewhat if you could. You didn’t know how many other chances you would have. “Before you go...I did mean it, Loki, when I said you were welcome as a guest here. You can always come back when you need a little hideaway from whatever transpires to irk you in Asgard.”

He stared at you again then. It troubled you though of how little you seemed to be able read him at times. As if he could just cast a curtain between you whenever he wished.

“Perhaps I just may.” Loki said at last though with little emotion, then finally standing now and collecting his satchel of books.

It was only then that you really realized how dark it had already gotten with the sun now setting. And you caught yourself admiring him a little in the red and purple hues now coming from the sky. He really was so different than the gods you’d known before. Should you say something more?

As you stood as well, picking your spear back up from the sands, you saw several nymphs quickly sink back down into the surf, pretending as if they were not also very interested in how else you may say goodbye to him.

“You must not often entertain guests,” Loki spoke though, evidently having noticed your audience as well even as he began to walk away from you.

“Not men,” You answered honestly, though pausing as you realized how that really sounded. You continued though, not sure if you were making things sound worse or better. “Mostly we stay at sea. And I have no interest in unwashed sailors.”

But he stopped at that before entering the forest. He posed such a simple question to you then, although one that could mean so much more. “Yet you have interest in me?”

You felt as if you’d been hit in the chest at his words. Said quietly even as you saw his blue eyes on you once more, analyzing...waiting.

But how could one word have so many meanings? Interest as in he was just a curiosity, a strange foreigner to study like some new sea creature you had found? Or interest like a friend, to read together and talk and vent on the very particular family aspects you shared just as you’d done today?

Or...and this was surely the most disconcerting of all, interest as in how he could feel if you were allowed to touch him? How he would taste if you could kiss him? Your kind took lovers frequently. That should be no secret to him or anyone else. But just because other gods and goddesses of Olympus bedded one another left and right, it didn’t mean you did.

But did he you wondered? Did he have his choice of consorts at his palace, a full court always vying for his attentions to try and pull themselves further up the social ladder via way of his bed? Surely he would, wouldn’t he?

Yet your hesitation in answering was enough to indict you of your own desires you feared. Surely if he meant little, that would have been an easy response. To think on it this long, just made your confession for you didn’t it?

You took a breath, trying to remind yourself that you should fear no man. On a whim you could transform into a great shark and consume any prey, you could move the waters themselves, wreck ships, destroy harbors should you truly wish to. These were the gifts given to you from your father.

You were a goddess after all, not just an enamored young woman. And all you could do was speak the truth. “I do have interest in you, Loki.” You finally answered. “But to what path that will take is highly dependent on your own desires I’m sure. I know nothing of Asgardian preferences when it comes to choosing who to court, if at all.”

He had only been looking at you before, but now turned to fully face you. Unlike yourself, it seemed he had no problem in finding words though. “Your beauty is not something rare in Asgard, that is true.” He said, yet continuing before you could feel that as too harsh a barb, “But your mind, your ability, and even your desire to learn of what is outside your own world, that may be something wholly more compelling.”

Yet this didn’t sound like something that should be considered rare to you, or enough to set you apart at all you thought. And he seemed to read this disbelief clearly on your face as he then admonished you for it.

“You think I exaggerate? That even one of those vapid headed children could sit still for more than an hour without having to go break something or fight someone to prove their worth? Or that any other would sit here with me as you have done today and it not be just farce to try and get closer to my brother or to get in Odin’s favor?”

So you had been right on one thing at least. The Asgardian court did have its share of social climbers then. Maybe in this you could finally see some weight to his words. Because what did you care of such things? Your father was already a king. You did not need to seduce a prince to find anything in your life that you could not have by birthright already.

But if this was his way of admitting he at least approved of your company, it still didn’t clarify as to what all he really wanted from you.

“Well, I still leave the decision as yours. You know how to find me should you be willing to see me again. If you bring books, I will read with you. If you only want an ear to listen, I will do so. And if you desire for more...we can address that as we come to it.” You said, in what you hoped was a mature sounding way to deal with these burgeoning feelings.

“Very well.” He answered too simply though. And you were sure you saw some enjoyment in his eyes as your expression showed you were left a bit unsatisfied by that. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

And it was night by then, the fresh stars now fully surpassing the light from the fading sun. You stayed on the beach this time though, watching him disappear into the wooded hillside.

In not too much time, you then heard the boom that signaled the bifrost’s open and close and you knew that he was gone.

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(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki x original female character #loki x oc #loki x y/n #loki #loki odison x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki fandom #loki imagine

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littlemessyjessi · 3 years

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“Not My Bias”: Park Jimin Imagine: Plus Size Reader

Park Jimin Imagine Summary: Jimin is upset because he is not the chosen bias of his girlfriend but instead it's actually Namjoon. A/N: Also, this is just an imagine, a oneshot if you will. However, if you want to see more of the story, just let me know. Extra: Plus Size. Also, woman is older than the man by a few years. Pre-established relationship, Jimin is dating an Army, ft Platonic moments with Yoongi. Warning: Fluff, Angst, mentions of suicide and issues with mental health, arguing, jealously... teeeeennnnnnsssssiiiooonn. Anyway, yeah. ----

Flared nostrils and a deep breath.

'He's just having a day. Let it go. He's just in a mood.'

The thought swirled around in that head like smoke.

"Babe, you were all over him. I don't know how you can think that's ok? If I had done that to someone you would've flipped out!" Jimin's voice sounded.

Regardless of the fact that Jimin was continuously all over people because he was very affectionate and naturally flirty.

Also, regardless of the fact that he literally had millions of people ready to volunteer like Katniss for the Hunger Games at the drop of a hat.

Regardless of the fact that it was very much clear as to how much he was loved and adored by his partner.

Still.

'Don't snap. Don't lash out. Just let it go.'

The thought swirled less like smoke and more like the unstable circle of terror that was the beginnings of a hurricane.

"I mean, fuck, you might as well just be with him. You were practically eye fucking him right in front of me."

Stone cold.

Every thought brewing in that mind was screaming to let it go, to talk to him calmly, to just fix it.

But that's not what happened.

Because even though Jimin was clearly feeling insecure and it had turned into jealously... you had feelings too.

You slowly turned to look at him.

Jimin's gaze was hard as he looked back.

He had that about him where one second he could be cute and adorable and the next he could be very intimidating.

However, his duality was no match for yours in that moment.

"Jimin, you've got about three seconds to apologize." you said evenly.

"Apologize?" He scoffed. "For what? Apologize for calling the bullshit when I see my girlfriend trying to fuck one of my best friends right in front of me?"

That was it.

You had a long fuse on a big bomb and right now... you weren't just a stick of dynamite.

You were a nuclear bomb.

You ran your tongue over your teeth trying in vain to calm down.

"First of all, fuck you." you snapped and his brows lifted on his forehead. "Yeah I said it. Don't you ever insinuate that I am anything less to faithful to you. God dammit, Jimin. I didn't want to have a fucking fight with you but since you seem so hell bent on it, let's go. It's time for war, mother fucker."

His gaze intensified at your response, "Don't you talk to me like -"

"Me?!" you snapped. "You want to talk about me? You're the one who stood right there, basically called me a whore and accused me of fucking your friend! Who by the way, you owe a god damn apology to! He didn't do anything to you and you've been a dick the whole day!"

It was the wrong thing to say and you knew it.

Bringing up Namjoon during a fight, especially considering the context was the worse thing you could've done.

It further ignited his anger and his jealously all but consumed him.

But you didn't care.

He may have started the fire but you brought the gasoline.

"That's just great, Y/N. Wonderful. Exactly the way to convince your boyfriend that you're not fucking someone else. Defending them in the middle of an argument."

Your screaming had clearly drawn attention and the door opened to reveal Jin's concerned face.

He said something but the two of you were too far gone in trying to outscream each other to hear him.

"That you started!" you snapped at Jimin.

"I was trying to talk to you!"

"You were accusing me!"

"Because it was obvious!"

You were shaking when Yoongi's head popped in beside Jin's but you paid them no mind even when Hobi appeared in the doorway.

"Guys, come on." Hobi said trying to calm you both down. "Don't do this."

"Come on. Let's go get some food and chill out." Jin offered, knowing very well how Jimin's temper could be and also how he could say some horrible things when he really didn't mean them.

He had a sinking feeling that they'd already been said though and there wasn't much that could be done.

"What was so obvious to you, Jimin? Hm? I am a fan. You know this? I was an Army before I ever met you. This was abundantly clear to you from the beginning. Did you really think that there would never be moments when I wouldn't be starstruck occasionally?" you seethed. "Because I'm sorry I'm not perfect Park fucking Jimin! I'm human!"

His jaw tightened and he narrowed his eyes at you.

"That's not what this is about." he said.

"Yeah, the fuck, it is." you snapped. "Listen, I'm about to make myself abundantly clear about something. You don't fucking know me as well as you seem to think you do."

"Clearly." he responded and you had to fight the urge not to strangle him.

Yoongi almost rolled his eyes at Jimin and his fucking mouth.

The rest of the members had joined the chaos at this point and you... you just no longer cared.

You were ready to go to war.

Fuck it all.

You drew a deep breath in through your nose, staring at the carpet before lifting your eyes up to Jimin's again.

"You seem to think that you have me completely figured out and you know everything about me. But you don't know shit, Jimin. Just because we've been dating for three months does not mean that you suddenly know every thought in my head. But you're about to find some shit out about me right now."

"You're right. I don't know wh-"

"Shut the fuck up." you said coldly. "You want to know so god damn badly why Namjoon is my bias? Fine, I'll tell you and you can either deal with it or you can continue to be a spoiled, selfish little brat. I don't really care anymore."

He would've fought you for calling him that but internally something stopped him.

"I was never into this type of music. It wasn't my thing. I listened to metal and classic rock. That was what I liked. So BTS was never really in my statosphere. But a few years ago, I was at my lowest. My husband had cheated on me leading me to file for an immediate divorce. I had just lost our baby and I was wrecked. I didn't want to do it anymore. So let me paint you a picture here, Jimin. I was standing in my childhood bedroom because I couldn't bare to be in that house where he fucked his secretary. I'm standing there in front of my little vanity from when I was a kid and I had my grandpa's pistol loaded, the barrel in my mouth. My finger was on the trigger and I started to press down."

Jimin, all with everyone else, had gone completely pale.

"And then suddenly my cousin's stereo starts thudding from the other side of the wall. And it's "Voice" from Joon's first mixtape and I stopped. Because for the first time in a long time, I felt like someone understood what I was going through. I put the gun down and I saw there on the floor with my ear pressed against the wall listening to that song. I cried until I couldn't breathe because no one had ever put my feelings into words like that before. That song. Those lyrics. They saved me. I put the gun away as if it had burned me, I cried because I had been so close to ending it all over someone else who wasn't worth it. I went home that night, researched the lyrics and figured out who wrote them and then I began listening to anything and everything that Namjoon had a hand in creating. Because it was those words that kicked me back off the ledge."

Jimin was completely still at this point.

No movement.

No sound.

No nothing.

You were staring straight into his soul in that moment.

"So you'll have to excuse me if ever so often I get a little starstruck with the person who literally wrote the wrong that kept me from killing myself." you said lowly.

You finally looked around to see the rest of the members there, skin heating with embarassment that they'd just watched you and Jimin verbally rip each other's throats out and then hear your suicide attempt story.

You looked at Jimin once more before you shook your head and pushed your way through the members.

Several tried to comfort you but you didn't want to hear it.

You just wanted out.

And that was exactly what you did, shoving through the door and disappearing from sight.

Immediately, upon the slam of the door, Jimin erupted into tears, crashing to the ground.

He hadn't known any of that.

Taehyung rushed to his side, pulling him into his arms and trying to calm him down enough to function.

Yoongi pursed his lips before going after you.

He knew what it was like to pick at old scars like that and how fresh those old wounds could still be.

He caught up to you rather easily, insisting that you let him take you out to eat.

You fought him on it but he did something that he rarely ever did.

He pulled out his super power on you and used his cuteness.

And you couldn't resist the lil meow meow so you caved... just like he knew you would.

You didn't mind it as much as you thought you would.

Yoongi didn't push you and instead the two of just enjoyed a meal together.

You fought him over the check but he already slipped the waitress his card before you could even get a word in edgewise.

Then he took you to a local dog park, watching puppies chase their own tails because he knew it was impossible to watch dogs smack into each other and not smile.

He didn't force you to talk or to address what had just happened.

But what he did do was stay with you, offer you kindness, made sure you ate and did something that made you smile.

He reached out to place his hand on yours and gave it a squeeze.

"I won't pretend that I know what you've been through. I'm not that arrogant and I'm not you. But I do understand what it's like to get to a point where you don't want to do it anymore." he said as the two of you focused on a pomeranian with an attitude problem who reminded you both of Yeontan.

"You can talk to me. Anytime." he said. "I know I don't usually say alot but I'll listen. I promise."

"Thanks, Yoongi. I'm fine. I promise. I'm alot better now. I'm not the person I used to be. Things are different. Jimin just really hit a nerve with what he was saying and I snapped." you explained.

He nodded with a sigh.

"Jimin is someone who is full of emotion. He's passionate. That sometimes means that he loses his temper when he's scared. He loves you and he's more insecure about losing you than he lets on. He didn't express that in the right way at all. I won't defend him on that. I'm just saying, don't give up just because you two had a fight. A hell of one, mind you. Do you realize that you're terrifying when you're angry?"

You finally broke into a laugh at his words.

"I thought Jimin was the scary one." you commented, knowing very well that every single one of them collectively thought Jimin was terrifying when he was really angry.

"Shit, he's a punk compared to you." Yoongi chuckled. "You looked like an absolute demon. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I'd have never believed sweet Y/N looked like she was forged in the fires of hell."

You nearly snorted at his response before finally looking over at him.

"Thanks, Yoongi. Really. You made me feel a lot better." you admitted. "I'm glad you came after me. This was much better than how I likely would've handled it."

"How would you have handled it?" he questioned.

"Probably something self sabotaging and toxic as hell." you shrugged. "Or maybe I just would've cried when I cooled off. Or took off. I've been known to jump in the car and just keep driving when I'm angry. It's literally me running from my problems but for the lazy because fuck that. I'm not running from anybody. Zombies can just eat this ass."

He shook with laughter.

It was one of the reasons he liked you a lot and he thought you were perfect for Jimin.

You were naturally funny and had a great wit about you... and you were tough.

You needed to be tough if you were going to date someone who worked in the business they did.

You don't fall in love with the idol, you fall for the person.... but that person still has a job and to be their partner is really hard.

It wasn't for the weak of heart.

The two of you sat there for a while.

You'd turned your phone off almost instantly as soon as you cleared the building, not even entertaining the thought of dealing with any questions.

You assumed that Yoongi had likely told someone he was with you since he'd been with you for hours and no one was calling him.

You took in his profile as he watched a squirrel run up a tree.

You could practically see him thinking.

"Just spit it out." you sighed and his lips quirked just a little before looking at you.

"What makes you think I have something to say?" he questioned.

"Because, unfortunately, we are too much alike in some ways." you said.

He chuckled, "All I'm going to say is, cut Jimin some slack. He's crazy about you. Anyone can see that. And also, give him a chance to digest everything you just told him today. That was a lot. You know that better than anyone."

"I didn't mean to tell him like that." you shrugged. "I didn't mean to tell him that at all."

"Why not?" Yoongi asked, very seriously. "You love Jimin right?"

"Yeah, of course." you said.

"And you trust him?" he said.

"Yeaaahhh." you said.

"Then how come you haven't talked to him about that before?" he asked.

"Because we've only been together for three months, Yoongi and we haven't spent a ton of time with one another in those three months. You don't just blurt your past suicide attempts out to people like that." you all but snapped.

You were getting defensive and he knew it.

But Yoongi also knew that you were only being like that because he'd hit a nerve.

He knew because he was like that at times.

"You were friends before you got together." he pointed out. "I know you're an Army. I get it. But you and Jimin clicked at that fan event that day. Don't get me wrongs. He's a hopeless flirt but Jimin has never willingly forked over his phone number like that. He didn't even know your name and he was hooked."

You ground your teeth because you knew he was right.

"All I'm saying is, give him a chance. He's jealous of Joon. He can't help it. A part of him wants to be your bias because he's your boyfriend. I can get that." Yoongi shrugged.

"It's not like Joon is my bias is a romantic way, Yoongi." you sighed. "I literally just -"

"I know." Yoongi cut you off. "I know. I get it. Trust me. We are all painfully aware of that situation now."

You chewed on your lip, vulnerable at having your business out there like that.

"Hey." he said reaching for your hand. "I didn't meant that to come off the way it did. I'm glad we know. I wish you hadn't felt like you were so backed into the corner that you had to come out with it like that. But still, it's good to know that about you. I think it'll bring us closer as a group."

You just nodded.

He sighed, "Listen, I'm gonna tell you something that I think we'll help. Men are rather simple in a lot of ways. Some not so much but others- incredibly so."

You lifted a brow at him.

"Ok?"

"Explain that Joon's work inspires you and it helped you through a lot." he said.

"I literally just-"

"No, stop and listen to me." he cut you off. "Explain that you admire Namjoon and his work. You love his writing. This is also true for me or Hobi right? You and I have talked for hours about some of my stuff and I know you and Hobi sat there and dissected Hope World for like three days. You admire the work, the lyrics, the content, right?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"I know that it's a little different with Joon because his song was the first one you'd heard and it was a rather traumatic time. So there's somewhat of an emotional attachment there. And honestly, I think that's what Jimin is so scared of." he said.

"Scared of what? It's music and yeah, I love the way Joon writes and yeah it was a crazy time but I'm in love with Jimin." you argued.

"Jimin is scared that Namjoon could take you away from him." Yoongi said directly.

"What?" you gasped. "But I love Jimin."

"I know that." Yoongi said. "Everyone knows that. But he also knows how much you obsess over anything Joon writes."

"It's good music." you said.

Yoongi nodded, "Yeah, it is. But Jimin has likely got it in his head that you could easily just run off with Joon and have this philosophical conversations about poetry and lyrics. I'd be willing to be money on it that he's insecure because you didn't start out loving BTS, you started out loving RM. And that scares him."

"It was never about loving RM or BTS." you countered. "I needed those lyrics. I liked RM as a musician. I liked BTS as a group. But I fell in love with Jimin. And I'll tell you another god damn thing, I never fucking meant to either! I didn't want to love anyone after that shit happened!"

Your temper was flaring, which truthfully was dangerous, as Yoongi could match you in it.

But he also realized you were just very sensitive right now and not actually angry so he just watched you calmly.

"I didn't want to fall in love with anyone. Ever again, Yoongi. I was terrified. I'm still terrified. But I met Jimin and he fucking smiled at me and I crumbled. It wasn't really about me falling in love with him. I jumped head first into the darkness because even though it scared me shitless, I didn't care. He's worth it. No matter what."

You didn't realize that you'd gotten to your feet until Yoongi was smiling at you and he gently nodded over your shoulder.

You turned around and there he was.

Of course.

Jimin.

With his expressive dark eyes and his dreamy lips.

As cliche as it is, it was almost as if time stopped.

There was nothing else but Jimin and you.

It became a race to get to one another and as soon as you got within arms reach of each other, your kisses were feverent.

"I'm sorry's" and "No I'm sorry" and "You didn't do anything wrong" "I was just jealous" "No, no, no"

They all clanged together in a jumbled mess of mutterings slurred with kisses.

"Joon is not my bias, Jimin." you breathed.

"Baby, it's fine. It's not a big deal. I just got a little -"

"No, listen." you breathed. "He's not. I admire him. I admire his work. But he's not my bias. I don't have a bias."

Jimin pulled back to look at you, "What?"

"I don't have a bias." you clarified. "I don't pick favorites."

"Uh..." he said.

"I don't have a bias." you repeated. "But I do have something else. Something super special."

"What's that?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"A keeper." you said.

"A keeper?" he asked.

"Yep, the keeper of my heart. Only one person can be that and that's you."

It was cheesy.

Ridiculously so.

But Jimin melted for you and he squeezed your soft body to his so tightly that you could barely breathe.

And all the while, Min Yoongi sat on that park bench, watching the scene from the corner of his eye, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Smug grin ever permanent on his impish features.

"Lil Meow Meow strikes again..." he whispered to himself.

------

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glbertblyth · 3 years

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AN: It’s been a long time shirbert fans... anybody still up for some fake-dating shenanigans?

It was raining by the time Diana arrived—the sort of rainfall Anne might have basked in and even written a poem or two about if she’d had a mind for it. Instead, with Gilbert’s short visit still fresh in her mind, it only exacerbated her horrible mood.

Once out the door (slammed behind her, much to Marilla’s great woe), Anne threw her denim jacket overhead to avoid the inevitable ruination of the pretty outfit she’d decided on that day. The walk to the back door of her friend’s car was all it took to dampen her hair and muddy up her beloved white hightops. She didn’t even want to begin to imagine what the state of her hair might be once dry again. The half hour she’d spent on taming the wild red lockes surely going down the drain with every squelching step she took. She shuddered to picture the disobedient strands frizzing and curling annoyingly around her shoulders.

“Anne!” was the first thing she heard when she opened the car door, her hands cold and clammy from grasping the freezing handle.

It was Diana who had exclaimed it, smiling brightly from her spot in the driver’s seat. At its most brilliant sight, Anne’s sour mood nearly melted away - she did so love Diana’s smiles. So for a fleeting moment it was as if it were summer again and they were having one of their lovely days of sloth, with the sun vibrant on their skin as they lay in the fields behind Diana’s house watching the clouds slowly drift across the sky. No school to worry about or boys to try and decipher.

Then thunder rumbled and she was brought back to the present. Sitting wetly in the backseat of Diana’s car next to Jane and catching the very last few syllables of words mumbled from the front.

The brunette beside Anne reached across the gap in the seats to pinch Ruby, who squeaked indignantly.

“We brought coffee,” Diana went on, pulling out onto the road. The higher octave of her voice gave way to the obvious—she was being purposely breezy. Acting as if Anne hadn’t just opened the door and interrupted a conversation in which they had most definitely been talking about her. “I had them put an extra shot in yours because I know that’s the way you like it. Ruby? The coffee?”

Ruby rolled her eyes as she passed the drink to Anne. But she didn’t turn back around when it was in the red-head’s grasp, instead hovering there with an oddly expectant look on her face. A look, Anne realized, that was present on the other girl’s faces as well. Even Diana, big brown eyes wide like a doe’s in the rearview mirror.

“What?” she asked, pausing with her mouth halfway to the straw of her coffee and glancing around awkwardly.

When the only response was the low and torrid voice of Harry Styles drifting through the stereo and a raise of Jane’s eyebrows, Anne’s lips thinned in realization. The very word she had interrupted when she’d opened the door hadn’t been a word at all. It had been a name. Gilbert’s name.

Anne flopped her head back onto the cushioned seat, “Oh god,” she bemoaned. Could she not escape it for five minutes? Not even amongst her most beloved kindred spirits?

But there was nowhere to hide. Not with the three sets of eyes watching her so curiously. Waiting for her to give an explanation that she surely did not have. She was beginning to grow tired of Avonlea’s uncanny ability to spread gossip like wildfire.

“Watch the road,” Anne snapped at her best friend, “or you’ll kill us all.”

Diana gasped and averted her gaze, focusing instead on navigating the road through the pelting rain.

“You can’t deny it happened,” Jane said matter-of-factly. “It’s all over everything.” Then she whipped out her phone, pulling up twitter as a way to prove her point.

“Don’t believe everything you read.” Anne snapped at her.

“So you’re saying it’s just a made up rumor?” asked Ruby, almost hopefully—because while Anne had despised Gilbert since the time she’d first laid eyes on him, Ruby had simply adored him. While Anne would spend every single valuable and precious minute of her English classes poking holes in Gilbert’s foolish arguments, Ruby was sitting not two seats away, mooning. It was exasperating.

“I’m just saying,” Anne folded her arms defensively across her chest, “there was a lot more to it than that.”

“So it happened?!” Ruby exclaimed, with such force she knocked her binder into Diana’s lap and almost spilled both of their drinks.

“Ruby!”

“Well I’m sorry but—this is—you can’t just act like this isn’t a big deal, Anne! He’s Gilbert! ”

“I’m well aware of who he is.”

“You hate him!”

Anne bit the inside of her cheek. Of course she hated him. Of course. But it’s not as if she could tell the truth: that she had used Gilbert as a mere line of defense against dearest Diana’s cousin—her very own flesh and blood. Though how that was possible was beyond Anne considering he was so insufferably annoying, whereas Diana was so sweet and kind and considerate. She never would have pushed anyone the way that Roy had Anne. She never would have refused to take ‘no’ for an answer, never would have imposed so thoroughly on Anne’s personal space that she felt as if suddenly all of the oxygen in the world had run out except what was left in her lungs.

Hell, even Gilbert had taken Anne’s ‘no’ at face value. He had nodded and left, much to her great relief. And how terrible a concept to consider: Marilla inviting him to stay for breakfast! What would she have done then?

“Anne,” Jane poked her cheek. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do.”

Like hell she did. Maybe the decision to kiss Gilbert had been rash, but she wouldn’t have done it had she not felt as though she’d been forced into a corner. And while she did hate Gilbert’s guts, the mere aspect of her kissing him shouldn’t have been ground breaking news. He’d been there. She’d used him as a shield. That was it.

Even if the memory of his lips moving fervently against her own had haunted her dreams all night, it was nobody else's business. After all, he’d technically been her first real kiss. And even if she did think him an insufferable pompous ass, she wasn’t entirely incapable of admitting that he was a rather good-looking boy. She wasn’t blind for chrissake.

But even so, she had absolutely no intention of that little tidbit of information ever leaving the confines of her own mind. Nobody needed to know that she found Gilbert Blythe attractive. Or that she may have very mildly delighted in the fact that he’d been so quick to kiss her back. Or—or that she’d felt a bit of a thrill when she’d seen him again that very morning; a thrill that may or may not have caused her to even entertain the plan that he’d so eloquently presented to her.

The severity of the realization jolted her. Rose her blood levels to an alarming height. Had she just admitted to anticipating Gilbert’s presence?

“I don’t have to explain myself to any of you!” Anne exploded. Though she couldn’t tell if her anger was directed at her friends, at herself, or at the mere prospect of having anything but ill feelings toward her long time rival. “What I do with my life is nobody’s business but my own! I don’t intrude on your private lives like this.”

Ruby shrunk back, but Jane wasn’t deterred. Everyone knew Anne had a terrible temper sometimes. When she yelled it was usually because she felt like she’d been backed into a corner and couldn’t see an escape besides pushing everyone else away.

“Sorry, Anne, but I’m your friend. Friends talk about this stuff. They don’t keep secrets.”

“It’s not a secret.” Anne grumbled. But she knew it was a weak argument. That her friend was right and that she had absolutely no excuse as to why she should keep the truth from them.

Because you’re actually considering Gilbert’s offer, a vexing voice said in her head, And telling them you only did it as a way to escape Royal would ruin it. The voice only annoyed her more despite its truth.

Anne took a sip of her coffee with far more enthusiasm than necessary. Any excuse to avoid talking on the subject further. Avoid meeting the tense stares of her friends.

“I don’t see why it would be such a big deal that you kissed him anyway. Half of our grade has been expecting you two to jump each other’s bones for years.” Jane shrugged nonchalantly.

Anne felt the large gulp lodge in her throat as she choked out a cough, “What?”

Ruby craned her neck around to face her, baby blue eyes wide and vulnerable. Diana released a quiet titter of laughter but didn’t take her eyes off the road.

Traitor.

Jane rolled her eyes exasperatedly, briefly meeting the hurt look of their sensitive friend, “Oh give up, Ruby. He’s known you his whole life and hasn’t made an attempt at you,” When Ruby faced the front again, lower lip jutted out in a pout, her dark gaze swiveled back to Anne’s, “ You , however, caught his attention from the moment you arrived.”

Anne flared her nostrils indignantly, “Not true.”

The girl next to her threw her hands up in frustration, “It is too!”

“Is not.”

“What are we, five?” Jane quipped. And then her face turned smug, “Besides, you guys did end up kissing, didn’t you?”

Jesus, it was a good thing they’d barely missed seeing Gilbert at green gables. Anne hated to think how insufferable her friends might have been had they known he’d stopped by that morning.

She let out a dramatic huff, placing her coffee in the cupholder between them and then crossing her arms to her chest. “Do you just believe everything that Josie Pye posts?”

Jane opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Ruby turned around in her seat again, “We don’t have to. You’ve been evasive enough to answer the question on if you kissed him or not for us.” She said with an adorable scrunch to her eyebrows. It was obvious she was stung but didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.

A loud clap of thunder sounded outside of the car, mirroring Anne’s emotions perfectly. Oh, how she wished she were a storm cloud sometimes. Floating above it all, no care in the world. No expectations except for that of releasing their torrential rage on unsuspecting passers-by. Perhaps if that were her, she wouldn’t have gotten herself in such a messy situation.

She watched as the windshield wipers slapped at the front window, avoiding looking her friends in their eyes. “How far are we from the school?” she grumbled. Though it was certainly going to be a tough task in it’s own, it would be better than sitting under the excruciating scrutiny of the three girls she was trapped in the small car with.

Diana cleared her throat. “Just another block,” she said.

“If you want me to make sure Josie stays off your back today, I need to have the details.” Jane stated simply.

Anne ground her teeth at the annoying tenacity of her friend. “There aren’t any.”

“There aren’t any? ”

“That’s what I said.”

“How could there possibly not be—“

“Jane!” Anne snapped, teeth gnashing out like that of a caged dog’s, “Just drop it!”

There was a stunned silence for a moment as Jane snapped her mouth shut. No other sound but the constant pattering of the rain against the windows and the quiet hum of the radio. In the rearview mirror, Diana exchanged a sympathetic look with Anne.

“Fine,” Jane said finally, a cool resolve in her brown eyes, “But just because you hate Gilbert doesn’t mean everyone else does. If I can’t get the answer from you, I’ll just ask him.”

Anne stiffened—every muscle in her body pulling taut as she fought the urge to strike out with her constant weapon of choice: words.

Gilbert wouldn’t sell her out… would he? Not when he himself was riding on the possibility of a public relationship saving face.

God, would pretending to date him actually work? Could they even do it? Could she do it? Certainly he’d do something to piss her off. Something that would cause her to lash out and make it obvious that they were not, and would never actually be, in a relationship.

The thoughts tormented her as Diana pulled the car into the student parking lot. As she parked in her normal spot near the entrance. As she turned off the engine and they were swallowed by the sound of the falling rain. How fitting to see that Mother Nature bore such a pitiful mood—gray clouds swirling in the sky the very same way Anne’s feelings were swirling in her head.

As her friends giggled amongst themselves—already having moved on to the next subject of interest and opening their car doors—she took a shaking deep breath. Steeling herself against whatever the day might throw at her and clambering out of the car into sheets of cold rain.

+++

When the lunch bell rang, releasing students from their third period classes, Anne’s relief was as palpable as a cool wave crashing against a hot sandy shore. She gathered her things hastily—stuffing them into her bag and barely zipping it back up before hurrying from her calculus class and out into the crowded hallway.

She had very little want of being left in the classroom with a certain tall, dark, and tousled boy. And since that was how things normally went—since Anne and Gilbert were usually the last two left in the classroom, quickly scrawling the last of their work out on the worksheets before them—her rush to leave the confines of the classroom wasn’t without warrant.

Not for the first time since being acquainted with Gilbert Blythe, Anne cursed the fact that they shared a fair amount of classes. (Or unfair if you’d asked her.) But this day… This day had taken her dislike to an entirely different level.

Or maybe dislike wasn’t the correct word for the churning she felt in her stomach every time she’d caught a glimpse of his disheveled dark curls across the room. Maybe awkwardness was the proper noun with which to describe the tension she felt pulled taut between them. If she could even assume it was a reciprocated tension in the first place, that is. She certainly felt it—choking the air around her like a thick and unwanted layer of dust. But… Gilbert hadn’t necessarily shown any discomfort at the sight of her. He’d backed off on making his usual snide comments or witty remarks, yes, but she wasn’t positive that it was because he was playing an angle or if he genuinely thought it better to leave her alone.

Nevertheless, it made Anne’s gut twist uncomfortably. And because the whole school seemed to already know what had transpired the previous afternoon, she loathed to even look in his direction let alone exchange their usual haughty comments. She had, in not so many words, been avoiding him for the entirety of the school day—ducking out of shared classes with all the speed of a bulleting train and keeping her line of vision pinned straight ahead even when she felt his warm honey gaze settle on the side of her face.

This, of course, did not escape the notice of her ever so nosy classmates. In fact, the fervent silence between the two known rivals after such an unexpected public display of affection had only caused an even deeper upset among her peers. Anne liked to think she had learned to never underestimate the might of a small town’s grape vine, but she certainly hadn’t expected such… such backlash from one simple spontaneous moment in time.

To walk through the hallways of her familiar high school and notice the boisterous noise of groups dwindle around her felt much like her early days in Avonlea—except this time, instead of having smacked the town’s golden boy with a heavy textbook, she’d kissed him. And apparently that warranted an even more uproarious reaction.

Anne pushed through the crowd of students and scrambled to her locker—head down in an attempt to ignore the whispers around her. She’d thought that, after three and a half years, she had moved past the days of being an outcast; past the days of being a subject of interest on nearly every one of her classmate’s tongues.

Apparently she’d been wrong. All this time they’d only been hiding in the shadows, waiting for the precise moment she did anything out of the ordinary, so that they could pounce.

As she exchanged binders and textbooks with what had been stacked neatly in her locker, she was so thoroughly enveloped in her own vortex of thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the tall and skinny figure approach her.

“Anne,” the figure said. And despite the familiar trill of the voice, she startled, nearly slamming her fingers in the locker as she’d closed it.

“Dammit, Cole,” she hissed, but there was a smile beneath it.

She turned to her friend, a feeling of ease settling on her shoulders as it always had around Cole Mackenzie. He was leaning against the lockers with his hands wrung loosely around the straps of his backpack and his familiar blue eyes were warm with affection. After a moment, Anne realized there was a dark smudge just under his right eye—more than likely a result of wiping at his face after working with charcoal or graphite. A quick glance at his smeared hands confirmed just as much.

“You’ve got art on your face,” she said, gesturing at her own as a way to show him.

He released a breathy laugh before using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe it off. “Sorry I wasn’t able to get here sooner, I got caught up in class.”

Anne snorted despite herself. “Sure you did,” she said. “Keep acting like you weren’t flirting with that new exchange student.” She twisted her mouth into a feigned look of utter despair, “You left me to the wolves.”

Cole laughed as she schooled her features back to their normal, friendly state and swung her bag around her shoulder. She entwined her hand with his as they made their way in the direction of the cafeteria.

He fixed her with a faux imperious look. “I was only showing Gabriel the precise way of shading. Charcoal is a difficult medium to work with.”

“Don’t tell me,” Anne lowered her voice, acting as though what she was about to say was an absolute scandal, “You stood behind him and guided his hand with your own, heart pounding against his back as he leaned into you.” She caught at her chest with her free hand, “Oh, how romantic! ” she squealed, much louder than she’d meant to. A few students looked in their direction.

An exasperated laugh burst from her friend’s lips and he squeezed her hand lightly. “Not so loud, Anne.”

She shrugged. “People are gay, Cole. They can get over it.”

Cole wasn’t necessarily closeted. It was a pretty well-known fact within their friend group that he was very much homosexual—you have one conversation with him and he just couldn’t hold back his flamboyancy— but the world was still filled with small-minded bigots. And in a small town like the one they lived in, it was easier just to keep the knowledge of his sexual preference to a minimum.

“I suppose this means our vow to marry one another is broken,” she continued forlornly. It was a joking promise they’d made to one another when they were fifteen and certain they’d be deemed outcasts forever—no one but each other to lean on.

Of course, she’d had Diana. Beautiful Diana. But there were many things Anne experienced that her beloved best friend just couldn’t understand. Diana was popular, beautiful, a glittering star among the backdrop of the night sky—something with which Anne found little to no relatability being the scrawny ostracized girl that she was. But Cole’s friendship allowed a quiet solace; a person who knew what it was like to feel unwanted and unpopular.

Cole snorted. “You broke it first,” he said, “What do Gilbert Blythe’s lips feel like?”

Anne nearly tripped over her own two feet, having briefly forgotten the mess she’d gotten herself into. She snapped her head to look at the tall boy beside her and fixed him with a desperate glare. The look on his face was nonchalant, but she knew he was dying with curiosity.

“Why’d you have to bring that up?” she said, unable to help the whiny tone that had weaved itself into her words.

Cole clucked his tongue. “You left me on read last night. You deserve it.”

“I think I’ve gotten punishment enough,” she replied, a frown twisting at her lips. “It’s all anybody can talk about when they see me.”

He looked at her. “Anne. You kissed Gilbert Blythe . ”

“Yes, I know what I did.”

“Gilbert. Blythe.”

Anne unlatched her hand from Cole’s and threw her arms up exasperatedly. “Can people stop saying his name as if I don’t know who he is!?”

They turned down a slightly less crowded hallway, taking a shortcut they’d found halfway through their freshman year. “Can you stop brushing it off like it’s no big deal?”

“It isn’t a big deal.” Anne grumbled.

He ignored her. “How’d it happen anyway?”

There was a tearing feeling in her stomach—indecision on if she should tell him the truth of the matter or not. The small part of her brain that was hung on Gilbert’s earlier suggestion rioted at her to choose not.

It won. “It just—happened. Okay?”

Cole screwed his nose up. “What does that even mean? ” he said. “What, did you just randomly see him and say ‘fuck it, I’mma give into the three years of overwhelming sexual tension’ and decide to eat his face off?”

Anne blanched at him, stopping dead walk in the middle of the hallway. “Sexual tension?” she sputtered. “Have you been talking to Jane?”

Cole released a light laugh at the expression on her face. “No, but I’m not surprised she feels the same way. Everybody does.”

“I hate it here.” Anne said sadly, mouth turning down at one corner. What a piteous thing to confuse hatred with sexual desire. Because certainly— certainly —Cole and Jane were wrong. There was absolutely no sexual tension between her and Gilbert Blythe. None whatsoever. And she was positive in the fact that there never would be.

“Drama queen.”

“How observant of you,” Anne replied, beginning to make her way down the hallway again. “It’s as if we’re friends. Almost like you know me.”

Her blonde companion snorted, but followed after her.

“Apparently not,” he continued vexingly. “Not if you’re sucking face with Gilbert frickin’ Blythe.”

“Cole, I love you, I really do. But if you don’t shut up right this very moment, I will not hesitate to murder you.”

“Anne—“

“I’m serious,” she said, “I live on a farm—lots of sharp tools at my disposal, Mackenzie. Don’t push me.”

He laughed—a short and exasperated release of breath. “Has anybody ever told you you’re kinda scary when you want to be?”

She glanced over to where he was matching her stride beside her, smiling crookedly and impishly.

Cole’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Please don’t flash me your murder eyes. It gives me the creeps.”

Reaching across the space between them with her arm, she patted his shoulder lightly. “Good.”

They lapsed into casual conversation then, walking quickly the rest of the way to the cafeteria and occasionally bumping each other’s shoulders teasingly. She really did appreciate Cole, she decided. Well, she’d always appreciated him—but unlike the rest of her companions, he never pushed her to talk about the things he knew she was most uncomfortable with. Teased her relentlessly maybe—okay, certainly —but he always, always, knew when enough was enough.

As they passed through the metal-doored threshold of Avonlea High’s sorry excuse for a cafeteria, (even their library was larger than the sparsely decorated area—hardly even eight long tables adorning the length of the walls and smaller rounded ones few and far between) Anne startled at the absolute terror she was faced with.

Being such a small school, the majority of the senior class was pushed into the same lunch schedule. Meaning all the kids she’d grown with for the past few years—all the classmates that knew most definitely about Anne’s adamant hatred towards one Gilbert Blythe—paused fractionally when they noticed her fiery mane out of the corners of their eyes.

Anne’s heart rate kicked up, stomach twisting painfully as the cafeteria quieted ever so slightly and heads swiveled to gawk at her.

She felt Cole’s hand squeeze hers. “Christ,” he mumbled beside her. “They really don’t have any lives do they.”

She snorted, eased slightly by his encouraging and easy-going presence. “Our school doesn’t even have a total of five-hundred students. This is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened since you showed sophomore year and Billie Andrews made it his mission to torment you.”

Her friend winced. “Don’t remind me.”

“Shit, sorr—“

“Anne!”

The breath that had frozen in Anne’s chest upon realizing the upset she’d caused when first entering the cafeteria thawed the rest of the way at the familiar cadence of Diana’s voice. She could see her friend’s veil of dark hair, her infectious smile big and bright as she stood from their usual table tucked in the far corner of the room. The rest of her friends, still sitting, waved to her gregariously.

Friends, Anne reminded herself. Those are your friends and not even the disastrous evening before and whatever trouble Gilbert Blythe insights next can take them away from you.

She felt a warm smile tug at her lips as she moved toward the familiar corner, pulling Cole behind her as she went. But as she got closer, doubt crept into her mind. She saw the nervous glances Tillie, Jane and Ruby exchanged with one another—however miniscule they might have tried to make them seem. The scrunch of Diana’s nose, bringing her hand down from her enthusiastic wave and rubbing at a non-existent itch. Anne recognized it immediately as her bosom friend’s nervous tick.

Her steps slowed as she approached the table, nearly causing Cole to stumble into her from where he’d been following behind. Josie Pye—she was sitting straight backed, arms folded across her chest and an accusing glare flashing in her blue eyes.

Oh no.

Now this— this was the part she’d forgotten all about. Josephine Pye and her ridiculous aversion to amiable conversation. Her insufferable adamance on making Anne’s existence appear as a show for all the school to see. Josie fancied herself a puppet master, tugging at the strings on Anne’s back from the very first moment they’d met. And though a tedious friendship had developed between the two over the last few years, some things just never changed.

“Hey,” Anne squeaked out, instantly noticing how guilty she already sounded. She winced, sat stiffly on the stool across from her friends.

Cole rolled his eyes and plopped down beside her, shoved his bookbag towards the end of the table and folded his artist hands in front of him as he leveled Josie with a shockingly protective gaze.

“There will be absolutely no mentions of a certain happening with a certain someone taking place at a certain time yesterday afternoon, got it?” His voice left no room for discussion.

Diana nodded eagerly, reaching across the table and giving Anne a sympathetic squeeze of the hand. Jane pursed her lips, obviously wanting to say something, anything, about the unfinished conversation the girls had all had in the car that morning—but seemed to think better of it. Tillie and Ruby, always the more soft spoken of the group, simply sat quietly, glancing between Cole and Josie, the latter of which had narrowed her eyes in an obvious challenge.

The blonde grenade snapped her eyes to Anne instead. “I think that—“

“No.” Anne said icily, surprising herself. She’d never been one to overtly challenge Josie. But after dealing with Royal Gardner and Gilbert Blythe and every single pair of eyes that had followed and judged and questioned her all morning, she’d had enough.

She cleared her throat, “No,” she tried again, less hostile this time. “We will not be discussing the kiss because it’s my business and I owe absolutely nobody an explanation.”

“Periodt,” chimed Cole, snapping his fingers. Diana giggled, attempting to smother it with her hand but failing rather obviously.

Tillie’s eyes had turned wide as saucers. “So it’s true? You and Gilbert kissed?”

“Of course it’s true, I saw it with my own two eyes.” Josie snapped, “And obviously—“

“Josie, Anne literally just said we weren’t discussing it.” Diana huffed. It was the most annoyed Anne had ever seen her act with Josie—it made her want to tackle her best friend in a hug. “Please just drop the subject, okay? If she wants to explain herself then she will.”

“Must I repeat myself?” Cole raised an eyebrow at the blonde dragon across from him who was just barely containing the angry smoke Anne was sure to pore from her nostrils.

“Please,” replied Jane, amused.

“Periodt!” And he gave another flamboyant snap of his fingers.

Josie rolled her eyes imperiously. “You guys are dumb,” she said to the snickering gaggle of girls beside her, then she faced Anne again. “Look, I’m not one to really care all that much about your romantic life—“

Cole opened his mouth to protest but without even glancing his way, Josie cut herself off and snapped, “Shut it, Mackenzie.”

He raised his hands in the universal sign of defeat.

“But as your friend,” loosely Anne had to bite back from commenting as Josie continued, “I worry about what this means for your… reputation.”

“Oh, for the love of god, Josephine Pye. We’re in high school, not running for the frickin’ electoral college. I promise you, me kissing somebody is not that deep.”

Did any of them have lives?

A throat cleared beside her—Cole’s. “I mean,” he said quietly, “it kind of is when you’ve vowed to hate said kissee for the rest of your days. ‘So long as you bring air into your lungs’ I believe were your exact words.”

Anne snapped her head over to her traitorous friend, one who’d not moments ago was just defending her.

“Whose side are you on?”

“The gays,” he said solemnly. And then, upon seeing Anne’s unamused look, “Joking, joking—I mean, not joking obviously, but… Look, Anne. As overdramatic as Josie is being—“ said girl harrumphed impertinently, “—Everybody and their mother knows how much you hate Gilbert. I’ll fight tooth and nail for you, girl, but this whole situation is questionable in the least.”

“I just want you to know,” began Anne, “How much I hate all of you right now, nevermind Gilbert.”

“Hey!” Tillie protested, “I haven’t done a single thing besides ask if the rumor was true in the first place.”

“Tillie Boulter with-holding.”

Jane opened her mouth, “I—“

“You’re on thin fuckin’ ice, Jane Andrews.”

Anne was so incredibly and entirely tired of this entire situation. So much for not talking about it… God, she should just out and admit the reasoning already. Clear the air, make sure that everybody knew it was a farce. A ploy to get Roy Gardner to finally leave her alone.

Who was she kidding anyway? Even entertaining the idea that Gilbert had planted in her head earlier that morning was absolute insanity. Them? Dating? Imagine the uproar then. If her classmates were so nosy as to be absolutely entranced by the fact that they simply kissed, imagine if they announced they were dating .

Oh dearest Snow Queen, she asked of her longest comfort, What would you do?

She set her jaw then, determining it was time to come clean. “Listen, guys. Gilbert and I didn’t actually—“

“Anne?”

She froze. Didn’t blink. Didn’t take a single breath for what felt like a solid thirty seconds. Her friends all startled to look behind her, Cole craning his neck to meet the gaze of probably the absolute last person Anne wanted to see right then.

“Roy!” Diana chirped with false cheer. Her eyes flit between Anne and the monstrous cad that stood behind her, betraying the panic she felt on behalf of her best friend. “I thought you had B lunch?”

Anne refused to turn around, still frozen as she watched, horrified, as all her friends looked at each other confused and curious.

“Well, I did. But the adviser decided to switch some of my classes around. She thought it would be best if I stayed with the rest of the senior class even if British academia didn’t quite meet up with American—Anne, are you trying to hide?”

She was, she totally, full-heartedly was. She’d sunk into herself, almost as if she were trying to allow the lunch table to swallow her whole.

“Anne, sit up ,” Josie hissed at her. Was she—god, was she batting her eyelashes at the boy behind her? The boy in which Anne could very clearly feel inching closer to her with every second she didn’t acknowledge him?

She took a deep breath, turned around in her seat finally for fear that he might reach out and touch her, place his disgustingly delicate and nimble hand on her shoulder. “Roy,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Hi.”

“Hullo.” Roy replied, probably smiling in a way he thought was enormously charming. “Your dress is quite beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the one wearing it, I might say. Almost .”

Oh, for the love of all that is good and— He was insufferable. Anger, white hot and immediate bubbled in her blood.

“What do you want?” She said, rather bluntly. Cole elbowed her in the arm, shot her a confused look. I’ll explain later, she hoped her face portrayed to him.

Diana, ever the mediator, cleared her throat. “Royal. These are my friends. Tillie, Ruby, Jane, Josie, and Cole.” Cole watched him hesitantly, the girls all exchanged giddy glances. “Of course, you already know Anne.”

“How could I ever forget.”

Anne had to resist the urge to feign a gag.

“Anyways. Guys, this is my cousin Royal.”

“Roy. Call me Roy,” he said. But he didn’t even glance at them, his eyes were trained solely on Anne’s. And Anne rather wanted to punch him in his obnoxiously pert nose.

“It’s nice to meet you, Roy—“ Ruby had begun, but the miscreant cut her off, paying sweet Ruby no attention.

“Anne, I was hoping we might talk?”

Anne clenched her jaw, fought to keep from squeezing her eyes closed in exasperation at the sheer audacity Roy had to even ask that of her.

Right. This was why she’d entertained Gilbert’s plan. This was why she had desperately kissed him. Because Royal Gardner had no boundaries and despite being related to her best and closest friend, every moment spent in his presence was a moment she knew she’d never get back.

“Talk,” she said stiffly. She stood up, grabbed a confused Cole’s hand and yanked him up beside her. “But make it fast because Cole and I still haven’t had a chance to get in the lunch line.”

“I am… so confused.” Anne heard one of the girls say behind her. Diana shushed her.

“Privately? Perhaps?”

She was seriously going to punch this boy in the face. Like, actually. Right there in front of everybody.

“Privately?” Anne snapped coldly, her fury like fire in her veins. She stepped around him, cornered him to the table, making sure her back was to the rest of the cafeteria. Too many rumors were already circulating around her. If she caused a scene, lord knew she’d never come back from it. “Are you joking?”

She saw Cole step back from the corner of her eye, scuttle to the other side of the cafeteria table with the girls. All their eyes were wide and unsure of what to make of the situation.

“Anne, there’s no need for such hostility. I was just trying to—“

“Deliberately make her uncomfortable?” a new voice chimed in from behind her. There was an unrecognizable hardness to it, incongruous to all of the other times she had heard it before. Across from her, her friends' eyes widened impossibly, gazes landing on the new addition to the already intolerable conversation.

Anne could feel as all the eyes in the cafeteria turned toward them, a sure spectacle to behold.

She watched as Roy’s jaw hardened, eyes trained behind her with a new intensity as he tracked the movements of Gilbert Blythe lazily sidling up beside Anne.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of properly meeting,” Gilbert said as he threw an arm around Anne’s shoulders. She had to fight to keep from stiffening up, knew what he was doing, knew exactly what game he was playing at as he pulled her closer to his side and tucked her neatly beneath his arm. And while her blood boiled at his intrusion, at the audacity he had to come running in like he thought he was some god-awful knight-in-shining-armor, at the way her friends’ expressions all changed immediately—all smirking and knowing and not nearly as surprised as she thought they’d be—the smallest part of her was relieved.

Relieved.

Like she’d still been gunning for that stupid, ludicrous plan that Gilbert had blabbered on about that very morning to actually work. Which in itself was most positively and unmitigatedly not going to happen in a million—

“Right. Is this him then?” The accusation in Roy’s voice broke Anne from her spiraling thoughts, solidifying the situation she was in. There, in front of all of her friends and essentially the entire senior class, she was facing off with one of the most impudent males she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

And, lord above, Gilbert Blythe of all people was the only person with the ability to make Roy leave her alone.

“Just a few months.” His words pinged around in her mind, “We get Royal and Winnie off our backs. And then we never have to deal with each other outside of class again .”

She scowled, resisting the urge to fidget beneath Gilbert’s arm. The heat radiating from his body where their sides were pressed flush together was rather difficult to ignore. She felt as though she could feel it fuse with her blood, travel through her veins and warm her cheeks, her toes, clog up her lungs.

“Is this who?” Anne replied, her scowl deepening.

“The boyfriend. The reason I can’t pursue you… or so you say.”

A choking sound came from her group of friends, though she absolutely refused to look in their direction. She was positive that the fire she felt across her cheeks no longer had anything to do with Gilbert’s body heat.

Roy raised a single brow when she opened her mouth, snapped it back shut immediately—a fish floundering on dry land. Gilbert’s arm tightened around her shoulder, probably meant to be comforting, reassuring, but it only made her want to elbow him in the side. The mortification leaching any and all relief she’d previously felt by his presence.

“I—uh,” she stuttered. Oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod. How in the hell had she gotten herself into this situation?

“My god, he broke her,” she heard Cole whisper.

“Anne? You did tell me you had one, right?” Roy’s eyebrow was still raised, the brazen confidence leaking from every pore. She hated him, she decided. Hated him more than the curly haired boy whose arm was wrapped around her and whose current silence felt like a ticking time bomb.

“I did,” she replied, and to her utmost horror it came out weakly.

“As much as I love being talked about as if I’m not standing right here,” Gilbert interjected, and Anne wasn’t sure if he’d noticed it but his thumb had started rubbing tiny comforting circles where it rested on her upper arm, “Anne doesn’t owe you an explanation. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t owe you a damn thing. So whether she has a boyfriend or not—whether I’m that boyfriend or not—is none of your business.”

Woah.

Wait a minute, not woah , what the hell? Had he really said that? Had it really made her heart rate kick up in her chest at the way he’d not only defended her but her right to make her own choices without explanation?

Royal blinked, opened his mouth, closed it. But Gilbert ignored him, turned his head to face Anne. The expression on his face said It’s up to you , the small curve at the corner of his mouth added, Carrots.

She closed her eyes, counted one, two, before opening them back up and meeting Roy’s gaze.

God help her.

“Yeah, Roy,” she said, swallowed thickly, “Gilbert is my boyfriend."

#shirbert #anne with an e #shirbert fanfiction #royalcordelia #my writing

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ikassienatics · 4 years

Text

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥 ↬ 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩.

summary: half the population survived the blip and that includes peter your boyfriend, while the other half was erased from existence just like you. five years later, the snap was reversed but the world you once lived in changes

warnings: angst but not really, mj being a really cool bad bitch, life lessons from michelle jones, peter moving on, endgame spoilers? but i know you've seen the masterpiece already, mj cursing a lot like a lot.

author’s note: y’all it’s been soo long since i wrote something and this idea popped inside my mind while watching infinity war for the hundredth time, and i just can’t help myself!!!! though to warn y’all, i’m actually not that proud with the outcome of this one, it felt like something is not right, like something is missing or whatnot. and if there’s probably a fic i wrote in which i disliked, this will be it.

a handsome god trying to invade new york is bullshit, a malfunctioned artifical intelligence trying to take over the world is too much. but a purple alien named thanos erasing half the population in your planet is full of shit. the world is a crazy place indeed, you thought you guys have enough, that everything is being handled with care, for fuck’s sake earth has avengers. but turns out, even the earth’s mightiest heroes can’t stop nor survive the snap.

everything happened so fast, one second every student in your university is standing happily inside the gymnasium as they awaited the announcement about the upcoming ball, then the speaker suddenly turned into dust, she fades away like she was nothing, like a bubble, turned into ash. then everyone panicked including you, you just saw a person turned into dust before your eyes, of course you will panic

then you stood up from your seat, taking your boyfriend peter with you as you both decided to run for the exit, then it happened to everyone too. they also started turning dust

then it was your turn.

you didn't really know how it was your turn, you just sensed it that you will fade away just like them, so you did what common teenagers would do. you clung in your boyfriend once you felt the tingling sensation inside your body. it was a scary feeling, and for some reasons the numb pain started fading away, like it find some way to connect with your brain to tell it that there's nothing wrong when technically, everything is wrong. like it was convincing your mind that you don't feel anything. you have never been scared like that before

peter was by your side when that happened, holding you tightly on his arms as if he's trying to stop you from leaving. but nothing stopped the snap, no one manage to stop the blip. not even the earth's mightiest heroes.

and now you're back, sitting alone on the bench with no peter by your side, you stood up from the bench seeing mj looking at her hands weirdly, only half the students inside the gym remains and the speaker on the front, the other half? your peter? they're not here.

rushing towards the tan lady, you approach her with your hear beating faster "mj!" she look up from her hands, eyebrows furrowed and seemingly as confuse as you are

"y/n?" she stood up before you can even reach her sit "what the fuck just happened?" she look around as well, everyone started reaching for their devices, calling their family to make sure they're safe and okay, some even rush towards the exit while some started crying

"i have no idea." you pursed your lips, you and mj are never close. you always get insecure because of the tall girl, thinking that she may have a thing for peter but she always assure you that she don't date boys, she prefer girls. so standing in front of her, let alone talking to her is still awkward for you, but there's no time for that

"did you just came back as well?" she asked you, reaching for her bag and hanging it around her shoulder, you nodded your head "i was actually wondering where peter was. . ." your eyes widen, she might think you don't care about anything but peter, or maybe she will think your ignorant because even after what happened, even if there's a lot to be concern about, you still ask for your boyfriend first "i mean, everyone, i was wondering where half of the students are."

"yeah, me neither." she grabbed her phone from inside her bag, planning to text her parents just like everybody else when she suddenly caught a glimpse of the date on her lockscreen "oh shit!"

your eyes widen "what? what is it?" even though you two were never close and you felt like overstepping a line, putting your nose in her business. you can't help but get curioused because of the expression written all over her face

"what the fuck is this." she showed you her phone and there you saw a 2023 instead of 2019, your eyes also widen in realization reaching for your phone as well and seeing the same thing in your lock screen, you even saw a couple of text and calls from your parents and friends five years ago

five years ago

what the fuck

you licked your lips, about to call your mom when you heard someone speak from behind you and mj "y/n?" the voice is familiar, turning on your heels, you came in contact with a person no other than ned leeds, one of peter's friends.

mj also turn her head making ned switch his eyes from you to her "mj?" he asks, still can't believe what he's seeing. ned changes a lot even after just five minutes, he grew a beard, his hair looks so fresh from hair cut and his body is more lean than before, he looks older. weird

"ned! oh my god." you run towards him, jumping in his arms and hugging him tightly, he did the same closing his eyes in the process and praying that this is not a dream, not anymore, no. this has to be real, everyone has to come back, this has to be the reality.

"hey, man!" mj nodded her head at the man in front fo you, he still looks confuse but not as confuse as the pair "what happened here?"

his eyebrows furrowed "you don't know?" the way he said those words made your heart clench, what really is happening? and where's peter? if ned is here, then peter must be somewhere near, knowing that guy. him and ned are usually always together, even in your dates ned has to tag along, not that you mind. you enjoyed it most of the time

"what? what do you mean?" you look back at mj "we just came back, what happened? why do you look older? did you just came back as well?" you bombared him with question

he shakes his head "no, half of the population survived." your eyes widen, then if half the population survived, does that mean peter survive as well? or maye he's also part of the snap? but where is he. you look back at your seat not long ago, expecting your partner to pop our of nowhere. but there's none, no peter.

"while the other half fade away?" mj continued or more like, asked.

"y-yeah." he nodded "it's been five years." so that's why it's year 2023 and not 2019? but how, how could it happened? why? who did this? you can't help bur ask yourself

"yeah, that answers our question." the curly brunette beside you spoke, referring to what you both just witness a while ago. biting your lip, you fidget with your fingers as you find the right time to ask him a question

"what are you doing here if it's been five years?" you questioned

"i helped my cousin get enrolled, then everyone just. . . just started to come back and i think of going here to see if both of you came back as well." he answers softly

you slightly smiled at him "w-where's. . . where's peter?" you saw how ned's body froze, how almost all the blood in his face dissapeared by your question, like he's suddenly afraid of something. his happy and chill personality faded just like the snap

"p-peter? y-yeah uhm." he clears his throat, you look down on his fingers and unexpectedly saw a ring in one of them

"you're married?" both you and mj said in unison, he look down on his hands as well before nodding

"yeah, betty and i you know. we made it work, aftee graduating i decided to take our relationship in another level." his eyes sparkles with joy as he tells you the news "she's. she's actually pregnant, two months."

"congratulations." you and mj both said

"and peter, uhm. he now lives in, he no longer lives with aunt may and he also. . . he's not an avenger anymore." you saw how ned had a hard time on telling you what he knows, the ned you knew not long ago is gone, ned usually knows how to compose himself immideately and maybe that's one of the reasons why him and peter fits each other perfectly, your boyfriend is an akward person, a weird one and he always stumble upon his words, while ned is more composed and often helped him.

"wait, what?" michelle gasp

while you stayed still, confusion erupts in your mind. how did it happened? why did peter left the avengers? he always love helping people, finding comfort in swinging around queens and fighting for those who cannot fight, and being an avenger? it's his dream, so why would he turn his back on a life he always wanted to have?

at this moment, you felt like you never knew peter anymore, or ned, he changes so much and you wish peter is still the same after five years even though you know it's impossible, many things can happen in those years, many things can change.

"yeah, after. you know, he got anxiety after the blip, he really had a hard time with keeping up so, uhm. yeah."

"wait, i don't understand a single thing." mj speak once again, trying to make the situation clear

you saw how ned gulped, as if he's about to spill the biggest tea there is "he just, shit happens. you know? and people change, how they see life, their perspective and peter. well, peter. he, he change. he's grown up now."

"like, how grown up?" did he move on?

"i can't tell you that, i'm sorry but he lives in." then he started tellng you the adress which you gladly wrote down on your phone with shaking fingers, imagining how peter would seeing you after five years, would he be happy, sad? or maybe he moved on?

god you don't want to think about it, peter moving on from his relationship with you? can that really happen? can peter really do that to you? no, no. peter won't do that, maybe ned is right. he changed but he's still peter, you refuse to believe that peter forgot about you, that he replaced you after being a part of the blip, because if tables have turned? if peter is the one who has been snapped and you're the one who survived? you don't think you can forget him or move on.

the trio was about to continue keeping up, but ned's phone started to ring and you saw a picture of a woman on the screen "sorry, wife calling." he turn his back on you quickly answering the phone while you and mj just nodded your head, giving him a chance to answer the line

"i always knew peter is a freak." she whispered beside you, trying to make the mood better as she started to see the doubt in your eyes "but a grown man? come on, just because he grow up and finally became a man doesn't mean he has to forget stuffs, you know?"

you slightly smile at her, nodding your head in agreement "you're right."

"anyways, i got to call my dad. you call your family too, they must be worried and confused. all this shit is probably all overt the news by now."

***

two days passed after you came back from the blip, everything you thought you knew? gone. it's like you never existed in the first place and you had a hard time keeping up, keeping up with the world you once knew. your parents on the other hand, they are more understanding than ever, letting you stay lock up in your room so you can think but occasionally asking you if you want to go on a family vacation but you told them you have to fix yourself first. your parents reaction when you came back is priceless especially your mom, she almost didn't want to let you go after embracing you if it weren't for your dad and you saw the longing in their eyes.

of course, their only daughter went missing five years ago then came back as if nothing happened.

you tried to read as many newspaper as you could, news from the last five years, trying to blend in once again. you felt sick thinking about the new society you are now stepping on. but even after those things, you have mj with you and you two became close, facetime here, facetime there. helping each other stood back up from their feet.

two days later, that's when you decided to visit peter, two days of dreaming about the guy, imagining what his reaction would be if you showed up in his door step, and a part of you wished you didn't came back after what you saw, after what you learned.

the house that ned told you was huge, it's white and there's a mailbox standing outside with a name 'parker' in it, it's more like a family house, a car on the garage and a small bike right beside it, a small bike? why does peter have a small bike on his house?

and if you weren't that stupid, you're going to be able to put the pieces together, the bike, the house, the mailbox, ned seeming like he's nervous about something. it all made sense especially when you knock on the door and it was opened by the one and only liz allen. the small bump on her stomach also didn't go unnoticable by you, and the small boy running around from the inside looking like you're boyfriend? yeah, fuck. you get it. he moved on, what else can you do?

nonetheless, she invited you in and you could have said no, but you didn't. there's a lot of question you want to ask peter, why? and how? but you're not going to blame him because of the decision he made. you fully understand it, that maybe his feelings for liz didn't really fade away just like he told you when you two started dating, or maybe he forgot about you. five years is a long road

and that's how you saw yourself inside the kitchen with peter sitting in front of you, the house smelled like home, like love, like family. his family, her family. liz was upstairs trying to give the both of you a time to talk while their son went out to play with some kids outside.

"you're married?" you asked, although it's obvious. you still want it to come out from his mouth. your voice came out like a whisper but you know he heard it, he only nodded his head in response, not knowing what else to say.

"you left me for her." you said once again

and that's when he spoke back "i didn't left you, you left me." his voice is deeper than before, more manly and he didn't stumble upon his words just like before, he looks like be know exactly what he's doing, what he's saying.

he's not the peter you once knew anymore, just like everybody else.

"are you blaming me for what happened?" you whispered shouted, not wanting liz to hear your conversation even though you know that peter will tell her later once you got out

"i'm not blaming anything on you, i'm just trying to explain that i'm not the one who fades away to dust, who left me with nothing for five years. what do you expect me to do?"

"i expect you to wait for me, i came back didn't i?" you saw how your vision started to get blurry, telling you that any time soon a tears will fell from your eyes.

"i waited for you but i lose hope."

"how could you do this to me?" and that's when a single tear drop from your eyes, then another. but you didn't do anything to stop it

"how could i? can you put yourself in my position for once? i was left with nothing for the past five years! i have nothing, tony was a part of the snap, may and i fell apart because all this shit! and liz? she's just, she's there with me. she stood by my side during those times and neither of us can't help it." and if your heart broke after finding out that peter moved on, now it's being shredded to pieces especially after what he just told you

"you find comfort in another woman."

"don't pretend like you will do this differently if i were the one who got snapped." you drop your palms on the table causing it to make a loud thump

"don't you there turn the tables, because if i were the one who survived and you're the one who does not. i will still wait for you no matter how fucked up everything is." you said angrily "did you ever loved me? or did you just used me to get over her? to make her jealous?"

"don't fucking change the subject." that's the first time he ever cursed in front of you, in those eight months of you two dating, no matter the situation, he never cursed or yell at you. yeah you fight often times but it didn't come this far, no yelling, no cursing, just a calm fight.

you wanted to be selfish, to steal peter away from liz just like how she teal him away from you. but you couldn't, you can't even think about it. you don't want to be the person, the woman who stole their dad away from them, you don't want their child to grew up without a dad, to grew up longing for a father.

"look, i know it's hard but believe me or not. i loved you." he said softly this time "but i have a family now, a family to take care of, a children to look after and none of this can bring back the past, none of this can bring both of us together just like before. you have to understand the situation that none of this is inevitable, maybe we're not meant for each other, maybe this is meant to happened, what matters right now is you're back and i have the family i always wanted, maybe not with you. but i'm happy now."

he held your hands from the table, soothing it gently to calm you down "i loved you, and i still do until now but not as much as i love her."

"you don't know how many men will kill just to be with you, you deserve beter and i wish you all the happiness in this world." he added, you look down on his hands, biting your shaking lips as you refuse to believe everything he told you

everything is just too much, it happened so fast. that your brain could not even keep up, but you have to accept the truth, the truth that the both of you are no longer the couple you were used to be. that he moved on and you must do the same

***

you lay down, facing the ceiling before sighing. even after two weeks, fourteen days, even after all those minutes passed you can't seem to get used to the world you were in right now. you're starting to drift away from your parents, not liking to go out and instead you prefer to self isolate yourself inside your room. but no one can blame you for your actions, it's hard. keeping up with everything, it's hard facing complicated things like this especially because peter is not by your side unlike before.

and for once, you just wanted to. . . you just want everything to stop for a while. everything, just. just to give you time to understand

if only it weren't for the snap, or what everyone prefer to call that 'thing'. if it weren't for that, then maybe you already graduated by now, maybe you're the one who's married with peter instead of liz. maybe

"i thought that if i acted like it didn't matter. it wouldn't." you said, eyes still focused on the ceiling as you tried to think about everything that had happened in the past ever since you came back from the ash

mj, who's quietly reading a book on the sofa inside your room decided to join you in your comfy bed, laying beside you and facing the white and boring ceiling as well. unlike you, mj asked for help. she started seeing a therapist to help her get better and to guide her in this journey where she's trying to fit in once again.

but you? you prefer to be alone no matter how many times your parents tried to talk to you or asked you if you need help, even if they kept their arms open for you, even if every person who survived the snap kept their arms wide open for those who didn't. you can't bring yourself to do it, to ask for help like mj. unlike you, mj handled all the problems like a champion, you never see any discomfort in her eyes ever since you came back. yeah maybe the first day, you saw how scared she was but now? she's getting better while you felt like you're getting worse.

you drift away from your parents, never answered or check your phone, you completely shut down peter and liz no matter how many times they tried to invite you like when their son celebrated his birth day. but you see yourself getting closer to mj

which is. weird

you never see it coming,

you never see any of this coming.

"it's okay not to be okay, you know?" she mumbled from beside you. closing her book and fixing her eyeglasses

"shit happens, we get sad, stress, depress, you name it. and that's okay, that's normal. everybody felt that too." she added

from the ceiling, you turn your body to face her before asking her a question "how did you do it?" she seemed taken a back but manages to compose herself right away

putting her other hands behind her head, she licked her lips before answering your question "how did i do it? i didn't do no such thing." it was a whisper, but because of the silence evaporating inside your room you manage to hear every letter that came out of her mouth

"i was scared, afraid after all this shit you know? and it made me think that feeling those things, that self isolating myself or being sad or what the fuck will not make anything better." she told you "like, if i cry in my room because i felt left out, will that make anything better? no right? if i stay in my room and get so emotional, will that bring back the past? will the pain bring back everything? no, that's why instead of being like the others, instead of following what i feel, instead of letting my fear take over. i just told them to fuck off, i go out, tried understanding the world more, have fun, be with my loved ones, forget the fact that i became an ash. because no matter how sad you feel, or how depress you've become. the world will not stop spinning for you, and because of that. might as well as spin with the world, you know what i'm saying?"

from her laying position, mj sat up completely facing you and holding your hand in hers "i know you're having a hard time, we all are. but don't forget that you're not alone in this. you don't have to be, you don't have to face all this shit alone because i'm here for you, your parents, your friends, peter. maybe not in the way you want him to be, but all of us will be here for you." she said sincerely

"i know it's tough, and it's probably much more harder in your case because of peter. but things aren't always going to be there, you know? nothing is permanent. i can't be sitting here with you forever because i have to go home or else my dad will probably burst out." you laughed at her humor "but i'm serious, sometimes everything is not meant to be that way. and i think that's what makes life special, nothing is permanent, because of that life teaches us how to cherish every moment."

"avengers fought with their dying breath just to give us a second chance, and i'm glad they did. we were all given a second chance to live in this world and i don't want to waste that."

that's when you realized how lucky you are, she's right. you were given a second chance, a second chance to live, to be happy. avengers bled for this, for all of you to return. you should live your life to the fullest, and that's what you're about to do

peter is one of the best things that ever happened to you, maybe he's not with you until the end but at least you manage to be with him and to feel the love from spiderman in the past.

maybe in some other life, in a distant universe, in an unknown world, in a small city, you and peter have your little love story going on, and you both are living there your happily ever after.

disclaimer: all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. the original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. the author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

#peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #peter parker #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #marvel

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ghstandpucks · 4 years

Text

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch. 4

Hey everyone! I hope you are all doing well and having a nice Friday! Thank you so much for all your kind, supportive words! I’m so glad you are liking this series! Disclaimer for this chapter: I’m sorry if you like Ashley Wagner as a figure skater. To be honest she bothers me which is why I picked her for a little conflict that may or may not happen during the season lol

Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think! Also, let me know if you would like to be tagged in the upcoming chapters! Thanks!

Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

“Nope. Try again,” you said as Andre tripped over his feet and missed the net. It was Monday morning at practice and you had just shown your group the three-turn move that Nate suggested you teach them. Andre groaned and looked over at you.

“What is the point of this?” he asked.

“The point is to be more fluid. You guys do this already, you just need to follow through with it and not be choppy,” you responded.

“Maybe we are choppy because we have to keep the puck with us,” Andre grumbled and tried again, still not entirely succeeding. To be fair, not many had been successful that morning.

“You guys just need to keep your momentum,” you tried to explain. They looked at you like you were crazy. You quickly skated over to the side and grabbed a stick, becoming exasperated that they seemed not to believe you that it would work. Taking one of the pucks, you quickly did the move and shot the puck straight into the net. You turned back to your group and laughed at their dumbstruck faces. Honestly, you were even shocked that you made, but you couldn’t show them that. “So that’s how you do it. Any questions?” They all shook their heads no. “Okay then, line up,” you said, deciding to keep the stick with you. Though it still seemed foreign to you, you felt more comfortable with it. As the group you had started to get it, you smiled and looked down the ice to find Nate already looking at you. He was at center ice in another group, and when you grabbed the hockey stick a few of the players and coaches stopped to see what you were doing. He didn’t bother to look away when you met his gaze, but instead nodded at you with an impressed face. You shrugged and laughed, turning your attention back to your group.

The groups rotated about 30 minutes later, and Nate skated right up to your side. “Look who’s becoming a hockey player,” he teased you quietly. You giggled and elbowed him.

“I told you it wasn’t that hard,” you said, adding “and you owe me two laps.” Nate looked at you unimpressed.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“Can’t have people thinking I’m a pushover, right?” you laughed. Nate rolled his eyes, but smiled at you as he took off.

~ ~ ~

The following day you stayed after practice, seeing as the team had Wednesday off. You were in the middle of your billman spin when you caught the outline of a blurred figure every rotation you made. You finished the spin, letting go of your right leg and checking out. Glancing toward the side, you found Nate standing there. He smiled as you skated over to him, shifting his weight from one foot to another slightly. That’s when you realized he had his skates on. “Mind if I join you?” Nate asked. You shook your head and smiled up at him.

“You aren’t mad at me for making you skate laps?” you joked. He chuckled as he stepped out onto the ice.

“Completely. Those two laps were the worst thing I had to do yesterday,” he answered with a wink. You laughed and skated around the perimeter of the rink with him. The two of you spent about two more hours on the ice, talking and doing different things, but always ending up back next to each other. You sat next to Nate on a bench off the ice to take your skates off while continuing your conversation. “So how did you get into skating? In Canada hockey is huge. I can’t imagine it’s the same in Southern California,” Nate asked after he had told you how he started playing hockey, and you smiled.

“So I was actually a dancer when I was younger. My parents put me in ballet when I was about 2 in a half because I was that hyper child that needed something to do,” Nate chuckled at that. “Anyways, I had an older cousin who was taking skating lessons and had her like 10th birthday party at the rink. I was 4 and one of my other older cousins offered to skate with me. And I fell in love the second I stepped onto the ice. I asked my parents after the party if I could start skating and they signed me up for classes. And you should know as of last week with Z that I am a competitive, stubborn little shit of a person so I jumped at the idea of having a coach and competing. And I never looked back. The rink is my happy place, it’s where I feel most myself, and everything that has come along with it is just a perk,” You smiled, drying off your blades and putting your soakers on them.

“Oh yes, an Olympic gold medal is just a perk,” Nate dead panned, but you could see he had a smirk on his face.

“I mean I worked hard for it. But it never felt like work because I love to skate,” you replied simply. Nate smiled softly at you, and you thought you would never get used to the way it made your stomach flutter.

“That is beautiful Coach,” he teased you, and you knocked your shoulder into his arm. He laughed as you barely even moved him, more just bounced off of him. “I’m being serious Y/N. Obviously you are an amazing skater, and we are lucky to have you.” Nate said sincerely. You looked away as you started to blush.

“Well you aren’t so bad yourself mister,” you tried to joke back to cover up how much his words were actually affecting you. Nate chuckled and shook his head.

“I just try my best. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough, but I try,” he admitted.

“But that’s all you can do, try. And you have a whole team behind you to support you,” you said, feeling that he was just like you; extremely tough on himself. “Plus, from what I’ve seen you’re a pretty good skater,” you smiled as he met your eyes after putting his skates away.

“Only pretty good?” he teased, and you laughed.

“Well there’s always room for improvement,” you said, teasing him back. Nate let out a chuckle and followed you out of the rink, walking with you over to your jeep.

“So, we have tomorrow off…” Nate started, rubbing the back of his neck. You smiled and nodded, encouraging him to continue. Nate wanted to just ask you out, but he wasn’t positive where you stood. You were nice to him, but you were nice to everyone. He decided to go with what he had already offered before to be safe. “Do you still need to get a bookshelf?” As he asked, you couldn’t help as your smile became brighter at the thought of hanging out with him away from the rink again.

“I do actually. I was planning on doing that tomorrow,” you hoped you weren’t blushing too much, but Nate could see it and it only gave him more confidence.

“I can come over around noon. We could get some lunch then get your book case,” he suggested, trying to gauge your reaction. You smiled shyly, knowing your blush had to be evident at this point. Nate thought it looked adorable. Here you were, this Olympic gold medalist becoming shy when he was asking you to hang out.

“That would be great, as long as you don’t mind helping me,” you said. Nate beamed at you.

“Not at all.” You smiled back at him and said your goodbyes with the promise of seeing each other tomorrow. You drove home, nervous and excited for being able to hang out with him more one on one.

The next morning you woke up and busied yourself trying to clean up a bit. Not that you were messy, but you needed to move some boxes out of the way to make space for your book shelf. Getting dressed in some simple jeans and a black tank with a long, velvet deep yellow cardigan over it, you were just putting on your converse when Nate showed up at your door. You insisted on driving, sure that you would buy more than just a bookshelf and didn’t want to cram it all into his car. Nate directed you to a cute sandwich shop downtown for lunch, and the two of you talked the whole time about everything and anything. It felt so natural to be around him; the two of got along very well. Both of you being extremely competitive athletes, you also understood each other on a different level. Getting through lunch relatively unnoticed, Nate was amused when you were the one approached for a picture and not him. He couldn’t help but smile at the way you talked to the young girl and encouraged her to keep working on a jump she said she was having a problem with. After lunch, you and Nate went to Target and picked out a simple bookshelf. You also grabbed a few more things you could not leave the store without and Nate pushed the cart along, teasing you when you couldn’t pass up buying a few new books as well. Traveling from competition to competition always provided reading time, so you figured road trips with the team would provide the same.

Once back at your apartment Nate took over constructing the book shelf while you unloaded your boxes for it. The day carried on with playful banter and you could feel your crush growing even stronger. Nate was feeling the same. It was nice for him to be around someone who didn’t seem to care that he was a professional hockey player. He felt that he could really be himself around you. Between the laughing, lunch, shopping, and setting up, it was 7pm before you even knew it. “Do you want some pizza?” you asked him as you placed a candle on one of the shelves.

“Don’t tell my coaches,” he winked and you laughed.

“Never,” you said, asking him what a good pizza place to order from would be. “I’ll order a veggie one. That will make it a healthy meal.” Nate laughed and offered to pay, but you insisted being that he spent his whole day helping you, plus bought lunch. When the pizza arrived, you made your plates and sat at the table. “Do you ever miss being home with your family?” you asked after he told you all about them.

“I do yeah. I love them and being able to spend time with them. But I’ve made Denver my home also and this team is like family. I’m happy being here with them,” Nate answered sincerely.

“I think it’s really great you guys all have each other. I’ve never been much of a team player so I’ve never experienced that kind of bond,” you admitted.

“You have to have friends through skating though, right?” he asked.

“Yes and no,” you shrugged. Nate gave you a questioning look. “Girls are mean.” Nate broke out laughing. You laughed too and continued. “Once you get to a certain level, like you support one another but if someone your competing against falls you don’t feel bad. And I know that sounds horrible, but when there are only usually 3 spots on the Olympic team every four years, and the competitive span of a female figure skater is only like six years at senior level depending on how fast you learn, it’s a super competitive atmosphere. You tend to become better friends with people you won’t compete against. So like for me, my best friend is Jeremy Abbott. He’s kind of like an older brother to me. And I’m close to a few ice dancers. But any female single skater friend either tends to have gone through the ranks before you, or you start mentoring someone younger as they hop onto the circuit and you phase out. I think I’m better friends with girls I have competed against now that none of us are competing anymore. That’s just kind of how it goes,” you tried your best not to make it sound like you were a horrible person. Nate nodded thoughtfully, then grinned at you.

“Does this mean you have an arch enemy that we all have to look out for?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his question.

“Unfortunately, kind of. Playing the Stars should be interesting this year.”

“Playing the Stars is interesting every year,” Nate muttered. “Who is it?” he asked curiously.

“Don’t say anything ok. I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t be talking bad about another skater in this program,” you pleaded. “Plus the press already thinks we don’t like each other. I don’t need to be the one to add fire to that flame.”

“Yeah I’d rather not talk to the press so your secret is safe with me Y/N,” Nate said, leaning in closer as to convey confidence.

“Her name is Ashley Wagner. She was annoyed that in my first competition I bet her and knocked her off the podium completely. And every competition since I had beat her,” you explained and Nate nodded along. “Also, if you meet her, don’t let her fool you. She seems nice, but she’s not that great. She purposefully tripped me during warm ups once. That’s when all the rumors started flying around.” Nate looked at you surprised.

“You didn’t do anything back to her?”

“No,” you laughed lightly. “That’s not what you do in my sport. I kept smiling and brushed it off best I could.”

“Alright. So we’ll have to protect you around her. You’re too nice,” Nate grinned at you. You smiled back and cleared both of your plates as you had finished eating.

“Shut up. She’s a coach too. It should be fine…I hope.” Nate shrugged at your reply, taking a seat on the coach and making himself comfortable.

“I don’t know. Hockey might just bring out the worst in both of you.”

“Gee, thanks Nate. Glad to know you’d have my back if it came to blows,” you plopped down next to him. Not too close, but close enough the you could knock your knee into his. Curling your feet up on the couch, you both smiled lazily at each other.

“Don’t worry Coach, I’ll be your back up. Tyson will probably be your hype-man,” Nate teased, reaching to shove your shoulder slightly. When his hand came down though, it rested slightly touching yours, and neither of you moved.

“Sounds about right,” you tried to laugh your nerves off. Nate decided to take a leap, and placed his hand over yours. He smiled when he felt you intertwine your fingers with his. The both of you sat in comfortable silence for a minute. Nate was about to speak when your phone started to ring, ruining the moment.

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking at your phone and seeing that it was Jeremy calling. You denied the call, but your screen just lit up again. “Speak of the devil. I can call him back later. I’m sure it’s not important.”

“It’s fine. It’s getting late, and we have practice tomorrow so I should probably go,” Nate said, letting go of your hand and standing up. You were going to kill Jeremy.

“Well thank you for coming over and helping me,” you said as you walked Nate over to the door.

“Anytime,” Nate responded, stopping just outside and turning back to you. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Put together a book shelf?” you raised your eyebrow, hoping you weren’t over analyzing the moment the two of you just had. Nate chuckled and reached out for your hand again.

“No. Lunch, dinner, this,” he squeezed your hand for emphasis. You blushed and nodded. “A book shelf if you really need another one,” Nate added, making you giggle.

“That would be nice,” you responded. Nate grinned at you, and with one more squeeze of your hand he dropped it.

“See you tomorrow Y/N,” he said, backing away from you.

“Get home safely Nate,” you said, smiling at him till he turned around and walked down the hallway. You shut the door and locked up, walking back to the couch and the now 6 missed calls from your best friend. You called him back with a sigh. You didn’t give Jeremy a second to talk when he answered. “You better be dying to have called me this many times.”

“Calm down, I just wanted to talk to you. Why weren’t you answering?” he laughed.

“Nate was over. I think we were having a moment and you ruined it,” you complained.

“Shit…sorry!” Jeremy responded. There was a pause, then he spoke again with excitement. “Now tell me all about it.” You laughed and launched into the story about your day, all the meanwhile looking forward for the season to begin, and to be able to see where things were headed with Nate.

tags: @bqstqnbruin @avsfans95 @andreiaafaria

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon x reader #nate mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon x reader #Cutting Edge

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intelligentdumbass · 3 years

Text

My Sweet Prince (2.0)

“What do you do when you’ve done all that there is to do? When you’re too bored to do nothing and yet too tired to do something? When you want to talk but at the same time not?

Well, everyone knows I love to sing and, in times like those just described, I prefer to only sing to myself; to sit in the forest and play my cithara for no one in particular but the random fauna that decide to stay and watch.

…

It was a morning like any other, or at least it was supposed to be.

There was a prince, Hyacinthus, who had set off with his dogs to go hunt in the wooded outskirts of his kingdom. I imagined him to be confused, for it must’ve been quite the strange sight to behold; the trees nothing but silence for hours and hours on end. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, when he and his hounds managed to catch a scent, it was accompanied by a song, and the voice was not of a bird’s. It led them into a small clearing and instead of drawing his bow, the hunter froze.

There was, in the middle, what he perceived to be a fair maiden strumming on their lyre; golden hair shimmering under the sunlight as a wide range of animals sat around them. The young man was entranced, and so were his dogs, so for a while he just stared until the musician finally decided to acknowledge the new addition to their audience.

The notes slowly faded but, before the singer could say a word, Hyacinthus snapped out of it and spoke first.

“I’m sorry miss but… Who the hell are you?” He slowly approached, cautious of all the critters. “What in Zeus’ name is a lass like you doing out here of all places?”

I raised an eyebrow, but I decided to play along. “Oh you know… boredom.”

“I assume your father’s somewhere close by, then.” He glanced around, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh no, I came here to have some me time with myself.”

Hyacinthus looked dismayed. “Not even a brother, cousin, or a friend?”

I shook my head; he frowned.

“It’s not safe to be all alone out here.” He insisted. “As a prince, it is my duty to protect-”

And alas, it was in that moment that he had accidentally stepped on the tail of a lion. Fortunately, a second later, a silver arrow rushed by; barely missing the young man and piercing the cat’s heart. The rest of the animals took this as a sign to scram.

Hyacinthus blinked, and muttered a silent prayer to the god of archery. Ironically, this is what he said immediately after:

“See my point? Come on, I’ll escort you back.”

He reached his hand out to assist me, but only got a punch to the face in response. As he staggered back I took the opportunity to speak in my normal, deeper voice.

“Really??”

Needless to say, the mortal was mortified. Gazing into my sapphire eyes, he suddenly understood. He hastily tried to get his shit together, smiling in embarrassment.

“A-” “Apologies my lord. I suppose you’re just… that enchanting.”

I scanned him from head to toe. My instincts told me he wasn’t lying; it wasn’t merely empty flattery. “Hm… I suppose you’re not that bad yourself.”

“Ah well, of course! I’m Sparta’s heir after all.” He proudly exclaimed. “Still though, I am, uh terribly sorry for interrupting your song-”

“Save your apologies; it’s fine. I’m not going to smite you for that.” I sat down and placed the cithara back on my lap. “In fact, you’re welcome to stay if you so desire. I won’t mind.”

“But you said you wanted some time alone?”

“Away from the other gods, I mean.”

Hyacinthus was reluctant, but his puppers seemed eager to hear me continue my song.

“…alright. Only for a bit, if that’s okay with you, Lord Phoebus.” He said, sitting next to me; the dogs following suit. I suppose he had nothing better to do. Then again, how could he?

I smiled. “Please, just call me Apollo.”

Unbeknownst to Hyacinthus a ‘bit’ was quite the understatement. It was like time itself ceased to exist, and for once that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Soon the sun was setting and the prince was leading his pack back to the palace. I chose to stay. It was then that the west wind materialized before me.

“I was just passing by, so here’s a quick tip.” Zephyr murmured. “If I were you, I’d restrain myself. He’s already caught the eyes of two other gods and one mortal.”

“And you’re telling me this because?” A smile crept its way onto my lips.

“…what’s with that look?” He frowned; I said nothing as the god slowly fizzled out into thin air.

Hyacinthus had invited me to go out and hunt with him!

As expected of two skilled hunters, the trip went exceptionally well. Still, as we sprinted through the trees, I couldn’t help but sense the eyes of someone else; immediately knowing who it was. If Hyacinthus knew too, then he merely chose to ignore that suspiciously strong scent of spring. Still, I had a little sympathy for the intruder. The prince was easy to like, and I’m sure many have fallen for his bodily charms alone.

When we paused for a break, I said:

“Has anyone ever made a move on you before?”

Hyacinthus froze; I held in a chuckle. It was easy to see his attempt at holding my hand just as the question was asked.

“At least three other men have, but I’ve rejected them all.” He then quickly added, “That isn’t to say I’m only into woman though!”

I laughed. “Having trouble finding the right one?”

He stared a bit before suddenly grinning. “…Who knows, for all I know, I already have.”

My answer was a line I’ve paraphrased a hundred times. “Because I’m smart, talented, and very hot?”

“Maybe.” He inched closer. “But it’s also because of, or rather, how you smile.”

That response was a little… refreshing. A faint flush of red spread around my cheeks as I flashed a smirk, probably further proving his point. Then in the blink of an eye he leaned in; a hand holding my chin and his murmurs softer than any other breeze against my ear.

“May I?”

He only got a kiss in response.

However, even when the hunt was over and he was already making his way back home, I couldn’t help but… follow him back to Sparta, if only for a bit.

Turns out, Hyacinthus had showed up to his training with hundreds of flowers still intricately woven into his hair. It was hilarious how everyone else looked too scared to comment; well, except for Thamyris.

“What in the actual fuck?” He exclaimed.

“Okay, short version is: I fell asleep during the break after the hunting trip, so now there are a bunch of flowers in my hair.”

“Out of all of your suitors, you chose a god; hell, not just that, one of the fucking Olympians.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

I grinned, but then the other said: “Marpessa wouldn’t.”

…

Hyacinthus sighed. “Look, we all have our own preferences. Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

“As if.” He turned around, about to leave. “Just don’t come back crying to me when shit goes downhill.”

I… suppose you could say that Thamyris had the kind of arrogance that reminded me of Marsyas. They both dabbled in music too. Hopefully he doesn’t end up making the same mistake that the satyr did. Thankfully, the prince seemed to be trying to ignore him.”

“…You know you could’ve just said “Sorry I’m late, I stalked my date.”” Athena raised an eyebrow; yet her voice carried not a single trace of annoyance. Doing their father’s paperwork was a task she was well accustomed too, and a very boring one at that.

“Hey! For the record I didn’t stay any longer after that conversation he had with Thamyris. Plus, it’s not every day that I almost forget about my duties. I figured you’d want a thorough explanation.”

“Well, as long as it isn’t too thorough.”

The god laughed. “Oh wait, shit-” “What was I doing again?” His eyes scanned the documents he forgot he was holding.

The goddess sighed. There was but one thought in her mind.

‘This is going to start happening much more often now, isn’t it?’

And she was right.

A few days later, Hermes was swiftly flying through the halls until he stopped in front of the studio’s door. He carefully pushed it open, but despite being the lord of communication, he couldn’t utter a single word.

It was late in the evening, and his brother wasn’t alone.

Apollo was sitting down, writing on a scroll, and behind him was a mortal curiously peering over his shoulder. Then the boy moved closer, and wrapped his arms around the blonde’s waist; tenderly whispering sweet nothings into his ear. To Hermes’ surprise, Apollo allowed himself to be pried away from his research.

The younger god decided to just slowly close the door.

Athena was right and apparently she didn’t seem to mind.

--------------

Thamyris wasn’t the only one with a complaint.

Hyacinthus was sitting under a cypress tree; trying to practice playing the lyre his lover had gifted him, when the breeze whispered into his ear.

“Look at it.” He said. “Your reflection in the water.”

The prince raised an eyebrow, but he glanced into the stream in front of him anyway. The top of his head was adorned with all sorts of flowers, no doubt due to the breath of the west wind.

“Hm… I think I liked it better when Apollo did it.”

Zephyr frowned; materializing seated down on his left.

“You’re not giving me a chance-”

“Except he already did.” Apollo sighed, suddenly appearing on Hyacinthus’ right. “For fates’ sake, take a hint and go blow someone else.”

The other god glared, but gave in, yet not before yelling something on a whim.

“So in one of the few times a mortal catches my fancy, you, who have already had many, get to have him instead?” He suddenly stood up. “You’re as greedy and insatiable with your lovers as you are with your domains.”

Apollo said nothing as the god disappeared into the wind.

Hyacinthus surprised him with a hug from behind.

“His argument is invalid. This isn’t just your choice, but mine as well.”

Still, after months and months of general bliss, the prince couldn’t help but ask:

“Those laurel wreaths you wear; they mean a lot to you, don’t they?”

The god felt his chest hurt. “Well, of course; there are many reasons as to why I care about them, one of them being that they remind me of something I shouldn’t ever forget because I don’t want to make a mistake like that ever again.”

There was a brief moment of hesitation before he continued.

“Hyacinthus?”

“Yeah?”

“Never doubt my feelings for you, okay?”

“I never did.”

“…even so, you really must know that, because of you, right now is the best I’ve ever felt in literal decades.”

“Oh don’t flatter me, sunshine.”

“You know I can’t lie. So really, trust me when I say that I’m here to stay.”

Hyacinthus’ eyes darted around the room as the musician’s head rested on his lap; the prince’s fingers twirling around in his golden locks. The floor was littered with paintings and marble statues of varying shapes and sizes scattered all over.

“Something caught your eye?” Apollo said as he saw his lover look at a painting of Crete. “You can take one of them home if you’d like.”

“Oh-” “Oh no it’s fine, really! I was just… enjoying the scenery.”

“Hm, you know I can take you there myself, right? Oooooh, imagine! A tour around Greece with yours truly.”

The boy smiled. His gaze shifted from a painting of Delphi to some art work of Leto, then Artemis, then Zeus, Athena and the rest of the other heavenly gods.

What he stared at the most were the ones next to those works about the Muses and the Thriae.

The names were many, Admetus, Cyrene, Branchus, Hecuba, Helenus… then there was Cassandra, Daphne, and an unfinished Coronis, and as he continued to look, the prince could’ve sworn he felt the god gently squeeze his hand.

“Everything alright, my Phoebus?”

The god smiled. “I’m just… tired.”

The prince leaned to give him a reassuring kiss.

Two years, or at least, about two years, their laughter almost lasted for about two years.

Alas, what’s two years in the life of an immortal that can never die?

--------------

Olympus’ garden was huge; its depths filled with paths most don’t even know of. It was here the two gods sat down on top of a small hill, right in front of a giant crevice that overlooked all of their creations.

“I hate how I can still feel a-” “and remember every single…”

Hermes was never good at these kinds of talks. “You wanna let it all out?”

Apollo sighed, carefully breathing in and then breathing out; repeating that process for a good minute.

Ai, ai, ai-

...

“It was a morning like any other, or at least, it was supposed to be.

The prince was an athletic young man, much like us, and there were many things that were done on the field. One of them involved the discus. He’d always try to run and catch the disc once I had sent it hurling into the air.

…

The crack echoed- no, roared, and my body screamed like every bone in my system had snapped a hundred times over.

I was by his side in an instant, cradling him in my arms until he was nothing more than a poor flower that had broke its stem; all due to the breath of the west wind.

It was so… quiet and I was so close; close enough that I could feel him go, like I could reach out and grasp his hand to prevent his soul from drifting away. I felt it all: the desperate breaths, the steady weakening of his heart and that last flutter of his eyelids as he looked at me, as scared and overwhelmed as I was with all that was happening and yet I-

I still failed. I’m the god of healing and medicine and I was right there, I was so close and he still managed to slip away!

If only he could take me with him too.

It was like time itself ceased to exist, the exact second that last spark of life faded into the depths of Hades repeating on and on and on, again and again and again-

…

My arms were hugging a lump of ice by the time Artemis found me.”

“…I heard you tried to murder Zephyrus?”

“W-” “Well... I think I recall hearing father’s voice when I had rushed into the halls.

“Athena, Apollo’s neglecting his duties.” He said. “When was the last time you saw him walk into Olympus?”

“Give him some more time and I’m sure he’ll-”

It was then that someone, the bastard himself, had noticed me.

“Fear not my lord.” Zeus’ old messenger, the west shit, proudly exclaimed. “He’s already here!”

And indeed I was, fingers stained with crimson red; purple petals falling out of my hair.

A smile crept its way onto Zephyr’s lips. “You’re welcome.”

Needless to say, I immediately started chasing him with my bow.”

“And then Athena stopped you, right?”

--------------

It must’ve been quite the strange sight to behold for our winged eavesdropper. Apollo had a blank look in his eyes and Athena was standing in his way; Zephyr a little further down the hall behind her, curiously peaking over the corner.

Unbeknownst to any of them, Hermes was a lizard hiding inside of a jar.

“Athena, move.”

“Apollo,” Surprisingly, the goddess was perfectly calm. “Father has already retired him as his personal messenger, and he is now going to serve under Eros to repent for the very stupid thing he did in ‘the name of love’.”

“It’s not enough-”

“I know, and it’s never going to be enough.” Then she muttered. “Look, what happened with Pallas was much more justifiable than what this idiot wind bag did and even then, even if it was our father, to this day a tiny part of me is still pissed even if I knew he did it because he was worried about me.”

For a moment, the god was quiet. “Zephyr isn’t nearly as important.”

“But still crucial enough; I think it’d be best if we didn’t lose the west wind. Listen to your head, you know this isn’t worth it; it’s never going to be worth it.”

After a few seconds of silence, in the blink of an eye, Apollo was gone.

--------------

“I really am unreasonable, aren’t I, Hermes? Crying over beings much lesser than myself…”

“You knew you had your heart set upon a mortal, so I guess it does sound foolish to grieve over their mortality but… I think we’re all a little unreasonable sometimes. On the brightside, I’m sure you’ll meet someone new eventually. You are Apollo after all.” He offers his friend a reassuring smile.

The blonde smiled back, yet his eyes were impossible to read. “I suppose…”

“Is there anything you want to say? To Hyacinthus, I mean, if I encounter him down in Hades.”

…

“If we should ever meet again

No matter how long the wait

No matter how many lifetimes it takes

My arms will be glad to welcome you in an embrace

Until then, just know

That even when man has forgotten my face

And I roam the world as nothing but a shade

Your memory will continue, forever living on

In all the flowers that the earth will cover itself, bearing your name

Goodnight, my sweet prince”

And as Zeus’ newly appointed messenger left, Apollo decided to merely sing to himself; to sit on the hill and play his cithara for no one in particular but the random fauna that decide to stay and watch.

Athena was surprised to see him enter Olympus only a week after, even though she should’ve seen it coming. He is Apollo after all.

There were duties to fulfill.

------------------------------------------

(The original one I made)

#no i totally didn’t need to uh #get something out of my system-#apollo #hyacinth #hyacinthus #greek mythology #greek gods #mywritingshit #hyapollo #I added way too more details #than i prolly should've-#welp #here's the hyapollo rewrite

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bedbellyandbeyond · 3 years

Photo

Break Up

(Story Post)

“What about Ben? Yeah, I—No, but—” Jeffrey sniffled. “Well go then! Don't come back!” Nathan was just coming out of a meeting with Korsgaard when he caught the end of Jeffrey’s phone conversation. Jeffrey was in the hall carrying Ben strapped to his chest and after hanging up the phone, he just pressed his head against the wall and sobbed. “Whoa, hey…” Nathan rushed over quickly and placed a hand on Jeffrey’s back. “…What’s up? What happened?” Jeffrey flinched but relaxed when he realised it was Nathan. He quickly wiped his eyes. “It’s Bler… He just broke up with me…” “No way.” Nathan wasn’t surprised at all considering how little Bler seemed to be involved with his family based on what Jeffrey had shared in group, but he still felt bad for the boy nonetheless. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”

“He did it through text too!” Jeffrey sniffled, holding up his phone. Ben was visibly getting upset as Jeffrey did, but he didn’t cry. “Who breaks up with someone over text?!” “You were just on the phone though…” Nathan remarked. “He texted me during my counseling, but I called him as soon as I saw it after…” Jeffrey said. Nathan didn’t even think young adults made phone calls anymore, but he didn’t bring it up. Instead he searched his pockets and found one of the twins’ toys, a little squishy octopus, and handed it to Ben. He hoped it would entertain him enough in the moment to keep his attention off his father’s breakdown. “…Break ups are difficult. Not to mention, it must be even harder when you have a baby between you… If there’s anything I can do to help, just ask.” Jeffrey slumped his back against the wall and wiped his eye again. “I… I just don’t know what to do…” Nathan nodded and rubbed Jeffrey’s shoulder. “Who’s picking you up today?” “No one…” Jeffrey answered. “Ollie’s at work until later and Korsy’s in, like, Montana or something… I took transit.” Nathan shook his head. “I’m not letting you go on transit like this. How about you have dinner with us? Then when your cousin gets off work, he can get you. Or Dax’ll drive you.” Jeffrey hesitated for second. “That’d be cool, I think… Thanks…” “I’m on wolf cycle which means I’m eating in the cafeteria this week which is good for us because we don’t have to go all the way home, but it also means you can’t stay too late,” Nathan explained. “But I’m headed to my room right now if you’ll join me.” Jeffrey nodded. “Sure.” Nathan offered to carry Ben for the way down and Jeffrey took the break thankfully. He was quiet the whole time as he was guided down to the resident floor, but he wasn’t crying anymore which Nathan hoped was good. Ben watched Jeffrey the whole time with his big wide eyes, almost like he was studying his father. When Jeffrey noticed, he pulled a silly face for him and pet his head. When they got to the room, Nathan let them in with his key. Wano, who had been watching the twins, got up from the floor by their play pen and came to the door. The tall stranger overwhelmed Jeffrey and he stepped back a pace before Wano was standing over him. “Who is this?” Wano asked, tilting his head as he scanned Jeffrey’s face. He glanced at Nathan and then pointed to Ben. “And this. This is not yours, Nathan.” “No, this is Jeffrey and his son Ben,” Nathan said. “He’s in my pregnancy group.” “Uh, Nathan… Who’s this guy?” Jeffrey asked. Then he lowered his voice. “You’re not sleeping around on Mr. Olivier, are you?” “What? No!” Nathan patted Wano’s arm. “This is Wano. He’s under my care at the moment.” “So… You’re fostering him?” Jeffrey asked. “Sometimes it feels that way…” Nathan chuckled. “But, no. It’s sort of like a sponsorship. He stays with us to get some more time outside of APID.” “But this is APID,” Jeffrey said. “Yeah, he still has to come back when I’m on my cycle, but when we’re home, he gets to come live with us,” Nathan said. Wano was still looking Jeffrey over. He pointed to Ben again. “You made this?” Jeffrey’s pride took over and he grinned. “Yeah, baked him myself.” “So, you are a parent?” Wano asked. “That’s right,” Jeffrey said. “Recently single parent.” Nathan watched how Jeffrey’s eyes flicked down Wano’s torso and a sudden realisation of what he might’ve just started filled him with worry. “You’re ra bit small, though,” Wano commented. “How do you fit a child inside? You’re not as tall as Nathan. He can fit two children.” “I think most pregnant people on Earth are usually closer to Jeffrey’s height or shorter actually,” Nathan said. “But I guess you haven’t met many parents here yet, have you?” “You and the fish,” Wano said. He looked at Jeffrey again and nodded. “You are closer to the fish size. I understand. Probably only one baby at a time then. That’s fine.” “I bet I could handle twins,” Jeffrey said, placing his hands on his hips. “No problem.” “Really? That is admirable,” Wano said. “I cannot carry children. I can only plant seeds.” “That’s totally fine by me,” Jeffrey said. “Okay, you know what, I’m really hungry,” Nathan said to try to slow the roll on wherever that conversation was going. “How about we go to the cafeteria now and I can text Dax to meet us there?” “Alright,” Jeffrey said. “Is Wano joining us?” “Of course,” Nathan said. “Wano, could you help me get the twins in their carriers, please?” Wano nodded and went to grab them. Nathan handed Ben back to Jeffrey so he could carry one of the twins while Wano took care of the other. He didn’t have to message Dax as the teacher came strutting down the hall to meet them at the door. “Hello!” he saved waving. “Looks like I’m not too late! Hello, Jeffrey. It’s nice to see you again.” “Hi, Mr. Olivier!” Jeffrey said quickly. “Or, uh, Dax, right?” “Of course! I'm not your teacher anymore. Just call me Dax,” he insisted. “Okay cool. Feels kinda weird but I guess I'll get used to it…” Jeffrey said. “Jeffrey’s cousin can't pick him up until later, so I invited him to have dinner with us,” Nathan explained. “Sounds good. I'll put my book bag down inside and then we can head over,” Dax said. They went down to the cafeteria all together and chose a table to sit at. Nathan left the twins with Dax while he took Jeffrey up to get food first. While they did that, Dax and Wano set up a highchair for Ben too. “The food's really good here,” Nathan said as they lined up. “If you don't have dietary restrictions, it's pretty much a buffet. Desserts are portioned out for the residence, but you can have mine.” “Do I have to pay for any of this?” Jeffrey asked. “No, no. It's free for anyone with entry into the facilities,” Nathan said. “Just tap your APID card at the end over there.” “Cool. Nobody told me there was free food…” “Yeah, it’s great. How old’s Ben? Can he eat solids?” Nathan asked. “Oh, yeah. He's big into Cheerios and yoghurt,” Jeffrey said. “And he’s ten months old.” “Ooh, a birthday soon, nice,” Nathan said. “They should have some options for Ben at the end by the desserts.” “This is pretty cool. I might come here more often,” Jeffrey said. “So uh, where’s Wano from?” “Um, Eclul. He’s Eclulan,” Nathan explained. “Listen, about Wano—” “Are they all purple like him?” Jeffrey asked. “More or less,” Nathan answered. “I’ve seen darker shades, but they don’t really vary in hue like Yulinians.” “Bler’s species wasn’t very different from us,” Jeffrey said. “His skin’s tiny bit green and his eyes are big, but that’s about it. Ben mostly just got his hair and eyes.” “Good for fitting in, I imagine,” Nathan said. “If that’s what your going for anyway.” “Yeah, when I go out grocery shopping with him or something, sometimes little old ladies come up and tell me my son has such beautiful eyes,” Jeffrey said. “But he could’ve also got that from me, ‘cause I used to get a lot of compliments on my eyes. You know, since they’re a little pink.” “They are a really nice colour,” Nathan considered. “Is that the fairy side?” “Ollie says so,” Jeffrey said. He looked back at their table. “I don’t think I could date another Prilarian…” “May be for the best,” Nathan said. “I think the best thing after a bad break up is to have some time to yourself. I didn’t even think I could ever date again after my last break up. But I guess, that was for more personal reasons.” “Maybe… Maybe not,” Jeffrey said. “And I’m thinking about Ben here. He needs a dad.” “Well, is Bler not going to be around at least for his son?” Nathan asked. “Nope. He has to go back to Poland,” Jeffrey said. “He said Canada deported him back there because it’s where he landed and he has a criminal record or something… He doesn’t think it’s worth it to try and fight to come back because he could be deported off planet… Korsy warned me this could happen because it happens a lot to Prilarians since they tend to ignore the law. I just think Korsy hates him. He’s probably the one who got him kicked out…” “Wow, that’s… Well… I don’t really know anything about Prilarians,” Nathan said. “Yulinians seem to be the majority at APID.” “What about Eclulans? Are there a lot of them?” Jeffrey asked. “I think they’re like a far second,” Nathan said. “Yulinians are mostly here to work as ambassadors in their fields but Eclulans are mostly here to make a better life for themselves. The thing is that most of them are pretty stubborn and typically come to Earth under false VISAs because they won’t admit they’re refugees of war on their planet.” “So, they’re runaways?” Jeffrey said. “That’s kinda hot.” “I don’t know about hot, but it means a lot of them get deported,” Nathan said. “Wano himself is in the middle of getting deported which is why we insisted he stay with us so he can see a bit more of Earth before he goes.” Jeffrey frowned. “Oh no… You’re fighting it, right?” “Yeah, but all we could get so far was an extension,” Nathan said. “It seems like he might have to go back to Eclul and reapply to return. It’s hard to know he’ll be safe though if he goes back.” “Oh…” They got their food and headed back to the table. Jeffrey smiled to Wano as the Eclulan got up to get his dinner with Dax. Nathan wondered if Dax was picking up any of this, or if Wano was even aware of how interested Jeffrey was. Jeffrey got Ben out of his carrier and placed him into the highchair. He put out a bowl of dry cereal for the baby to try and Ben seemed more than happy grabbing from it and shoving pieces in his mouth. “What do you do for fun?” Nathan asked as he started to eat. “Play video games mostly,” Jeffrey answered. “I'm starting to stream. I'm hoping I can build up some fans again and make some money. Reggie's helping.” “Again?” Nathan asked. “Yeah. I used to livestream when I was pregnant with Ben,” Jeffrey explained. “People paid to see me getting bigger. They seemed to know before I did that I was pregnant though. I was just trying to gain weight. Turns out I'd been wasting my time since my fairy genes won't allow it. But I got Ben out of it, so there's always that.” “I see…” Nathan said. “So you've stopped making those types of videos?” “Yeah. APID pretty much made me delete my account,” Jeffrey said. “I did give birth to an alien on camera, so they wanted to shut that down pretty quick. I do miss it though. I really enjoyed being big and round and just so tight and full… I was hoping Bler would give me another child but it seems that's not likely…” “You want to get pregnant again?” Nathan asked, a little more worried. “Of course! Don't you?” Jeffrey asked. “Not even a little bit, no,” Nathan said. Jeffrey waved a hand. “That's fine or whatever, but I want to be pregnant again so bad. I loved just how big I was, just waddling everywhere. And I want Ben to have a sibling to play with.” “Don't you worry about that getting in the way of your ambitions?” Nathan asked. “That is my ambition. That's why I want to do the gaming thing,” Jeffrey said. “Gaming is something you can do from home and you don't have to worry if you're pregnant. It's not like there's a boss that needs you in the office or whatever. It's flexible. You're your own boss. You create content whenever you feel like it and make bank.” Nathan wasn't sure Jeffrey was being too realistic. “That's if you get really famous, right? Until you start making that money, if you're supporting a family, you need a day job too. It costs a lot of money to raise children.” “Well, that's why I don't want to do it alone,” Jeffrey said. “The sooner I start dating again, the sooner I find someone who can support myself and my kids. It’d be much harder alone.” Nathan reached over and took Jeffrey’s hand. “Listen. I still think it'd be best for you to take some time to yourself. Process your break up before you jump into anything you'll regret.” Jeffrey frowned and took his hand back. “I appreciate your opinion, but I didn't ask for it.” The others came back at this point but before sitting down, Dax tapped Nathan's shoulder. “Oh, I got the meat lasagna instead of the veggie. I’m gonna go back up. But Nathan, they had your favourite bagels out. Did you see?” Nathan looked up at his partner a bit confused but he saw the insistence in Dax's face and realised he wanted him to come with him. “No, I didn't see. If they're my favourite I should get one.” Nathan got up and grabbed his plate. “We'll be right back.” Nathan and Dax drifted off back over near the buffet and Dax dropped a hand on his shoulder. “What's going on here?” Dax asked. “Are we on a double date?” “Oh god, I hope not…” Nathan sighed. “So, you're getting that vibe too?” “Less of a vibe, more of a big blinking billboard,” Dax said. “Wano has been very explicit about how he'd like to bed Jeffrey and fill him with offspring.” “Ew… Now that Bler's officially dumped him, Jeffrey seems to be ready to jump into bed too,” Nathan said, starting to panic a bit. “I didn’t realise they’d be like this. This is all my fault for inviting Jeffrey to dinner.” “No, no. You were just being nice,” Dax said. “This happens, I guess. They're young. Or, actually… How old is Wano?” “Physically? I don't know. Emotionally, ten. Maybe thirteen, tops.” “Mm, well… They are adults. There isn’t much we can do,” Dax pointed out. “If they both like each other mutually, then it isn’t really our place to try to break them up.” “But if they do get together and they do have a child, what then? From what I know from our group sessions, Jeffrey already barely has the means to support Ben and Wano is literally getting deported. And, I mean it's not breaking them up if they haven't gotten together yet, right?” Nathan said. “It's prevention.” “I think at this point it's breaking them up,” Dax said, pointing past Nathan. Nathan turned around and sighed. Jeffrey had slid around to sit beside Wano and they were feeding each other their dinners. “Fucking hell…” Nathan groaned. “Well, Wano has to stay with you so technically, they shouldn’t really have much of a chance to be alone, right?” Dax said. “And when he's alone in the house, he has to watch the kids.” “You’re right…” Nathan was still a bit unconvinced. “But I’m still worried.” Dax pursed his lips. “Well, if you don't want them to start making out in front of the kids, we should probably get back.” “Yeah.” They rejoined the table and Nathan sat across from Jeffrey now that they were on opposite sides. “Hey, um. Have you let Ollie know you’re here with us?” “Oh, not yet,” Jeffrey said pulling out his phone. “I'll text him now.” “Who is Ollie?” Wano asked curiously. “My cousin,” Jeffrey said as he typed. “I can't drive but he picks me up all the time.” “Cousin?” Wano inquired, unfamiliar with the word. “Yeah. My mother's sister's son.” “Ah. You are blood.” “Yep.” “Wano, you ate all your green beans,” Dax remarked. “Good job.” “They were not disgusting,” Wano said. “Very tolerable.” “I'm glad to hear it,” Dax said. “Yes, Jeffrey made them enjoyable to eat,” Wano said. “He made spaceship noises.” “Oh...” “Shit, it doesn’t seem like Ollie can get me tonight…” Jeffrey interrupted after receiving a text message. “Dax'll drive you then,” Nathan said. “Right, Dax?” “Sure,” Dax confirmed. “I'd be happy to." “‘Kay,” Jeffrey accepted. “You guys are so chill. I always figured teachers were really boring and dusty, but you’ve always been pretty cool, Mr. Olivier. Or, Dax. Sorry.” “No, that's alright and thank you,” Dax said. “Let me know when you're done eating and then we can head out.” “Is there a rush?” Jeffrey asked, sliding his hand onto Wano's knee. Nathan tensed when he noticed. “Well sort of. You know, I have my condition. Too late and it could be dangerous for you.” “Does Wano stay in your room while you guys are living at APID?” Jeffrey asked. Wano shook his head. “I have my own room. It's smaller, but the wi-fi is good and the bed is nice.” “Well, if it gets too late, then I could hang out in Wano's room,” Jeffrey said. “No, no… Uh, doesn't Ben have a bedtime you wanna stick to?” Nathan mentioned. “Yeah, I guess.” Jeffrey patted Wano's leg. “Another time then?” “Yes. You can see my rock collection,” Wano said. “Ooh, are they really hard?” “Yes, they are rocks.”

#lore #Nathan #Jeffrey #Wano #Dax #Ben

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

we poured mud through our veins (part two)

Part 1

------------------------------------------

don’t look a gift horse in the mouth

Lydia did not like the way her family was looking at Presley, and she could tell Presley felt the same way by the way she tightened her grip on her arm nervously. Nobody said anything in reaction to the new arrival, so Lydia felt like she had to fill the silence with words of her own. She decided to try to speak to her friend this time.

“Presley, this is my family,” Lydia said, then began naming everyone, pointing to them respectively as she went. “That’s my dad, Charles, and my step-mom, Delia. Those are my ghost parents, Barbara and Adam. And that’s--”

“Beetlejuice,” Presley whispered.

“Yeah,” Lydia nodded.

“When you said you have otherworldly people living in your house, this was not what I thought you meant,” Presley said. Her voice was very quiet, as if she were afraid she would be yelled at for talking loudly. Or perhaps she was just shy, which seemed very likely given how timid she was.

Lydia laughed slightly. “Yeah, it’s a bit strange. But we all fit together just fine! We make do. Lemons, lemonade- however that goes.” She looked back at her family. “Presley is my friend. She’s really nice. I’m sure you guys will like her.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Presley smile bashfully.

“Lydia,” Charles said. “A word, please.”

“I’ll be back,” Lydia said to Presley, then gently slid her hand off of her arm and walked over to her family. They all bustled into the kitchen and began to talk, even though they were still very much in earshot of Presley.

“Lydia, what were you thinking?” Charles hissed.

“I didn’t resurrect her!” Lydia flared. “She just showed up!”

“It doesn’t matter how she got here,” Adam said. “She’s here now and we need to figure out something to do with her.”

“She isn’t a dog, Adam,” Beetlejuice said. “We can’t just send her to the pound. At least, I don’t think we can. Can we?”

“That isn’t what I meant!” Adam blustered.

“Is she okay?”

Everyone looked at Barbara, then at Presley.

The young jockey was still standing on the final step on the staircase where Lydia had left her, looking all around the house. She kept fiddling with her crop, flicking it back and forth in her hand as some sort of nervous tick. When she accidentally made eye contact with the gawking group, she yanked her head away so fast her helmet twisted out of place and she had to readjust it. She must have felt pressured to say something when they continued to stare because she said aloud, “Your house is very pretty.”

“Thank you, Presley,” Lydia said to her. Then, to the group, “She’s harmless.”

“She’s harmed,” Barbara said. “What-- what happened to her?”

Lydia stole another glance at the young jockey, who was now rocking back and forth on her heels--only to grimace and latch onto the railing of the staircase when pain seemed to shoot up her legs. She tentatively touched her thigh with a dirty, glove-covered hand like she was making sure the femur wasn’t sticking out or something, then started looking around again. Lydia looked back at her family.

“She was killed during a race,” Lydia said. “She used to be a jockey and whipped her thoroughbred while running, which sent it into a frenzy. She got trampled to death.”

Barbara, Adam, and Delia all got matching horrified-worried expressions on their faces. Beetlejuice let out an impressed whistle. Charles looked shocked and disturbed at the gruesome revelation.

“What an awful way to go out,” Delia whispered, giving Presley a sympathetic look. “Poor thing.”

“You two got lucky,” Beetlejuice put in helpfully to Adam and Barbara.

“Really lucky,” Adam agreed. He seemed to be trying to imagine what it would be like to be caught underneath a herd of heavily-muscled race horses going over his body at over forty miles per hour and shuddered.

“That’s all I really know about her,” Lydia went on. “She didn’t tell me much when I first met her, aside from that and her name. I don’t think she likes talking about it.”

“I can see why,” Adam blew out a breath.

“Lydia?” Presley called over meekly.

“Yeah?” Lydia looked over to her.

“May I sit down?”

“Presley, you don’t have to ask me permission to sit down. You can do whatever you want.”

“…But may I?”

Lydia sighed. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Okay, thank you,” Presley said, and then sat down on the last step of the staircase.

Lydia looked back at her family. “She’s polite!”

“How is she even alive?” Charles asked, looking Presley up and down. “The blood--”

“Being Dead can be kinda hard to explain at times,” Beetlejuice informed. “BASICALLY you can still feel the pain of how you died. And your body can continue to do some functions, hence why Adam can cry real tears at Disney movies and Miss Horse Girl over there--”

“Presley,” Lydia said.

“Presley,” Beetlejuice corrected, “looks so freshly bloodied. She was probably still able to bleed all throughout her afterlife. And, MAN, that must have sucked!”

Presley looked over at them in confusion at Beetlejuice’s rise in volume. The others hissed at him to be quiet.

“I don’t understand the afterlife at all,” Delia said.

“Yeah, it can be very confusing sometimes,” Beetlejuice nodded.

“Okay, but my concern still stands,” Charles spoke back up. “Look at her. She looks like she got run over. Literally. How do we know she’s not going to keel over at any moment and then we’ll have the dead body of some random girl on our hands?”

“Well, if nobody knows who she is or that she’s even here, then we can just bury her in the back--”

“NO!!”

Presley looked over at them again. Beetlejuice huffed and crossed his arms.

“You guys are no fun.”

“We should probably take a look at her,” Barbara said. “See how badly she’s hurt. Bathe her and get her some new clothes. If she is still injured, she shouldn’t be wallowing in all that filth. She’ll get an infection.”

“I’ll help you,” Delia said.

“You both are going to bathe an unknown child you don’t even know?” Charles looked disbelieving. “She’s a stranger.”

“She’s also a child, as you said,” Delia said. “She’s hurting. She needs--”

“I really don’t want to be a bother.”

They all turned to look at Presley, who was looking back at them with an apprehensive expression on her face. She rose to her feet, which made pain flash across her face when she did so, but she ignored it.

“I can go.”

“Go?” Lydia echoed. “Go where? There’s nowhere for you to go.”

Presley opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn’t seem to know what to say, so she just settled for a shrug.

“Presley--” Lydia took a step towards her.

“I could kill myself.”

“No!” Lydia shouted, eyes going wide. “Presley, don’t.”

“Why not?” Presley tilted her head. “You said it yourself- there’s nowhere else for me to go. And I really don’t want to bother you and your family. Besides, I already know where I’m going to go when I die. Nothing is going to change. But maybe the pain from how I die this time will override the pain of how I died the first time. Oh, that would be great! Do you know how much it hurts to live with internal bleeding that never goes away? I swear, somedays I think it would be better to just let my guts out and leave them out for good. Like, if they want out so badly, why not let them? Not my problem! I shouldn’t have to fight with my own small intestines while trying to do my job, which I STILL don’t understand. I never asked to--” She then caught the stares they all were giving her and snapped her mouth shut. She cleared her throat. “Umm-- Sorry-- I-I’ll just go now.”

“Presley, wait!” Lydia called after her.

But Presley was already hurrying towards the front door.

And when she turned around, a giant crater in the back of her helmet was revealed to all of them.

An entire piece had been broken off completely, most likely from either getting stepped on or kicked by one of the horses, displaying a tangled red mess to their eyes. For a moment, Lydia thought Presley was a ginger, and then she realized that was blood matted in her hair.

Adam’s resulting sickened noise perfectly exhibited how they all felt.

Presley opened the door and began to walk out--

--only to be stopped by the storm raging outside.

She stared out at the furious tempest for a moment, then stepped back, shut the door, and turned to them.

“It’s raining.”

“Looks like you’re stuck with us, kid,” Beetlejuice smirked toothily.

Presley shuffled her feet. “I really don’t want to bother anyone.”

“You won’t,” Lydia assured her. She walked over and offered Presley her hand. Presley took it eagerly. “And if anyone asks you can be my…”

“Second-cousin!” Adam offered.

“Second-cousin, yeah!” Lydia nodded.

“Adam!” Charles gave the ghost a betrayed look.

“What?” Adam held his hands up. “I have a soft spot for kids! Especially girl kids! That sounded wrong.”

“Come on, Adam, didn’t we have an entire lecture on creepy old men a few months ago,” Beetlejuice said.

“I didn’t mean it like that!!”

Presley laughed at their bickering. And then coughed. And then that cough built up into another cough, and then another cough, and then another, and then another, and then another, until she had to pull away from Lydia to cover her mouth with her hand. Adam and Beetlejuice instantly stopped playfully arguing with each other to watch on with concerned expressions, as did Lydia, Delia, Barbara, and even Charles. After a moment, the coughing fit tapered off, and Presley pulled her hand away from her mouth.

There was fresh blood on the glove she wore.

“Well, would you look at that,” Presley said, trying to joke. There was blood on the sides of her mouth. “My lungs still bleed!” She laughed weakly and wiped her hand on her already-soiled racing trousers. “Sorry.”

“Are you alright?” Delia asked, sounding very worried. Her Mom Side was starting to come out.

“I’m fine,” Presley answered quickly enough for it to be suspicious. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.” She looked down at herself. “Or looks.”

Beetlejuice snorted. “Riiight,” He said. “And I’m not hitting on two different people at once, both of which are married to each other. Uh-huh. Totally, kid.”

“Really,” Presley said, narrowing her eyes at him, which Lydia was surprised she even did given how anxious she was. “I died quickly. I fell off and then the--” She struggled for a moment, which was enough evidence proving that she hadn’t died instantly and didn’t remember a thing from the experience. “The-- the horse kicked me in the head and I was dead. See, quick! Fast! Painless! All this other stuff happened after I died and just lingered on my body into the afterlife because the universe hates me. Probably because my family was wealthy. You know, ‘eat the rich’ and all that.”

“Then why did you say you were in constant pain earlier?” Charles asked, and Lydia could tell he was getting interested, now.

“I lied.” Presley said.

“And why would you do that?”

“…Attention?”

“What about That Thing you showed me in my bedroom?” Lydia hopped on the interrogation bandwagon. Although she didn’t really enjoy this method of getting Presley to open up, she could tell her new friend was as stubborn as a mule when it came to letting people help her.

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

Lydia crossed her arms. “You literally showed me deliberately. On your own accord.”

“I didn’t think you would tell anyone!” Presley hissed.

“Show them.” Lydia said.

“What? No, that’s weird!”

“Presley,” Barbara stepped in, and her tender, soothing voice was enough to snag Presley’s full attention. Lydia had to bite back a giggle; it seemed it was a universal thing to be drawn to Barbara’s Mom Aura like a moth to a flame. “It’s okay, honey. We want to help you.”

Presley looked at her, then the others, and then nervously at Lydia. Lydia nodded to her. She sighed and finally gave in.

“WOAH,” Beetlejuice yelled when Presley began to unbutton her jockey uniform. “Kid, did you not hear me literally a few minutes ago? We’ve already had the talk about creepy old guys!”

Presley’s face immediately flushed red. Lydia marched over to Beetlejuice and punched him in the arm.

“She isn’t flashing us, you weirdo!”

“Oh,” Beetlejuice said. “Right. Of course. Carry on!”

Lydia had to nod to Presley again, but Presley finally undid enough buttons for her to pull back one side to show off her heavily bruised chest.

And, like before, like her body had been, it looked much worse in full light.

What Lydia had thought was black was actually a deep, dark purple that seemed to fade into multi-colored waves like an oil spill upon her chest. Now, Lydia could see the different bruises, which were splashed on top of each other like a mess of spilled paint. There were a few nicks and cuts, all inflamed with scarlet around the edges and packed with dirt that had been there for god knows how long, but the worst had to be the angry red hoofprint on her collarbone, seething pus down her chest.

Presley quickly buttoned her shirt back up, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“It’s really not that bad,” She said.

“Oh, you poor thing!”

Delia raced over to Presley, which made the young jockey take a wary step back. Presley began to fidget with her crop again.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Delia said. “You don’t have to live like this any longer! We--” She looked around. “Barbara, get over here and Mom with me.”

Barbara hurried over.

“We,” Delia went on, “will help you.” She smiled warmly. “You’re in good hands.”

Presley blinked up at her in shock, then glanced at Lydia. Lydia laughed and nodded to her, giving her permission for whatever she felt she needed permission for.

“O-okay,” Presley stammered.

“Wonderful,” Delia said. “Come on. We’re going to start by getting you out of those clothes and into something more comfortable.”

“Tell me, Presley,” Barbara said as she and Delia began herding the young jockey towards the stairs. “How long has it been since you had a hot bath?”

#mud!verse #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice #lydia deetz #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #delia deetz #charles deetz #adam maitland #barbara maitland #the jockey

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phykios · 3 years

Text

the marble king, part 10 [read on ao3]

His wife had taken ill, a statement that was simultaneously the best and worst one Percy had ever thought up in his short, eventful life. It was the best, because of the simple fact that Anja Elisabet Fredriksdotter was his wife. At night they shared a bed, and during the day they shared each other’s company. Though she did not love him, and had only married him in a bid to, rather ironically, retain her freedom, she wished for him to stay at her side, and he was blessed with her presence in turn.

Yet it was also the worst, because Annabeth, the love of his life, had taken ill.

He worried for her constantly; her pain was his pain, and the thought of something happening to her was simply unthinkable. Consumed with anxiety, he did what he always had done since they had been children, and he was overwhelmed by the magnitude of his own feelings. When he found her throwing up over the side of the boat for the fourth morning in a row, he swallowed his fears, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“The sea never used to affect you this strongly.” Percy teased, even as he rubbed at her back. “What would all the other shieldmaidens say if they could see you now?”

She only groaned in response. He offered his handkerchief as she made to whip her mouth on her cloak. Once she was cleaned, she exhaled, leaning against him.

“And to think, your father told me your family was descended from an Aesir sea god,” Percy continued, offering his own sea strength to steady her.

“Vanir,” Annabeth said. “We are descended from a Vanir god, who in turn was descended from a sea god.” Percy only had the vaguest idea of what that meant, based on Alejandra’s stories, but he so loved to hear her correcting him once more, even when she was feeling poorly, for it meant she was still herself.

“Regardless, the sea flows through your veins, Anja,” he jested, tone light. Many of these northern words felt odd in his mouth, but he loved to speak her given name. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“That neither Frey nor Njord were gods of motherhood,” she moaned.

His thoughts stuttering, he frowned at her for several long seconds. “Motherhood? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything, phykios.” She groaned, her head resting on his shoulder, and her hand going to her stomach.

Like fog dissolving in the morning sun, the meaning came to him, quickly and suddenly. But surely it could not be so; they’d only laid together once.

Gently, terrifyingly, he placed his hand on top of hers, over her belly. He could not sense a difference through her clothes. “You are pregnant?” Percy whispered. He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

“Yes.”

Percy felt tears prick his eyes. Were he less in control of his feelings, he would have taken her by the hand, lifted her up, and spun her around in elation. “You are with child?”

“I am,” she confirmed. Pulling back from him a bit, she looked at him, eyes keen and discerning. “Do you mind?” Her words were mild, yet in her tone, he could sense just the barest hint of trepidation, of fear of disapproval.

“Mind!” He laughed, a few of his tears escaping. “Of course not!”

Energy surging through his limbs, he nearly stood up and began to dance. Annabeth, his wife, his truest companion from his earliest days, pregnant with his child! They were to have a family together! How could he not be so elated, when this was every dream of his come true?

But then, he then realized, while children had been his most secret desire, it had not, necessarily, been hers. It had not even been the point of their marriage. Annabeth had married him for freedom from; to be trapped in motherhood, tied down with a child, may have been the very thing she hoped to avoid. “Are,” he swallowed, suddenly afraid, “are you very displeased?”

“Displeased? I…” She held his gaze for a long moment, looking on him with wide, uncertain eyes, and then shook her head. “No. As long as you are not unhappy, then neither am I.”

“I am happy,” he said quickly. “I am very, very happy. Ever since dear, sweet Esther was born, I always imagined myself to be a father one day. I simply thought it would be impossible.” Demigod lives, particularly those of his more immediate, more powerful peers, were short and bright and violent--to say nothing of his financial situation. As well, there was that fact that he had had a difficult time dreaming of children who had not been mothered by Annabeth.

“So you are not upset,” she asked again, seeking confirmation.

“I am most certainly not upset,” he promised her.

He was ecstatic. His whole self felt lighter, happier, better than it had in years, and not just since the fall of their city, but several years before that, at least. Annabeth, his wife, his great love, building a family with him… it had been a dream far too fragile to speak of. And now it had come true.

Her unsure expression, however, caused him to temper his outward reflection. Just as he opened his mouth to question if she required anything, she once again leaned over the edge of the boat, and vomited into the sea below.

“There, there,” he said, rubbing at her back, making sure to keep her cloak and dress, billowing in the wind, out of the way so it would not get dirty. “Come, sit.” he said, after she had caught her breath, submitting to his guiding her to a bench. “Can I get you anything?”

She waved off his offer, eyes closed against the salt spray. “These are normal parts of pregnancy, I am given to understand. When I spoke with the cook at my cousin’s house, her warnings made me fear it would be worse than it has been.”

His jaw dropped. “You knew before we left your family?”

She glanced at him, a little scathing. “A woman knows these things, Percy.”

Of that, he had no doubt--but that was not the issue here. “It cannot be safe for you to travel like this.” His earlier fear gripped him, curling cold fingers around his heart. He looked out at the sea around them, the breadth of his father’s domain now transformed into a dark, terrible labyrinth, where dangers lurked about every corner. “You should not have left your cousin’s house.”

“You were going to leave me there,” she accused.

“No, I--” he began to argue, before cutting himself off. She was correct, of course, though not for the reasons she assumed, and sadly, there was no good manner in which he could explain why, not without divulging all the secrets of his heart, and causing her more discomfort. “I wanted--I want you to have as happy and comfortable and challenging a life as possible. I had thought you would find that among your family and the politics of the Kalmar Union, but, I swear, if you had told me of the baby, I would have chosen differently.”

Happily he would have tolerated the strange food and horrid climates of Svealand forever for her sake, for his family’s sake. He thought once again of the parade of little girls dressed as Saint Lucy, then imagined his own daughter, with Annabeth’s blonde curls and grey eyes, joining it. His heart skipped a beat in his chest.

“We are not so far from your family, and a long way off from Italy,” he said. It would be a simple enough task for him--he did not even have to inform the captain. “We can still turn back, so you might have your confinement and give birth in all comfort.” Her father and Magnus would want nothing more than to take care of her in her condition, and she would far more likely welcome their concern than his.

“We are going to Italy,” she said, mouth set.

“But if you are unwell--”

“I am fine,” she snapped. “We are going to Italy, and there we shall have our child. Does that thought upset you?”

So caught off guard by her tone, he almost missed the most delightful and pleasing combination of words to ever exist: our child . His and Annabeth’s child. The most precious gift he had ever received, the dream of a lifetime.

“It does not,” he said, though he could not entirely quiet his internal concern. “If it is what you wish-- what you truly wish--then we shall continue on to Venice.”

They held each other’s gazes for a moment longer, imparting such thoughts and feelings as neither of them could understand. Then she smiled, beautiful, yet somehow sad. “Surely,” she said, “you wish to raise your child on the shores of your father’s sea.”

She knew him far too well, for he could not deny the appeal.

Then, all of a sudden, he was gripped by an overwhelming fear: Annabeth was with child . Even the most formidable fighter could only do so much while burdened with carrying another life. He remembered how his mother, heavy with little Esther, struggled to walk to and from the local market. What if they should come across another band of cruel bandits? What if she should hurt herself on the road to Italy, or if Percy should find himself injured or ill, unable to help her or protect her?

Seemingly from nowhere, a small bundle of white fur appeared at their feet, and the little cat jumped up beside them, giving a perfunctory sniff to the fabric of Annabeth’s dress before climbing on top of her, pressing her paws back and forth on her thigh the way Percy’s mother used to prepare her bread. Satisfied, then, she walked in a circle before settling down for her midmorning nap, tucking her paws beneath her body.

Admittedly, Percy had been somewhat skeptical of the cat, which Annabeth had taken to calling “Freya.” He liked animals, cats as well as dogs equally, and cats did seem to take a special liking to him. He remembered fondly the many cats of Constantinople following him after a hard day’s work, looking up with expectant eyes as they sweetly begged for part of his daily catch, then absconded with his discards into the dark city alleyways. So while he did not mind Freya’s presence, she seemed to distinctly prefer his wife, sticking to Annabeth’s side like a burr on cloth, laying ownership to her lap, sometimes hissing at strange people who got too close.

Percy could sympathize, on several points.

From Danzig, then, he decided, they would set out on the Via Imperii . Were it yet summer, perhaps they could have sailed the whole way to Venice, but he feared the might of spring storms, and would not risk her life, nor their child’s, for something as intangible as expediency. He remembered well, too, how their voyage upriver had sapped him of his strength until he had been unable to do naught but sleep; to exert himself to exhaustion on the open sea, miles away from any shore or safe harbor, could prove even more disastrous.

Immediately, Annabeth’s hands descended on the cat, scratching the underside of her chin with one while the other stroked the length of her back, and Freya purred, loud enough Percy could hear it even over the crashing waves, blinking her eyes sleepily back up at her. His wife smiled, quite taken with their furry companion.

There was so much more at stake now, he realized. Not just his own health, nor hers, but the health and safety of the life they had made together. In his heart, he swore on a river whose name had once struck fear into the hearts of men and gods alike, he would work every day to prove himself worthy of this woman who made such sacrifices for his sake.

Aloud, he merely said, “Thank you.” Two words which could not encompass all the gratitude he held for her. Were he able to pay her back its weight in gold, she would be the richest woman in the world.

Annabeth cast him a fond, if tired, look, her countenance still vaguely green. “Do not thank me yet,” she said. “I am told that it gets much, much worse.”

“I look forward to it,” Percy replied, turning his face into the sun.

***

He had hoped that Annabeth’s sickness would lessen once they returned to dry land. But after three days traveling through Pomerania , she was still sick in the mornings.

“Your child preferred the sea, methinks.” Annabeth said as Percy passed her water. She smiled her thanks and drank deeply. “But it could be much worse, I suppose. I’ve heard it said that many people feel the sickness all day, for weeks. Mine is, at the very least, limited to the earliest morning hours--and you have been most accommodating.”

With their not inconsiderable fortune, Percy had managed to procure for them a cart and a horse, so that they could keep up a lively pace while allowing Annabeth to rest as much as she required. “I have not been accommodating,” Percy protested. “You are with child.” My child , he did not say, but thought it, giddily. “It is the very least that I could do.”

“Well, regardless,” she said, “it is very appreciated.” Then she groaned, dropping her head forward.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out a hand to steady her.

“Have we any more food? I am ravenous.”

They did, because Percy wished to spare no expense on his wife and hopeful daughter. And besides, it was Annabeth’s money, they should spend as much on her comfort as needed. They’d left the inn early in the morning, but he had gotten them some bread and hard cheese before they had begun the journey. “Here, have the rest,” he said, handing them to her.

But she pushed the parcel away. “No, no, have we anything else?”

He did not, but he would not let himself fall into a panic. “When we arrive in Stettin ,” he promised, “I shall purchase whatever it is you desire. Tell me, if there were anything in the world that you could have, what would it be?”

Whatever she needed, he would do his best to provide: that was the vow he had taken, and this was merely his first challenge.

Thoughtful, she looked towards the clouds, her lip between her teeth.

“...Olives,” she said. “I would be very happy for some olives.”

Percy laughed. Of course. Athena’s proclivity for the fruit was renowned. “Then olives it is, my lady.”

It was a simple enough task, on the surface, to procure some olives for his pregnant wife. As a child living on the shores of the great Roman lake, olives had been plentiful and ubiquitous; at the agoge , the children of Demeter and Athena had cultivated a small grove of olive trees, partially for their own use, but also to sell at market. Though there had been neither olives nor olive oil in Svealand, as it was far too expensive to import from so far South, Percy assumed that he would be able to locate some here on the continent. Stettin was the Northernmost city on the Via Imperii , and surely some of the stuff must have wound its way through the lands controlled by the Legion.

Day after day, town after town, any time they passed through a settlement, they stopped at market so that Annabeth could rest, and Percy could scour the stalls and alleys for olives--and day after day, town after town, he found none. Not a single hamlet between Danzig and Stettin carried the malakes fruit. Every day he would return to his wife empty handed, and every day she would smile at him, her eyes shining, and thanked him for trying.

Her cravings continued. He could sense it, the way he could sense a storm, her mood souring as the days dragged on.

They stayed an extra night in Stettin to let the horses rest. It was a Monday, the start of a fresh, new week, the day the merchants and farmers brought in their weekly produce. Surely, Percy thought, perhaps foolishly, surely a market of such a large city would have even a small bottle of olive oil? What civilized city did not have a healthy supply of the stuff? Rome had once spanned nearly the entire continent; the well worn roads were proof of it. Surely, they had left some sort of culinary mark.

Apparently, he was a fool. The only oil to be found was made from pumpkin seeds--a favorite of some of the members of the Legion. He knew it to be bland, tasteless, and not at all fit for his wife. As for the olives, the merchants all looked at him as though he had grown a second head, those who understood a little Italian anyway, for those who could not merely stared at him as he fumbled his way through the few Frankish words which he knew.

He felt oddly numb, returning to their accommodations empty-handed. Would she be disappointed? Would she regret leaving the comfort and security of Svealand, where all her needs had been provided for?

Yet she had merely shrugged, brushing her hair with the comb that she had pilfered from Alejandra. “It is no great hardship,” she said, a little distantly, as all her attention was focused on the task in her hands. “I shall survive without it.”

On their bed, Freya the cat yawned, very sweetly, before readjusting her position, standing up and walking in a circle, then settling down and returning to her slumber.

“Still,” said Percy, “I recall the many trials and tribulations which my mother endured before she had borne my sister; if there is something which I can do to ease your burden at all, I should very much like to do so.”

Sighing sharply through her nose, Percy tensed, fearful that she would refuse him outright out of pride, only for him to relax as she merely tugged her comb through a particularly stubborn knot of hair. His fingers twitched in the folds of his clothes, his very nerve endings alight with the mere thought of feeling the soft, golden strands for themselves. He felt, somewhat worryingly, as though he had begun to develop a minor obsession with the feeling of her hair, every time it brushed up against his skin as she moved against him on the cart, or rolled over towards him in their shared bed. To watch her daily ritual, an act so tired and uneventful to her, yet one so captivating to him, with such eagerness and attention would have seemed, on any other man, to be the mark of ill-temperament and evil tidings. Percy, however, was able to content himself with merely looking.

“In truth,” she said, “it is not the olives themselves which I crave, though there is not much I would not do for such a treasure. Just as your child preferred the sea, I can only assume that my current propensity for salt is your doing as well.”

“Salt?”

“Salt,” she confirmed. “Any salty food will do, I think.”

“Salt,” he repeated, suddenly thoughtful. Salty foods were certainly in great supply here in the North; now a whole new world had been opened to him. Then--”You believe that I am the cause of this?” he asked, frowning.

Indelicate, she raised a brow at him. “Are you not? Why else would I have such a craving for saltwater?”

“I thought you wished for olives.”

“Olives?” She made a face. “I think not.”

Percy blinked, feeling as though he had missed a vital step in their conversation. “I beg your pardon?”

Huffing, she threw her comb down, evidently done with her grooming for the night. “Never you mind! I wish to retire.” She stood, undoing the various ties and laces of her dress, while Percy stared at her in slack-jawed awe and confusion. “Go and… cavort with a young man, if one should make himself available to you.”

Then throwing back the covers of the bed, disturbing poor, sweet, Freya, who leapt to the floor, her ears turned back in displeasure, she climbed underneath them, turning away from Percy.

It was barely evening. The sun could still be seen from the window.

“I… very well,” he said, carefully. “If it please you, I shall go and fetch us some food.”

“Do whatever you wish,” she replied, muffled by the sheets. “Good night.”

Feeling very much as though he had just summoned, and then subsequently banished, a hurricane, Percy retreated from their rented room, shutting the door as quickly and quietly as possible so as not to disturb his wife.

That was… unusual.

Not, the constant, shifting hunger pangs, mind; his mother had had similar, if perhaps less intense, culinary desires which could turn on a lira at any given moment. In truth, there was much about pregnancy for which he had already been prepared, having assisted his mother in the arrival of his little sister. When a woman was suffering such emotional and mental torment, it was best not to argue with her, and to placate her as quickly and thoroughly as one could, something which Percy was more than happy to do. No, what was strange was her peculiar comment, her order for him to go and seek out the company of someone else--of another man.

To abandon his wife for the pleasures of another was unthinkable, and not in the least because his spouse just so happened to be, in a bizarre twist of fate, the great love of his life. Again, he recalled how his mother would occasionally spit curses at her loving husband for the most minor of infractions, so the fact that Annabeth, who had tied herself to him in order to escape the pressures of an uncaring, unfamiliar political snare, who had, presumably, not gone into the arrangement expecting or even desiring of a child, and who, historically, had only barely tolerated his presence, was to be expected.

That she had specified he should search for the company of another man was the odd detail in this situation.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him how he had not eaten since this morning, so consumed was he in the hunt for olives, and so he made his way downstairs to the ground floor of the inn, to purchase some dinner for himself--and for Annabeth also, who would almost certainly be ravenous when she awoke, and hopefully, in something of a happier mood.

***

They had picked up a fellow traveler in the city of Lipsi , who had warned them off continuing further down the Via Imperii . “Many wars,” he had said, “much fighting--it would not do for your lovely wife to be caught up in all of that.”

As much as Percy wished to protest, that Annabeth was more than capable of handling herself, even in such a state, she had been so fatigued as of late that he did not wish to risk her safety. Therefore, himself, Annabeth, and the traveler, an itinerant monk named Johann, turned West instead, along the Via Regia . The detour would not put them too far off--once they reached the city of Trever , they could then turn South, towards Basler , and continue through the valley.

Percy and Annabeth had come upon the man as he rested by the side of the road, his curiously shaven head something of a beacon in the dark, green forest. Though Annabeth had initially protested, Percy, being in possession of a horse cart, felt offering him assistance would have been, at least, the polite thing to do. Now they sat all three of them in the front of the cart, Percy in the center with Johann to his left, while Annabeth alternately dozed off, attended to her knitting, a blanket in the making, or stroked sweet little Freya, who had become ever more protective of her mistress’ growing belly.

He was an interesting man, this Johann, pleasant and good-natured. He had embarked on a cross-continental journey of his own, one which ranged from his hometown of Cölln , all the way to the resting place of St. James in Hispania . “Fifteen hundred miles,” he said, ruefully, in perfect Italian, “and I am the poor fool who twists his ankle barely out of his own door.”

“Lady Fortuna must pass us all over some time,” said Percy.

“On the contrary,” said the monk, “your presence is proof of her blessing.”

Perhaps it was his joviality, or perhaps it was the warm sun, beating down on them, wrapping Percy in comfort, but he was in a merry mood as well. “I would have thought you to say that all blessings came from the Lord.”

“And who is to say He did not send you to me, miserable thing that I am?” said Johann. “There is a story I heard once, of a man who found himself in a lake. A pious, devoted man, he had only the utmost, unwavering faith in our Lord, faith that He would deliver the man from the waters before he drowned. Well, by and by, a man comes up to him in a canoe. ‘Sir,’ says the sailor to the man, ‘there is space in my vessel here; climb aboard, and I shall bring you to land.’ But the man refuses, saying, ‘I have faith in the Lord. He shall save me.’ And the sailor goes on. Not long after, another man comes up to him, in yet another canoe. ‘Sir,’ says the second sailor, ‘I have come to rescue you, for the waters are bitter cold, and my wife has a warm fire and a dry bed reserved for your use.’ But once again, the man refuses, saying, ‘I shall remain, for the Lord shall see me through.’ Well,” Johann shrugged, the corners of his lips tugging in a smile, “predictably, this poor, pious man drowns after some time. A person of deepest faith, he arrives at the gates of Heaven, whereupon he is given an interview with our Lord Christ, and he asks, ‘my God, my God, I had unwavering faith in your infinite mercy. Why did you not deliver me from the watery depths?’”

Clearly a practiced storyteller, he paused, a silence which begged to be filled by his audience. “And?” asked Percy. “What did he say?”

“At this question, our Lord Christ shakes his head, and says to the man, ‘My child, there was not much more that I could have done, for you refused the two boats which I sent to you.’”

Percy couldn’t help it--he laughed. “I daresay,” he said, “I have never met a man of the cloth so jovial as you.”

“That is what sunlight does to a man,” said Johann, full of good humor. “My brothers may think they have the better of it, sheltered from wind and rain with their books, but to cage me within four walls was anathema to my entire being, for I have always had a singular talent for making things grow. Did not all of creation begin in a garden? Thus, the gardener is a blessed man indeed.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled, a little uneasily. That Percy and Annabeth were not, strictly speaking, devotees of the trinity, and did not quite understand the finer details of the faith, had not quite come up in conversation yet. He sincerely hoped Johann would not ask.

“But you did not tell me your destination,” said the monk, looking on them both eagerly. “What calling of yours caused our two paths to intertwine?”

Percy glanced towards Annabeth, who had decided to ignore their sudden companion altogether, in favor of observing the trees as they passed. “My… wife and I are on our way to Venice.”

Such a simple phrase, “my wife,” yet Percy could not think of another combination of syllables which had ever given him nearly the same kind of joy.

“Venice, eh? That is quite the journey. Are you on a pilgrimage as well?”

“Ah, no--well--” Though, he considered, were they not? They went to seek spiritual enlightenment of a sort in a far off land. Did that not count as a pilgrimage by any standard? Certainly not in the sense which the good monk was implying, yet nonetheless, it was indeed a pilgrimage. The only difference was that they were not at all certain their destination held the answers which they sought. “We are hoping to… find our fortune there.”

Johann looked him up and down, and then at Annabeth. “Your fortune?” He asked. “I must commend you, sir, for you do not look like you need another one.”

Feeling the telltale flush in his cheeks, he glanced once again towards Annabeth, who, strangely, acted as though she hadn’t heard his comment. He was correct, of course, but Percy was not certain if he appreciated other men saying so--even a man of the cloth.

But the monk continued. “Venice is supposed to have one of the most magnificent cathedrals in all of Christendom: the Chiesa d’Oro . They say it is modeled on the great St. Sophia of Constantinople--of course, I have never seen it myself, so I cannot verify such a claim.”

Even the thought of St. Sophia, of her golden domes and radiant light, made Percy’s heart ache for home--a home to which he could never return. “St. Sophia was a masterpiece to behold,” said Percy, a little wistfully. “I am hard-pressed to imagine another temple quite as awe-inspiring.”

With a little thrill in his gaze, Johann leaned in, closer to Percy. “You have beheld the Church of the Holy Wisdom for yourself? Is it as beautiful as they say?”

“More than that, sir, there is no other place quite like it. To tell you truly,” he said, chuckling a little, “my wife and I both hail from Constantinople.”

For a moment, Annabeth looked up and over at him and their companion, narrowing her eyes, but then she just frowned and went back to her knitting.

Johann frowned as well, though more confused than upset, unlike his wife. “From the city itself, you say?”

Percy nodded.

“Then, if I may be so bold, how have you found yourself in these parts? Unless I am very much mistaken, one does not usually feel the need to travel to Saxonia on one’s journey to Venice from the holy lands.”

“Not usually, no,” said Percy. “However, the two of us, we were…” He paused, uncertain of how much information he was willing to share with this virtual stranger. “I was stationed on the walls,” he said. “We fled the city just as the Ottomans broke the siege, then traveled North, to her cousin’s estates.”

“I see,” said the monk. “You were deep in the thick of it, then?”

The all-consuming flames and the blood-curdling screams of his memory, they faded more and more each day, as all battles did, for he was a soldier first and foremost, and war tended to blur together after a point. By contrast, sometimes he still awoke in a cold sweat, drumbeats in his ears as he relived the terror and panic of watching the gods flee the city in which they had dwelt for a thousand years, no more powerful than a crop of refugees. “Yes,” he said. “We were.”

Johann hummed, linking his hands together. “The loss of life is always a tragedy,” he said, “even that of a heretic. Alas, that the city of Constantine fell so far from grace that they had to be punished so!”

Percy shifted, uncomfortable.

“Yet,” he went on, still in that same, blasted, affable tone, “even in the face of great sorrow, there is cause to celebrate, for the Lord saw fit to spare you and your wife, and see you to safe harbors, no?”

He glanced towards Annabeth, who continued at her weaving, seemingly unaware of the monk’s comments. “Well, I--”

“If you will permit me, sir, let me bless your wife and unborn child, so that he or she may grow strong and pious in the loving embrace of the Lord.” And he opened his hands, all set to begin his little ritual.

With a thought, Percy pulled their cart to a stop, suddenly, bracing an outstretched arm against Annabeth so she would not be knocked forward. Freya, jolted from her mid-morning nap, mewed, pitiful. “Percy,” said Annabeth, in their own tongue, “what--”

“This is where we part ways,” said Percy to the Christian man. “Disembark, and quickly.”

He sat, slack-jawed. “I beg your pardon?”

If Percy had been more in control of his emotions, then he may not have uttered his next words. However, later on, he found he did not regret them. “My wife and I are not interested in blessings from your trinity gods.”

“My--” he sputtered. “You--”

“I will not repeat myself--you are no longer welcome to travel with us.”

His pale skin flushed with anger, the monk chose not to argue with him, but did disembark, as though he could no longer bear their presence. “Heathen,” he hissed. “The Lord knows your heart, and for your lack of faith, He shall smite you down to the depths of the underworld.”

Possessed of a fury he did not know he could feel, Percy drew himself up to his full height, reaching deep within himself to the core of his being, the part of him which could summon typhoons, slay monsters, and cause the very earth beneath them to split--the part which could more than terrify a simple fool. “And there we shall be welcomed as heroes,” he said, “for we personally know the lord of the dead himself.”

White with terror, the monk touched his face and shoulders, chanting Latin beneath his breath. Leaving him to it, Percy snapped the reins on the horse, and they took off once more, leaving Johann in the dust.

Annabeth, twisted around in her seat, peered back at the retreating figure of their one-time travelling companion. “Do not mistake my confusion for disappointment,” she said, “for I, too, am glad to be rid of him, though I must say, that was very suddenly done.”

Percy scoffed, twisting the reins between his fingers, something with which to ground himself. “Had I known what he would offer,” he nearly growled, “I would have expelled him sooner.”

Curious, she tilted her head. “What offer was so odious as to force him from your sight?”

Blinking, Percy turned towards her. As always, his heart raced at the sight of those grey eyes on him, though at this moment they were wide in innocent confusion. Percy frowned. He had thought she was a better listener than he, on most occasions. “His offer to bless us in the name of his lord.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that what he said?”

“Did you not hear him?”

“I did,” she huffed, annoyed. Again. She seemed often annoyed with him these days. “But as I cannot understand Italian, clearly I missed a few things.”

She--”You--what?”

Lips pursed, heat rushed to her cheeks, though she did not let up on her steely stare. “Yes?”

“You cannot speak Italian?”

“I have just told you so.”

“But--” Percy sputtered. “But--how did you--how did you take orders from your commander?”

The Venetians and the Genoese had comprised most of the command posts on the wall and had not bothered to learn the local language for themselves. Knowledge of Italian, therefore, had been crucial to the defense of the city, something Annabeth would certainly have known.

“My commander was a fool and a drunkard,” she said, turning her nose up, “and perished one night after he fell off the wall.”

“Then… who--” But he stopped himself before he could finish his question, for there was only one reasonable answer. “You took command of your unit.”

“Obviously.”

“And none of your men took issue with a woman leading them into battle?”

Her stern gaze transformed into a glare, narrowed and piercing. “Not when it guaranteed them victory.”

For a moment, Percy could do nothing but stare right back, in disbelief and incredulity. She must have led her little cohort for months, the warrior woman of Constantinople, Areia made flesh. No wonder the northern portion of the wall held for so long.

Then, out of nowhere, he laughed.

“And what, pray tell, is so amusing?” his wife asked, lips thin, brow furrowed.

“Nothing, nothing,” he chortled. He could not say from where such delight had come, nor why it had suddenly taken him over thus. Perhaps it was simply the knowledge that, no matter how much time had passed, Annabeth’s character remained remarkably consistent from the first day he had known her. She would always find a way to command, to control--and, save one obvious exception, to deliver victory. “Oh, Anja,” he said, fondness warming him up from the inside out, “I beg of you, do not ever change.”

“I shall endeavor not to.” She said, faintly. She seemed at a loss for words for several moments, a rarity with her, then spoke once more. “You… you called me Anja.”

Percy frowned, “I know I struggle with your northern tongue, did I not pronounce it correctly?” He had attempted to divine the subtleties in the difference between the Ana that he had always known her to be, and the Anja her family called her, but perhaps he had been mistaken.

“No.” Softly, sweetly, a smile curled the straight lines of her mouth, even as she turned her face out to watch the trees as they passed, raising a hand to rest delicately on her stomach. “You were perfect.”

***

Percy laid out his cloak over the smoothest rock he could find. It was a nice cloak, of a much higher quality fabric and weave than to which he was most accustomed. Had he been a smarter man, most likely he would not have used the garment for such a task as this--but he was used to his clothes being worn out, multipurpose things. The hot velvet could find another use as a blanket until the warmth of early summer passed them by.

Having prepared her seat, he then rushed back to the wagon, reaching his hand out for Annabeth to steady herself on it. “I am not an invalid,” she chided, stretching her leg down to the earth. “You do not have to take such precaution with me.”

“It is no trouble.” The days, slowly but surely, were getting longer, Helios’ chariot lingering for a few more minutes every evening. They could certainly afford to stop and rest for a while should she require it. Once she had revealed to him her condition, he had resolved to mold the pace of their journey to her level of comfort and satisfaction. To ensure her health and the health of their child, Percy could stand a few unexpected delays.

Supporting her with his arm, he led her to the makeshift seat of stone, situated in a patch of sunlight bracketed by the shadows of the trees behind them. With an adorable little grunt, her sweet face scrunched up, she sat down upon it, sighing in relief. “There,” she breathed, hanging her head. “That’s better.”

The town of Trever was still a little ways off, but they could still see the rise of the town walls over the rolling hills. He noted, with some displeasure, the towering spindle resting on top of the ancient gate--was there nothing these trinity men would not claim for themselves?--but chased the thought from his mind, focusing instead on the more pressing issue at hand. “What is wrong?”

She had not explicitly told him why they should stop, only that she was desperate for relief of some kind. Rather than push for a reason, he had chosen instead to indulge her. “Some water, please?” she asked, her face drawn.

Nearly tripping over himself, he leapt up onto the wagon to retrieve the water skin before delivering it to her, kneeling down before her. “Are you alright?” he asked again, hiding his concern as best he could. She did not like him to fret so much over her--not that she could stop him.

“I am fine,” she promised. “Your child is just--very active.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Oh?”

She nodded. “Here--feel.” Then, without hesitation, she grasped his hand, and placed it over her stomach.

Percy, by design, had refrained himself from touching her in any manner that was not explicitly one of acquaintanceship since that wonderful, terrible night, not in any meaningful way. In turn, she had not, precisely, refused his company, but had kept him at something of a distance, emotionally if not physically, likely for his own protection. But now she had initiated contact, had invited him in, and Percy was once again caught up in the sublime experience which was being close to Annabeth Fredriksdotter. Her hair, nearly twice as long as it was when they had arrived in Svealand, was bound up in an intricate knot, though loose, gilded strands fell out here or there, as she had left her head uncovered today, insisting that it was too hot for her wimple. Percy understood that it was key to her modesty as a married woman to cover her head, even if she was married to the likes of him, though he could not pretend he did not dislike it, at times. If only she would look at him, though, grace him with her lovely gaze, rather than their joined hands.

So distracted by the sunlight filtering through her hair that he nearly missed it.

A small, nearly imperceptible jolt beneath his fingertips.

Then he felt it again.

He recognized the feeling--it was one he recognized from when his mother was pregnant with his dear, sweet little Esther. “Is that…” he said, trailing off, softly so as not to disturb the moment.

“That,” said his wife, jovial, “is the little monster which has been causing me so much distress recently.”

Swallowing, he blinked back the sudden heat from his eyes. “Oh,” he said, pulling his emotions together so he did not weep. “I am sorry.”

“As you should be,” she said, but she was grinning at him. “Your child is kicking me in the ribs--a skill I am quite certain he got from you.”

He . She thought they were going to have a son.

Something in her smirk riled an old part of his brain. “Kicking was always your maneuver,” he accused, smiling in turn. “If she is kicking,” he insisted, emphasizing the opposite sex purely on principle alone, “it is surely due to her mother’s influence.”

She rolled her eyes at the reference. “Oh, please do not say you are still sore from--”

“I swear, to this day, I still bear the marks from the force of your blow!”

“I have seen you without clothes on,” Annabeth said, “and you have no such mark, believe me.”

A silence fell between the two of them, chilly and awkward. She did not attempt to remove his hand from her person, and nor did he wish to remove it.

“It occurs to me,” she said quietly, after some time, “that I… I have never apologized for how I treated you back then.”

Rubbing his thumb against the fabric of her dress, he shrugged. “That time has long since passed,” he murmured, “and we are two very different people now. Let the past remain in the past, I say.”

“Still. I was--very cruel to you,” she said. “I should not have said those things.”

She had been very cruel. Percy had returned to the agoge after a year and a half spent with the Legion, expecting open arms and welcome smiles from his friends and brothers in arms, only to be met with scorn and derision from the one person whom he had most wanted to see.

After the war with the titans, they had only been granted a short reprieve before they had received an envoy from Aachen, begging Percy’s help with a monster which they simply could not fight on their own, diminished as they were in the realm of Karolus Magnus , far from their ancestral home. Never one to turn down a cry for help, Percy had entreated Annabeth and their former questing companion now turned Lord of the Wild to accompany him. Unfortunately, in the snowy mountains of Dardania, they were ambushed by monsters, and separated. By the time Percy came to his senses, he was in the tender grip of the Latins, and Annabeth was long gone.

A naturally distrustful lot, they would not let him free until he had proven his loyalty to the rootless empire, and they sent him away to train with their patroness in the wilds. Once Lupa deemed him worthy of service, upon his return, they then put him to work, pairing him with his Latin counterpart, the son of Jupiter.

Again, he felt no shame with what he had with Iason. Theirs had been a soldiers’ romance, brief, but deep, intense and overwhelming. In truth, he would not have fallen in with the man, save for that he had been under the impression that Annabeth had left him to his doom in the mountains. The Latins had intimated to him evidence of a person’s quick retreat where they had found him, and had let him come to his own conclusions.

Once the giant Polybotes had been slain, then, and Percy had been released from unwilling service, he had been allowed to return to the shores of Constantinople. There he had received something of a hero’s welcome, with all due honors and celebrations--except, of course, from Annabeth, who had been decidedly not happy with his return. Feelings between them grew fouler and fouler, until, one fateful day, as they were practicing their weapons’ routines on each other’s persons, more hateful words had been traded rather than blows. Quickly, what had been a skilled and professional match devolved into something dirty and mean, filthy trick after filthy trick, until she had kicked him square in the ribs, knocking him flat onto the ground, hissing from between bloodied teeth how she would have preferred it if he had died in Dardania.

After that, Percy had promptly departed for his father’s palace, seeking escape in the form of good cheer and happier people, chasing away his broken heart in the arms of Thetis, and others.

They had not shared a serious or friendly conversation for years--not until the morning the Ottomans broke through the defense of the city.

“Think nothing of it,” he said, unwilling to dwell on that time any longer than he had to. He would not say it was alright, for it was not, but he also had let go of that animosity many months before, in the shadow of the Erechtheion.

“You must understand,” she went on, a little forceful, “I was not angry with you, but with myself. I thought I had lost you to a fate unspeakable--”

“I am not certain I would classify Latin conscription as a fate unspeakable,” said Percy, dryly.

She flushed. “I--I only meant--”

“Annabeth,” he said, not wanting to tread this ground any further, “let it be done. Please.”

“After the war,” she spoke, urgently, “I thought… I had--thought that we would… well.” All at once, she slumped as though the very breath had gone out of her, removing her hand from his, nearly curling into herself. “I suppose,” she murmured, “it no longer matters what I thought.”

She did not need to clarify. He knew perfectly well what she had meant. It was not much of a secret that Percy and Annabeth had held some youthful affection for each other, not even from each other. So easily it could have blossomed into something stronger. “I wanted to,” he said, craning his neck to meet her eyes so she could see the truth of it. He had wanted to, and had planned to. But he was no fool, for he knew that a man needed a way of supporting a family before he could start one. The expedition to Aachen, that would have been his ticket into some of the upper echelons of Constantinople; a letter of introduction from a tribune, prefect, or even a centurion would have done wonders for his social standing and finances. “I swear, I wanted to, but then…”

Her lips lifted in a small smile. Not one of happiness, no. She knew all too well the things they had done to each other, the barbs they had hurled and the wounds they had inflicted. It was the acknowledgement of old sorrows and long-ignored pain which caused her to smile, a pain shared and understood only by the man before her. “As you stated,” she said, “we are now different people, and we cannot dwell on what may have transpired between us.”

A satisfactory answer--tragic, yes, but satisfactory nonetheless. “But we are friends, yes?” he asked, hoping for a little salve for his broken heart.

She raised her head, grey eyes clear and steady. “It is my very honor, Perseus,” said she, a pronouncement handed down from the empress herself, “to call you my friend--my dearest friend.”

It was not exactly what a husband might want to hear from his wife, nor what a man might want from the woman he loved about all things. But for Percy, it would be enough. It was Anja Elisabet Fredriksdotter: her hand, her child, her friendship. Perhaps one day, that friendship could be transmuted into something more affectionate, but Percy would not waste his time waiting for a day which would never come, not when she was here, before him, solid and tangible.

“Percy,” she said, very sweetly, “as wonderful as this is, unfortunately, I must ask you to give me some privacy at this time.”

“Oh,” he staggered to his feet, snatching his hand back. “Of course.” This, too, was a symptom of pregnancy with which he was quite familiar. His poor mother’s body had been pushed to its very limit, and she had had to relieve herself quite often. “I shall leave you to it, then.”

Then, face red, he trotted round to the other side of the wagon, where, paradoxically, he could better protect her.

***

Percy blinked, uncomprehending. “I beg your pardon?”

“I merely said,” she repeated, unconcerned, “that you no longer have to keep up the pretense. It has been months since I have had such voracious cravings, yet you continue to make a show of your search. It is natural for men to wish time for themselves--I know very well what a man can do with this time away from his wife.” She looked on him flatly, as though she thought he was the fool for thinking her to be one instead. “I am more than capable of amusing myself for a few hours. Please, go on--I am sure the good people of the brothel await.”

The--”I would not do that to you,” said Percy, quietly, a little insulted. Did she truly think so low of him that he would make good on his long-forgotten promise to abandon her to her freedom? Did she not understand that dreams of their brief time together would sustain him as water in a desert, and yet ruin him for any other man or woman? “If you do not believe me, then I insist you accompany me,” he said, firmly. “Allow me to put these thoughts of yours to rest.”

She looked out the window of their little room, where the sun hung low in the sky over Messalia . It had been a hot, July mid-morning when they rambled into town, looking for a place to stay the night before they would put to sea the next day, the streets and corners quiet as the people retreated to their homes for their daily rest. Now, as the shadows began to stretch, the city came to life once more, the hustle and bustle of commerce a dull roar beneath the room in the little inn which they had rented. Through the air wafted the scents of spices, coal fire, and the blessed salt smell of the sea, the glittering, golden jewel that lay beyond the walls. “Very well,” she said. “I believe I shall. A walk outside may do me some good.”

With some difficulty, as her large stomach made everything rather difficult for her these days, she managed to stand up from the low bed, reaching for her wimple which she had discarded previously. Tying it about her face, he was once again struck by the duality of his emotions, that he could feel so disheartened and yet so elated by the same action. Her wimple covered all of her gorgeous, golden hair, as modesty dictated it must, yet the act of hiding such beauty signified, once again, that she was his wife--a cause for great celebration, if only in his heart.

And so they went together on the town.

It was an absolutely marvelous time.

Once again, the sea infused his senses and soothed his entire being--a familiar sea this time, not the strange, frigid waters of the north, but the deep lapis and emerald of his childhood. Every shaft of sunlight felt as the touch of a friendly hand, and every shadow a cool breeze of relief. Together, arm in arm, they wandered up and down the markets, where Annabeth used the time given to her to practice her Italian. She was a remarkably quick study, as he knew she would be, though it did help that the merchants here were much more familiar with that language than they had been further north.

By now, Percy had been to markets practically all over the world. Each one was unique, distinct, with its own set of sights and sounds and smells, and yet, each one had been positively lackluster, almost grey in his memory. Not many men were fortunate enough to have seen so much of the known world, and had lived to tell the tale of it. Today, however, walking about with his eight month pregnant wife in the streets of Messalia, he finally understood what they all had been lacking.

So caught up in his wife’s lovely smile as she admired a particularly ripe set of figs, that he accidentally barreled into another person, spilling the contents of their arms all over the ground. Fruit went tumbling, smashing the earth in rich, dark colors, staining the well-worn streets. “Ah, perdono !” he cried, dropping to his knees to help gather up the items which could be salvaged. “ Scusatemi !”

“ Non, non, mon sieur ,” said the woman, joining him on the ground, “ perdon , per … Percy?”

At the sound of his name, his head snapped up.

She was an older woman, with long, thick brown hair streaked with grey, and eyes that shifted color in the low light. Her skin was tanned a deep brown from hours spent in the sun, and though her face was lined with age, none would look on her and not consider her to be a great beauty.

They stared at each other, in shock and disbelief.

“Percy?” called Annabeth, faint in his ears. “I am in need of your assistance, as I cannot remember the world you taught me--”

“Oh!” wept the older woman, dropping the rest of the fruit she had gathered onto the street, opening her arms to hold him. “It is you!”

And with a deep, wrenching sob, pulled from his chest, Percy threw himself into the warm embrace of his mother.

“ Mater , mater ,” he moaned, burying his face into her chest as she held him close. “Oh, mater !”

“I knew it, I just knew it,” she was saying, over and over again, clutching him to her breast, kissing his forehead, “I knew you had made it out. Oh, lord of the sea, earth-shaker in the swelling brine, thank you, thank you, thank you for my son!”

So caught up in the sudden wave of emotion, he was rendered nearly mute. “Mother,” he finally croaked, taking in the warm, sweet scent of her--cinnamon and cloves and sea salt. To think that he had almost forgotten the particular details, hands calloused from years of cooking, eyes twinkling like stars on the surface of the water. “Mother!”

“My boy!” Sally pulled back, raking her hands through his hair, pushing it from his face so she could look on him more clearly. “Oh, my boy, I never thought I would see you again!”

“Nor I you,” he replied, tears blurring his vision. “How--how are you here?”

“I could ask you the very same,” she said, smiling the sweet summer smile which had lit his childhood as a candle in the dark, “and I will hear all of it--but for now, let me simply look upon you! It has been far, far too long since I have seen your smiling face.”

He was smiling, so wide and genuine that it caused his face to ache, a pain he was more than happy to bear, down on his knees in the middle of Messalia. “I have missed you, mater ,” he said, “so much.”

“Percy?”

Blinking, he came back to himself, emerging from the dream so suddenly made real. The populace of Messalia were not giving them so wide a berth, just barely sparing the two the indignity of being walked all over. Annabeth stood a little ways away, her hand resting on her protruding stomach, light concern falling over her face like a veil.

“Mother,” he said, seized with a strange kind of energy, “here.” With steady hands, he lifted her up from the ground, the ruined fruit forgotten. Annabeth stepped closer to them, trepidation slowing her pace. She had already met his mother a number of times--they had often taken rest at her house when a quest required them to take their leave from the agoge for several days at a time--but even he understood that to meet her as his wife was a vastly different thing.

But his mother, quick as ever, cottoned onto the truth of the matter. “Percy,” she breathed, full of disbelief, “is that--”

“You remember Annabeth,” said Percy, nerves seizing his tongue and nearly stopping it in his mouth, “my--my wife.”

How strange, that weeks ago, the two syllables represented one of the happiest truths of his life, and yet today, he felt as anxious as a baby colt learning to walk for the first time, desperate for the two most important women in his world to feel some sort of kinship.

His mother gasped, her hands flying to her face. “Annabeth!” she cried, taking her in her arms without hesitation. “Your wife! How wonderful! Oh, blessed day that made your way here!”

Annabeth stood there, quite shocked, before bringing her arms up as well.

“Oh, goodness,” said his mother, pulling herself back, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Look at me--I apologize for such unbecoming behavior. But you must come back with me--Paul and Esther will be overjoyed--I will need to purchase some wine--”

It was then that Percy remembered he had, quite indirectly, ruined her groceries. Fruit was not inexpensive, and neither was wine. Percy knew his mother, and he knew she would wish to cook for him in celebration, but he would not see her waste any more of her money on his account. “Allow me,” he said, placing a hand on her arm. “I shall pay you back in full, and then some. Ah, if,” he glanced towards Annabeth, seeking her permission, for it was her money after all, “if that is alright, of course.”

She looked at him, quizzically. “Of course it is alright.”

“Percy,” sighed his mother, “you do not need to--”

“It is settled, then!” Taking her arm in his, he directed them to the fruit seller whom Annabeth had been speaking to just prior, unwilling to let go of his mother for even a second. “We shall have a veritable feast!”

***

Paul, his mother’s husband, had wept upon seeing them. Dear, sweet little Esther refused to let go of her elder brother, stubbornly clinging to his leg. Eventually, she had tired herself out, the poor thing, only allowing her father and Annabeth to take her to bed when she had nearly fallen asleep in his lap. Percy had tried to persuade Annabeth to relax, but she had insisted, looking on Esther with such sweetness and doting in her eyes that Percy found himself hard-pressed to say no. Perhaps she would be so sweet and affectionate with their daughter, as well. The very thought excited him in ways he could not quite describe.

If she was forced to be a mother, then, perhaps it would not be the harshest of fates.

“I am so glad, Percy,” said his own mother, once he had recounted to her the whole, winding tale of his and Annabeth’s journey. Her looking at him with such fondness, it transported him back to that dark, bleak time, when they were all that each other could claim to call their own. Now look at them--families and children, both. Beneath the thumb of a monstrous man, sometimes it was difficult to imagine otherwise. “When the news of Constantinople’s fall reached us… yet I kept the faith. I knew you would survive, and I am so glad you had someone with you.”

He smiled, taking her hands in his, kissing the knuckles there. “All I learned of survival,” he said, “I learned from you.”

She squeezed his hands, warm and solid.

“But you must tell me how you came to Messalia,” said Percy, before he could begin to weep. “How is it you found your way to this place?”

His mother lifted her shoulders, tilting her head. “My story is not nearly so exciting as yours, I can promise you that. Our voyage out of Constantinople was swift and peaceful, and we arrived on the shores of this city far faster than we thought possible.”

“That was my father,” said Percy. “In Svealand, I had a dream of him--he bade me to send you his love.”

Her countenance transforming, she smiled, sweetly, knowingly, a glint in her eye which lifted years off of her face. “I had wondered,” she said, “for our voyage did seem unusually safe.” Then she shook her head, lightly, casting off whatever memories had come to her in that moment. “What else did he tell you?”

Much that he wished to keep to himself, though he was sure she would understand. “Have you ever heard of the city of old soldiers?” he asked his mother instead. He felt all of fourteen years old once more, seeking his mother’s guidance, begging for wisdom from a woman of keen sight and keener instinct.

Frowning, she turned her gaze towards the open window, to the stars which were beginning to show their faces. “I do not know this city of which you speak,” she said quietly.

Percy sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Yet,” said his mother, “I, too, have had some extraordinary dreams as of late.”

At that, he perked up once more, leaning in to listen better. As she had told him, once upon a time, her sight had waned alongside her youth, though she could still occasionally perceive that which lay just beyond the comprehension of most mortals. “What have you seen?” he asked, breathless.

She closed her eyes, recalling. “In a city on a river,” she said, “there is a grand building--a church, made of marble, white and green, and above it rests a red dome, reaching towards the sky, as though it longs to return from whence it came.”

“A city on a river,” he repeated. Another clue--yet, just as many cities had rivers as they did old soldiers.

“I apologize, my son,” said his mother, opening her eyes once more. “This is all I know.”

He squeezed her hands, comforting. “Think nothing of it. We have already decided to seek our fortune in Venice--I have been told that their church there was modeled on St. Sophia. Perhaps this is the dome of which you speak.”

“Perhaps,” she said, unconvinced. “But must you leave us so soon? You will do well in Venice, of that I have no doubt, yet I do not know if I can bear to be apart from you once again. And,” then she grinned, her eyes suddenly sparkling, “I should very much like to meet your child.”

Percy blinked at her, processing what she was saying. Then he flushed, grinning weakly in return. “Ah, yes, well… I should like you to meet her as well.”

Certainly, he possessed no gift of prophecy--he was not, as it were, a child of Apollo--but he found himself dreaming more and more of that little girl with his wife’s lovely hair and eyes, like the children who dressed as St. Lucy. A little girl whom he could lavish all fatherly love and affection upon, rather than a wife who would find it a nuisance at best. She would be his princess; and if her mother could be persuaded, he would call her his Anja.

The lines on her face ran deep, carved from years of laughter and joy which poured forth from her like the sun itself. “Even at such a young age, I could sense the fondness and affection you had for each other. You do not know how happy I am for the two of you.”

A fondness and affection which had now faded on her part--but at least they had resolved to remain friends in a marriage of trust and support, if not love. “When I have made enough money,” he promised, to take his mind off of his situation, “I will send for you and your family, and we will never be parted again. In fact,” he said, struck with sudden inspiration. Rummaging through the various folds of his clothing, he located his purse which carried the rest of the money he had on him, then placed it in his mother’s hand. “Here. A gift, to a wonderful mother from her loving son.”

“Percy,” she tutted, brow furrowed. “Do not concern yourself with me. We are comfortable here, Paul and I; you must focus all of your resources on providing for your own family now.”

“Annabeth has more than enough to provide for herself, her dowry was immense. More land than I thought possible, sold for more money.” he said. “She and our children--our child,” he corrected, cursing himself for his weak tongue, and praying his mother had not caught it, “our child will be kept in comfort for the rest of their days. I carry only a bit for pocket change, so she need not do all the bartering for me. You have done so much for me--please, allow me to do this for you.”

“What do you mean?” his mother asked, picking up the purse, surprised by the weight of it. He observed as she untied the cord, and spilt the contents on her table, the gold coins clinking against each other ever so noisily. “Is it not your money now?”

“I suppose, legally , yes.” he conceded. “But the land we--she gained from her uncle is ancient family land. It would not do for me to leech such things away from her.” Bad enough that she had to be tied to him in motherhood and marriage, but he would not stoop so low as to usurp the use of her finances. “Once I arrive in Venice, I will then pay my own way,” he promised his mother, and his wife, though she was not there to hear him. “I will find work as a laborer, or if I am lucky, perhaps a ship will be in need of a sailor.”

“I suggest,” his mother said, “that you speak to your wife regarding such things.”

As much as he would have liked to protest, said wife reentered at that moment, helped along by Paul. “Percy,” she said, “the hour grows late, and we have left poor little Freya all by her lonesome.”

“Ah--of course,” said Percy, standing as well. Damn that cat, he thought. “Then I believe we must take our leave of you now, mother.”

“I understand,” she said, rising to see them out. “Will we see you again ‘ere you depart?”

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “I shall return to you once more.”

Then she swept him up in her arms again. “Until that happy time, my son.”

He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of oil and onion, cinnamon and cloves, hearth and home, and marveled again at the strength of his wife who had borne the pain of leaving her father to travel the world with someone like him. “Until then.”

#my fic #the marble king #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #percyyoulittleshit #pataytayo #enjoy the idiots!!!!

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allthebooksandcrannies · 4 years

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I know a lot of older people think it's a problem that so many young people don't want to have children, but I think it shows an increased understanding for how much of a responsibility parenting is and how much damage you can do to a child of you're not ready to raise someone.

I think that everyone is capable of being a good parent and I think that some people should never be parents. These may sound mutually exclusive but they aren't because there's a big if involved in the first half. That if, is that everyone is capable of being a good parent someday if they put in the work to take care of their own shit first.

When you become a parent or guardian, you are officially signing on to prioritize another person's physical and emotional needs before your own for the rest of their life. That means loving them no matter what they do or who they become. That means putting aside your own exhaustion and frustration at your day when they walk through the door so that you can be their champion and their confidant and their companion. That means teaching them how to process their emotions and think critically and empathetically and it means letting them find their own path, even if it's different than the one you wanted or imagined for them, but making it clear that if they need or want your comfort, your help, or just your ear that they will have it. You don't have to be perfect. No parent ever is, and it's important anyway for kids to learn in nontraumatic ways that adults make mistakes too and that's okay as long as you take responsibility for that and strive to learn and grow because of your mistakes. Kids learn by watching and listening to the adults around them and the things they conclude from those early years of observation will stick with them the rest of their lives.

I know that that sounds scary. It probably should because deciding to raise a child should be the biggest decision you can make, and if it's not, you may not be taking it seriously enough.

I also know that this is hard. And I have the greatest respect for people who truly understand this and decide to raise a tiny person anyway.

I'm also not trying to discourage you from becoming a parent. You may not be ready now, but that doesn't mean you can't be later. I personally would love to be a mom some day not I know that I have a lot of personal growth and healing I need to take care of first, to say nothing of the stabilization of my financial and career status.

The real question is what can you do to be a better parent, guardian, or even trusted adult to someone else's child (a really important and valid role and choice in itself!) later?

First off, you need to do some hard core introspection to figure out what traits and behaviors you have that might exhibit that would interfere in your ability to be a good parent. Maybe you're still emotionally immature. Maybe you're struggling with uncontrolled mental illness, chronic illness, or addiction. Maybe you've internalized some toxic ideas. Maybe you're still recovering from trauma or just now realizing that what you have even is trauma. None of these things makes you a bad person and none of them stops you from being capable to becoming a good parent. But, all of them can interfere with your ability to model healthy behaviors and coping skills to your child. Children learn through observation and, because their brains need the world to make sense and be predictable, they're going to interpret everytime you seem upset or lose your cool as being their fault. Young children aren't capable of going "mom is upset and snapped over something relatively trivial, she must be having a bad day/be tired/etc" because that's an interpretation of the world that is outside their control. Instead, they're going to go "I did x and mom got mad at me, it's my fault so I better not do x again" and that's a really harmful mindset that can contribute to self-worth issues and other mental illnesses like anxiety, especially if this happens long-term (for the record, you're going to make mistakes and you're going to snap over stupid things because being a grown-up is hard, so when you inevitably make this mistake it's important to be honest and upfront with your child about what happened, why, how it's not their fault, and you have to genuinely apologize for it, turning your mistake into a chance to model good adult behavior).

It's important to take care of yourself and let yourself grow and heal before bringing a kid into the mix because 1. you'll be a better parent if you start out in a better place emotionally and mentally, and 2. because you deserve the chance to be healthy and happy and it's much harder to address the things that are interfering with that when your also trying to juggle the additional emotional/mental demands of raising a child.

Additionally, I definitely recommend making sure you and anyone else taking a primary caretaker role in your child's life is in a stable financial and that the relationship between you and any other caretakers is stable and amicable regardless of what kind of relationship it is. The financial aspect is important because kids are expensive as hell (both the having/acquiring and the raising) and you want to be able to provide then with the best possible shot at life.

This isn't about me but I feel like the example will be helpful. We weren't poverty level growing up, but even as a child it was clear to me that we could be. My parents were 20 year old newlyweds when they got pregnant. My dad had been set up to inherit a position in his father and grandfather's construction company and did not go to college because they thought he was guaranteed a steady job. My mom was paying for a college education she couldn't afford because no one had ever explained how to get financial aid and scholarships to her and her parents were too caught up in their own shit to be anything but relieved about getting to make her future my dad's problem. Then they got pregnant. They started building a house that took much longer to build then expected because that construction business dad was expecting to inherit went out of business because it turned out that a cousin had been embezzling and my great-grandmother wouldn't let them sue or press charges against family. Mom had to drop out of college to raise me because daycare costs as much as she makes at work and she no longer has the time or funds. They had a baby they weren't prepared to raise and my dad's new job had him working in the Texas heat all day before going and working on our house at night so that we could move out of my maternal grandfather's house now that he was getting divorced and couldn't afford it. My parents society never saw each other and they were constantly worried about money. Less than two years after I was born they accidentally got pregnant with my brother. He ended up with failure to thrive and (although he did eventually recover) it raked up a serious amount of debt in addition to my mom's student loans and the mortgage. Flash forward four more years and my dad falls through a roof at a construction site and permanently cripples his ankle. Cue a year of the only breadwinner in the household being unable to work, several surgeries and massive medical bills we can't pay. A year after that my mom has to have a historectomy because her fibroids are causing immense pain and then they find pre-cancerous cells. Another year after that she starts having unexplained siezures and signs of organ failure that will take years to diagnose as a rare autoimmune disorder that will leave her disabled and, again, rake up serious medical debt. I found out in college that it came to the point that we almost lost the house but as a kid I still always knew we were struggling. And that fucks with a kid's head. There were reasons I didn't tell my parents that something was wrong for a week after I sprained my wrist when I was 10 and it wasn't just because I didn't want to sound like I was asking for attention (a phobia that also comes from having emotionally immature parents). I pushed myself ridiculously hard in school because I knew I couldn't expect any help paying for college from my parents. I still feel incredibly guilty anytime I spend more than 20 dollars even though it's my money and I need groceries or textbooks or gas or whatever. A lot of these issues would have been financially difficult and unpredictable, but had my parents been in a more stable position when they got married and started having kids, it would have been much easier to weather the storms.

Additionally, money is the main thing couples fight about, so if you can take that off the table as a significant concern before bringing kids into the mix, please do. Maslow's hierarchy of needs states that you can't address higher order concerns like personal growth of your worried about where your next meal is coming from and that goes for your children as well.

Again, I'm not trying to shame people for their financial difficulties. Most of us are playing at a game we were never intended to win and I get that not all children are planned. But, your good intentions unfortunately will not put food on the table or pay the rent and your children will have a lot less stress in their lives if you are able to make sure that things are as stable as possible before you bring them into it.

The same goes for your relationship with fellow caretakers. Don't try to have kids to save your relationship. Don't ever make your children feel like your relationship is in anyway their responsibility. Again, they need their world to make sense and if you're fighting they're probably going to assume it's somehow their fault. Don't do that to them.

Anyway, this rant turned out a lot longer than I intended but I think I needed to say it. In summary, raising children is not about you but your going to make it about you unless you take care of your own shit first. Children don't ask to be born. If you're not ready for that responsibility, either don't have kids or put in the work so that you will be. If you already have kids, and don't have your shit together, there's still time but it's going to be harder and you might have to do some damage control from any traumas you may have already inflicted on your child, regardless of your intentions. If that's the case, you have a responsibility to get your kid the help they need and do everything in your power to avoid further harm. You're the adult in this situation, and if you're going to be a parent, you need to act like it.

#parenting #emotionally immature parents #childhood trauma #parenting advice #personal rant #personal growth #original post

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joonsdiary · 4 years

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𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝒕𝒂𝒆𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒈

a regency au that absolutely nobody asked for. (please pray for my countless untouched wips that will never see the light of day.) rated e for extreme fluff with a slight hint of humour, because what else is new around here. blame this kim taehyung for the existence of this drabble. 1,870 words. enjoy!

“Another correspondence,” your sister whispered in the dead of night, candlelight gently flickering against the bronze of her skin. You laid still against the silk of your sleeping clothes, underneath the warmth of your cotton quilts, unsurprised by her quiet outburst into your shared room. Her eyes met yours and at that moment you wished nothing more than to be buried six feet well below the ground, sleeping amongst the worms and maggots and ants alike—

“Would you like me to read it for you this time?”

—and be rid of this world once and for all. What joy that would bring you. It’s quite the dramatic disposition, as your mother would often point about yourself, but an understandable one, nevertheless. Because it had the faintest of truth in it: You’d rather die than face the embarrassment of possible rejection.

The floorboards creaked as she moved to place the chamberstick on the bedside before making room for herself beside you, tucking her legs neatly beneath her. You have an inkling as to who he might be, but your heart assured you that it wasn’t the person you’ve been desperately waiting for—the one whose disapproval would possibly shred your heart pieces. In hindsight, you should have known better than to place your trust in a man. No matter how handsome they might present themselves, they’re all the same.

“Is it Sir Jeon again?”

Jeon Jungkook was an esteemed young bachelor, no less. The grandson of a wealthy colonel, who owns a large estate in the next town over. But his reputation precedes him as a ladies’ man through and through, having asked the hands of several women in marriage, only to break the arrangement before nightfall. He’s been the same tireless charade for the past summer months, and you happen to be the unfortunate target that has caught his unwarranted attention.

Yes, he might bear more money that you will be able to comprehend, but you refused to allow yourself to be the next name stricken in his long list of women.

“What if it is?” she gave you a playful grin and a soft push on the shoulder. “Will you finally say yes?”

“I’m not vapid, sister. My answer hasn’t changed in the twenty-four hours since he last sent his letter.”

“Rumour has it that he hasn’t pursued anyone for this long.”

“So that’s what this is then, a challenge to him,” you rose from your position, pulling the covers tight against your body. “Then he’ll tire of this charade before the parchment’s ink runs dry.”

“Will you not at least entertain his company?”

“Was the dance he persuasively requested from me at the ball not enough amusement for him?” you said, exasperated.

“You have to admit, he can be quite the dancer,” she marvelled, eyes mooning in obvious adoration.

“He stepped on my foot twice,” you said wryly.

“To which he apologized for, both in person and in the last three letters he sent.”

“You can read the letter if you so desire,” the softness of the bed welcomed you back into its warmth as you made space for her. “I’m tired and I wish to sleep.”

“Tired from what, playing the pianoforte all day?” she mocked, sighing when you don’t reply with your usual banter. You rolled to your side, facing away from her, unsure if she heard your quip: What else am I to do with my time? It’s not like I can take the horse and ride it to where he is.

The sound of paper rustling echoed against the silence of the room as the bed moved, and you could only picture her holding the letter against what little luminance the candle provided. She didn’t say anything for a while and you concluded that the contents remained the same as Sir Jeon’s previous ones: The tactless You are the lucky maiden bestowed the chance to meet me once more along with your beauty outshines even the moon herself. He’s not quite Shakespeare, but reading what he wrote allowed you an insight into the inner workings of his mind and how he managed to rope in so many women in such a short period of time. Flowery words carefully crafted by The Hedonist himself; only a fool would cave in to such whims and a fool you were not.

She suddenly gasped, and you turned just in time to see her hand as it slowly went and covered her lips in apparent astonishment.

“What is it? Has he asked me to wed him?” you mused, half in jest. Her eyes moved back and forth, scanning each and every letter meticulously. “Well?”

“I feel as though I’m being intrusive by reading something that’s not meant for me,” she turned to the next page and glanced it over quickly before pushing the papers into your hands.

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” you sighed and slid up the headboard. The expression she wore made you somewhat fearful—just what nonsense had Jeon Jungkook written this time around?

You prepared yourself for the worst as you took a deep breath.

Dearest Flower—

The introduction already had you rolling your eyes to the ends of the earth. You continued, nonetheless, but not before noting the difference in handwriting.

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I am aware that I promised to write to you immediately after our encounter, which is still engraved deeply in my mind, never to be forgotten. That evening, you held countless stars in your eyes that twinkled at every quiet giggle — I am still stunned that I was able to pull a burst of enchanting laughter from your lips, as I am told by my confidants that humour is not my forte. Were you being too generous, perhaps, inflating a weak man’s ego like you had done mine? I can only imagine that you permit no one else to see the beauty hidden beneath your smile but me, selfish as that may sound.

“Did he really pen this, Sir Jeon?” you wondered audibly. Your sister begged for you to read the rest aloud, and you relented. “There isn’t a dreamless night that goes by where I do not see your face the moment I lay and close my eyes. You’ve bewitched me, Dearest Flower.”

You paused to glance at your sister, who merely motioned for you to continue reading the letter. She wore an almost-teasing grin as the apples of her cheek rose to meet the corner of her eyes.

“You must know that I am writing this against the unspoken will that binds me in the hands of my cousin. I know you are aware, as most people in the town are presumably, that he has been charmed by your unwavering wit, as have I. When he made it known to me — his longing for you — I knew I had to step back and hand him the reins. For how could I possibly compete with him?”

Your heart galloped against your chest at the sudden realization, and with bleary eyes, you read the next words with a different perspective than you had previously.

“Therefore I want you to know that I write this without the knowledge of your affection; only with the cautious optimism that you do not share the same feelings as he has for you. I am once again reduced to nothing else but greed with soaring hopes that you have cast away the letters he has written you. If by chance I am mistaken and have disillusioned myself with such thoughts, I shall suffer in endless affliction with the knowledge that I should have reached out sooner and without fear.”

With heat slowly rising to your cheeks, you turned the page over to the next and continued.

“If there is still but a tiny amount of chance for me, then I can only assume you’ll read this letter in its entirety. But please know that I will assume no ill will if you choose not to entertain my company. I have been fortunate enough to receive your hand in what will be your final dance that evening, so the least I could wish for is a lasting impression.”

Gone was your wistful feeling of dreaded rejection, replaced by pure, unadulterated bliss. You cleared your throat, and with bated breath, you proceeded.

“However, if your desire is the same as mine, then I would like for us to meet with no one else’s company but yours and mine. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you, and there is not a single waking moment where I do not yearn to get another glimpse of your captivating eyes. Perhaps much longer than fate allowed us to the last time.

“I will be waiting in the garden by the old church just before the day breaks. If your heart truly doesn’t belong to Jungkook, or anybody else by then, come indulge in my endeavour. For I bear no intention other than to shamelessly claim your heart as mine for keeps.

“With love and devotion, Kim Taehyung.”

Your sister squealed in delight, much to your chagrin, possibly waking the entire household. Your horrors were confirmed when you heard the padded footsteps of your mother along the hallway, prompting you to shove the letter underneath your pillow. By the time you placed your hand in her mouth at an attempt to silence her, she’d already knocked at your door before it promptly opened.

Hair dishevelled and unkempt, she asked, clearly displeased, “What in god’s name are you both up to this late at night, disturbing everyone’s sleep?”

“We thought we—uh—saw a rat. She just got a little spooked, is all.”

Your mother narrowed her eyes at you, then your sister, who nodded belatedly in agreement.

“From countless years of witnessing your shenanigans, do you think I’m easily fooled?”

The tension in your mother’s brow eased as she chuckled, shaking her head. You released your sister from your clutches as your mother approached. She bent over to dispel the lights from the room, and you welcomed darkness as you blinked it into familiarity.

“Stop wasting candlesticks and turn in for bed now.”

You willingly followed her instructions and quickly felt underneath the pillow for the presence of two parchments. Renewed with a sense of promise tomorrow will bring, you closed your eyes as the door clicked shut.

At the faded echoes of your mother’s foot carrying her away to your room, your sister whispered, “Will you meet with him?”

For once, your heart and mind are in synchrony, humming the tune of an acquainted melody.

A short pause before a confident, “Yes,” escaped your lips.

You vowed not to be persuaded by the fragrant sentiments a gentleman presents because all too often they stay like that: Mere words, unaccompanied by actions. But from the moment he plucked you out of the sea of women that vied for his attention, you knew you’d willingly sway in any direction he guided you — as long as it’s within his arms.

If a fool was what became of you from this correspondence alone, then you’ll wilfully submit to becoming town’s jester.

#taehyung fic #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts fanfic #bts fic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung scenario #bts regency au #taehyung

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pls-let-me-out · 3 years

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Pride and Prejudice

PART ONE

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single Alpha in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a spouse. So one can only imagine Mrs. Solace’s delight, when such a man arrived in their neighborhood.

She had been married to Mr. Solace for not many years, as they had both been widowed, driven together by the struggles of being single parents. They lived with the children they had both previously had–four from Mrs. Solace’s previous marriage, three from Mr. Solace’s–and the one they’d had together, who was only seven years old.

The first thing Mrs. Solace did as soon as she knew of the newly arrived, was telling her dear husband. Although it couldn’t be said that they were madly and deeply in love, friendship had remained between them. Sometimes, at least. In other times, such as this, Mrs. Solace’s insistence annoyed Mr. Solace beyond measure. However, as many other times, his anger had melted into sarcastic amusement.

“Have you heard, Mr. Solace?” She asked, once again, gripping the armrests of the chair, bouncing her leg up and down. “Have you heard who bought Netherfield?”

“I have not,” he admitted. “Although I have reason to think, you will tell me in a few instants.”

“Oh, Mr. Solace, must you always play with me? Do you not know what it does to my nerves?” She fanned her face, her gaze dancing around the room. “You should be delighted at the prospect of finally having one of our children married!”

Mr. Solace abandoned the book he had been reading on the desk, and walked to the window. He caught sight of his aged reflection in the glass. “I know who has bought Netherfield. He has also already arrived.”

“He has? Oh dear, Mr. Solace, you must introduce him to–”

“I have introduced myself already,” he interrupted her. His wife gasped, and he couldn’t hide a smile. “And I have learnt that he makes £5,000 a year.”

Mrs. Solace covered her mouth with her hands, as laughter exploded from behind the closed door. Far too loud and clear to be coming from any other part of the house. When Mr. Solace opened the door with one smooth move, their children almost fell to the ground.

“If anything is to happen,” he said, his voice strong enough to be heard over their giggles. “I believe it will happen at tomorrow’s ball.”

“Mr. Solace, you must–” Mrs. Solace started, only to be interrupted by her daughter Piper.

“Are we going, father?”

Mr. Solace’s smile widened. Chaos among the children erupted.

The assembly rooms often held balls. It was already crowded inside, the whole neighborhood had been invited, and no one would refuse, when they knew that a rich and single man would be present. Will arrived with his siblings, but they quickly scattered around, leaving him alone.

Mr. Solace squeezed Will’s shoulder as he passed by him, leaning closer to whisper into his ear where he’d be going. Will wasn’t surprised to learn that his father would be with his old-time friends, although Mrs. Solace was looking around to find the newly arrived man.

“Lou Ellen!” Will exclaimed, as soon as he saw his friend, moving in her direction through the crowd.

She smiled, nodding in his direction. She was a Beta the same age as Will, and they had been friends even before his father had remarried. As soon as they were close enough, their fingers tangled.

“Your sister is beautiful tonight,” she said, her emerald eyes fixated on Drew.

Will nodded. “She has taken after her mother, she always is, and she always knows.”

Lou Ellen laughed, hitting him square on the chest. Crinkles formed at the corner of her eyes. “Come, concede me this dance, at least.”

“You should ask her to dance with you,” he said, nodding with his head to Drew, although letting Lou Ellen take him to the dance room.

She stomped on his foot as they danced, and he tried to believe her when she said it was just an accident. They were only on the second dance, when the doors opened, and everyone held their breath.

There, in the doorway, stood four people Will had never seen before. The crowd divided, the music died.

“Who are those people?” He asked.

“Mrs. and Mr. Jackson, Alphas, married and mated, cousins to Mr. and Miss Grace, both Alphas. They are siblings. Mr. Grace is our bachelor.”

“Is that strange man behind them with them?” Will said, just then noticing the fifth figure, remaining in the shadows. “Who is he?”

“Oh, that must be Mr. di Angelo,” Lou Ellen said. “Alpha. I heard he makes £10,000 a year, and that he owns half of Derbyshire. I haven’t met him when I visited with my father.”

Mr. di Angelo turned his head to the side, looking at the quartet in the corner of the room, but his high-collar made it impossible to see whether he bore marks of a mating or not. The light put his high cheekbones and strong jaw on display.

The major moved forth, introducing himself, and generally welcoming the five foreigners. Will didn’t listen to a single word he said, too captivated in the way Mr. di Angelo’s eyebrow rose higher with every detail of the room he noticed.

“He doesn’t look too friendly,” he whispered to Piper.

She startled. Only then did Will realize how deeply in thought she had been, how her gaze had looked a little lost. She blinked, looking up at him. “Mr. Grace?”

“No, Mr. di Angelo,” he said. He raised an eyebrow, and hid a smile. “However, what do you think of Mr. Grace?”

“He’s very handsome,” she said. “He looks kind. A little clumsy.”

“You know all of that with only one look?” Will asked.

The music started again, and people moved to dance. Lou Ellen disappeared in the crowd, but Will stayed close to his sister. He couldn’t help but notice, how Mr. Grace’s eyes lingered on his sister when he passed by.

“He’ll ask you to dance,” he told her.

Piper turned red, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Do you think so?”

Before Will could respond that he did think so, their forearms were grabbed by Mrs. Solace.

“It’s not time to play, sweeties,” she said. “Now we go on scene. Be on your best behavior.”

Will furrowed his eyebrows, but he didn’t have time to ask for an explanation, as she dragged them both to the end of the dance floor, where Mr. Grace was talking to his friends. They major had just introduced them, when Mr. Solace also appeared, looking like he’d been thrown off center by his own move.

For a time that seemed infinite, Mrs. Solace talked with the guests, telling them about their family–only the bright side, of course–and something about many of the other families there–“Lou Ellen, you might know her. She is a Beta, she is such a lovely girl, a pity she isn’t much pretty. Take my Piper, for example. She is much prettier, so beautiful. She has taken after me, but also after her late father, he was so very beautiful, and he did promise me we would have the prettiest children. I had other three with him, although they were all adopted, we were so lucky they were pretty, too. She reminds me of my first daughter, I had her with my first husband.”–and some rather embarrassing things about those other families, that Will tried to forget as soon as they reached his ears. Eventually, she saw a friend of hers on the other side of the room–whom she had just finished gossiping about–and fled the scene, leaving Piper and Will alone and embarrassed.

“I understand that you are step-siblings, am I right?” Mr. Grace asked.

Piper, rather red in the face, didn’t raise her eyes from the floor, muttering a very quiet ‘yes’.

“And are you all related, Mr. Grace?” Will asked, fighting to keep a smile on his face when Mr. di Angelo’s eyes fell on him, and the eyebrow rose again.

Mr. Grace’s smile was small but warm, and it showed a little scar he had on his upper lip. “We are. Thalia is my sister, Nico and Percy my cousins.” When he saw Will’s confused smile, he blushed, and said, “I meant to say, Mr. di Angelo and Mr. Jackson.”

“I believe this is meant to be a lesson for you, Mr. Grace,” Mr. Jackson said, a lopsided grin tugging one corner of his lips upwards. He leaned closer to Mr. Grace, with a glint in his eyes that could only be described as wolfish. “Keep your distance.”

Miss Grace shook her head, as Mrs. Jackson raised her fan to hide a smile. Will couldn’t help but laugh, and Piper smiled. Will’s laugh died short when his eyes met Mr. di Angelo’s colder ones.

“Miss McLean, may I ask for a dance with you?” Mr. Grace asked, his words falling out of his mouth in a single breath, as though he were afraid of never getting the possibility of asking again.

Will’s smile widened when Piper accepted, and they left together. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson both excused themselves to dance shortly after. Miss Grace disappeared, too, and Will found himself alone, in the company of the aloof Mr. di Angelo.

“Do you not dance, Mr. di Angelo?” Will asked.

Mr. di Angelo’s gaze fell on him again, and Will almost regretted his words, however the energy buzzing underneath his skin kept him standing, curious to hear the response, whatever it may be.

“Not if I can help it, no,” Mr. di Angelo said, in a tone that made it impossible to continue the conversation. He excused himself shortly after.

Not much later, Will found himself in the patio with Lou Ellen. They had to be careful when they sneaked around like that. If anyone were to find them alone at night, they would have been believed to be in intimacy with one another. Mrs. Solace already thought so. Anytime she started talking of them as though they were about to get married, Will’s skin crawled.

They talking quietly when new voices reached them from the inside. The first one to talk was clearly Mr. Grace. Sharing only one look, they decided to eavesdrop.

“She is so pretty, but also so humble. She must know that she is beautiful, right?”

His interlocutor huffed. “I’m sure she will know if you tell her.” It was Mr. di Angelo.

“How am I supposed to go up to someone that beautiful, and just tell her, ‘Miss McLean, I believe that you are the most sublime creature I have ever seen in my life’? Tell me and I will!” Mr. Grace exclaimed, sounding agitated.

Lou Ellen elbowed Will in the ribs, and he smiled widely at her, ignoring the pain. Although he had known Mr. Grace would find Piper beautiful, he was still as pleased as if his compliments were a surprise.

Mr. Grace talked again. “Do you agree? That she is beautiful?”

“I am not attracted to women, but I guess that she is.”

“Has no one caught your eyes? No pretty boy for you to dance with?” Mr. Grace hummed, and Will imagined that Mr. di Angelo had somehow responded. Probably raising his judging eyebrow. “Miss McLean’s step-brother is very pretty.”

“He is.”

Lou Ellen elbowed him so hard Will almost yelped out loud. Without the possibility of doing that, he could only elbow her back. She stepped on his foot.

“But not enough to tempt me,” Mr. di Angelo continued, and for a moment everything stood still in Will. “He also smiles a bit too much.”

Mr. Grace sighed, though with a fond undertone, and asked what he should do with Mr. di Angelo. Not long later, they were both gone. Will took one look at Lou Ellen and the surprise written in her dropped jaw, and he couldn’t help a loud guffaw, even bending in two as he laughed.

“What can it even mean that I smile too much?” He wondered out loud. “He may own half of Derbyshire, but I’m now sure that it is the sad half.”

“On the bright side, you won’t have to talk to him, since he doesn’t like you either,” Lou Ellen said, as though she could read into Will’s mind, where he was vowing to himself to never like Mr. di Angelo.

“Maybe Aphrodite is right, and I’m getting too old to temp and seduce alphas. Ah,” Will sighed dramatically, as he had only seen his father and Aphrodite herself do. “The struggle.”

It soon became a recurring joke, between them and his siblings, too, how Will wasn’t aging as well as they had hoped, and Mr. di Angelo’s dislike for him. By the next morning, Will’s own dislike for the other seemed to be something that had always existed, almost like an old friend.

Three days after the ball, Aphrodite, Will, Piper and Mitchell met Mr. di Angelo and Mr. Grace again. They were in the tea-shop, with fuming cups on the table before them, when Mr. di Angelo and Mr. Grace entered.

Mr. Grace greeted them with a smile. Mr. di Angelo’s face remained stoic, but at least his eyebrow remained in place.

“It’s such a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Grace,” Mrs. Solace said, not even glancing in Mr. di Angelo’s direction. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to her, as his eyes were on the world outside the window.

“For me, too, Mrs. Solace,” he responded. Subtly–not enough to not be seen by Will–he nudged Mr. di Angelo’s foot with his own.

Mr. di Angelo smiled, too. It was forced, similar to a grimace. Will didn’t bother hiding his amusement.

“I see you have already found this town’s greatest gift, Mr. Grace,” Will said. “Our tea-shop.”

“Greatest gift after our beautiful Piper, of course,” Mitchell said, batting his eyelashes up at Mr. Grace. “But I’ve seen you found her dancing of your liking, Mr. Grace.”

At that, Mr. di Angelo’s eyebrows shot up, this time both of them. Mr. Grace blushed, as Piper tried to hit Mitchell under the table, and the hit landed on Will. He bit his tongue to avoid gasping.

Aphrodite laughed, looking far too proud of her son’s smooth words. “Darling, don’t embarrass Mr. Grace and your sister.”

“I have to admit to my finding Mr. McLean’s words completely true,” Mr. Grace said.

Will hid his smile behind a sip of tea, only to burn his tongue. Piper looked at him as though he deserved it.

“Forgive me if I say, Mr. Grace, that I am not surprised at all,” Aphrodite continued, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. “My dear Piper is no stranger to Alphas’ and Betas’ attention.” She sighed, as Will blushed for Piper, trying to catch Aphrodite’s eye to make her stop. “She is just very beautiful. One should do their best to keep her interested.”

Mr. Grace’s calm reached an end, he blinked, clearly unsure as to what to answer, as Mr. di Angelo’s eyebrows rose so high, they might as well have fallen off.

“Are you finding Netherfield of your liking, sirs?” Will asked.

Mr. Grace sent Will a grateful smile, clasping his hands behind his back. “You see, Mr. Solace, life in the city can become too much to bear, at times. Being here, in the country, is far calmer. I’m lucky enough to have friends willing to come with me.” He squeezed Mr. di Angelo’s shoulder, whose eyes warmed, a little smile curling his lips upwards.

Still, Mr. di Angelo cleared his throat. “Your sister is outside,” he said. When his eyes landed on Will, they were completely blank, as though he were looking at nothing more than an ant.

Mr. di Angelo turned, his back stiff, and in a few quick strides, he left the shop.

“He seemed in a rush,” Will said, unable to contain himself. Someone’s foot hit his shin.

Fondness sparked in Mr. Grace’s eyes. “Forgive him, sometimes he lacks in manners. If you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I have to leave as well.”

At least he smiled and tipped his head before he did.

It was Kayla and Austin who introduced Will to Mr. Bryce Lawrence. The first time they actually met was when the Regiment passed through the city, but Will didn’t notice him, too engrossed in a talk with Piper, regarding a book he couldn’t find at the library. Later, they found Kayla and Drew talking to a man, and they learnt that it was Bryce Lawrence. He wore a red uniform, and he kept his hair gathered on the back of his head.

Mr. Lawrence was beautiful, in a way that didn’t have Will’s breath caught in his throat, but made his heart stutter when he noticed. He smiled, and Mr. Lawrence smiled back.

“Let me walk you home,” Mr. Lawrence said, his eyes in Will’s.

“We have been here much longer than you,” Will teased him. “I find it difficult to believe that we will get lost on the way.”

“Of course not,” Mr. Lawrence said. “But I would love to talk to you a bit more. Forgive me if I am too greedy.”

For no reason at all, Will blushed a deep red. He turned, Kayla hanging off his arm, as they walked back home. Mr. Lawrence walked beside them, stopping at the side of the road to look at the flowers.

“Do you have other siblings or am I meeting the whole family?” He asked at some point.

“We have other four, Mr. Lawrence,” Will said. “The youngest hasn’t presented yet.”

“And the others, if I may ask?”

Kayla giggled, kicking a stone on the ground. It rolled forth, hitting Drew’s feet and making her stumble on her steps. She turned to glare at Kayla, who didn’t pay her any mind. “We are all Omegas,” she instead told Mr. Lawrence.

“It must be quite a hassle for the matters of succession,” Mr. Lawrence said.

“It is,” Piper confirmed. “But Jonathan, the youngest of us, hasn’t presented yet.”

“We all know he’s an Omega,” Drew said.

Piper elbowed her. Even if their succession problems weren’t a secret for anyone who knew them, Mr. Lawrence didn’t need to know just yet. While Omegas, both males and females, couldn’t be heirs, Alphas and Betas could own anything.

“I’m sure you will find a solution,” Mr. Lawrence said, looking in Will’s eyes, for so long it was Will who looked away, and still felt the other’s gaze on him.

“I imagine you have traveled a lot, by being part of the army, Mr. Lawrence,” Piper said.

Mr. Lawrence told them that he had, but he didn’t explain further. Drew used the occasion to talk about the latest gossip she had heard. Ignoring her voice as one would with a background noise, Will couldn’t help but think of his oldest siblings. If they were still alive, the house would be theirs. Then his mind wandered to his mother, and he quickly shut his thoughts off.

Mrs. Solace was in tears when they arrived at home. Will sat close to her, more than he normally would. Piper sat on her other side, putting her face in her mother’s neck to scent her.

It didn’t happen often that Aphrodite broke down. Will had only seen it happen once before, and only as he passed in front of an open door. It was the anniversary of her oldest daughter’s passing, which had happened a few months after her fiancé had died.

“Mom?” Piper asked. “What is it?”

“Your father’s cousin is coming to visit us,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “The next week.”

Will froze, his heart ceased, and he couldn’t help but think of his older siblings again. Aphrodite fanned her face, but tears continued falling.

Mr. Solace’s cousin. Finally, they would put a face to such title, putting an end to the sinister curiosity that had haunted them for so long. Mr. Solace’s Alpha cousin, that would inherit his whole fortune when he died, throwing them on the streets. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Solace had ever stated it out loud, but they knew that a big hope of their marriage had been to finally give Mr. Solace an Alpha heir. Will hoped the knowledge would never reach Jonathan, in fear it would crush him. Drew’s words, as harsh as they had been, were right: they all knew he was another Omega.

“He may decide to let us live in here, after all,” Piper said.

It threw her mother under the waters again. A new wave of tears ran down her rosy cheeks. “He will throw us out,” she hiccupped, almost wailing. “All my children, my dear children, will live on the streets.”

“Father isn’t dead yet,” Will reminded her. “There’s still time to find a solution.”

“Your father never follows the medic’s orders, he doesn’t have much longer, I feel it in my nerves,” she replied. She covered her face with her hands, and Will and Piper exchanged a look, as her scent turned sour. “My only hope is that Piper will get married. At least then one will survive.”

“If I got married, then I wouldn’t let you all live on the streets,” Piper said. “And I’m sure that my husband would have enough heart to not let you, either.”

Aphrodite hiccupped harder, and at that point Will wasn’t even sure what she was crying for. She muttered something about her nerves, curling under the blankets.

“Your husband should be a saint for that,” she said. “A saint! Seven children, only one married. God, my poor, poor nerves!”

Will patted her back. It would be a very long evening.

“What do you think he’ll be like?” Piper quietly asked Will, when all the other siblings were already asleep, buried in the furs on the beds.

“I have no idea,” Will said. “But he’s an Alpha. They are all the same, in my opinion. They only think about their urges, and watch us Omegas like we are nothing more than an object that needs to keep itself pretty.”

“You won’t talk like this anymore when you’ll fancy someone,” she said. She sighed, furrowing her eyebrows. “Have you ever fancied someone, Will?”

“Never,” he said. “I have felt attraction, and sometimes wished to get to know someone better.” And image of Mr. Lawrence flashed behind his eyes, and he blushed again. “But I only want to marry someone for true love, so that I never regret it, and only once I know them enough.”

“I suppose you haven’t had the best examples as for love,” Piper said.

Will grimaced. “I suppose I haven’t. I’m not precluding myself from it, I just want to keep my distance from one that would be terrible for all the people involved. And if my expectations are too high, then I’ll never marry, and I will still find my happiness.”

Piper smiled. “That’s a bit cynical, maybe. But I understand.”

“Let’s not talk of dark matters. They have tired me already.” Will repositioned himself on the pillow, hugging it closer, and Piper’s smile turned shier, as she already knew what he was getting at. They had known each other for a long time, after all. “Talk to me about your Mr. Grace.”

“He is not my Mr. Grace. I have received a letter, today,” Piper said. “I didn’t say it, because my mother already looked desperate, and I didn’t want to tire her nerves more, so I’ll tell her tomorrow during breakfast. Miss Grace and Mrs. Jackson have invited me for dinner tomorrow. I’m so glad I have received this invite. Lou Ellen told me that Mrs. Jackson is a strategist, one of the most erudite women of the country. And Miss Grace is part of an elite group of women in London, who dedicate themselves to advocate for Omegas’ rights.”

“Oh. She is?”

“Yes, she is. Mr. di Angelo’s older sister was a part of it as well, or so I’ve been told,” she said.

“And where is she now?”

Piper hid a yawn behind her hand. “I don’t know. Lou Ellen didn’t know either, or at least she didn’t tell me.”

Will hesitated for a moment. “Don’t you find him a bit weird?”

“He is aloof, maybe he just doesn’t like balls all that much.”

“Nor smiles.” Will furrowed his eyebrows, frowning in the direction of the ceiling, as though he were asking God themselves. “If he didn’t like balls, he wouldn’t have come at all. He just looks down at us, as every other Alpha does. As I have already said.”

“What about Mr. Grace? He has never done such a thing, since he came here, and he is kind.”

Will rolled his eyes. “You never have an ill word for anyone, do you?” With a sigh, he rolled on his side, snuggling closer to Piper. “Mr. di Angelo is as rude as every other Alpha, and Mr. Grace is an exception, needed to confirm the general rule.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Jackson and Miss Grace–”

“Mr. Jackson brooded for the first half of the night, Mrs. Jackson grimaced whenever someone opened their mouth to talk to her, and Miss Grace looked just about ready to kill everyone.”

Piper sighed. “With all the love I have for you, I really wish you would see things a bit differently.”

As predicted, Mrs. Solace was absolutely delighted when Piper shared the news during breakfast. Mrs. Solace sent her to Netherfield with the horse, unwilling to let her use the cart, stating she would need it in the afternoon. When the clouds finally broke, not long after Piper left, Will finally understood.

“Let’s hope Piper’s death is worth winning Mr. Grace’s affection,” Austin commented, as a thunder broke between the grey, dark clouds.

Mrs. Solace waved her hand in dismissal. “She will not die.”

Drew rolled her eyes, sitting by Kayla as she started a new song on the old piano. Austin let his hand fall on Will’s shoulder. Lacy padded in the room, still in her nightclothes, and Mitchell sent her a confused and slightly disgusted glance.

“Who will die?” Lacy asked, her big eyes wide open.

“Piper,” Will replied, turning to rest his back against the window. He could feel every drop of water that hit the glass. “Unluckily, she couldn’t use the carriage, because someone had a plot.”

Mrs. Solace clicked her tongue, fanning her face despite the cold temperature. “I didn’t raise you to be so disrespectful, boy.”

Mitchell laughed. “Mother always has a plot, especially if an Alpha is nearby.”

Lacy groaned. “Mother, you should think about me next, when Piper is finally married to Mr. Grace.”

“I am already thinking about your brother,” Mrs. Solace replied. “He is next in age, and you will not be married before he is.”

Will grimaced, feeling his nose scrunching up. “Her wait will be long and terrible, then.”

Jonathan laughed, and his sweet scent spiked, despite being almost covered by kids’ default one, which they had until they presented. A smile began spreading on Will’s face.

“Who are you even thinking of having him marry?” Kayla asked, a lazy smile dancing on her face. She got up from the piano, stretching her back, and fell on the sofa in a mass of limbs.

Austin took her place at the piano, starting a new melody. He and Kayla were the best of the family when it came to playing, as Mr. Solace had taught them himself. Will never had the patience to learn.

“Miss Lou Ellen Blackstone, of course,” Aphrodite said, opening a book and keeping it in her lap, but with no intention of ending the conversation anytime soon. “She is a dedicated, young, Beta. She makes enough to maintain a family, when the time comes. I have even talked to her mother, she would be happy to see her with Will, too. They have been friends for so long, we all know what the next step is.”

Will could hear Drew’s heart stopping, even though she didn’t move, and the calm on her face didn’t falter. She showed no emotion, and it was far worse than devastation.

“Lou Ellen and I are only friends, and we will never marry,” Will said. He looked in Aphrodite’s eyes as he talked, although his words weren’t for her. “She is interested in someone.”

Aphrodite rolled her eyes. “That someone won’t hold a candle to you.”

Before Will could defend Drew, the door opened to reveal a servant, with a letter to Mrs. Solace. She took it with glee, her voice getting even higher in pitch when she discovered it came from Netherfield.

“What does it say?” Will asked, after Mrs. Solace had read the whole thing, and her smile had grown tenfold. “Is she alright?”

“She is more than alright,” Mrs. Solace said, folding the letter and leaving it on the table. Mitchell moved faster than he ever had, and snatched it. “She will spend the next few days in Netherfield.”

“Why?” Kayla asked. She gasped, and covered her mouth with her hands. “Tell me my horse hasn’t died.”

“Your horse hasn’t died,” Mitchell said, rolling his eyes, although he sounded very delighted. He waved the letter. “We can’t say the same about Piper.”

Will took the letter from Mitchell’s hands. Mitchell’s glare would have sent grown man running, but Will had gotten used to it. As annoying as he could sometimes be, Mitchell would never hurt him.

With the words he had just read spinning in his head, Will looked up at Mrs. Solace. “You caused your daughter to catch a cold.”

Mrs. Solace waved her hand in dismissal. “I caused her to get a husband.”

“Oh, but if she were to die, it would be so worth it, wouldn’t it?” Austin said, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Do not use that tone with me, boy,” Mrs. Solace said, whacking him on the head. “She will be treated there. It says right there,” and she pointed at the letter, a smug and self-satisfied smile still on her face, “that a doctor was coming to Netherfield.”

“We don’t even know what doctor,” Will said. He shook his head. “Tomorrow I’m going there.”

Will met with Mr. Lawrence on the way. He was still in his red uniform, and he looked exactly like he did the last time Will had seen him, except for the faint smell of rum clinging to his natural scent.

“Mr. Solace,” Mr. Lawrence said, bowing his head.

Will bowed his back, a small smile blossoming on his face.

“May I walk you to wherever you are going, Mr. Solace?” Mr. Lawrence asked.

“I’m visiting Netherfield,” Will said. “My sister has fallen sick as she was visiting Mrs. Jackson and Miss Grace.”

“And they are throwing her out?” Mr. Lawrence asked. “It wouldn’t be the first time Mr. di Angelo does that with someone who is sick.”

“The contrary, actually. They have offered her to stay until she is well enough to travel,” Will said. “Although I’m sure it wasn’t Mr. di Angelo’s suggestion. You don’t sound fond of him, Mr. Lawrence. Do you already know him?”

Mr. Lawrence sighed. “Oh, I do. We grew up together, my father worked for his. He died when I was only seven, so Mr. di Angelo’s father… well, I saw him as my own father, and I was a son to him. Mr. di Angelo was as dear as a brother to me, but I wasn’t to him. His father died, less than two years ago, when Mr. di Angelo was very young, only nineteen, and he inherited his father’s fortune, but a part of it was meant to be for me.” Mr. Lawrence shook his head, rubbing his cheek.

“What happened then?” Will asked, when it was clear that Mr. Lawrence had no intention of continuing.

“Mr. di Angelo decided that I wasn’t worth their family money.” He took another deep breath, as though he were trying not to cry. “He cut me off the testament, ignoring his father’s wishes. If he didn’t, I would be a clergyman now.” He laughed, looking down at his uniform. “Let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.”

Will couldn’t find anything to say. Mr. Lawrence excused himself, and by the time Will had reached Netherfield, his dislike for Mr. di Angelo had morphed into something far more dangerous and deep-rooted into his chest.

Piper knew Will would have come, or so Mrs. Jackson said. Will didn’t see any of the other Alphas for a while, as he was brought into Piper’s room. She told him about the doctor, but mostly about Mr. Grace, and the things Miss Grace and Mrs. Jackson had said about him.

“And he’s so kind,” she kept on repeating.

He must be saying the same of you, Will thought, but he didn’t dare saying it out loud.

Piper fell asleep mid-sentence, and Will tucked the blankets around her, before leaving her to rest some more. He followed Mrs. Jackson’s previously given instructions to find the parlor, were he found everyone else. Even Mr. di Angelo, whom Will did his best to ignore.

Will apologized for the inconvenience, but Mr. Grace said it was a pleasure – “I mean, I’m not pleased that your sister is unwell, but I’m, I’m honored to have her here” – and he insisted Will stayed, too.

For a while, things were pacific. No one talked much, as Mr. Grace and Mrs. Jackson were having a chess match. Mr. di Angelo was writing, looking absolutely detached from the world, and Mr. Jackson… well, Will wasn’t sure what Mr. Jackson was doing, and Miss Grace was sitting beside Will, with a book open in her hands. Will took another book, and read half-heartedly.

“Tell me, Mr. Solace,” Miss Grace said, her eyes never leaving her book. “Do you often read?”

“I do,” Will responded, hiding his surprise at being spoken to by Miss Grace. She hadn’t been very friendly either, although far less than Mr. di Angelo.

“Isn’t it curious, how all Omegas share the same hobbies?” Miss Grace asked, side-glancing her brother.

Mr. Grace and Mrs. Jackson raised their eyes from the chessboard, while Mr. di Angelo didn’t even blink.

“I find it far more curious how we are required to have these hobbies to be considered instructed,” Will replied.

Mr. di Angelo turned to look at him. “So you agree that it is a choice.”

“Is it?” Will tilted his head to the side. “A choice between never finding a spouse, because we are deemed unworthy, and suffering through endless hours of playing piano and studying. How fair.”

“So you see studying as a suffering, Mr. Solace?” Mr. di Angelo asked.

“No, I do not. I see playing piano as a suffering, not only to myself, but to anyone forced to listen to me. Unlike my younger siblings, I have never managed to get the hang of it.”

“That’s clever, Mr. Solace. When you put yourself down, you make others want to know whether you are as terrible as you say, or you are just too humble. In any case, you increase other’s interest in you.”

“You are very suspicious, Mr. di Angelo. When you do that, you make others wonder what has happened to you to make you such, and whether there’s more to you than that. In any case, you increase other’s interest in you.”

Mr. di Angelo blinked, slowly, as though he wasn’t sure he had heard Will’s words right. Will, on his part, recalled every lesson Aphrodite had ever given him on how to be a perfect Omega, and kept a cordial and innocent smile on his face.

“That was very beautiful to watch,” Mr. Jackson said, his chin resting on his fist as he watched the spectacle unfold. “I have never seen Nico speaking so many words to someone he barely knows.”

“Dear,” Mrs. Jackson said, moving a piece on the board. “Let the boys be.”

Mr. Jackson’s smile widened, but he didn’t look away from Will. “You see,” he said. “I have known Nico for so long, he is almost like a son to me.”

“You are barely three years older than me, Jackson,” Mr. di Angelo said, resuming his writing.

“I have three years of experience on you, yes,” Mr. Jackson replied, continuing as though he had never been interrupted. “Truth be told, I have a younger sister by blood. You have many younger siblings yourself, don’t you, Mr. Solace?”

“You have met them all, Percy,” Mr. di Angelo said, but his words sounded gritted through his teeth.

For some reason, Miss Grace scoffed. “I can’t recall half their names.”

“You haven’t met them all, Mr. Jackson,” Will said, ignoring Miss Grace’s intervention. “My youngest brother is too young to be a part of society.”

Mr. Grace smiled. “Jonathan, yes? Your sister has talked about him.”

“I’m not surprised,” Will said. “She has always had a soft spot for him. Everyone in our house does.”

“It must be hard, living under the same roof as so many people,” Miss Grace said. “We’ve been here together for a week, and I already want to buy a house for myself.”

“My, thank you, cousin,” Mr. Jackson said.

“Not really,” Will said. “At the begging it wasn’t easy, but it was more about our new relationship with our step-parent, than that with our step-siblings. After all, I had known them my whole life.”

Mrs. Jackson smiled. “It must have been hard for your parents, too.”

“They had been friends before their marriage, too,” Will said simply. He didn’t add that their marriage had dimmed such friendship to barely kept civility with one another.

Will had thought that a group of Alphas wouldn’t have much to talk about, if not politics and their riches (and also which Omegas they found more appealing) but that particular group seemed to do. During dinner, Mrs. Jackson asked about Mr. di Angelo’s sister.

“She is an Omega,” Mr. Grace quietly told Will. “She is a lovely girl.”

“Why has she not come with you?”

Mr. Grace leaned closer. “Mr. di Angelo had planned for her to come, too, but she has chosen to stay at Pemberley House. And I have to admit, it is a good thing.”

“It is?”

An apologetic smile tugged Mr. Grace’s lips upward. “Forgive me, Mr. Solace, but I have said too much.”

After Mr. Grace leaned back in his seat, Will didn’t have the possibility to talk to him anymore.

On the third day of Will’s stay at Netherfield, Piper was finally well-enough to travel, and Mr. Grace offered them to travel with his carriage. Piper accepted with a shy smile, and Mr. Grace blushed beyond reason.

They walked outside, and found Mr. and Mrs. Jackson with Miss Grace, already waiting to bid them goodbye.

“Mr. Grace and Mr. di Angelo will come with you,” Mrs. Jackson said, squeezing Will’s hands. “It was a pleasure having you here. Both of you. I wish it hadn’t been under such circumstances, but I’ll look forward to having you again.”

Mr. Jackson smiled, putting his arm around Mrs. Jackson’s waist. “You can’t invite people to others’ houses. Although I do agree, and I’d like for you to visit us soon.”

“It would be our pleasure,” Piper said.

Mr. Grace opened the door for them, and he and Piper stayed there, for a few seconds, just looking into one another’s eyes.

Mr. di Angelo, on the other side of the door, offered Will his hand, as soon as he walked close to the steps. Will, only because he had been raised with manners and wasn’t rude, accepted the hand. However, when he took it, he saw how Mr. di Angelo’s body reacted, as though he were fighting the urge to flee. Had it been a sort of challenge? He had to have thought Will wouldn’t have accepted.

His hand was cold, a bit calloused, although Will hadn’t seen him spending time outside, or engaging in practical activity. In reality, during their stay, Mr. di Angelo always seemed to be inside, almost following Will around, as though he were afraid he was a thief.

“Thank you, Mr. di Angelo,” Will said, finally sitting down.

Mr. di Angelo’s expression fell back to his usual bored one. He didn’t even bow his head at Will, nor in any way replied, only took a couple of steps back, looked down at his hand, flexed his fingers, and quickly walked away.

The doors of Netherfield closed behind him, and the carriage started. Will hadn’t even noticed Piper entering.

“He will be here tomorrow morning,” Drew said, all siblings on only one bed, when the night had long since fallen. “Father didn’t want us to know.”

Mitchell stretched his legs, and they ended up over Will’s and Kayla’s lap. “How do you know, then?”

“We heard him talking to the steward,” Kayla replied. She threw an apologetic glance at Piper. “We didn’t want to eavesdrop, of course.”

“Of course,” Drew echoed, but her smile wasn’t apologetic at all, and she rolled her eyes.

Kayla looked at Piper as though she were the best thing to have ever happened to the whole world, Drew tried to be as different from her as she could. When she was younger, Piper couldn’t find much to like in Drew, either. The loss of their oldest sister had hit them in different ways.

“Don’t you find it strange to think?” Austin asked. “We have grown up in this house. Jonathan is still doing so. How can he just come and get it?”

“It’s not strange, it has happened to other before. Mr. Markowitz’s Alpha father was the cousin of the previous owner, who didn’t have any Alpha nor Beta heir,” Will said, a knot slowly tightening his throat. He gulped, but it didn’t loosen at all. “And no one bat an eye.”

Piper’s head fell on his shoulder. Jonathan was asleep in her lap, his mouth hanging open. “We don’t know him yet, he might surprise us.”

“Right, he might want to keep a harem of Omegas in his house,” Will said.

Lacy widened her eyes, her jaw falling slack. Piper took her hand between her own, shaking her head.

“Will is only joking,” she said. “We can’t know anything without knowing him first.”

Will chuckled. “Although he is a man called Octavian Caesar. We can’t expect him to be humble or pleasant, can we?”

Will was proved right the very next morning. Mr. Caesar spent breakfast talking of novels, and how they were deceiving.

“Your considerations are so interesting, Mr. Caesar,” Will said, his innocent Omega smile on display. “I wonder whether your salmons are half as much.”

If looks could kill, Will would have already been dead. However, since they could not, he could keep on enjoying his breakfast, even with Mrs. Solace glaring in his direction. Mr. Solace brought the calix to his lips, hiding a smile. Mitchell openly laughed.

“I have been told that they are, Mr. Solace,” Mr. Caesar said. His voice was monotone, no emotion ever filtered through his words. “In the evening, I often enjoy reading the classics, although I much prefer the Holy Bible.”

“Completely understandable,” Will said, nodding his head.

Mitchell snickered, as Drew turned her red face away from the others’ sight. Her shoulders shook, but she didn’t emit any sound. Kayla was equally red in the face, but she managed to stay more composed.

“Thank you, William,” Mr. Caesar said. “May I call you that?”

Will smiled. “I would prefer to keep formalities, Mr. Caesar.”

Aphrodite’s fork fell in her plate, with a loud clang that resonated in the silent room. For a long moment, as he chewed with red cheeks, Will believed that he could even hear the dust settling.

“As you wish, Mr. Solace,” Mr. Caesar said, although he looked a bit constipated. He turned to Mrs. Solace. “May I ask which one of my cousins I have to thank for this well-cooked meal?”

Her smile turned sharper around the edges. “We are comfortably able to have a cook.”

“Does that mean none of them can cook, Mrs. Solace?” Mr. Caesar continued.

Maybe looks couldn’t kill, but Will wasn’t as sure about Mrs. Solace’s smile.

“No well-instructed Omega would spend their time in such a way,” she said.

Mr. Caesar dropped the matter.

Whenever the siblings went, whatever they wanted to do, Mr. Caesar was watching like a hawk from behind their shoulders, giving unwanted comments to unwelcoming ears. He was a dark shadow of despair.

One of Will’s hobbies, if it could be called that, was gardening. He liked growing flowers and plants to put in his teas and infusions. Even the doctor had asked for the recipes of some of his pharmaceutic creams.

He usually cultivated this hobby twice a day, in the morning and late in the evening, when his younger siblings were studying with Mrs. Solace, helped by Piper. Sometimes he had to help them, too, but most of the time he was left alone. He wasn’t patient enough to deal with them.

With Mr. Caesar in the house, he found himself with no free time to care of his plants in peace. The first day, Mr. Caesar followed Will in the garden, his breath constantly on the back of Will’s neck, as he gave many unwanted (and also untrue) tips.

The second day, Will woke up with the sun, and sneaked outside. He found his usual peace, and when he was done, he was much calmer and satisfied.

When he turned, his eyes met his father’s, who was watching him from his studio, and gestured for his son to reach him.

Will walked through the house without making a noise, and hoped he wouldn’t meet Mrs. Solace. She would have fainted, if she had seen the dirt on his fingers. And Mitchell would have either been disgusted or thrown a tantrum, but it was too early for him to be up.

“Were you calling me?” Will asked, pocking his head in the studio.

Mr. Solace nodded, but didn’t other move as Will sat in front of him. He kept his fingers intertwined on his lap, and simply watched Will. Sometimes he did. He looked at Will, and he thought of his siblings and his mother, and Will let him.

“I saw you in the garden,” Mr. Solace said. “I always wonder who you got it from. Neither me nor your mother ever liked caring for plants. Your mother always forgot to water them, and thought they would still be alive when she returned to them much later.”

In one of his books, Will had read that plants were much like feelings, that needed to be nurtured and treated every day. Maybe his mother had thought that Will would be waiting for her, young and in blossom, the same way she had thought her plants would.

Mr. Solace had fallen for his first wife quickly, and asked her to marry him, even if it wouldn’t bring him any benefit. Not only did they marry, but they also mated, a bond which would never break. However, Mr. Solace had wanted children, and since his wife didn’t want to carry them, as she was too frail of health, they had adopted. They had adopted two at the same time, and they had both been Alphas. A little later, they also decided to adopt another, thinking another child might bring them only pure happiness.

His mother had faded right before their eyes.

“What do you think of Mr. Caesar?” Will asked, willing the lump in his throat away.

“He seems very self-absolved, doesn’t he?” Mr. Solace chuckled, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes deepened. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “When I die, whether you are still in this house or not, destroy it as much as you can. The thought of him keeping it makes my skin crawl.”

The Solaces met with Mr. Grace and his companions after the Mass. It had been a terrible experience for Will, who was forced to sit next to Mr. Caesar, and suffer through his comments, all his ‘A beautiful salmon, but I would have changed this into that, and that into this,’ with escape nor hope to do so.

When he was finally outside, Mrs. Solace brought them over by Mr. Grace, who was talking with Mr. Jackson.

“Mrs. Jackson isn’t with you, Mr. Jackson?” Will later asked Mr. Jackson, as Mr. Grace and Piper did their strange dancing around each other, as they always did when they were together, and Mrs. Solace was embarrassing them both in ways Will didn’t want to listen to.

“Please, don’t try to seduce me just because my wife isn’t here,” Mr. Jackson replied in a teasing tone.

Will only shook his head. In the days spent at Netherfield, he had come to know that Mr. Jackson was often sarcastic, teasing people whenever the possibility presented itself, but with no ill-intent.

“I find your wife far more appealing,” Will said quietly, so that his siblings wouldn’t hear and report back to Mrs. Solace. “Her I would certainly try to seduce. You, on the other hand, Mr. Jackson, not so much.”

Mr. di Angelo’s stoic face contorted into a strange expression, and he quickly turned away. At least he was learning to hide his disgust, or so Will thought to himself, as Mr. di Angelo’s shoulders shook as though he were shivering.

“My wife and I are waiting your next visit,” Mr. Jackson said. He threw a glance at Mr. Grace and Piper, not far from them, still talking in hushed tones. “So is my cousin.”

Will smiled. “Maybe you should invite us,” he suggested.

“You can’t invite people over at someone else’s house, Jackson,” Mr. di Angelo said, his face back to being stoic.

Mr. Jackson laughed. “Excuse him,” he told Will, whose blood was flowing in irritation. “Today he isn’t feeling well.”

“That’s not true,” Mr. di Angelo immediately said. “Today I feel rather well, far more than I usually do, as a matter of fact.”

Mr. Jackson smiled in a way that said he knew far more than anyone else. “And I wonder why that is.”

Will lost Mr. di Angelo’s response, as he noticed Mitchell and Kayla going back to where Mr. Grace and Piper were standing, with Mrs. Solace watching it all unfold before her eyes. Will excused himself from the conversation, to reach them, and possibly put Piper out of the misery she seemed in.

“–it unfair?” Drew was saying, smoothening her gown, a little pout curling her lips. “Piper has seen Netherfield, and this I can understand. But William, too?”

“Of course you are always welcome in Netherfield,” Mr. Grace said.

It seemed the right thing to say, as Drew’s mood lifted visibly. “Then it is decided! We must visit!”

Mrs. Solace giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hand. Piper looked ready to be sent to Heaven.

“Please Drew, don’t invite yourself to other people’s houses,” Will said. He took her hand, and peeled her away from Mr. Grace’s side.

“It’s no problem at all,” Mr. Grace said. “And it would also be a pleasure to have all of you over. Mr. Solace, too.”

“Oh, he is right there, if you have anything to ask him,” Mrs. Solace said. “Wouldn’t it be nice, if you were comfortable enough when you talk to him, that asking questions one would otherwise be nervous about, such as matters of love, didn’t make you nervous at all, Mr. Grace?”

Piper’s cheeks seemed to be on fire. “Mother, please,” she muttered.

Mr. Grace wasn’t much better, his eyes fixed on Mr. Solace’s back. “Is it little Jonathan with him?”

“Yes, our youngest child,” Aphrodite said. “He will be so pretty when he grows up, I already know. He’ll have as many Alphas at his beck and call as my Piper does.”

Piper blushed a deeper red. “That is completely untrue.”

A frown appeared on Mr. Grace’s face, but it smoothed away on its own. “I will formally ask your husband to come to dinner,” he told Mrs. Solace. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Dinner was a tremendous affair.

Will could stand his family’s antics. At balls, they were generally scattered around, and he didn’t have to suffer through seeing them humiliate themselves all at once. When they went to dinner with people of their neighborhood, their personalities were already known. No one was surprised by Mr. Solace’s sarcasm, Mrs. Solace’s long ill-talks about her friends, nor by his siblings’ lacking manners.

What he couldn’t stand, was Mr. Caesar’s additional antics. Since he was their guest, it wouldn’t have been polite to leave him home alone when they were all invited to another’s house, so they had been forced to bring him along.

Unfortunately, he had also recognized Mr. di Angelo as his patron Lady Demeter’s grandson. Will found himself sitting between Mr. Caesar and Jonathan, Mr. di Angelo in front of Mr. Caesar, and Jonathan next to him. Will hated to admit it, but he had ended up in the sad part of the table.

Mr. di Angelo seemed to share his opinion, as he looked into his plate as though afraid it would disappear if he didn’t, and Mr. Caesar kept on talking. Mainly about himself. Jonathan was the first of them to grow tired of him, as he turned to look at Mr. di Angelo next to him, and cleared his throat, also interrupting Mr. Caesar, who sputtered with indignation.

“Where are you from?” Jonathan simply asked him.

Mr. di Angelo’s eyebrow rose. “Derbyshire.”

“You name doesn’t come from there. My mother told me.” Jonathan took a sip of water, wrinkling his nose as he drank.

“Jonathan, be polite,” Will reprimanded him. He (Piper, too, but secretly) was hoping to instruct him well enough in manners.

“Mr. di Angelo,” Jonathan said, turning back to said Mr. di Angelo. “Your name does not come from here. Am I right?” He looked back at Will, as though asking for approval, and Will nodded. Jonathan’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

“You are right, Mr. Solace,” Mr. di Angelo said. A glint Will had never seen before shone in those dark eyes. Jonathan giggled. “My name comes from Italy, as my mother did. She lived in Venice.”

Jonathan hang off every word Mr. di Angelo pronounced, even when he was only replying to Mr. Caesar’s questions about the well-being of his family. Mr. Caesar actually seemed to know more about the topic than Mr. di Angelo did, as he had been away from them for less time. Mr. di Angelo managed to look annoyed at Mr. Caesar’s questions, even though his face was carefully blank. Usually only boredom slipped through the cracks of his mask. It irked Will the wrong way.

After dinner they moved to the parlor, and Will found himself sitting beside Mr. and Miss Grace, Mr. and Mrs. Solace with Mr. di Angelo on the sofa in front of them. Piper was at the piano, playing it with the ease Will lacked, but also not with Austin and Kayla’s skills. Mrs. and Mr. Jackson were offering the other siblings a tour of the house. Will wasn’t sure where Mr. Caesar had gone, but he surely didn’t want to know.

“You see,” Mrs. Solace quietly told Mr. Grace. “Some years ago, when my dear Piper was only fifteen, an Alpha took an interest in her.”

Will met Mr. Solace’s eyes, begging him to stop his wife before it was too late, but Mr. Solace was already wearing a resigned expression.

“He wrote some very good sonnets dedicated to her and her beauty,” she continued, with the tone one would use to talk about the greatest of news. “I still have them somewhere.”

“As one could have imagined,” Will smoothly cut her off. “Those sonnets killed the romance.”

“Shouldn’t sonnets and poetry feed romance?” Mr. di Angelo asked, with the tone of someone who already had their answer, and no intention of listening to anyone else’s.

“If it is already strong,” Will replied. “Otherwise, the spark dies, leaving nothing behind.”

“Wouldn’t that make love an ephemeral spark?”

“Love is a flame, romance a spark. The flame comes from the spark, only if one keeps the second alive, otherwise it dies.”

Mr. di Angelo seemed ready to answer, but Mr. Grace’s low chuckles interrupted the two of them. Will realized that the whole room had fallen into silence, watching the two of them as though enjoying a play at the theatre.

“Forgive me,” Mr. Grace said. “But you two always amuse me.” He looked back at Mrs. Solace, with which he seemed to find himself more comfortable with than Mr. Solace. “I’m afraid your son and my friend don’t get along much.”

“That’s not surprising,” Mrs. Solace said, pettiness written all over her face, as she hadn’t yet forgiven Mr. di Angelo’s words about Will at the assembly rooms. “They are very different, after all.”

“Why do you dislike Mr. di Angelo so much?” Piper asked him when they were laying side by side in bed.

“He’s rude and prideful.”

“That doesn’t make him a bad man.”

“And what about the things he has done to Mr. Lawrence?” Will asked. “Doesn’t that raise any concern to you?”

“You have only heard Mr. Lawrence’s side of the story. And even before that, you didn’t like Mr. di Angelo.”

“He’s far kinder than Mr. di Angelo, that’s for sure. And I don’t think hearing the other side of the story would make me any less disgusted. You are naïve, sometimes.”

“And you judgmental. Mr. Grace is kind, and he is a dear friend to Mr. di Angelo, does that mean nothing in your eyes?”

“They are cousins, of course they need to be friends. That’s the explanation that I gave myself, or at least the preferable one, the other being that Mr. Grace is actually just another Mr. di Angelo disguised as a sheep.”

Will could see Piper rolling her eyes even if the darkness.

“A wolf disguised as a sheep, if anything. I don’t think Mr. di Angelo would ever willingly dress himself as a sheep. And we are cousins to Mr. Caesar, but I don’t see you trying to be his friend.” There was a long pause, and Will thought that Piper had fallen asleep, when her voice reached him again. “One day you’ll see that there’s always more than meets the eye, and maybe you’ll regret disliking Mr. di Angelo so much. Mr. Grace told me he is a good friend to him.”

“Poor Mr. Grace,” was Will’s last comment, before Piper bid him goodnight with a loud sigh. “He must have had terrible experiences in friendships.”

Lou Ellen glared at Mr. Lawrence, but he didn’t move from his spot next to Drew. She had been watching their moves like a hawk, ever since she had sat with Will at the table near the window.

“You have no right to be jealous,” Will told her, stirring the tea in his cup. “She doesn’t know you fancy her.”

“I wouldn’t even if she did,” Lou Ellen said.

Mitchell and Drew had convinced Mr. Grace to hold a ball at Netherfield, not that it had been hard. He was convinced the second Drew said ‘Piper always has so much fun at balls’. At the moment, Drew was with Piper, Austin and Kayla, buying some ribbons to go with their dresses. Drew had invited Mr. Lawrence to go with them, as soon as she had recognized him on the street.

“You should ask her to dance with you tonight,” Will said. “Before Mr. Lawrence does.”

“You should worry about Mr. Caesar, who never leaves you alone.”

Will rolled his eyes. “He has no second intention. He is just a strange man.”

“Aren’t you the same one who says Alphas that give more than a second glance to Omegas, do so because they want to bed them?”

Before Will could respond, Mr. Grace entered the shop, the dark shadow that was Mr. di Angelo right behind him. Will had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Do not turn,” he quietly told Lou Ellen. “But Mr. di Angelo and Mr. Grace are here.”

Lou Ellen promptly turned, giving the both of them a bright smile. They stood to greet Mr. Grace and Mr. di Angelo, who bowed their heads right back. When Mr. Grace asked to sit with them, Mr. di Angelo sent him a glare that screamed betrayal.

“Of course,” Lou Ellen said. “It would be our pleasure, Mr. Grace.”

“I hope we will see each other at the ball, tomorrow,” Mr. Grace said.

Will smiled. “Of course. I wanted to sincerely apologize for my siblings’ manners, or lack of thereof. Sometimes, they don’t realize how they are acting.”

Mr. Grace reassured Will, but Mr. di Angelo’s attention had been caught by something outside the window, and when Will followed his gaze, he realized he was watching Piper and Mr. Lawrence. Mr. Lawrence’s confession came back to Will’s mind in full force, and he had to fight against the anger clawing in his chest.

“Mr. Lawrence,” Will said. “I heard you already know him, Mr. di Angelo.”

Mr. di Angelo startled, hitting the table with his knee. Mr. Grace’s attention quickly shifted to him, as did Lou Ellen’s.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Mr. di Angelo said, before standing and leaving quickly.

“What did you tell him?” Lou Ellen asked, crossing her arms on the chest.

“Nothing,” Will said. “I only noticed that he was watching my siblings on the other side of the road, and I told him who the man with them was.”

Mr. Grace looked over at Will’s siblings, squinting his eyes. “Oh, I don’t think Nico knows him. He probably remembered about something he needs to do.”

So Will had his confirmation, that Mr. Grace simply didn’t know much of Mr. di Angelo, especially what type of man he was, to steal from someone for simple pettiness.

“He seems so mysterious,” Lou Ellen said. “Mr. di Angelo, I mean. No one seems to know a thing about him.”

Mr. Grace scratched his neck, a shy smile on his face. “He doesn’t like it when people pay him too much attention.”

Will had to restrict himself from scoffing. As if. Mr. di Angelo had proved himself to a be a prideful and arrogant man, time and time again. He was the type of man who would have walked into a duel without a gun, believing himself that much better than his opponent. He wasn’t the first Alpha of the type that Will had met, although he was the first to make flames spark in his chest.

The ball was absolutely beautiful. Unluckily, it didn’t seem like Will would be enjoying the night. As soon as he had tried to reach Lou Ellen and Cecil, Mr. Caesar had attached himself to Will’s side, as though afraid to leave him.

Once more, Mr. Caesar thought himself in need of congratulating Mr. di Angelo on both his family and his achievement. Mr. di Angelo didn’t seem pleased in the slightest, but Will took the possibility, and escaped.

“You won’t believe what is happening,” Cecil said, as soon as Will reached him.

Before Will could give a response, Cecil turned him by force, so that he would face the dance floor, where Lou Ellen and Drew were twirling together.

“How has that happened?” Will asked, in complete delight.

Cecil laughed. “I told Lou Ellen I was about to ask Drew to dance, and that I planned to see whether we had what we needed to mate.”

“Oh, good Lord, that’s disgusting,” Will said.

“How is that the point? Lou Ellen got offended and told me to know my place.”

Will laughed. “It’s disgusting because the thought of any of my sibling with you, makes me want to puke, Mr. Markowitz.”

It was later, when Will and Cecil were resting on the sidelines with Kayla and Austin, that Mr. Caesar found him again, and revealed, as his pale, blue eyes never left Will’s, that he planned on enjoying the night in Will’s company.

“After all,” Mr. Caesar continued, ignoring how Austin and Kayla were holding onto each other, shaking with silent laughter. “I have been told many times that I have a very light footage, perfect for dancing.” He offered Will his hand, too fast, barely missing sticking it in his face. “If you’ll concede me the honor of proving myself.”

And as they walked to the dance ground, Will looked back at his siblings and his friend, but they were all laughing at him. He even caught Mr. di Angelo’s eyes, and he seemed amused plenty.

Another dance began, and Will positioned himself next to Piper. She was dancing with Mr. Grace, and she seemed to share his pain when she saw who had come with him. As they moved, Will found himself following two conversations, separated from one only to continue the other.

“You won’t believe what I heard,” Piper told him quietly. “Mr. Lawrence–”

“You see, Mr. Solace, my patron, Lady Demeter, she wishes for me to–” Mr. Caesar started.

“–Mr. Grace had invited him, but he had to return to London abruptly–”

“–take a spouse, she is a traditionalist, and I couldn’t help but come to–”

“–and I was told that he actually wanted to come, but then–”

“–Longbourn with the desire of finding my spouse amongst one of my cousins–”

“–Mr. di Angelo went in search of him, and after their talk he disappeared.”

Will missed a step, and stumbled. He turned to Piper, but she had already moved, while Mr. Caesar was looking around, confused as to where his partner had gone. However, the song had come to an end, and Will sneaked off the dance room.

Austin was sitting at the piano with Mitchell, whose head rested on his shoulder. As Austin played the piano flawlessly, Lacy screeched obnoxiously, in what she thought was a perfect example of good singing. Mitchell’s shoulders shook, and his face was red. Although he was laughing like a madman, poor Lacy didn’t have a clue.

Will walked to the side of the room, where Mr. Solace was quietly enjoying the show.

“Father,” Will pleaded him. “Can you do something before they humiliate themselves and us further?”

Mr. Solace sighed. “They are only having fun.”

“Father,” Will said again.

Mr. Solace shook his head. “You will be the death of me,” he said, but he moved, and less than a minute later, another Omega girl had sat at the piano.

Will avoided the stairs, where Mrs. Solace was talking animatedly and loudly to Mrs. Blackstone and Mr. Wakefield about what a beneficial wedding Piper would have. To avoid being seen by Mr. Caesar, Will had to step aside, and walked into Mr. di Angelo.

Mr. di Angelo looked at him, the imperious eyebrow raised. If Will had some more of his family pettiness in himself, he would have told Mr. di Angelo to have it checked by a doctor.

“Mr. Solace,” Mr. di Angelo said, with a quick bow of his head.

“Mr. di Angelo.” Will waited for Mr. di Angelo to say something else, or to move out of the way, but when he didn’t, he took it upon himself to talk. “It is a beautiful ball.”

“Yes,” Mr. di Angelo said, as though it had been a question. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” Will said, and only later realized it wasn’t the truth. “Are you?”

“I rarely enjoy myself at balls.”

“Then do you come to make sure everyone else is as miserable as you, Mr. di Angelo?”

“I never said I was miserable. Not enjoying myself doesn’t equal them. If I were miserable, I would make sure to mask it, as to not offend anyone.” Mr. di Angelo tilted his head, almost exposing his neck. While Omega showed theirs, Alphas and Betas usually kept it covered. “As to why I come, I am respectful enough to not ignore people’s invitation. In this particular case, wouldn’t it be even worse, being in a room alone when I can hear the music and others?”

Will’s next words were proof that he had indeed some of his family’s pettiness. He smiled, so sweet it was saccharine. “Music you wouldn’t dance to, because the company isn’t pretty enough for you?”

Mr. di Angelo had the audacity of blushing. Will found a particular kind of pleasure in it, that slowed his heart and relaxed his muscles.

“The company is pretty plenty,” Mr. di Angelo said, as though the words were crawling their way out of his throat. He looked at the other side of the room, before squaring his shoulders, and turning to a confused Will, to say: “Would you dance with me?”

And Will, as he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, gratefully accepted.

Mr. di Angelo’s heart was beating wildly, and Will could hear it even above the music. Maybe he really didn’t like having people’s attention on himself, and everyone’s eyes were on them. Mr. di Angelo had only ever danced with his group, after all.

“Life in the countryside must be boring to you,” Will said. The imperious eyebrow rose, and he had to restrain himself from stomping his foot, preferably on Mr. di Angelo’s. “If you are used to the city.”

“Different, but not boring,” Mr. di Angelo said. He added, as if it were an afterthought, “I thought it would be.”

“Maybe because you moved with a group,” Will said. “Everything is more enjoyable that way.”

“If that is what you think, being in such a big family must be a pleasure to you.”

“A group to move with can be chosen.” Will sent a glance at Mitchell, who was chatting up a man in the corner of the room. “However, family can’t.”

Mr. di Angelo followed his gaze. For a moment, something like understanding filled his eyes.

Their dance came to an end. Will had to admit that Mr. di Angelo wasn’t a terrible dancer, but he also had to remind himself that it didn’t make him any less of a terrible person. Mr. Lawrence’s story was proof of that.

Mrs. Solace had drunk too much at the ball, and to escape her and her nerves, Piper, Will and Drew escaped to the fields. They went out before breakfast, Will didn’t even have time to tame his curls or to wash his hands after caring for his plants. Drew and Piper appeared at the door, and Drew put a hand on his mouth before he could protest. Piper had a basket in her hands.

“We are escaping,” Drew whispered. “You can come with us, or forget we have ever existed.”

Right that moment, Mrs. Solace’s cry of despair reached their ears. Piper flinched. Will took a decision, and they ran before anyone else could notice they weren’t in bed, buried under their furs.

So they sat on a blanket by the river, the rising sun turning the sky pink. They chatted, but the silence would have been filled by the birds’ chirping and the river flowing, if they hadn’t.

“How was it, dancing with Lou Ellen?” Piper asked Drew.

Something shut in Drew’s face, and she turned to Will, as though unsure on what she should respond.

“You know she has fancied you for years, right?” Will asked.

Drew’s eyes filled with wonder, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She tilted her head to the side, and for once she looked her age, and so beautiful and confident in her skin. “She does?”

Will’s smile turned softer. “Of course she does. Why do you think she has kept me around for so long? She just wants to know about you.”

“I liked it,” Drew revealed. She avoided both Piper’s and Will’s eyes, instead focusing on the slice of cheese in her hands. “I liked dancing with Lou Ellen.”

“She is a good Beta,” Piper said.

Drew rolled her eyes, shrugging with only one shoulder. “Whatever.” She couldn’t hide the smile on her face.

“What about Mr. Grace?” Will asked Piper. “Do you think he has the intention of marrying you?” He knew the answer already.

Piper blushed to the tip of her ears. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Have you never talked about the future?” Drew asked. She narrowed her eyes. “What do you spend so much time together for, if you don’t even talk?”

“We talk plenty,” Piper defended herself. “What I mean, is that I don’t know whether he sees that for our future.”

“What will you answer when he asks?” Will asked.

Drew giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, while Piper rolled her eyes, and corrected him.

“If he asks.” She looked down at her hands, and smiled. “I would say yes.”

“I want you to know,” Mr. Solace told Will, as soon as he, Piper and Drew walked in the house. “That I will not force you.”

“But it’s the only way,” Mrs. Solace added, her enchanting smile a force of destruction. “So you will know what to say, for your family.”

Mr. Solace exhaled sharply, but Will interrupted them before it could evolve into a real fight.

“What is going on?” He asked.

Neither of them had time to respond. Mr. Caesar arrived from the stairs, peeling Jonathan’s grabby hands off himself. Jonathan, who smelled distressed, and had tears running down his face.

Will kneeled, and Jonathan ran past Mr. Caesar, throwing himself at Will, muttering about not going, not leaving. Mrs. Solace bent down, trying to take him. He had his face hidden in Will’s neck, scenting him heavily before giving up, and letting go.

“Would you accompany me for a walk?” Mr. Caesar asked, and it took Will a moment to realize that he was the one being talked to.

Will searched for his father’s eyes, but he looked away. Mrs. Solace looked far more delighted than she had sounded in the morning. She hadn’t looked so happy in years. She accepted Mr. Caesar’s offer for him, pushing Will out of the door, and he didn’t even realize until the sun was shining in his eyes.

Mr. Caesar walked closer, but Will took off walking before he could offer his arm. They hadn’t even reached the gates when Mr. Caesar started talking.

“As I tried telling you yesterday night, I have been wanting to take a spouse,” he said. Will stumbled, his throat dry. Mr. Caesar didn’t even notice. “When I came here, it was with the idea of finding one amongst my cousins. I would have preferred to take a female one, as I have always found the adoption practice quite tedious.”

“Mr. Caesar–”

“There are many reasons I find the union between us will be beneficial. The first, I am a very generous man, you would never need anything, so long as you are with me. The second–”

“Mr. Caesar, I–”

“–I am a clergyman, I live by the rules of the Lord, which bring me to–”

“Mr. Caesar,” Will interrupted him again, stopping in his tracks, and the other had no choice but to notice, and stop, too. “I haven’t said I would marry you.”

Mr. Caesar blinked. “Are you one of those who wish to hear the question?”

“There’s no need for that,” Will said. His heart was beating so loudly, he was sure Mr. Caesar could hear, too. “I already know my answer. And it is a no. I won’t marry you.”

Mr. Caesar blinked again, furrowing his eyebrows. “You won’t marry me.”

“No, I won’t. I have no intention to do so.” Will took a step back, without breaking eye-contact. “Apologies for wasting your time and attention. I would ask you not to follow me.”

Will turned, and didn’t wait a second more before he started running. He passed through the gates. Behind him, the door of the house opened, and Mrs. Solace ran after him, shouting about what an ungrateful son he was.

Mr. Caesar and his belonging were gone by the time Will returned home. Kayla said that he had left as soon as Will had ran away. Mitchell laughed when they met in the bedroom, but he was ignored in favor of Austin and Piper on the bed. The scent of distress was hanging in every corner of the room.

“I’m sorry for the house,” Will blurted out, falling on the bed. “But I couldn’t marry him, I don’t–”

“Will,” Austin interrupted him, shaking his head. Piper’s head stayed in the crook of his neck. “It’s not that.”

Austin offered Will a crumpled letter. Will’s fingers shook when he opened it, and smoothed it out. It was from Mrs. Jackson.

Will had to reread several times before he finally understood. She said they had returned to London, and didn’t know when–nor whether–they would be back. Mr. Grace had some urgent business in the city.

In the meantime, I would hope to keep a correspondence with you. I have found a friend in you, and it would break my heart to lose that.

Mrs. Jackson.

PS: my husband says he will miss you, too.

#solangelo #solangelo fic #solangelo au #nico di angelo #will solace #riordanverse

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