#the great gatsby x reader

[miryum]

Always in All Ways (Mattheo Riddle x Reader) Great Gatsby AU

Warnings: angst!!!! (but a happy ending) Reader wears a dress (once) cause it’s the 20s. Talk of kids and a future together. For the sake of incest, we’re gonna ignore the fact that Enzo and Mattheo are half brothers… And if you squint, there could be a sign of domestic abuse (but it is so little there that I'm not sure if you can call it that). Reader is married (not to Mattheo at first) and it's not technically cheating.... it's hard to explain. As always, swearing. Not entirely proof-read, but will get it done soon

Lorenzo Berkshire had moved into a gated, two story house, surrounded by a thick forest. The neighbourhood he had moved into was affectionately called Diadem East. 

Diadem East was surrounded by a large bay, which, in turn, separated it from Diadem West. Diadem East and Diadem West were similar in the fact that they were obscenely rich. Even though both had enough wealth to buy the island of New York, Diadem West looked down on Diadem East because of generational wealth. Diadem West had come from old money - long lines of families that treated life like a simple game of chess and they could move others like pawns. Diadem East were those who only recently came into money and spent it freely and without care.

Lorenzo had moved to Diadem East in hopes of getting away from his overbearing parents, and it helped that his cousin lived right across the bay in Diadem West. 

Y/n Pucey was a recent newlywed to Adrian Pucey. Lorenzo hadn’t been able to make it to the wedding, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see his baby cousin married to a man fifteen years older than her. Y/n had always been Lorenzo’s favourite cousin; she was a bubbling, carefree girl, probably due to the fact that from birth, she had no restrictions with her father’s money. Now that she was married to the pretentious Pucey family, Lorenzo doubted she was familiar with the word ‘no’. 

What Lorenzo did doubt, however, was Y/n’s happiness. He remembered a time, back when she was nineteen, that he had visited her over summer break. She told him tales of a man that had captured her heart. Lorenzo remembered how Y/n’s eyes gleamed and her cheeks burned with her extensive smiling. He remembered laughing with Y/n in the sunroom, saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

“I’m in love, Enzo,” she had replied simply. 

Needless to say, Lorenzo couldn’t wait to see his cousin again. He also couldn’t wait to return to a normal sleep schedule, given that his new neighbour wouldn’t stop having parties every single night that blasted light and music into Lorenzo’s bedroom window. It wasn’t until Thursday at four pm when a butler knocked on Lorenzo’s back door, holding a silver plate with a letter positioned on it. “Can I help you?” Enzo asked slowly, leaning on the door frame.

“Mister Riddle requests your presence on Friday night for a party he is throwing,” the butler said. 

“Mister… Riddle?” Enzo reiterated. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Your neighbour, Mister Mattheo Riddle,” the butler explained. “He wanted to welcome you into the neighbourhood.”

“Right,” Enzo trailed off. “I’ll be there.”

“Mister Riddle looks forward to making your acquaintance.”

****

The next day, Enzo drove up to Diadem West, the hilltop Pucey Manor looming over everything. As soon as Enzo finished driving up the winding gravel road, the front door swung open dramatically. Y/n stood there, arms flung wide. “Darling Enzo!” she squealed. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” 

“My sweet cousin!” Enzo called back, bounding up the steps. He whirled Y/n up in his arms, swinging her back and forth, much to her delight. Her sundress flared around them in a swirling dance. “How have you been?”

“Lively,” Y/n answered simply. “How are those back home? You must tell me everything.”

Enzo flung his head back and said dramatically, “they miss you dearly, loving cousin. When I passed through town, everyone wept when they heard I was to see you. Jealous men came running down from their houses and begged me to take them with you. Mothers sobbed and cried out how they wished their daughters would turn out like you. Children dashed through the streets, racing after my carriage with joy.”

“They did?” Y/n beamed, gripping onto Enzo’s arms. “I do miss them, you know. Perhaps I should visit next summer.”

“They would all love to see you,” Enzo stated plainly. “Yet I have a question for you. Do you know of-”

“Lorenzo Berkshire,” a voice boomed from the front door. “What’s a man like you doing in these parts?”

Enzo stared up at Adrian Pucey, the esteemed husband of Y/n. “Adrian,” Enzo peeled himself away from Y/n and sauntered up the steps. “It’s nice to see you again.” He held out his hand for the man to shake.

“Get in here, good pal.” Adrian clapped Enzo’s hand and pulled him into a rough hug. Enzo let out a huff of air as he collided with Adrian’s chest. “Wonderful to see you as well. Tell me, how’s the stock business going?” Adrian placed a nonnegotiable hand on Enzo’s shoulder and led him inside the Pucey mansion. Y/n let out a noise of surprise and hurried in after them, determined not to be left behind. 

“Good, good.” Enzo made senseless conversation with Adrian as he tried to take in the curated house he was in. All the doors and windows were open, letting in a soft breeze and the stinging smell of the bay water. The curtains fluttered around Y/n as she walked, her eyes cautiously on her cousin and husband. No matter how she acted, Lorenzo knew of the whip sharp mind that Y/n had.

“And you know where he’s living, Adrian?” Y/n cut in, moving to recline gracefully on the settee. “In Diadem East!” 

Adrian’s brows rose and he turned to Enzo as the men sat on the couch. “Why not buy a house here? Hell, you’re welcome to stay in our guest room. Anything for a relative.”

“No, please.” Enzo held a hand up. “I’m perfectly fine on my own and I don’t want to intrude. It’s a nice, cosy house looking over the bay. In fact, if I look towards the right, I can see the end of your pier.”

“Really?” Y/n lit up, head turning towards Enzo. “How sweet. It’s almost as if we’re neighbours.”

“Speaking of neighbours,” Enzo took this opportunity to ask, “my own seems to be very eccentric.”

Adrian chuckled and poured himself some whiskey. “How so? Do you want any?” He gestured to the whiskey.

“No, but thank you.” Enzo adjusted in his seat and crossed his legs. “My neighbour throws these obscene parties almost every single night. I’m convinced that if it weren’t for the trees, I wouldn’t be able to get any sleep.” Y/n stretched out her legs and leaned her head back until it was resting on the arm of the chair. “But the oddest thing happened - he invited me to one tonight.”

“Really?” Adrian sipped his drink. “And who is this poseur?”

“A Mister Riddle.”

Y/n’s lips parted and, almost in slow motion, her eyes flickered to Lorenzo before going back to staring out the window to the gleaming blue water outside. “Riddle?” she murmured. Adrian glanced at her and Enzo’s brows furrowed. “I mean, there must be a thousand Riddles… why, in fact, just last month, I was introduced to a Ryder. Which is like Riddle, I guess.”

“Y/n, are you alright?” Enzo asked softly.

“Yes, are you well?” Adrian added on.

“I’m sure I’m fine,” Y/n said. “Perhaps just lightheaded. I’m going to go lay down now.” Her hand flit to her collarbone where a small chain was tucked under her dress.

“Okay.” Enzo stared after her, admittedly worried about his cousin, before standing and adjusting his suit. “Well, I'm afraid I have to go. Mustn’t be late to this fellow’s party.”

“Of course.” Adrian stood as well, in common courtesy, knowing that the two men had nothing in common or nothing to do with each other without Y/n as the mediator. “Riddle…” the man muttered. “I could’ve sworn I heard that name somewhere.”

“It’s a common name, you know.” Enzo chuckled as he swiped out the door. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Adrian closed the door behind Enzo almost as an afterthought.

****

“What do you want, my darling? Anything you wish and I will make it happen.”

“I’m happy with just you, Matty.”

“That’s not a good enough answer, and you know it. Now, I’m going to ask again: what do you want?”

“… I… I want a big house. Overlooking the water so our kids can play in the water.”

“Our kids, hm?”

“Oh, yes, Matty. Our kids.”

“Alright. And what else?”

“Hmm… and a big ballroom that we can dance in. And all the paintings will be our favourites. And big parties for every occasion. Perhaps a pool. Or a sunroom. And the largest bedroom ever.”

“Is that all?”

“As long as I have you, Matty, that’s all I ask.”

****

While everyone else arrived to Riddle’s party in new and shining cars, Enzo simply walked. People of all backgrounds were streaming in the doors and Enzo was pushed into the unrelenting mob of partygoers. Enzo shoved his way to the first butler he saw and presented his invitation. “Uh, yes. I have this invitation here…” 

The butler glanced down at the letter and said stoically, “you needn’t one.”

“Pardon?” Enzo had never been to a party where he didn’t need to be invited. 

“The guests come and go as they please - per Mister Riddle’s orders.”

“Alright,” Enzo pursed his lips together and nodded awkwardly. “Thank you. Do you know where I could find Mister Riddle?”

“No, sir,” the butler replied. “He likes to socialise with his attendees and be in the throng of things. He likes to make sure that everyone is comfortable and having a good time.”

Enzo hummed and nodded in thanks before allowing himself to be swept up in the current. He was carried further into the opulent mansion and Lorenzo needed to remind himself to close his mouth at the palatial nature of it all. 

Practically every surface was plated with gold or made of marble. The ballroom opened up to a balcony that overlooked a large pool which was currently populated with dozens of people. On the other side of the ballroom, a large sunroom was occupied by a throng of people, cigarette smoke wisping up through the open roof. The stars were obscured by not only the smoke, but by the fact that every light in the mansion was turned on. Marble stairs led down to another open room which held a stage and a band whose music filtered up throughout the rooms. Congressmen, celebrities, and random people off the street were packed into the house, booze and drugs were passed around and waiters tried to filter through the crowd to hand out refreshments and food.

As he passed, Enzo heard tidbits of conversations about their host. “Did you know he was a bootlegger?”

“No, no, I heard he fought in the last war.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s all terribly romantic.”

“Well, I thought that he was chasing a girl-”

Enzo managed to fight his way to the balcony and snag a glass of champagne on his way. He sighed in relief at finding a bubble of air to himself. A man dressed in a finely pressed suit jostled into him and quickly apologised. “Terribly sorry, old friend,” the man said. “I didn’t see you there. It’s a rowdy party tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Enzo replied loudly. “Is it usually like this?”

“Unfortunately,” the man grinned. “Although few frequent. I always find that many people come once and then never return.”

“You seem like you know an awful lot about Mister Riddle’s parties. Do you come here often?”

“Yes,” the man tsked. “As hard as I try, I can’t pull myself away from this old mansion. Something always draws me back. Did you know that Mattheo Riddle built this house from scratch?”

“I did not.”

“Yes,” the man laughed, his lips curing up. “Of course, he didn’t build the actual thing, but he bought the land and drew up the blueprints years ago. Six, to be exact.”

“Why is that?”

“No one knows for sure. There’s a lot of rumours circulating around Riddle.”

Enzo shouted over the music, “I was actually invited by Mister Riddle himself. But his butler seemed surprised by that.”

“Yes, it is very rare that one is personally invited to these gatherings.”

“Do you know where I could find him? Mister Riddle, I mean.” Enzo took a sip of his champagne.

The man laughed again and raised his own champagne glass. A smirk coiled up on his face and he said simply, “why, you’re talking to him, old friend. I am Mattheo Riddle.”

The party noise faded in Enzo’s ears. “Oh. I’m so sorry.” His hand shot out for Riddle to shake. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Pardon me, Mister Riddle.”

Mattheo Riddle shook Enzo’s hand, still grinning. His eyes held a mix of anticipation and happiness. Those who were close to Mattheo Riddle - which, really, was no one - had never seen such joy on Mattheo’s face. “Oh, call me Riddle. Or better yet, Mattheo. I feel as if I already know you, old friend. And, seeing as we’re neighbours, I hope to get to know you even better. How would you like to join me in my study?”

Enzo raised a brow and cliched his champagne fluke. “May I ask what for?”

“Oh, well, to tell you my life story, after all.” Mattheo clapped a hand on Enzo’s shoulder, much like Adrian had hours earlier. But unlike Adrian, Enzo found himself agreeing to go along with this man he only met today. 

Mattheo led Enzo down the hallway and nodded to a butler who was standing guard over an oak door. The butler opened the door up to Mattheo’s study, which was more of a library. The library was a much different aesthetic than the rest of the house. While the mansion next to Enzo’s little cottage was energetic and extravagant, Mattheo’s library was dark and cosy. Instead of gold and marble, it was made of oak and the flickering flames of candles.

“An impressive collection,” Enzo commented, glancing around the room at the rows of books.

“Why, thank you,” Mattheo replied. “It overlooks the bay, you see?” He pointed towards the window that, true to his word, was directly facing the large water. 

Enzo peered out the window and huffed a laugh when he saw Y/n’s house staring back at him. “That’s my cousin's house,” Enzo glanced back at Mattheo to see his gaze locked on the Pucey mansion. 

“I know,” Mattheo said quietly. 

“You know?” Lorenzo repeated questioningly. 

“Yeah,” Mattheo nodded. “You’ve heard rumours of me.” It wasn’t a question. Before Enzo could answer, Matthei continued, “but I can assure you, only one of those is true, old friend. I am… a helpless romantic.” Mattheo chuckled lowly, a sad layer in his eyes. Instead of sitting behind his large desk, Mattheo opted to lounge on a couch and Enzo sat in a loveseat next to him. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“About… eight years ago I met this girl. God, she was absolutely perfect.” Mattheo gazed out at Diadem West. “I have been bereft of her for so many years… And I finally hope to make it up to her. I’ve become the man that will be good enough for her archaic parents.”

“Where did you meet her?” Enzo asked quietly.

“I was visiting her hometown one day, eight years ago. And I just…” Mattheo took a moment to wet his chapped lips. “She had all other eyes on her. She was simply walking down the street, yet she drew everyone to her. And when I was blessed enough to hold her in my arms… to kiss her lips is better than heaven.”

“May I guess her name?” Enzo’s smile grew larger. “Is this lovely, captivating woman my cousin, Y/n Pucey?”

“How did you know?” Mattheo’s voice was airy and wistful.

“Many men have tripped over their feet just to take a glance at my cousin. She is not only beautiful, holding the Berkshire genes, but witty, magnetic, and gentle.” Enzo finished his champagne and lit a cigar that Mattheo had offered him. “And, well, she might have mentioned you once or twice. She was in love with you when she was nineteen. Perhaps she still is.” Mattheo’s eyes snapped to Enzo. “Then she was married to Adrian Pucey. Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you’re living right across from her.”

“Yes, I’m aware of all that,” Mattheo stated. “But nothing has been an accident, Mister Berkshire. There’s a reason why I host parties every weekend, why I keep the lights on every night, why my home is directly across from hers, and why you, her cousin, is renting next to me.”

Enzo scrutinised this stranger across from him. “You’re obsessed with my cousin,” he stated, somewhat disgustedly. 

“No,” Mattheo whispered. “I’m in love with your cousin. I have always been in love with her - in all ways. And she is me. Mention my name around her and you’ll see.”

“I have,” Enzo admitted. “She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. But she also looked guilty, Riddle. She’s married. She has a life. She wants children.” Mattheo’s jaw jumped as Enzo continued, “you can’t rip her away from that. It’s been years, Riddle. She hasn’t seen you for years.”

“I know…” Mattheo trailed off. “But just to see her again would fulfil any wish of mine. I have a vow I need to make due on. I- uh, I was wondering if you could invite her over for tea. And I could drop by. Just one day.” Mattheo’s eyes felt dry and he quickly blinked. 

Enzo sighed deeply and after a long moment, said, “okay. Tuesday? At three?”

A weight lifted off of Mattheo’s shoulders. He now had all the time in the world. In his eyes, everything was finally falling into place. Mattheo would finally get to be happy again. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

****

Tuesday was outrageously cloudy. Lorenzo could hardly see the sun as he drove back to his house. As he pulled into his driveway, he came to see an ostentatious green Rolls-Royce convertible that was blocking his drive. Enzo stared defeatedly at the car for a long moment, knowing exactly whose it was. 

Mattheo Riddle leaned on the hood and proceeded to wave at Enzo as if the man wasn’t hours too early to tea. 

“You have a watch, don’t you?” Enzo called out, getting out of his car. 

“I couldn’t wait,” Mattheo admitted. “I had nothing else to do today - well, that’s not true. I in fact cancelled some meetings that were set to take place today, but no worries.”

“You cancelled - you know what? Nevermind. Look, Riddle, I sure hope you know what you’re doing. Y/n… she’s changed from when you met her.” Enzo couldn’t look at his neighbour as he unlocked his door. Mattheo followed in after him, glancing around courteously, as if the real reason he was here wasn’t sending waves of nerves through his stomach. Enzo glanced back at Mattheo and moved to the kitchen to make some tea. Mattheo followed after him, his gait slow. “She used to believe that she could live any way she wanted,” Enzo continued. “But then she met Adrian.”

“Hm.” Mattheo made a low noise in his throat, fingers reaching out to play with the teacups that hung from a shelf. 

“She’s not… unhappy with Adrian,” Enzo tried to explain. “But she’s putting her happiness aside for the grandeur of life.” 

“I could give her that grandeur,” Mattheo muttered. 

“Do you know how people back home would treat her if they found out she got divorced from Adrian Pucey just to marry a man who is rumoured to be a bootlegger?” Enzo asked, aghast. He roughly swallowed and said quietly, “I’m sorry. That was out of line.” 

“No, no,” Mattheo waved him off, still seemingly fascinated by Enzo’s teacups. “It’s perfectly in line. You make a valid point. Though I can assure you, I am not a bootlegger. Far from it.”

“Then what is your line of work?” 

“Never you mind. When is Y/n coming?” Mattheo turned to Enzo, changing the topic at an alarming speed. The teacups were long forgotten.

Enzo exhaled and dunked a teabag in the teapot. “She said she’ll be arriving around three. However, that means that she’ll either be arriving at two-fifteen on account of wanting to escape Adrian, or she’ll arrive at four-thirty because Adrian needs something from her.”

“Let’s hope it’s the former,” Mattheo growled.

As if on cue, the two men heard the rumbling of a car approaching. The air in the room stilled. Mattheo’s face dropped and he turned pale, staring at the door. They heard Y/n’s honey voice call out, “Lorenzo!” Enzo quickly came to his senses and rushed to open the door. Y/n was driving up, waving her hat enthusiastically in one hand. A smile split on Enzo’s face as he rushed over to help her out of her car. “I must say, I was wary when you asked me to visit without Adrian,” Y/n chatted as Enzo escorted her into the house. “I couldn’t possibly think of anything you would need from me.”

“Can’t I just ask you over for tea?” Enzo chuckled. “Does everything I do need malicious intent?”

“Based on your past, yes.”

Enzo rolled his eyes playfully. After he took Y/n’s coat and hat, his eyes darted around his house, but he couldn’t find one trace of Mattheo anywhere. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll… I’ll grab the tea,” Enzo muttered. He moved to his kitchen, and seeing his back door ajar, he shoved it open. “Where are you going?!” he cried out to Mattheo who was currently halfway across the lawn.

Mattheo spun back to Enzo, fear deeply rooted in his expression. “I can’t,” he whispered after he jogged back to Enzo. “I can’t do it. You’re absolutely right. She... she has a life. And probably doesn’t even remember me. It would be cruel to subject her to such emotions. I don’t want to cause her any harm.”

Enzo shook his head. “I will not have invited my cousin to tea under false pretences,” he said slowly and firmly. “You owe this to her,” he added. 

A droplet of rain fell from a passing cloud and fell faster and faster until it splattered on Mattheo’s wrist. The water was absorbed by the cuff of Mattheo’s shift, but a small bit of the water rolled down onto his hand and drifted its way down to Mattheo’s ring finger. A thin gold band sat snug there. “Do you know what a pyrrhic victory means?” 

“Yes.” Enzo frowned inquisitively. “It’s victory that cost the victor more than it did the defeated. But what does that have to do with Y/n?”

“My love for Y/n has cost me everything,” Mattheo muttered. “But she is everything. I'm used to people hating me for my wealth and how reserved I am. What I'm used to isn't people's love. And now, my love is with Y/n and I'm not letting anyone ruin that or take it away from me.” More raindrops began falling from the sky until a gentle pitter-patter could be heard all around them.

“So why don’t you come in and tell her that?” Enzo asked, gesturing towards his door. 

Mattheo’s jaw jumped but he nodded, giving in. He shuffled through the door and into the living room where Y/n sat. Enzo grinned to himself and shut the door behind them before hearing Y/n gasp and the sound of a glass breaking. Enzo cursed to himself, knowing one of his precious teacups had now lost its life.

“M- Matty?” Y/n murmured, eyes wide. “Oh- oh, dear.” She stared down at the broken teacup on the carpet and bent down, hands shuddering. Mattheo crouched down as well, maintaining eye contact with Y/n the entire way. Y/n shook her head and focused on cleaning up her mess. Enzo noticed her whole body was trembling and he took a step forward as if to console her. Mattheo beat him to the punch. He grasped her forearms and helped her up, leaving the teacup behind. Y/n sniffed and repeated, “Matty?”

“Yeah, darling. It’s me,” Mattheo murmured, stepping closer to her. His hold on her arms softened and his cheek brushed against her forehead. 

Y/n exhaled shakily. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, tipping her head to lean into a more intimate position with Mattheo. Enzo slid out of the room, smirking faintly.

“I live next to Enzo,” Mattheo said, neither one bothering to look for Y/n’s cousin. 

Y/n chuckled humourlessly. “Tell me the real reason, Matty. I know you better than this.”

Mattheo smiled - the truest smile Enzo had ever seen on his neighbour’s face (not that Enzo was watching from the next room) - and leaned down to bump his nose against hers. “I could never hide anything from you. Not that I ever would, but I digress.” Mattheo reached down and gently lifted Y/n’s hand to his lips. He pressed featherlight kisses along her fingertips and confessed, “a year after you married Adrian, I built a house across the bay. The mansion whose windows are alight every single night with fireworks going off every weekend… that’s me, darling. Trying to get you to even glance over at me. Renting the neighbouring cabin to your cousin… that’s me. Every little detail, down to my car, is so I can see you again.”

“You did all that for me?” Y/n ran a soft thumb over Mattheo’s jawline, making the man shiver. 

“And I will do so much more,” Mattheo promised. “I am yours, my love. Always in all ways.”

****

Y/n sat curled in Mattheo’s lap. The pair was under a tree on a picnic blanket, far from the L/n Villa. “I’m sorry I couldn’t spend my birthday with you, Matty,” Y/n murmured to him. “I know you had a surprise for me.”

“It’s alright, darling,” Mattheo whispered back, dragging his fingers through Y/n’s hair. “I know nineteen is a monumental birthday for your family.”

“But now you have me all to yourself,” Y/n lightly laughed, turning to grin at her lover. “What was the surprise you had for me? You’ve been awfully suspicious these past few days, Matty.”

Mattheo hummed, looking to the sky and rhythmically tapping his fingers against you. “Well, I don’t know, my love,” he teased. “What could I possibly get the most perfect girl for her birthday?” After your protests, he continued, not before kissing your temple. “I got you my heart,” he whispered. Out from his pocket, he pulled a thin chain. Dangling teasingly from the chain was a golden ring. “So I can be with you always,” Mattheo explained quietly. 

Tears pricked at Y/n’s eyes as she gently took the necklace from him and thread the chain through her fingers. “You… you’re being serious right now?” Her focus was drawn to Mattheo’s own ring finger, where she noticed a new, immortal band lay proudly. “Are you…?”

“Only for you,” Mattheo reassured her. “Don’t worry. It’s my way of showing my devotion.” He twisted the necklace around her neck, clipping it there. 

“Only for me?”

“Always in all ways,” Mattheo vowed.

****

Y/n frequented outings with her friends much more often as of late. Adrian only sent Y/n away with a half-committed kiss on the cheek and eyes fixated on his golfing or his business contracts. Y/n would get in her car (or Enzo’s if he was feeling nice), and drive down to Mattheo’s mansion. Most days, there would be other cars there, waiting for Riddle’s house to open to party. They would be carrying booze and wearing all fashions of clothes, and when they would walk up to his door only to be turned away, they would pout and groan. Mattheo’s house wasn’t blazing his lights anymore, nor were there any fireworks crackling each weekend. His car was kept parked in his garage and his smile was constant. 

The first time Y/n had gone over to Mattheo’s mansion, so conveniently and coincidentally located across from hers, she had been in awe. “It’s exquisite!” she had exclaimed. She had run all over the house, marvelling at the floors and the ceilings, dragging Mattheo along behind her. Mattheo laughed loudly, his joy echoing off the walls. Of course, all of the art decorating his walls was accented to Y/n’s taste and the colour palette was exactly as Y/n had hoped for all those years ago. 

“Dance with me,” she beckoned Mattheo one day, already spinning on the deserted dance floor. Mattheo would lock the doors to his manor and keep out the partiers forever and always if it meant he could see Y/n on his dance floor, waiting for him. 

Mattheo stared at her, his eyes bright with love. He swept her up in his arms, pressing her close, and they danced to nonexistent music. Y/n rested her head on Mattheo’s chest and whispered, “this is nice.”

“This is very nice, indeed. I hope to do it more often.”

Y/n’s fingers gripped onto Mattheo’s shoulders. “Matty…” she whispered. “You know my feelings for you. But I- Adrian-”

“Please don’t speak his name,” Mattheo pleaded. “And I know about him. But I don’t care about him. Please tell me you don’t care about him either.”

“He is my husband, Mattheo.”

“That doesn’t mean you care about him.” Y/n took a breath and stepped slowly back from Mattheo. His mouth parted slowly and desperation filled his eyes. His hands reached out in anguish. “Please, my love. Don’t do this.”

“I will never love him as much as I love you,” Y/n clarified gently. “But I don’t hate him, either. Over the years, I have come to care for him. It’s a complicated feeling, Mattheo, I’m sure you understand.”

“Marry me,” Mattheo suddenly declared. “I promise, my dearest, I will give you all and more.”

“It’s not fair to Adrian,” Y/n protested, her hands dropped to her sides. “We don’t live in a life where one can just divorce their spouse to pursue another. You know of the rigidity and the silent rules that if we don’t follow, the exile we face.”

“Exile of what?” Mattheo cried, helplessness in his voice. “You can move in here. I can give you the life we dreamed of.”

“The life I dreamed of included my parents and my loved ones,” Y/n objected. “Not an isolated life with only one of the many I love.”

“Anyone you love can come visit you if they want,” Mattheo offered. “I won’t push anyone away. I just want you.”

“You know they won’t visit,” Y/n’s voice broke. “You know people will ridicule us. And I am so sorry, Matty, but I don’t know if I could live with that.” Mattheo didn’t speak for a long moment, staring at Y/n’s neck. “What’s wrong?” she eventually demanded. “Do I have something on my collar?”

“No,” Mattheo murmured softly. “It’s just… you kept it.” He pointed to Y/n’s neck and reached out to finger the chain around Y/n’s neck. The woman couldn’t help but shiver under his light touch. “You kept it,” he repeated. Carefully, as if afraid he might break her, Mattheo lifted the hidden necklace that was tucked under Y/n’s dress. “My ring.”

“I couldn’t bear to get rid of it,” Y/n’s breath hitched and she swallowed back tears. “I’ve never taken it off. Even- even on my wedding day.”

Beside himself, Mattheo chuckled, though it quickly turned to a gasp for breath. “So even when he made love to you, you always kept my ring around your neck?” Tears slipped down his cheeks and Y/n reached up to quickly wipe them away. 

“I don’t want you thinking about that,” Y/n muttered, shaking her head at the absurdness of it all. “Please… just be here with me.”

“I’m here,” Mattheo could hardly get a couple words out. He pulled her close to him and pressed a firm kiss on her forehead. “You still haven’t said no to my proposal.”

Y/n laughed loudly. “I didn’t think you were being serious.”

“With you, I am always serious,” Mattheo grinned, bending down to look her in the eye. “And that wasn’t an answer. Why are you avoiding the question, darling?”

Y/n sighed, a coy smile on her lips. “Would I simply leave Adrian? What of my things? Adrian would come looking for me, you know?”

“I would buy you whatever you’re missing a thousand times over.” Mattheo stared at Y/n, his eyes holding all the tenderness that a lover was supposed to have. “I would protect you and Adrian would never know where you are. He will never harm you, I promise.” 

Y/n tapped Mattheo’s chest thrice and hummed. Mattheo’s heart fluttered and his lips brushed against her temple. Silently, he begged all the gods he knew of that Y/n would agree to be with him. His lips moved wordlessly, pleading, before Y/n said, “I will call you tomorrow, Matty. I’m sure Adrian already knows of our endeavours, but give me one night to collect my thoughts. Can you give me that much?”

“Of course, my love. Whatever you need.” He kissed Y/n’s forehead again. “Always in all ways.”

“Always in all ways,” Y/n repeated.

****

“Where are you going?”

Y/n’s shoulders tensed and she slowly turned around to face Adrian. A packed bag was on her bed. “Enzo, the sweetling cousin he is, invited me to stay with him,” she said. “I thought it would be fun to spend a night in East Diadem. To see how others live.”

“You? In East Diadem?” Adrian chortled a laugh. “And why, pray tell, would you do that?” 

“Because I love my cousin,” Y/n reiterated firmly. “Are you forbidding me to see my family?”

Adrian’s head hung and he shook his head. “I may be rich, but I’m not stupid.” He hesitated before stating, “I know about Riddle.”

“My old friend?” Y/n asked smoothly. “Yes, he was a friend of Enzo’s. That’s how I met him, you know.” She cleared her throat and zipped up her bag. 

“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?” Adrian then suddenly shouted out, his hair flying out of place and his face turning red. “He’s fucking my wife, that bastard! Why, I should- I outta- you bitch!” He growled and whirled around, dragging a hand through his hair. 

“Adrian.” Y/n held up her hands, trying to soothe his emotions. It was the only way she learned how. “I haven’t been unfaithful to you, I promise. I made a vow on our wedding day and I have since upheld it.”

Adrian grunted and demanded, “so tell me you love me.”

Y/n swallowed. “I- I love you, Adrian. Just not in the way you want me to.”

Her husband let out a yell of frustration and slammed his hands down on the back of an armchair. Y/n flinched. After a tense moment, he hissed out, “go, then. Leave me.” His voice rose to a crescendo and he shouted out, “but know that I will never let you back into this life again! No one will ever let you step inside Diadem West without rumours and hatred trailing behind you.” He let his voice drop and as Y/n shuffled back, he raised his head and looked at her, pleadingly. “I want to make you stay,” Adrian whispered. “I want to tell you all the ways I love you. But… But I think we both know I can’t.” He took a step towards her and held a hand out as if he wanted to cup her face in his palm. “You are so beautiful, Y/n,” he muttered. “But he makes you feel alive. You- you deserve that.”

“So do you, Adrian,” Y/n choked out. 

“I know,” he nodded once, conceding. “I know.”

****

It took four weeks for Y/n to officially move into the house across the bay. Immediately, she had sought out her cousin and stayed with him for some time. She spent many of those days sitting out on the lawn, staring out to the bay and her old house. Her hair would whip across her face and sometimes, Mattheo would come and sit a couple feet away from her, not saying a word. Mattheo knew she was experiencing the eroding feeling of guilt. He didn’t dare disturb her thoughts if, eventually, it would lead to him. What’s a couple more weeks when he had been waiting years?

Then, one day, Y/n turned towards Mattheo and said, “you promised to love me always and in all ways.” 

Mattheo’s head whipped toward her. The shame in his eyes was deep. “Yes,” he uttered.

“I think I’m ready to take you up on your offer.” 

Mattheo broke into a smile.

A year later, the pair was married. The band that had been around Y/n’s neck was now around her finger. Y/n’s parents refused to attend and she had spent the night crying in Mattheo’s arms. Enzo had taken the place of her father and walked her down the aisle. The wedding was sparse and while Mattheo’s aunt had come to offer her congratulations, as had one of Y/n’s old friends, the couple knew that their life would be a lonely one until they either made new friends or Y/n’s old friends in Diadem West came around. But they were happy. 

Grand parties weren’t a frequent occurrence, though every month or so, Mattheo threw a celebration for an unimportant holiday, simply to show Y/n off. He finally had the pleasure to kiss her in a room full of people and not be ridiculed. However, parties weren’t needed. As long as Mattheo woke up with Y/n in his arms, he would call it the most wonderful day ever. 

And when years had passed and their children would move out to begin their own endeavours, the house would lay empty. After decades had gone by and the mansion was simply a statement of extravagant wealth and the jubilance of society, people would wander in the house, marvelling at the gold and marble. Whispers would echo the hallways of the great love story that transpired within its walls. A large, dusty old portrait of the couple still hung above the fireplace, their eyes holding as much love as there was water in the bay.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter fanfic #harry potter #adrian pucey #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #x reader #great gatsby #great gatsby au #but with a happy ending #angst #flashbacks #loooveeeee #I love this and worked so hard on it #6.4k

[hanisdaisys]

DON’T BLAME ME -PSH.

Pairing: Sunghoon!XReader!

Information: A spin off of The Great Gastby

(Slight mention of Heeseung!XReader!)

Word count: Around 3.7k

Reading time : 15 minutes

Warning : death of character, pet names , mention of blood, mention of poor and rich, kiss scene ( please let me know if there is any others )

Summary: When a young rich women, peek of beauty in the 1950s falls for her body guard who was dirt poor. What happens when they fall inlove and he suddenly disappears? Will she find someone else ?

I recommend listening to :

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Being a young, rich and beautiful women in the 1950s was a blessing. You’d thank god everyday that you were able to procure for yourself this luxurious lifestyle that screamed gold and diamonds. Being the most rich women in the town was also a big blessing, everybody was at your feet’s, ready to obey whatever words come out your mouth. You wished you could stay 19 forever, not needing to worry about your future nor your future husband. But you can’t stay young forever. You were almost 22. You were “at the limit of age” in your mothers words. She kept urging you to get married, to have kids and to settle down… your father on the other hand wanted to keep his baby girl forever. He didn’t want to let go of his precious little daughter and offer her off to some wealthy man who’d pay you half the respect your father payed. Your mother was tired of your antics, she was tired of your lame excuses to not settle down. She didn’t believe in love, she believed in power. In money.

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So she threw parties. Big ones every 2-3 weeks, hoping you’d meet a lovely man at night. She dresses you in glitter and gold, dressing you with only the finest materials and the purest gold. Anyone who saw you could easily guess you were rich. And yet every party your mother threw, you were never able to find someone who caught your eyes. Everyone seemed so bland and so full of themselves, only looking to profit of you and your family. And you so rejected every offer that was given to you. You were destined to meet your true love. The one who’d save you from this hellhole. Another party that had miserable failed.

You woke up the next day, head throbbing from all the alcohol you had drank. You left your bed a mess, Ms.Cho rushed over to fix your bed, making sure not a single fold or crease was being shown. You entered your bathroom and opened the curtains, bright golden sunlight peeking through the cloudy day. Spring. You were tired and in need of breakfast, so you hurried up and got yourself ready… or at least presentable. As soon as you walked down the steps, your heels could be heard from miles away.

Some rustling and plates were heard while the kitchen staff prepare you a plate. “Good morning Ms.Y/N” a voice called out from behind you. Ms.Cho was now downstairs, making sure your breakfast goes as smoothly as possible. “Morning” you replied back, you weren’t so interested in small talk. Suddenly the sound of a vase being dropped was heard. Not just any vase but the ones your mother got exported from Thailand. “You peasant! My vase!” You mother yelled out.

Your eyes met with a young adult, maybe around your age. He was dressed very poorly, even his tie wasn’t placed in the proper etiquette. Even if his outfit gave off a poor and dirty vibe, his face shined a million light. You thought he had potential. His face was one even the richest couldn’t afford. His beauty shined beyond his outfit. The two moles on his face lining up like a constellation . His hair perfectly framing his symmetric face. He was a god. A divine beauty. You finally came back to thought as he started apologizing restlessly. His bows getting closer to the ground. His voices sounded amazing, he sounded like those of the birds who sung you into the morning. A soft lullaby waiting to be discovered.

“Mother leave him alone.” You said getting up from your chair and picking up the young man by his arm. You despised your mother, she always bossed around people. She thought of herself so highly. “Y/N! Come back here this instant!” She screamed at you not daring to move a step. Likewise, she wasn’t such a big fan of you. Ever since you were born, you always got what you wanted. Your footsteps could be heard as you walked away from her.

You kept pulling him away and away, far into the long halls of your castle. The boy was shivering; he was scared that he would be sent to the dungeon, after all, it was a mistake… “I’m so sorry ! I didn’t mean to disburd your breakfast and break a vase” he said spewing out words before he could even think. You finally stopped in front of your fathers study. He’d spend most of his hours there, managing all the castle buisness. You knocked on the door, ignoring the young boys apologies. “Come in ” your father called out as you walked in. Your Fathers face immediately lit up. “Father I want him. He’s my body guard now.” You said, not accepting no for an answer. “Well Y/N… he wasn’t trained for it… it could be dangerous, besides sweetie you cannot get everything alright? ” he said before taking a look at your face. Seeing those cute puppy eyes you were able to pull out whenever you wanted something. “But oh well… it won’t hurt to give it a try…” He continued watching your face as your expression changed. You were so excited that you ran to give your father a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “thank you! I love you father!!!” You finally exited your fathers study, taking this boy to your room. Again , walking through the long hallway of your castle. Until you finally reached your room. “What’s your name?” You asked , sitting down on your bed as the man watched, not so certain what to do. “Sunghoon. Park Sunghoon” He watched you carefully as you layed down on your bed. Should he look away? “ well hoonie im Y\N. Each morning, at 8am,you will be infront of my room. You’re my new body guard”

And he listened to you, everyday at 8am he would be at your door, waiting for you to exit. He was a little awkward at first, but after a while he started acting a little more normal. Your mom wasn’t happy that you were getting close to a peasant. You wouldn’t even do anything if sunghoon wasn’t there!! If he want eating with you and your family, you wouldn’t eat! He has become a part of your life now. And everyday you’d thank your dad for hiring him. Even if you had never believed in love, he made it happen. He made you believe in love at first sight. All of your heart belonged to him. He made you feel ways you’ve never felt. You were complete opposite. But opposites attract right? You were sunshine and he was midnight rain.

Weeks passed by that way, you had finally gotten closer. He would now hold your hands and smile at you. If you had told your old self that sunghoon finally showed emotions towards you, you would be shocked. When your father passed away, he was the first to comfort you. While your mom was out drinking and coming home wasted, hed sit by your side comforting you. He promised you better days would come. He would pick you over 3 meals a day. He couldn’t stand seeing you cry. When your mother would yell at you, he’d quickly come to your rescue and pull you away from the situation. You couldn’t believe this was the shy Park Sunghoon you had first met. The flowers bloomed in his presence. Summer had approached.

The morning bright morning had already started peeking in. The wind softly blowing in as the curtains moved to the soft melody of the birds. You stretched out your arms looking over to the beautiful morning view. Finally it was July 15. The day where the orchid tree was in full bloom. All its beauty had finally bloomed. You couldn’t wait longer, you ran out of your room. Sunghoon was outside, as usual, waiting for you to exit. “Good Morning Ms.” he said, letting you lead the way. “ Let’s go see the orchids outside!” You said pulling him to your private garden. This scene seamed like it came out of a movie for Sunghoon. The wind blowing your hair. The way you were moving so carelessly in this cruel world. His feeling has developed so fast and so subtly he couldn’t even grasp the concept of falling in love. You were his drug. His medicine every time he was ill. The person who kept him going. He wanted it comfortable and you wanted that pain.

“Don’t run so fast ms. You’ll get hurt!” He said, watching you let go his hands and run further away from him. He reached his hand forward trying to catch up too you. His hand reaching out, not being to grasp you, only your shadow. He stopped when you reached the tree “Don’t be a fool hoon! Sit down will you?” You said sitting down on the wooden bench. It was placed right under the orchid tree. Your father had it custom made for your 5th birthday. It was facing the sun. The direction of hope. For the first time since your father passed away, you felt a presence on this bench. You looked over seeing Sunghoon looking at you.. He looked at you just like how every women desires to be looked at. His eyes were full of love. Full of emotions. The world was in slow motion. His hair was moving to the rhythm of the wind. You started leaning in. Your eyes filled with romance. Your lips were inches apart. Orchid flowers coming down the tree to land around you. He pressed his lips against yours, letting no space disturb you. You leaned in more, savouring the taste of his lips. His hands slowly going to grab your neck. If this was a movie scene, it would be the one that everyone replays. The feeling of love escaping through your throat. Love was the most beautiful thing in this depressing world. It lit up seas and oceans. Love. Just young love.

He pulled away slowly looking around to see if anyone had caught you. He couldn’t be seen with you, a peasant and a rich woman. You calmed him down, rubbing his back as he leaned his head on your shoulder. You stayed in that position till it got late. The sun was long gone and replaced by the darkness of the night. You wished you could’ve stayed this way forever but sunghoon didn’t want to stay out while it was dark. He walked you back until your room. After he was sure you were tucked in and felt secure he started walking towards his own room. Pressing his fingers against his lips. Your taste. The taste of sweet daisy’s. Lord he misses it. He cleaned the room, sitting down on his desk. He toke out a peace of paper and a ink pen. Writing out his emotions. It toke him a while, writing everything he felt for you. From the instant he met you to today. Words not enough to describe what he felt for you. He was crazy inlove with you.

The next morning came by quickly. You rushed out of bed and opened the door. This action felt so familiar to you now. Waking up and opening the door for hoon. Only that today he wasn’t there. You peeked your head outside hoping he was just taking a walk outside but no. You asked around for him but no one knew who he was. He disappeared from one day to the next. He was gone just like the nightlight.. No words from him or anything. You ran back to your room, just you and your aching soul.. tears filled your eyes and sorrow filled your body. The pain ran through your body. You didn’t even realize when you feel asleep. Waking up surrounded with tissues. Someone was knocking on your door aggressively. Your mom was wondering why you hadn’t came down. “ come down this instant Y/N! Don’t you dare cry over that dirty peasant!” She yelled out tired of knocking. You opened the door. The view was a lot to take in. Your clothes were a mess, dark circles were forming underyour eyes. “ Come eat at least” she said, slamming the door on you. Of course . Your mom was against your emotions again. It was nothing new. She always acted this way. lord this made you crazy, love made you crazy.

A few years passed like this. The first few months were miserable, everything had reminded you of him. Vases,flowers,beds and even your room. You missed him. His smell. His words. His actions… That was until your mother announced she has found someone for you. Young, rich and handsome polo player, Lee Heeseung. Your marriage was planed the 28th of may, 1953. Everyone was invited. It was a huge wedding. He was crazy in love with you, just like Sunghoon. He looked at you with so much love. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love him. He was so lovable. He brought you warmth and comfort. He’d do anything for you. Everything you desire. You didn’t even need to ask, it was all ready for you.

The night of your wedding you finally decided to share a room. He had already gotten comfortable in your sheets. Your smell engulfing his nose. Like a warm hug. He shoved his face further into the sheets,taking in your smell. The smell of fresh daisies. He turned around looking for you . And when he couldn’t feel your presence he opened his eyes, searching the room. You were on the balcony, reaching out to a white light on the other side of the lake. Your arms stretched out to the light, it was calling you. “ come back to bed sweetness” he said patting the area next to him. “Yes darling” you said to him, smiling as you closed the balcony door as well as the curtains. Laying down next to him, wrapping your hand around his waist. He pecked your forehead, whispering words of love. The ones which make you taste sweetness.

The months passed by fast with him. Your relationship was perfect. He was a devoted husband. He’d do anything for you and he wasn’t ashamed to remind you at every moment. He loves you. Your father would’ve loved him. He treated you right. The way you truly deserve. Your mom she never gave up her habits. Throwing big lavishing parties every weekend. Today’s party was to celebrate your first six months with him. You were dressed in white, with your hair up. Heeseung was dressed in a white and blue suit orned with gold buttons. He kissed you as people cheered. You had grown famous overtime. The title “ Polo player,Lee heeseung and rich icon, Y/N” being seen everywhere. Little did you know someone was watching you. Tears stained his face and he stood in the rain, watching you from outside. He was heartbroken and headed home. Following the white light to lead him home. He did this for you.

When you had woken up in heeseungs arm the next day , Ms.Cho told you that someone left you an invite. You had gotten an invitation to someone‘s party, Someone named PS. You were bored of staying home everyday and decided to go. Heeseung followed you, being there for you when you need it. It was difficult to get in. Every one seemed to have gathered here. There is possibly no way the owner had written that many invites. You looked around until you spotted a young group of women.“ do you know how i could talk to PS?” You asked them as they laughed at your comment. “ No one knows who PS is, everyone comes to his party to drink” a random girl said. You turned around to look at Heeseung as he nodded disapprovingly. “ lets go home sweetness” he said but you refused. You refused to leave this party without knowing who PS was. Suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder. “ Mister Park would like to see you, please follow me” He said to you. You followed the man and Heeseung started following you. “Alone please” he added staring at heeseung. You looked back at Heeseung as he let go of your hand. “Be careful sweetness” he said grabbing your hand and leaving a small kiss. You looked back at heeseung once again before you followed this man to a room. You guessed the room of mister Park. He opened the door for you and closed it slightly as you went in. A man was seen, his broad shoulder would be viewed. When he turned aroun your mind went blank. Sunghoon. Mr.Park was Sunghoon..

You turned back around hurrying to leave the room. Even if you once had good memories with him, you didn’t want to be reminded of this.. “ No please Y/N listen to me” he said running to hold your hand. “There is absolutely nothing to hear! Your a fool Sunghoon. A crazy fool! You let me suffer without telling me anything! Not even a word!” Tears started flooding your eyes. Your whimpers could be heard in the room as sunghoon looked at you cluelessly. “ No my Love ! I wrote you a letter!” He said staring into your eyes. Looking for reassurance “ What letter…” you asked. “I left it on your bed! It had your name written and everything!” He added holding both your hands as he looked into your eyes. He looked like he was about to start crying. “ WHAT LETTER HOON. WHAT WAS IN IT” you yelled out before he said “Oh my dear, I was poor. I was a poor man. I wouldn’t have let you marry such a peasant. I went away to work my dear. I worked all those years to afford you this house! To get you away from your mother! I wanted to give you everything. This whole house belongs to you, Y/N. My life is yours!” he said. Your tears started getting louder. Sunghoon finally let go of your hands so he could wipe away the tears escaping your eyes. “ sunghoon… money never mattered to me!” You yelled out “let me show you my dear! I’ll show you what I had gotten for you” sunghoon ran off in the room bringing back piles of boxes. “ these are the finest diamonds there is! I got them all from India my darling. The finest jewelry for the finest women” you started weeping again. Tears escaping your eyes. It was beyond your control, waterfalls were falling. “ my dear, what’s wrong?” Sunghoon asked sitting you down on an expensive looking couch “ I have never seen such fine jewelry” you cried holding onto him. And the scene replayed. The scene under the orchid. The scene were you and him kissed. This time it was different. He leaned in first. And you let him. You let him kiss you. You even kissed back. The smacking of your lips could be heard. Little did you know someone was looking. You had disappeared for so long someone came for you.

Heeseung wiped his tears and exited the room. Couldn’t you have locked the door? What he couldn’t see wouldn’t have hurted him. But instead, you left the door open. Leaving it wide open for everyone to see. You were going to see what he can do. How dare you cheat on him. You were his possession. His shining trophy.

You pulled away from sunghoon. A string of saliva could be seen. “ I- I shouldn’t have done this! I’m a married women sunghoon!” You said wiping off the saliva. “My love. Just tell him! Tell him you love another man and it’ll all be alright I promise.” He said holding onto your cheeks as your eyes stared into his. “ I might do it hoon… for us. For you…” you said. How was this happening all over again. Hot summer nights. Mid July.

When you went back downstairs from sunghoons room , heeseung was waiting for you. “ I want to know everything abt this PS” he told you as he pulled you away. Leaving the house as he aggressively drove him. At home, he was already in bed while you got changed. After you are done, you slowly sneaked into the bed, placing your hands on his waist, trying to hug him. But he inched further. Like he was ignoring your touch. Maybe he wanted space, so you turned around and cried yourself to sleep. For heeseung, your cries were pure torture. But it was your fault. You had kissed another man. You were going to pay for it.

The next day heeseung was no longer beside you. Usually he’d wake you up with kisses. Waking you up the only way you deserved. You wondered where he has left.

When he had gotten back him, his white shirt had a few drops of blood. Red blood. Human blood. When you asked him what he had done. He just started laughing. “I killed him” he said kissing your forehead. “ heeseung… who did you kill…” you asked inching away from him. “I killed that damn Park Sunghoon! How dare you cheat on me?” He asked you staring into your eyes. Again tears, this time he wasn’t so affected though. He had done what he needed to do in order to protect his family. In order to protect his prized possession. “ you’re crazy!” You yelled out pulling your own hair. “ oh sweetness, you love it! I’m richer than him! Why would you even want such a lowlife? Besides, the only thing I’m crazy for… is you”

He was right. You didn’t care about sunghoon, you didn’t care that he was your first love. You wanted money and heeseung had it. He was rich and famous. What more could you want. So you ignored what heeseung did. You didn’t even want to attend sunghoons funeral. Instead you ignored all the calls you had from his worker. No one was there for him, not a single person showed up. You and heeseung were cruel, money leaded you too this. Those memories are nothing when you have money. Love isn’t real, money is. Your mom was right all along, and your father was wrong. Love and emotions won’t get you anymore… but money and power will. He wanted a bride but you wanted your own name.

-

Not as satisfying as I wanted :( still I hope you enjoy!

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #enhypen smau #enhypenwriters #enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon #park sunghoon #lee heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #ethan lee #my first love #the great gatsby #jay gatsby #daisy buchanan #Spotify #enhypennetwork #ficscafe #enhypen jake #jake sim #enhypen angst #jake imagines #enhypen reactions #jake enhypen #jay park #heeseung #don’t blame me

[shingekinohyrulewrites]

Young & Beautiful

There is a bright green light that flashes across the lake on the opposite dock. You find yourself drawn to it, but are unsure why.

Read on AO3 here

The summer night was still, a soft, cool breeze blowing softly in the air, bringing with it a crisp, clean smell. The water’s surface was calm, small waves lapping lazily against the wooden stilts of the boardwalk. Across the lake, music was playing faintly in the distance, the crooning voice of a singer standing out amongst the other instruments plucking a song about a former love. The green light of the pier flashed, glowing briefly for a second before dimming and going dark, and then starting again. The stars were twinkling in the sky, almost seeming to blend in with the bright lights of the party across the way.

Your toes were dipped in the cool water, relishing in the sensation of the currents slowly moving. Another song began to play, this one slightly more upbeat and danceable. A female singer took over then, her sultry voice singing about a newfound love that had her head spinning. Leaning back on your hands, you tapped your fingers to the beat, humming absently along to it.

The green light flashed again, illuminating the water’s surface before disappearing.

The party across the lake seemed to be in full swing, if the music and bright lights weren’t apparent enough. Given that it was summer, there were parties held there nearly every day. They often began shortly before sundown, when the musicians would tune their instruments and the singers would bellow out some random tune to warm up their vocal chords. As the night progressed, the music got faster, the lights seemed to get brighter, and the stars seemed to shine down until dawn when the parties would usually come to an end.

The moon had begun its descent towards the trees in the distance, and that was your queue to return home. Sighing, you gently pulled your toes out of the water, shaking them off before slipping them back into your shoes. You turned your head back to glance at the familiar green light before quietly making your way back to your home.

Thankfully, the lights in your home were still off. Letting out a sigh of relief, you crept through the garden, making sure not to tread on any branches or leaves as you made your way towards the back entrance. Sliding it open quietly, you snuck up the stairs, passing your parents’ bedroom and slipping back into yours. You let out another sigh, collapsing onto your bed and staring up at the ceiling. Even though the lake was a distance away, you could still hear the music, barely picking up the singer lulling his audience to sleep with a lullaby. Eyes heavy, you closed your eyes and dreamed about lush clouds, warm blankets, and loving embraces.

***

Coming from a rich family had its perks, but it also had its drawbacks.

You had a life of luxury, where anything that you wanted or imagined could be handed to you on a silver platter. You had received the finest education, taking classes with the most expensive tutors who filled your brain with endless amounts of knowledge. Your family had traveled all over the world, and you had memories from Paris, Rome, Johannesburg, and Cuba, among many others. You only wore the finest clothing, always sported the latest accessories, and never had a hair out of place.

But, despite all this, you were bored.

Although you desperately wanted to go to college, your parents forbade it. They insisted that you focus on your homemaking skills, that you were prepared to become a perfect wife and mother. Despite never spending time with a man, your parents were on the search for a husband for you, one that was rich and domineering.

You yearned to just explore the world, to get a college degree in something, anything, that would prove you were capable of being more than just a woman. You had brains, you had the capacity to make some sort of contribution to the world, and yet you felt like you would never have a chance.

Instead, you snuck out of your home when you could, leaving your parents behind with guests while they hosted luxurious tea parties or when they had small soirees with the other wealthy neighbors. Your family’s estate was bordered by a large lake, with the only other residence being across the way. When you had moved in, your family had been informed that the home was vacant, but it wasn’t long after that the first party began.

It was the loud music that had caught your attention. You were going for your usual nighttime stroll, staying close to the treeline to avoid being seen by anybody. Curious, you had crept closer to the lake until you took note of the bright lights of the home across the way. The owner had set up a pier light, and you found comfort in its blinding, green shade. Sometimes, when you needed to get away, you would sit on the pier for hours, getting lost in the music and pretending you were among all the party goers.

Your parents, however, found your mysterious neighbor to be a menace. They lamented their choice of loud music, how the pier light was an annoyance that did no good, and that the constant parties were ruining the value of the land. Whenever they complained you ignored them, instead bringing yourself back to the calm nights on the pier, staring at the stars as you listened to the music.

Little did you know that you would soon encounter the mysterious owner of the home.

#haikyū!! #haikyuu imagines #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio imagine #kageyama tobio x reader #1920s au #great gatsby au #prohibition au #arranged marriage au #slow burn #slow romance

[mamirhodessxox]

The Great Gatsby Incorrect Quotes #1

Jordan: Hey, about that love letter you sent me-

Nick: *blushes* What are your thoughts?

Jordan: The fourth sentence-

Nick: Yeah, that’s where I got really emotional and I-

Jordan: It’s “you’re” not “your”.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Y/N: I can't believe you've done this.....

Gatsby: I'm sorry I didn't know-!

Y/N, on the verge of tears: YOU CAN'T JUST BUY ME A GIFT OUT OF NOWHERE NOW I FEEL LIKE A HUGE ASSHOLE!

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Nick: The only thing keeping me from running away and hiding from society for the rest of my life is spite. I could disappear forever, but there are some bitches whose downfalls I have yet to witness, and I wanna be around when that happens.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Murderer: Any last words?

Jordan: Do you think I'm cute? Be honest.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Jordan: I have a bad feeling about this, guys.

Y/N: Oh don’t worry, you’ll be fine.

Gatsby: Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen?

Jordan, being bailed out of jail the next morning: I hate you all.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Nick: You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river.

Gatsby: Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in their own pool. Big difference.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Nick: So you’re dating Y/N?

Gatsby: What? No! I’m just buying them an accessory since they have terrible fashion sense.

Nick: That’s literally a wedding ring.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Gatsby: You don't know anything about me!

Nick: I know EVERYTHING about you! You are an open book written for very dumb children!

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Gatsby: Say no to drugs.

Nick: Say yes to drugs.

Jordan: It doesn't matter if you say yes or no to drugs. If you're talking to drugs.. then you're on drugs.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Nick: Why are you drinking?

Gatsby: I drink when I'm depressed.

Nick: But you're always drinking?

Gatsby: *smug grin*

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Nick: You know, when I first met you I thought you were a real bitch.

Tom: What changed your mind?

Nick: Oh, now I know that you’re a fake bitch. Why do you ask?

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

*Gatsby comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Y/N’s bedroom.*

Y/N: Babe, are you.. coming to bed?

Gatsby: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend.

Gatsby: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep*

Y/N: ...

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Nick: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Gatsby: You’re too young to have enemies.

Nick: You don’t even know.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Tom: *sneaking in through their window*

Y/N: *turning in their chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

Tom: I was with Daisy?

Daisy: *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Nick: Tom has no survival skills, their need to win has replaced them.

Daisy: That can't be true!

Nick: Watch this.

Nick: Hey Tom, race you to the bottom of the stairs!

Tom: *Throws themself out a window*

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Tom: FIGHT ME, YOU NERD ASS SLUT!

Nick: At least try to sound slightly more sophisticated when you threaten someone.

Tom: Oh, I'm sorry. I should ask; dost thou want to engage in a duel, my good bitch?

Nick: Somehow that's worse.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Tom: They say that the most valuable things cost nothing.

Y/N: They also say that being cheap is an annoying trait, so don’t overuse that excuse.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Y/N: Come on, Nick. Nobody actually believes that Gatsby is in love with me.

Nick, to The Squad: Raise your hand if you think that Gatsby is helplessly in love with Y/N

*Everyone raises their hand*

Y/N: Gatsby, put your hand down.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Daisy: What did Tom do this time?

Nick: More like WHO did Tom do this time?

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

Gatsby: *dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Remember when I said I’d tell you when we’re in too deep?

Y/N: Yes?

Gatsby: We’re in too deep.

-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-

🏷️ list: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @valkyrurx @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf

#incorrect quotes #the great gatsby imagines #the great gatsby #the great gatsby x reader #jay gatsby x reader #jay gatsby imagines #jay gatsby #jay gatsby imagine

[the-big-gatsbi]

Seriously considering making some little imagines and headcanons for The Great Gatsby… 😳 🙈🫣🤫

I just really like this book and i wanna be submerged into it like so far into almost as if I’m living in it myself. Tho the 20s mostly sucked tho but hey at least i got to see the fashion in person and my beloved characters be idiots in person teehee 🤭

#jay gatsby #nick carraway #the great gatsby #f. scott fitzgerald #like maybe some nick x gatsby headcanons #and some x reader action maybe?? #cuz i love them #and i simultaneously hate and love daisy so maybe some stuff for her too #and ofc i love jordan and i always imagine her as a secretly gay woman dating nick to pretens she’s straight #jordan baker #daisy buchanan #like yeah is this dumb? #probably #but do i want x reader content for great gatsby? #yes. yes i do

[red-write-hand]

ANNOUNCMENT

ok, so, y'all! i have exactly no actual energy to write original things sooo....MY ASK BOX IS COMPLETELY OPEN! MSG ME! COMMENT! SEND IN REQUESTS! im all yours y'all!

#the great gatsby #peaky blinders #harry potter #marvel #star wars #thomas shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #fanfic request #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders incorrect quotes #peaky blinders smut #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x oc #john shelby #ada shelby #jay gatsby x reader

[tenpintsofsundrop]

okay so @star-mum asked me to explain the Gatsby reference in Emergency Contact and okay here we go

(hopefully this can be fairly short and not a two-hour nerd rant lmao)

Here is the passage from my fic:

You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through.  He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you.  “Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin.  He knew that it would break him.  He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him.  Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought. 

And here is the passage from The Great Gatsby that I was referencing:

He talked a lot about the past and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy. His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was. . . . . . . One autumn night, five years before, they had been walking down the street when the leaves were falling, and they came to a place where there were no trees and the sidewalk was white with moonlight. They stopped here and turned toward each other. Now it was a cool night with that mysterious excitement in it which comes at the two changes of the year. The quiet lights in the houses were humming out into the darkness and there was a stir and bustle among the stars. Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalk really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees—he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder. His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy's white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.

Now, I nerd out over The Great Gatsby so much. It's one of my favourite books ever. And as someone who is a firm believer in 'true love' - I am obsessed with how much the Great Gatsby gets it wrong, and I love playing off the symbolism and themes displayed in the book - showing how it's not a tragic love story, it is the story of a fucked up, very sexist man who puts all of his faults onto his 'love' for a woman.

So - in the passage featuring Gatsby and Daisy's first kiss - Gatsby is talking to Nick, trying to figure out where the turning point in his life went wrong, where he could go back and start it all over again if he could. And he picked his first kiss with Daisy. And this is especially important because this chapter also features a lot of talk about destiny, and it's where Nick reveal's Gatsby's esteemed mystery backstory that the audience was waiting for - how he was nothing more than a poor man on a fishing boat and he made friends with an older wealthy man and that's why he's so rich. Gatsby made himself very large - he made himself into something out of nothing, and he feels that he wasted all of his potential mourning over his lost love.

Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalk really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees—he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder.

This particularly, is really telling about Gatsby's character - he thinks that he has some grand epic fate awaiting him, even if he doesn't specifically know what it is, but he has to choose between that grand fate and Daisy. He has to go it alone. He is a fantastic man and he can't have a woman weighing him down.

He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God.

This single sentence is one of my favourite things I have ever read, and the term 'her perishable breath' has informed so much of my writing style - but I fucking love how this is described and how it sets them up as a horrible couple who are never meant to be soulmates. This is not a love story.

He thinks that his mind 'romps like the mind of God' - he thinks that he is this utterly perfect human being, someone who could be an inventor, a leader of the industrial revolution, a brilliant man. And he thinks the one thing truly holding back is his 'love' for Daisy - what later turns into an obsession for her. And it is really all spelled out when he describes her as 'perishable'. She is just a woman. She will never live up to the fantasy he has created of her in his mind. Especially considering the fact that when Gatsby finds out she has a child - he wants her to abandon her child to come and be with him - he clearly finds the idea of her being a mother to ruin his fantasy.

So - if this is such a flawed display of love, why would I reference it?

Because ever since the first time I read this passage, I have been obsessed with this idea - the idea that your first kiss seals your fate to someone - but in a good way. The idea that we are perishable and fragile, but when we become fated to our soulmate, we can both romp like Gods together and climb that ladder to the stars together. Not this flawed version where we ruin in on ourselves over the obsession, getting a fantasy version of a girl that will never exist.

Jason Todd - in a lot of ways, is like Jay Gatsby. He came from nothing, befriended a rich older man - but he does not have the confidence to believe that he has some grand fate waiting for him if he does not have his loved ones.

He thinks that he is poisonous and toxic and he is bound for a horrible fate.

He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him. 

Here - he thinks that this kiss will seal y/n's fate in a horrible way rather than sealing his own fate. But - he is wrong, because this love will uplift him, and help them both become better.

So that is why I referenced it <3

#sundrop speaks #fanfiction #discussion #the great gatsby #jason todd #jason todd x reader #titans fanfiction #dc titans fanfiction #jason todd x gn!reader

[beef-bakery]

Affectation

Inspired by this prompt by @purpurniymstitel

Rating: Silco x gn!Reader - SFW - 2.7k words

Summary: you were always content with solitude, never daring to reach above your station. But when the opportunity presents itself, who are you to do anything but take the chance luck has given you?

Warnings: drinking, allusions to drugs and poison

It was safe to say that no one ever got what they wanted down in Zaun. Not even its king.

That's how it was for your family, your parents working endless, fluctuating hours leaving them with little to no time spent with you. In retrospect, you could see their hard work was necessary to make ends meet. They wanted to give you the best life possible, and with no generational wealth, the only way they could provide for you was to work for it.

Nonetheless, you were left to your own devices and over time, you began to resent them. They always said they wanted you to be happy, that they were doing all of this for you. But then why did they never seem to care? Not when you came home at odd hours, not when you smelled of narcotics, not when you were stained with blood.

You found that their lack of care manifested in opposition in you, finding yourself hyper aware of others’ actions, what they did and didn't do, how often they would show up and how frequently they would blow you off. You began to ponder your sanity. Was it normal to care this much, to overanalyze everything?

You came to the conclusion that you weren't like others. You couldn't process events and look at things the way others did. You made peace with the idea that you couldn't force yourself to be the same and adapted to it, learning the intricacies and applications of what you began to call your skills.

Nevertheless, your neglectful childhood led you to develop skills other Zaunties didn’t have, especially lying. Lying was a useful tool in Zaun, used to swindle Topsiders out of their belongings, used to persuade others to help finance your… education, used to convince your friends to trust you with the funds that were pilfered that day. And yet you found yourself to be the most proficient at it. Lying became second nature to you.

That's what led you to your profession; conning was acting, which was lying. Pretending to be someone else was easy: slipping into another persona was like putting on a mask. Sometimes you found yourself wishing you could be the person you portrayed, someone confident, proud, sophisticated, kind. The people you pretended to be weren't calculated, fake, disingenuous, unaware of themselves and their identity; they simply were.

Despite the role you tried to play, conning was tiring. And being tired made you vulnerable. That's why you usually drank alone, in the comfort of your own home, surrounded by nothing but the creaks of your neighbors in your apartment complex.

But somehow you ended up at a bar. Not the seedy ones you were accustomed to, but a nice bar, with bouncers to watch over the crowd, and higher priced drinks to combat the cost of such an expensive looking venue with employees who at least did their job.

Your eyes flicked over the menu, observing the prices, your coin heavy in your pocket. By Janna, that street vendor had to have lied! There was no discount, and from what you observed from the other customers, they were all paying in full.

You let out a controlled breath, leaning forward onto the bar, smiling virtuously. Not flirtatiously; no, you knew that if you were to be successful within your endeavor you needed to come off as innocent, playful.

“Hey,” you called out to the bartender, his back to you. His eyes met yours and you allowed your eyes to scrunch up the tiniest bit, as if it were natural. “Could I get two fingers of brandy?”

He nodded and turned around, and even though his expression gave nothing away, you knew he was hooked. You looked around, your fingers drumming mindlessly into the bartop. The sound of a tumbler being set in front of you brought your attention back to the bar. You looked up at him from below your lashes and reached into your pocket, pulling out an amount you knew was short of the sum you owed.

“You're actually short some.” He frowned and you let your mouth drop into an ‘o’.

“Oh,” you said as you pretended to dig in your pocket for something you knew you didn't have. “Sorry, I don't think I have enough.” You frowned, allowing your shoulders to drop ever so slightly. You pushed the glass toward him. “I'll take whatever that can get me.”

“No, it's okay,” he pushed the glass back. “We oversell the drinks to make a profit. Trust me, that drink is not worth more than what you paid.”

You smiled slightly, brightening ever so. “Thanks then!” Your fingers wrapped around the tumbler, your fingertip brushing against the condensation beginning to build.

You took your drink and walked away before he could reply, settling on a high chair, facing a counter along the stairs which led to who knows where. You sipped your drink thoughtfully, allowing your back to hunch over.

You had allowed yourself a day off, and yet you still found yourself playing the part of someone else.

Breathing out a sigh of exhaustion, you rolled your neck, bringing up a hand to rub against the back of your neck. You remembered one of your previous… clients telling you that most people carried stress in their necks.

The sound of a body settling next to you caused your eyes to snap open, turning your head slowly to the side. A beefy woman sat on the stool next to you, a cigar pinched between two robotic fingers. Her entire left arm appeared to be mechanical, you noticed, your gaze trailing up her arm to reach her face.

She said your name, and without giving anything away, you nodded slowly. “That's me,” you said, acting as carelessly as you could manage in your exhausted state.

“The man upstairs wants to see you.” The woman blew out a breath, the tendrils of smoke framing her face. You continued to keep up your facade, only allowing yourself to raise an eyebrow.

“And who would that be?” The woman stopped, only allowing herself another puff.

“You do know what bar you’re in right now, right?” She shifted in her seat, setting her metal arm on the bartop, flicking ash into a glass someone had left behind.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” You took another sip, noticing the wet ring your glass had left on the table. The woman chuckled as she stood up, beckoning you to the stairs behind you. You took one last swig of your drink before setting it back on the counter and following behind.

A man at the landing, presumably guarding it, nodded at the woman and allowed you two passage in. The stairs creaked beneath your weight and you felt the stares of the patrons behind you. This woman had to have some kind of weight to her to wield enough power that people were watching her. Ignoring them, you continued up the stairs, your boots making scuffs against the wood.

When the two of you reached the top, the woman rounded the corner, entering into a poorly lit hallway. You spared a small glance to the bustling dance floor behind you before allowing her to lead you to who-knows-where.

You eventually reached the end of the hallway, a heavy looking wood door looming in front of you. The woman gestured for you to enter and you swallowed harshly, reaching for the brass door knob.

The door turned easily, the hinges silent as the door opened. You walked inside, noting that the woman didn't follow behind. You shut the door with a click, taking a deep breath the way you practiced, silent but controlled, and turned around to face whoever ‘the man upstairs was’.

An oak desk took up most of the space, a high backed chair pushed in. You frowned. This “man” was nowhere to be found. Taking a tentative step forward, you observed the room. A large, circular window took up the majority of the wall behind the desk. The other walls were lined with bookcases, not enough to take up the entirety of the room but enough to prove one’s wealth.

You took this with a large grain of salt; not many people in Zaun could afford books. They were primarily reserved for Topsiders, and the ones that could afford it didn't own this many. You walked up to the nearest bookshelf, your fingers trailing against the spines. You pulled one out, noting that the one you pulled out, as well as the ones next to it, were real. They weren't the placebo kind that you had seen in other homes, belonging to those who wanted to appear well read and educated. These books were not only real, but well loved, the deckled edges showing signs of wear.

You flipped open the book, observing the annotations on the inside before the sound of a throat being cleared interrupted you. You whirled around, slicing your finger on the page you had opened. Immediately popping your finger into your mouth to keep a drop of blood from being left behind, you watched his eyes drop to your mouth before quickly flicking up to your eyes.

The man in front of you was quite tall, with a lean build. A streak of gray ran through the middle of his hair, which was slicked back with some sort of product, another detail which gave away his financial status; only wealthy men would care enough to spend money on hair product. He was well dressed, a fitted vest over a red button up, a white cravat placing the final touch on the outfit.

So this was the man upstairs.

After your inspection of the man, your eyes flicked up to his, your mouth parting slightly. You had been too busy with your initial assessment of the man’s body language and overall status to notice his eyes. Eyes weren't typically on your checklist. Although they could give away one’s true feelings, they weren't needed when observing one’s characteristics and personality. Eyes wouldn’t give away tells or weaknesses upon first impression.

One of his eyes was piercing blue, the other a whirlpool of black and ember orange. Perhaps the most chilling thing about them was that you recognized them. Not from personal experience, of course, but from descriptors. Clients whispering information in your ears, warnings from those on the street, telling stories of a man with enough power to bring a city to destruction, with only mismatched eyes to tell the tale. You hadn't heard of anyone else with the same eyes. Not anyone else but Silco.

While your first instinct was to ask him what he wanted from you, you kept your mouth shut, observing him with keen eyes, waiting for him to make the first move. His lips quirked up ever so slightly, a slight indicator that he approved of your silence.

Sliding the book back into its place on the shelf, you turned back around, your hands resting at your sides.

“Please take a seat,” he said smoothly, gesturing to the chairs in front of the desk. You walked over to one, waiting for him to sit first. He took his seat and you followed his lead, keeping your demeanor as docile as possible even though your instincts screamed for you to run.

“Might I ask why I was brought here?” you asked, keeping yourself as still as possible.

“You're not one to beat around the bush,” he said, leaning back ever so slightly.

“No sir,” you said. “I've always liked to make the best possible use of my time.”

“That makes two of us,” he stood up, walking over to a cart in the corner of his office. If he was from Topside, you would've had to stand up to signify respect, something reminiscent of the Gilded age. By Janna, they were so old fashioned. Your eyes followed every movement he made, the way his back slightly rounded as he leaned down to retrieve a tumbler. “Do you drink?”

“In moderation.” You picked your word choice carefully. Silco nodded, picking up another. You watched him intently to be sure that he wasn't going to slip something in your drink. From what you’d heard, it wasn’t his typical MO, but you supposed that with his power he could silence anyone. Of course, there was also the fact that he was a drug lord, and with the hits he had on his back, it would be wise to stray from familiar behaviors. You had learned the same, never going to the same bar twice, varying the cases you'd take as to not con the same family twice, etc. It was a smart move to say the least, regardless of where his intent lay.

Silco made no suspicious actions, no sleight of hand - that you had caught, at least. The whiskey that he poured flowed smoothly into the glasses and he soon returned to the desk. Placing the glass in front of you, he stayed standing, observing your next move.

You lifted the glass to your lips, allowing a small amount of the amber liquid to trickle in, but you made sure not to swallow. You let your throat bob to imitate swallowing while you let the liquid sit in your mouth. His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly before he lifted the glass to his mouth, taking a large drink. Now knowing that the drink was not poisoned, you allowed yourself to swallow.

“Quite paranoid, aren't you?” he remarked.

“Only cautious,” you replied, taking another sip before setting the glass down. With the drink you’d already had prior to this meeting, you had to be careful with your alcohol intake as to not get tipsy enough to slip up.

Silco cleared his throat before saying, “I've heard about you.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. He had heard of you? Had you wronged him in some way? Conned one of his associates and caused him a major financial loss? You racked your brain for your last clients and the things you’d done to them.

Silco leaned forward ever so slightly, leaning his forearms against the wood of the desk. “Would you be willing to work for me?”

You blinked. Your mind was bland. He wanted to… recruit you? If he was anyone else, you would've laughed in their face before robbing them blind and letting them be someone else’s problem.

“You’re giving me a choice?” you asked tentatively. You were sure he was the kind of person to take what he wanted, through blackmail or coercion. He certainly didn't seem like the type to give you an option. He nodded. “Well-”

“There would be terms, of course.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a contract. One of your eyebrows rose. So he had been expecting you?

You quickly thought back to why you had come to thisparticluar bar in the first place. Well, one of the food vendors had told you that they had a special discount today at one of the nicer bars in the lanes, and although that hadn't proved to be true, you'd gone out of your way to stop by. By Janna, this place was ages away from your apartment. You cocked your head to the side. Had he… planted information as an incentive to get you to come? Perhaps you weren't as unpredictable as you thought.

That thought brought a frown to your face, which you smoothed over as soon as you felt it.

Silco interrupted your thoughts. “You will be paid fairly and if you wish, I own lodgings close by, protected by bodyguards. This will announce your affiliation with me, but the bodyguards will protect you when you’re off-duty. I make this offer because it's highly likely that even if you don't move into the residence, your future recurring trips to the Last Drop will raise an eyebrow, considering you haven't frequented this establishment often before.” That definitely raised a red flag; he was aware of how little you came to this bar. This meant he had to have made some sort of calculated move to get you here, probably tracking you in the process.

“As for your salary,” Silco continued, before reciting a number so high you could scarcely believe it was real. The corner of your mouth twitched ever so slightly. You could tell he caught it from the small satisfied look that glinted in his eye.

“I'll have to think about it,” you said at last. He nodded, leaning back.

“I'd like to have an answer at the same time next week.” he said, sliding the contract back into the desk where it came from, a clear dismissal that you took with open arms.

#did u catch the great gatsby reference? #no? okay #not to be one of those people but I highly encourage y’all to look up the definition of the title #it says a lot abt the fic 👀 #hehe my editor actually liked this one yay #(she doesn’t like silco 😁) #silco #silco arcane #arcane silco #silco x reader #silco x gn reader #silco fanfic #arcane #arcane fanfic #my work #my fic

[sweetlittlegingy]

I can't be held accountable for my actions

I don't have time for it, but also ..... do we want it?

Jacob Seresin (1920s AU)

Why do I already have a storyline planned out....

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #great gatsby #1920s Au #Champagne Problems #gingy does moodboards

[javier-djarin]

Dancing With Your Ghost: Chapter 2

The Great Gatsby AU

Ship: Ezra x Fem!Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,908  Words

Warnings: Mild Language, Cheating Spouse

Masterlist

gif by @alloftheimaginesblog

Summary: Nick spends time getting to know his mysterious neighbor while you struggle to keep your marriage together. Meanwhile, Charlotte learns something that changes everything.

A/N: I’m excited for this Gatsby AU fic. This is my first time writing for Ezra, so I hope I do his character justice. I hope you enjoy this. If there is a strikethrough in your name, Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you. Please let me know if you want to be in my tag list! I love you all and thank you for the overwhelming amount of support! Let me know what you think!!

When Nick woke up one morning, he wasn’t expecting Ezra at his door, knocking. The night before, Ezra had had a large party that went on into the wee hours of the morning. How Ezra was up this early, he had no idea. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and stumbled down the stairs to answer. “Sorry to wake you, old sport,” he apologized.

Nick was taken aback by the term, but grinned. He’d only had one other encounter with his strange neighbor, and gathered that his odd mannerisms only enhanced the ridiculous nature that surrounded the man. He held the door open for Ezra to enter, but he declined. “I ventured over here to extend an invitation to lunch this afternoon,” he offered, “I have some business in town, and wondered if you’d care to accompany me.”

He glanced back at the clock hanging in his foyer. He’d taken the day off to finish unpacking his things that arrived from home, but he could sacrifice a few hours to go to lunch with his new friend. Nick nodded. “Let me get dressed,” he said.

“I’ll swing by at noon,” Ezra said with a grin before turning back to his yard.

Nick immediately walked into his parlor to telephone Charlotte or You, honestly whichever answered first. It rang several times before Sam had picked up. He was shocked to hear the booming baritone carry through the ear piece, honestly believing him to be out on this bright, summer day. “Nick!” he exclaimed. “What can I do for you?”

Unsure of how to proceed, he sighed and asked to speak to Charlotte. Sam chuckled. “What do you say to lunch later?” he asked, while they waited for Charlotte.

“I can’t,” Nick replied, “I have plans this afternoon. Would this evening work?”

“I’ll be going into town,” he said, “I’m not sure when I will be returning. I’ll catch you some other time, Nick.”

He heard the phone exchange hands and Charlotte sigh a pleasant, “hello.”

Nick grinned to himself. “Lottie,” he said, “it’s Nick.”

She laughed. “Hey, Nick.”

“What do you know about Mr. Ashford?”

She paused for a moment, surprised at his question. “Not much, only the rumors I’ve heard at his parties. Why?”

“He’s invited me to lunch this afternoon.”

Charlotte gasped. “Wait,” she said, “you’ve actually met him? I could have sworn he wasn’t real, if I’m being honest. No one has ever seen him at his parties.”

“Well, he walked over to my house and invited me to lunch,” Nick added with a laugh, “I thought you knew him.”

“I know of him, Nicholas,” she replied, “I’ve been to his parties, but never actually met the man.”

He paused and sighed on the phone. “You go to his house, but you’ve never met him.”

“You’ve seen his parties,” she said sheepishly, “it’s impossible to meet him. All I know for certain is that he is an ‘Oxford man’; although I don’t believe it. Go to lunch, but then immediately call me and give me every detail.”

Nick laughed again. “Of course,” he replied, “goodbye, Lottie.”

“Goodbye, Nicholas.”

He hung up the phone and turned to get ready for his impromptu lunch with the most mysterious man on Kings Point.

***

You walked out onto the terrace and sat on the stone wall that separated the patio from the rest of your expansive yard. As the wind blew in off the Sound, you closed your eyes and pictured yourself, not that long ago, in North Carolina where you’d run along the pier with Ezra’s hand in yours. “Vi!” you heard Charlotte call from within.

You opened your eyes, rolling them at your childhood nickname again. “Out here, Lottie,” you responded.

She walked out, between the billowing curtains that hung in front of the large windows in your sunroom. “Nick just called,” she grinned, almost skipping to sit near you.

You returned her smile. “I think he might have a crush,” you said, “that’s the third time this week.”

She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, what do you say to going to a party with me, after Sam leaves for the evening on Friday?”

“You know I can’t,” you added, “Sam will have a fit.”

Charlotte groaned and spun away from you. “If you change your mind and decide to be fun, again, I’ll be in the sunroom drinking Sam’s whiskey.”

You sighed and watched her walk away. As much as you’d want to go out, you knew it would start the fight of a century with Sam. You didn’t want to add to the problems the two of you already faced. Sighing, you walked back into the house, stumbling up to the one guest room in the house no one ever went in. There, you kept hidden a small box full of memories you’d let collect dust over the last five years. Opening the box, you saw two newspaper clippings, a tattered letter, and a faded photograph. It was of a young sergeant with slick, dark hair and equally dark brown eyes. He had a singular blonde streak that ran down the right side; it was your favorite part of his hair. You loved running your fingers through his locks as he slowly would doze off to sleep in your lap. You closed your eyes and held the picture to your chest as a few tears ran down your cheek. This was the only picture you had of him, and since you heard the mention of a Mr. Ashford that lived across the bay, you wondered if he could be one in the same. Even after all these years, you still harbored feelings for him that your mother hoped she’d extinguished the day she forced you to marry Samuel.

Wiping your eyes, you placed the picture back in its box and slid it into the nightstand, where it would stay, collecting more dust. You sacrificed your happiness to time in exchange for your family’s status and reputation; something you’d never let go of, especially when Sam’s latest scandal made headlines. It made you resent your family even more, which made it even easier to make your visits few and far between.

***

Nick walked out to see an obnoxiously, yellow Rolls Royce pull into his drive. The driver, dressed just as lavishly, flashed him a charming smile that made anyone wonder how he lived alone in his large palace on the bay. “Afternoon, old sport!” he exclaimed, as he waited for him to climb into the car.

Smiling, Nick slid into the car with hardly enough time to buckle before Ezra sped off. They sat in an awkward silence for miles before Ezra glanced over to him at a stoplight. “What made you move out East?” he asked, the manner of his question made it more evident that he proceeded with caution.

Nick raised an eyebrow at him with a half-grin before clearing his throat. “I work on Wall Street in investments. I decided to move East, after failing to adapt to mundane life after the War.”

“Oh, the War! What Division?”

“Third. Ninth Machine-Gun Battalion.

This seemed to please him as he smiled and nodded. “I was in the Seventh Infantry until June 1918.”

Nick looked at him, shocked. Ezra Ashford didn’t seem like the type of man who would engage in hand to hand combat, roughing it in the trenches in France through the nasty winter and swampy summer; then again, neither did Nick. A medal landed in Nick’s lap that read: For exemplary valor and courage: Ezra Ashford. Impressed, he glanced back over at his chauffeur. “Where did you go after the war?”

Ezra uncomfortably shifted in his seat before responding. “I traveled for a bit,” he said, “trying to forget a tragic incident from my past. I ended up back here, though. You see, old sport, I come from a family of rich merchants that started their business during the Civil War. Since then, our exports have reached countries around the world. I had the means to travel after the war to ‘find myself.’” He paused and glanced at Nick for validation, who just gave him a weak smile. “My family all died after the war, which landed me my inheritance,” he continued. “I spent some time overseas, traveling to France, Italy, before stopping in London for my Oxford education.”

Nick wanted to believe him, but remembering Lottie’s skepticism of his past made him question these very rehearsed details of Ezra’s life. He appeared to be a kind, accomplished gentleman, but too perfect behind the scenes. He was hiding something, but Nick did not want to push the matter any further. Instead, he added to the conversation in the hopes of accidentally learning more of his mysterious neighbor. “My father, Nicholas Fairfield Sr., manages my grandfather’s estates in North Carolina. My excursion, as my family likes to call it, up here has cost me my inheritance until I come to my senses.”

He snorted. “I’m familiar with your family,” he scoffed, “or at least, I know of American Royalty when I read about them in the Times.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m certain you mean my cousins the Crawfords? They tend to make the papers wherever they go.”

“Those are your cousins that live across the bay?” He asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Nick nodded. “Yes. His wife is my cousin, but Samuel Crawford,” he sighed, “I tolerate him because he’s family and someone I know from Harvard.”

Ezra grew uncomfortably quiet as he zipped down a side street, parking near a few nicer cars in the alley. He stepped out of the car and approached the officer that was clearly walking by to give tickets to all the cars parked illegally. Nick watched as he pulled out a black business card from his jacket pocket. The officer tipped his hat to him and left the alley in the opposite direction. Ezra quickly joined his guest and said in a rapid pace, “I did the commissioner a favor a few years ago, and now he sends me a Christmas card every year.”

Nick nodded and followed Ezra into, what he assumed, was a high end speakeasy. The music, laughter, and smoke hit him the second he entered the building. A roaring jazz tune blared as a scantily dressed waitress showed Ezra to his “usual.” There was a man already sitting there, but Ezra didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he appeared overjoyed that this man had joined him. He watched as Ezra and the man leaned close, the latter whispering to the other. Ezra’s face grew grim before he excused himself from the table. “I’m sorry, old sport,” he said, “I have some business to take care of. This is Anthony Marcon. He’ll be happy to entertain while I step away.”

Nervously, Nick smiled at his new companion when Ezra disappeared into the overcrowded bar. “How-how long have you known Mr. Ashford?”

Anthony Marcon was a large man that exuded aggressiveness. His large shoulders took up most of the booth he was comfortably lounging in, which were attached to equally proportionate arms and thick hands that cradled an unlit cigar in one of them. He lifted the cigar to his mouth, struck a match, and took a deep breath. He sat for a minute, the toxins filling his lungs before he let the smoke escape. “Ezra?” He coughed. “I’ve known Ezra since before he was Ezra Ashford.” He laughed. “Well, since before he had all that money to his name.”

He glanced at Nick with a large, toothy grin. “Like my cuff buttons?” he asked, drawing Nick’s attention to the cufflinks he had not been admiring. “Finest specimens of human molars.” He burst into a fit of chuckles at Nick’s horrified expression. “Last time this guy stiffs me on his betting fee.”

“O-oh!” Nick stuttered. “I’m sure he won’t make that mistake again.”

Marcon chuckled again and grabbed his drink. “Helluva man, Ezra is,” he added, taking another drag off his cigar. “Helluva business man, exceptional gentleman. You’ll never know a better man. He’s the kind you’d bring home to your mother and sister. He would never so much as look at a friend’s wife. He’s very careful with women.”

Nick smiled another nervous smile at the man. He let out a soft sigh of relief when Ezra rejoined them, scooting in close to him. “Chicago’s been taken care of,” he nodded to Marcon.

“I told them not to mess with you or they’d suffer this quarter.”

Ezra gave Marcon a sharp glare that told him to table business talk for the remainder of their meal. He cleared his throat and signaled for a waitress to serve them. After they placed their orders, Marcon leaned in. “You know what tomorrow is, right?”

“Buggsy’s anniversary?”

Marcon nodded and lifted his drink. “Damn fuzz. You know Rosy Feldstein set him up.”

“And got away with it too.”

Nick’s eyes widened when he realized what they were talking about Bert ‘Buggsy’ Falcone who was shot dead a year ago outside the old Metropole after a standoff with police. He, along with several of his henchmen, managed to hold them off for two hours before running out of ammunition. Many claim he surrendered, while the police report read that he violently resisted arrest that led to his death. Marcon silently toasted to his fallen friend before standing. “It’s about time I head back to the office,” he said with a nod to Ezra. “Sit here and discuss your sports and your ladies. I’m far too old for that and won’t overstay my welcome.”

Ezra didn’t try to convince him to stay, especially when the waitress brought his and Nick’s lunches. With a flash, Marcon disappeared, leaving Ezra and Nick to their own devices. “Today is a hard day for him,” Ezra noted, after taking a sip of his whiskey, “But he’s quite a character here in Manhattan.”

“Who is he?”

“Anthony Marcon? Oh, he’s a businessman, but mostly a gambler.” Ezra paused, hesitating. “He’s the man who fixed the 1919 World Series.”

Nick’s eyes widened in surprise, surprise that Ezra surrounded himself with such criminals. That’s when he realized he knew nothing about his neighbor. The man, who was quick to befriend him, was a complete enigma to him. “So,” Nick said, taking a bite of his food, “what sort of business are you in, Mr. Ashford?”

He grinned at him. “Please, call me Ezra. And I’m in shipping and trading,” he said almost too fast.

Nick nodded. Business was usually a euphemism for something underhanded and potentially illegal, but Nick opted to not push the matter any further. As they finished their quiet lunch, Nick insisted on paying the check, to which Ezra begrudgingly agreed. After Nick collected his change, he stopped short. Across the room, with a beautiful blonde woman in his lap, was Samuel Crawford. It was common knowledge that Sam had a mistress in every town and city he lived in. It was the biggest family scandal, but many blamed you for the affairs. If she was a better wife and took care of her husband, maybe he wouldn’t stray from her bed at night. Nick felt his blood boil as he turned away from his cousin-in-law. “Nick!” he heard Sam’s voice boom across the room. “Nick, wait!”

Nick and Ezra froze. “Hello, Sam!” he called back, feigning surprise. “This is Mr. Ashford, Mr. Crawford.”

Nick noticed the way Ezra stiffly shook Sam’s hand.

“How have you been?” demanded Sam. “You’ll need to come by for lunch again. I’m sure Lotte hasn’t left Vi alone for one minute about your absence.”

A deep burn flashed across Nick’s face as he stifled a smile. “I’ll stop by early next week. I’ve been having lunch here with Mr. Ashford.”

Ezra stiffened again, his eyes cold as he stared at Sam. “I was just about to invite Nick to a little affair I was having at my house Friday night.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps you and your wife,” he nodded to the blonde woman pouting at the table Sam had abandoned, “would like to join us?”

Sam smirked and scoffed, ignoring Ezra. “I’ll send for you next week,” he said, turning to rejoin the mysterious woman at his table. “Why don’t you come meet Daisy?” he asked in a low whisper. “She brought her sister, and I’m sure you’ll find her plenty enjoyable.”

“I really must be going, Sam,” Nick said through his teeth, “and I do not want to meet Daisy.”

Sam shook his head, all but running back to the blonde waiting for him. Nick waited until he was out of earshot before storming out of the restaurant. “That’s not his wife,” he seethed.

“I know,” Ezra replied, nonchalantly as he moved to open his car door. “Thanks again for lunch, Nick.”

The air between them was stiff and uncomfortable as they drove hastily back to Kings Point. Ezra glanced down the road leading to Sands Point, slowing as he passed the old community. “You know them, don’t you,” Nick stated.

Ezra’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “There’s more to the story,” he sighed, “and Ms. Baker will be able to tell you everything tonight, after our meeting.”

“Ms. Baker --?”

He nodded. “She’ll be stopping by your house on her way home to tell you everything you need to know on this matter.”

Annoyed, Nick straightened in his seat, glaring ahead. He knew that Ezra wouldn’t say another word on what “this matter” was, and for a moment, he regretted ever getting into his neighbor’s car.

***

The sun had long since set when Nick heard a knock on his front door. He glanced at the clock on his mantle and saw that it was almost 9:00. Sighing, he set his cup of tea down and answered. Charlotte stood on his stoop half in awe and half in agony as she let herself in. “I just heard the most amazing story,” she breathed, sitting on his love seat in the quaint living room, “utterly amazing.”

Nick, confused and bewildered with her appearance, sat across from her. “What story?”

“Fix us some tea, Nick,” she smirked, leaning back against the couch, “I cannot tell a proper story without tea.”

Without missing a beat, he moved into the kitchen. He’d just put a pot on the stove, so the tea was fresh. Fixing her a cup, and making a tray of sugar and cream, he made his way back to the living room. “How was your meeting with Ezra?” he asked.

Her gaze darted to him with a wild spark of amusement. “That’s what I’m here to tell you about,” she said in a hushed tone. Nick leaned in to listen, not realizing just how amazing the story truly was:

One day in May 1917 --

(said Charlotte Baker, clutching her tea cup to her chest and inhaling the sweet fumes curling up from the steaming liquid)

-- I was walking home from an intimate garden party at my aunt’s house, leisurely strolling down the sidewalks and between fine, manicured lawns of Charleston, North Carolina. It was a hot day, but for once it wasn’t unbearable. The breeze carried sweet scents of the magnolias and dogwoods on their currents. I had just bought this beautiful new sun dress that was a little too short for my mother’s liking.

I’d started crossing the largest lawn in the whole state that belonged to the richest family in the city. She was just eighteen, two years older than me, and the most popular girl in all of Charleston. I remember it like it was yesterday. She was dressed in a white dress covered in the most beautiful embroidery while she relaxed in a little blue roadster. She was so popular with the young officers from the nearby base. When I’d come across her that day, she had her head resting on the shoulder of one of these officers who was gazing at her the way every girl dreamed of being looked at. His name was Ezra Ashford, and I didn’t lay eyes on him again for over five years -- even after I’d met him at one of his parties last month, I didn’t realize it was the same man.

I didn’t see her much that following summer, but when I did, she was completely smitten with Ezra. He wrote her letters every week, promising to come home and make her his wife. I’d never seen her so happy -- so in love. That’s when the rumors started spreading. When her mother caught her packing her bags to go to Washington D.C. to say goodbye to him before he went overseas; everyone was convinced she was going to elope. All she ever told me was that her mother effectively prevented it. For a while, she wasn’t on speaking terms with her family. She was kept in her house, unless she had a chaperone with her, and she was never seen with soldiers or any young men in town again.

That autumn she was happy again, or at least she pretended to be happy. She had a debut ball in September, and in January the following year, she was engaged to Sam Crawford of Charleston. They married in June 1918 with more pomp and circumstance than the people of Charleston had ever seen before. Hundreds of people were invited from all over the country, and the day before the wedding he gave her a string of pearls valued at five hundred thousand dollars.

I was her maid of honor. Before the rehearsal dinner, I found her in her room in a heap on the floor, drunk and distraught. She had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a letter crumpled in the other. She was sobbing so hard that her makeup had completely smeared off onto her white dress. I couldn’t make out a word she was saying, except “he’s not coming.” And she kept repeating that over and over again, clutching the letter to her chest, as if it were the only thing keeping her broken heart together. The second I sat next to her, I could smell the liquor on her breath. She gazed up at me through her thick lashes, tears dripping off them. “I can’t marry Sam,” she whispered, whiskey wafting through the air between us. “Tell him I changed my mind.” She thrust the strand of pearls into my hands, and then she cried. She cried and cried, refusing to let go of the letter.

I convinced her to get into the tub, and only then did she give me the letter. Out of respect, I never read it. I placed it in her night stand, next to a picture she had of Ezra. God, I don’t know how I didn’t see it until now. That blonde streak --

The next day, at five o’clock, she marched out of her room with the pearls around her neck and married Sam Crawford without so much as a tear. They left the next day for a three month trip around the Caribbean. They came back, and she appeared smitten with her husband. Everywhere he went, she always asked where he was -- like she couldn't’ bear to be parted from him.

Then, a month later, I realized why she needed to know his whereabouts. Sam had gotten into a bad car accident and it made the papers. He was pictured with a woman -- no one knew who she was -- because she’d broken her arm. She had been in the car with Sam, they were coming home from downtown. It was the first time the family realized he had a mistress.

It was apparent that she knew about Sam’s philandering, but with the pressure from her family on the back of her neck, she stayed with him. They moved to London the next month, and then Chicago after that scandal came out. I’ll let you figure out what caused them to move here.

It wasn’t until you came for lunch that she heard the name Ashford for the first time in years. It was when I asked you -- remember -- if you knew a Mr. Ashford. Well, later that night, she woke me and asked “What Ashford?” and then I told her. I was half asleep, so I didn’t understand. But, the next morning, I made the connection. Your neighbor was the officer in that blue roadster.

***

When Charlotte finished telling Nick everything she knew, he stared at her, utterly amazed. She was right, it was the most amazing story he’d ever heard. The clock struck ten, bringing them out of a daze. “So his house--” Nick began.

“He bought that house so she’d be right across the bay from him,” Charlotte finished.

Nick nodded, realizing that it wasn’t the stars, the vast expanse of the bay he’d been reaching for that night. What drove Ezra was more than mere greed for power and money. His aspirations were simple: love. You were the one that got away, and he wanted you back.

“He wants to know if you’ll invite her over to tea this week.” She paused. “He wants her to see his house.”

Nick nodded, still half amazed. He remembered the summer your heart was utterly broken, and he remembered his aunt -- your mother -- viciously forcing you to debut. He couldn’t stand Sam or the way he treated his wife, and now, you finally had a way out.

Charlotte laughed to herself, sipping on her tea again. “I think he half expected her to wander into one of his parties, but when he realized who you were and who you knew…”

“That’s why he sent for you to have dinner with him,” Nick muttered.

She nodded, placing her cup on the table. “I told him that you didn’t care for Sam,” she continued, “and that you’d be happy to help.”

His brow creased in frustration. “She’s married,” he rebutted, “do you know the scandal--”

“Sam has caused enough of a scandal in the four years they’ve been married!” She spat, standing. “She deserves some happiness in her life, and it comes in the form of Ezra Ashford.”

He sighed, standing to meet her. “How do you know she wants to see him?”

Charlotte moved around the table towards him. “I know she does,” she sighed, “trust me. But she’s not to know. Just invite her over for tea.”

He sighed. “I’ll call her in the morning.”

She smiled at him, gazing at Nick through her long eyelashes. He returned her grin, and wrapped her arm around his as he led her to the door. “I’ll also be expecting an invitation to tea at some point,” she softly breathed into his ear, “you can phone me under my Aunt’s name.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.

Without another word, she was gone. She flitted down the porch steps, leaving Nick alone to absorb all that he’d learned. He slowly walked down, one by one, until he reached the hedge between his yard and Ezra’s. He was walking around the pool, skimming it himself with a net and pulling leaves out of it. It was almost as if he sensed Nick’s presence, because he set the net down and approached the hedge. In that moment, Nick saw the vulnerable young officer Charlotte had described -- a man lovestruck and desperate for what he’d missed over the last five years.

“Will Tuesday work for you?” Nick asked.

“I don’t want to put you out, Nick,” he said, running a shaky hand through his hair.

Nick frowned. “I want to do it on a day that would work best for you.”

Ezra moved closer, leaning against a tree near the hedge. “Whatever day works best for you.”

“Tuesday?”

Ezra looked around Nick’s yard. “It should be enough time to get the grass mowed and the garden weeded.”

Nick followed his gaze with a smirk. He had neglected his own yard, and next to Ezra’s manicured one, it looked like a jungle. “I’ll make sure it rivals yours,” he laughed.

Ezra waved him off. “Nonsense. I’ll send my man over. Again, I don’t want to put you out.”

Smiling, Nick nodded and turned.

“Nick --” Ezra’s voice stopped short. It was the first time Nick had ever seen him so disheveled. He was searching for the right words, but struggling. “You don’t make a lot of money, do you?”

“No, I --”

“I could offer you some on the side business as a thank you,” he began and then hurried when he saw the concern on Nick’s face, “nothing with Marcon, of course!”

Shaking his head, Nick said, “I’m doing you a favor, Ezra. You don’t owe me. I’m doing this for you and her.”

It was clear he was caught off guard. He was used to people doing things for him for a price. Nick saw the look on Ezra’s face as he failed to understand the generosity Nick was offering him. This was a man who had no close friends, a man who used his money to get what he wanted. Ezra turned to finish his job at the pool. “Ezra,” Nick called after him, “I had no idea about your history with her, but --”

“Don’t,” he replied, “it’s in the past. I can’t repeat it, but I can make up for it.”

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