#always impatiently waiting for the next phase of my life to start

[thelightintheattic]

buggachat daily uploads again....so beautiful..save me buggachat....buggachat save me

[mountymase]

I say rewrite invisible string if you want to. I know I am just one person, and many readers may disagree. However, I do enjoy what you have currently, but from what you’re writing and telling us, it’s pretty apparent that you’re somewhat dissatisfied with what you have written. From personal experience, I think that could negatively affect your motivation to write and your dedication to this series and potentially future series. I’ve always found it obvious when a writer is just writing because of the pressure to get out another chapter of a series for impatient readers because it loses the appeal I felt when I would first start a series. This isn’t saying that I've lost the appeal that I first felt because, as I said before, I really do enjoy what you’re writing, and I really enjoy getting to experience the world you’re creating. Maybe if you took the time away from the series to rewrite it in a way you want, there wouldn’t be this mounting pressure to publish the next chapter of something you’re not entirely proud of. I’m genuinely sorry if this is stepping over the line. I’ve just never been told this before, and this is something I wish that I had been told. I’ve slowly learned this with a lot of my interests, and it has allowed me to get to the burnout phase slowly. I know not everyone works the same, so hopefully, this may help in any way, shape, or form without sounding like an absolute know-it-all. Can't wait to see what else you do, whether it be to continue with invisible string or to rewrite! 🧸🌻

This is really sweet, and I appreciate you coming here to give me advice. I’m not… entirely dissatisfied. I do love the story and I do love what I’ve created and continue to create. Right now I just lack the time and energy not only to rewrite, but to give it the attention it deserves. I just don’t like the first two, maybe three chapters and I don’t feel pressured at all to post a new one. Will I probably rewrite it when I’m done with the series? Most likely! 🤭😅 but work and life, overall, have been keeping me super busy.

[lifetimeshipper]

Life's New Adventures and Secrets

Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~

Strongarm wrapped her arms around Steeljaw pulling him into a hug, "Do you remember what's next week?"

Steeljaw thought for a moment, "Is it your birthday?" He guessed teasingly.

She chuckled, "You're such a tease. You know my birthday is still a couple of months away."

Steeljaw chuckled, "I know," he replied as he kissed her passionately, "Just like I know what next week is."

"What is it then?"

"Our anniversary," he purred as he slowly started kissing her neck, "And I can't wait."

"Got any plans for it?"

"I have a few ideas, you'll just have to wait and see," he replied.

"And just how much of it involves sex?"

"Getting impatient already, are we?" He teased.

She rises an optic ridge, "No, I just know you."

"Sex isn't all I think about, I love just spending time with you."

"Except when you're on your heat cycle," she giggled.

"True. And don't forget we'll have to watch Emberwing tomorrow. It's Thunderhoof and Metalsound's anniversary, I'm sure they'll want some alone time."

"I remember and no doubt they do. But we better keep a close watch on Nightback, we both saw what happened with their tails and we both know what it means."

"They're still so young, for all we know it could just be a phase. If it happens again we'll have to have a talk with him about it."

"Yes."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nightback and Seajumper continued to race against each other, trying to see who was faster, "I'm gonna beat you!" Nightback told Seajumper."

Seajumper revved his engine trying to stay with the older boy, "Why did you wrap your tail around Emberwing's?"

"I honestly don't know, didn't even know I did it until you said something."

"Weird," Seajumper responded, "Sorry about earlier."

"You wasn't hurting me it was just mean laughing at Emberwing like that."

"You have to admit it was kind of funny. I didn't know she was going to turn into that... Whatever she turned into. But she does look cool though."

"Yeah, it was a bit funny, and that was unexpected. But yes, she looks really cool in that form."

"I wonder if she'll have antlers like Thunderhoof."

"I saw some sprouting so most likely."

"She's pretty big in her beast form. Do you think we could ride her as the humans do for horses?"

"I doubt it, but you never know."

"I dare you to try it."

"I dare you to."

"I double dog dare you."

"I triple dog dare you."

"I dare you infinity."

"I dare you super infinity."

Seajumper hesitated before he tried to think, "I dare you," he let out a growl in defeat. "You have to do it first because you're the oldest," he replied in a triumphant tone as he transformed back to his bot form.

Nightback transforms as well, "How is it that I must do it first because I'm the oldest?"

"Dad does it with Commander Ultra Magnus."

"Yeah, I know. Alright, but you're doing it right after me."

"Deal."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boys were hiding behind one of the shelves while Emberwing was practicing her headbutts on her punching bag, "And you said you would never use my gift," Grimlock said to Thunderhoof with a smile as he watched Emberwing.

"When did I say that?"

"When Emberwing was born."

"Well, it turned out to be useful."

Emberwing took a few steps away from the punching bag, giving it her best glare. With a growl, she charged forward with her helm low. The boys watched as she headbutted the bag almost breaking it.

Nightback gulped, "You sure you want to try getting on her? There's no need to feel bad if you want to back out," he said to Seajumper, feeling scared of the femme now.

"I-I'm not so sure anymore," Seajumper replied starting to feel scared of the femme as well. "But, we had a deal," he said as he watched Emberwing, "Unless you're a chicken." Seajumper giggled as he started imitating a chicken. 

"Hey, you're just as scared as I am!"

"Am not, I was just saying that to make you feel better. Unless you're breaking our deal, Mom always said that you should keep your promise."

"Don't bring both our mom's sayings into this!"

Seajumper just laughed as he started imitating a chicken again, "Look at me, I'm Nightback and I'm scared of a femme," he mimicked his friend's voice.

"Cut it out! I'm not scared!"

"Then prove it."

"I will, I'll jump on her back as soon as she transforms into her beast mode."

Just then Emberwing transformed as she started attacking the bag with her front paws. Thunderhoof chuckled as he watched his daughter, "Take it easy, you don't want your claws getting stuck," he warned the child.

Just then Nightback runs out and jumps on her back. With a startled bleat, she started jumping around like a horse trying to get him off. He grabbed a hold of her and held on as tight as he could. Emberwing threw herself upward trying to fling whoever was on her off. Seajumper watched from the safety behind the shelf, suddenly more afraid of the femme. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea," he whimpered.

Eventually, Nightback lost his grip and fell off. Emberwing was about to stomp on him, if not for Thunderhoof picking her up in time. "Emberwing calm down, it's okay. It was only Nightback," he soothed the frightened sparkling. "What were you thinking?" He scolded the small mech.

"I didn't want to but Seajumper dared me."

Thunderhoof looked at the shelf, seeing Seajumper peeking out from behind it. With a quiet yelp, he ducked back hoping Thunderhoof hadn't seen him, "Seajumper!?" He growled softly.

"Seajumper is not in, please leave a message," Seajumper replied.

"Get out here, now!"

Seajumper starts walking out slowly. Thunderhoof placed Emberwing on the ground next to Nightback, "Who's idea was it to jump on Ember's back?" He asked crossing his arms.

"Mine, sir," Seajumper replied sheepishly. With a sigh, Thunderhoof looked to his daughter, then to Nightback, the poor kid was shaking. Activating his comlink he contacted Wheeljack.

:: Yes? :: Wheeljack answered.

:: Your son has something to say. Could you come over here for a moment? ::

:: Sure thing, be there in a minute. ::

"Sorry," Emberwing said softly to Nightback, "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, I'm fine. You?"

"Yeah. You said you jumped on me because of a dare?"

"Yeah, Seajumper dared me," he replied sheepishly.

"You do know I could have hurt you, right? I'm a lot bigger than you guys while I'm in my beast form. Why did you accept it anyway?"

"I know. I didn't want to seem like a chicken."

"Why would you be a chicken? For not jumping on me?"

"Yeah..."

"So? It just means you didn't want to hurt me, and it wasn't smart to jump me when I was attacking my punching bag," she bleated a giggle.

He starts blushing a bit, "No, I don't want to hurt you, and I know it was dangerous."

"Just don't accept a dare when you know something is dangerous, even if they call you a chicken."

"I won't next time."

"Good," Thunderhoof replied as Wheeljack walked over.

"Alright, what's the issue?"

"You want to tell him or should I?" Thunderhoof asked Seajumper who just stood there looking down at the ground. When Thunderhoof noticed that Seajumper wasn't gonna say anything he decided to tell him, "Seajumper dared Nightback to jump on Emberwing's back."

Wheeljack looked at his son, "Why would you dare him to do that?"

"Was wondering if we could ride on her as the humans do on horses," he mumbled.

"Why?"

"I just wanted to try it."

"You did promise you'd go after me," Nightback muttered.

"I did..."

"And he will, if Emberwing doesn't mind," Thunderhoof said with a small smile. The femme snorted.

Seajumper looks at him, "Really?"

"A promise is a promise," Wheeljack nodded.

"YAY!" He shouts with joy as he runs to jump on her back.

Emberwing had to resist the urge to buck him off right there, "If you don't get off me I will sit on your helm," she growled.

"Awe, come on, Emberwing."

"If he can stay on for eight seconds then you'll do nothing. If he falls off you can charge at him, or sit on his helm," Wheeljack responded.

A sly grin formed on the young Predacon's face, "Deal."

"Oh this will be eaSYYYYY," he says as the young femme starts bucking, "WHOA! WHOA!" Didn't take long and he fell off. Emberwing was a short distance away, her helm low as she pawed at the ground preparing to charge.

"You may want to run, Seajumper," Wheeljack chuckled as they all watched the femme.

Seajumper transformed and drove off as fast as he could. Emberwing let out a bleating roar as she chased after him.

"Should we stop her?" Nightback asked worried for Seajumper.

"Naw, he deserves it. He needs to learn."

Just then Steeljaw walks up to them, "What's going on?"

"Seajumper dared Nightback to jump on Ember's back and now she's chasing him because he couldn't stay on her for eight seconds," Wheeljack replied.

Steeljaw looks at his son, "Nightback, did you jump on Emberwing's back?"

"Yes, sir," Nightback replied with his ears pulled back.

"And what happened?"

"She threw me off."

"Did you learn your lesson from it all?"

"Don't take dares if it involves something dangerous, and don't let others call you a chicken."

"Who called you a chicken?"

"Seajumper."

"And he was the one cowering," Thunderhoof put in.

"Yes," Nightback said. Seajumper's scream could be heard from the other side of the scrapyard.

"I better go save him," Wheeljack chuckled as he left to find his son.

"Well, I think you had enough of a punishment," Steeljaw tells his son.

"I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it again."

"It's Seajumper who should be sorry," Thunderhoof stated, "You sure you're okay?" He asked the young mech.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Good, I better go help Wheeljack," Thunderhoof said as he left to catch up with the Wrecker.

"Are you going to tell Mom?" Nightback asked looking up at his father.

"I'm debating."

Nightback looked to the ground, he felt like he had let his dad down. Not to mention he felt embarrassed for what had happened, he couldn't believe that Emberwing had managed to get him off of her so quickly.

"Are you alright, son?"

"Yeah, just thinking."

"About?"

"How did she get me off so quickly? I'm older and stronger than she is," he replied feeling jealous.

"She's probably stronger in her beast form."

"I guess."

"Don't underestimate a femme, trust me I know. I learned that the hard way."

"What do you mean?"

"I underestimated your mother big time and found out the hard way just how strong she really is."

"What did you do?"

"Well, um, your mom and I were enemies before we got together and I got into two fights with her, the first one I won and took her down but the second one she won and took me down. She had improved greatly in her strength and fighting skills since the first time, which I had not expected."

"Why were you enemies?"

"Well, I was a 'Con criminal and she was an Autobot cop, she was after me to lock me back up and I wanted to get rid of her and the others so I could stay free and follow through with the plans I had."

"What happened, did you change your mind?"

"She helped me change my mind when I fell in love with her. When I fell for her my plans suddenly changed as well as my outlook on everything."

"How did you know you love her?"

"After our last fight, I couldn't get her out of my processor. I kept thinking about her, I kept dreaming about her, and I got to the point where I had to see her as much as possible. I first thought it was ridiculous and that it was just a phase I would grow out of, but then I saw it wasn't and I fell in love with her more and more."

"What are you guys talking about?" Strongarm asked as she walked over to her son and mate.

"Just telling him how we were before we got together and how I knew I was in love with you."

Strongarm sent him a wave of love before picking up her son, "I think it's time for you to head to bed, it's getting late."

"Awe, Mom, but I'm not tired."

"You'll be glad for it in the morning. I had to help Metalsound and Thunderhoof calm Emberwing down, and I know what happened," she told her son, "Are you okay?"

"You do? Yeah, I'm fine."

"As long as you don't do it again. I don't want anything to happen to you." I need to talk with you later. She told Steeljaw through their bond as they walked back to their quarters, Nightback was already fast asleep. Tucking him in, Strongarm kissed his helm before she left his room closing the door behind her.

"What do you need to talk to me about?" Steeljaw asked as they went to their bed and sat down, "Are you alright?"

"We found a set of tracks, Metalsound thinks there might be a small group of Decepticons roaming around. I don't want Nightback going outside of the base without someone to watch him," she told him feeling worried about their sparkling's safety.

"We'll both keep a close watch on him, and I'll be keeping a close watch on you as well," he says as he wraps his tail and arms around her nuzzling his face into hers. "Had too many close calls."

Strongarm giggled at the nuzzle, "You're right, I seem to be a magnet for those kinds of things," she replied as she hugged him.

"Yes, you do."

"I hope we can break that, I feel like I'm cursed."

"Well, nothing's happened in 5 years, so things are going pretty well so far."

"Now we just have the rest of our lives," she joked.

"And I'm gonna keep you safe through it all. I don't know what I'd do if anything was to happen to you."

"You'd have to look after our son," she told him as she leaned her helm onto his chest, listening to his spark pulse. "And I will do the same thing if anything happens to you. I don't want him to be alone like you were."

"As much as I love our son I wouldn't be able to live on without you."

"I really appreciate that you love me that much, but I really would like for you to live on for his sake."

"I'll try. But nothing will ever happen to you, I will be sure of that."

Strongarm planted a kiss on his lips, "We should get some sleep, we're going to have our hands full tomorrow."

"Yes, let's go to sleep then."

They both lay down and slip into recharge, still holding each other.

[jaehyunzzmilk]

make a wish

pairing: johnjae x reader (incubus angels)

word count: 2.1 k

genre: smut

summary: imagine johnny and jaehyun appearing in your room to satisfy your sexual dreams

notes: hey angels, as promised I'm uploading the first part of this fic I've always wanted to write, first chapter has to be with johnny and why not add my other bias, god gave us two holes for a reason lol next parts will be with other nct members but omg I got so horny while writing this, hope you like it, leave a feedback if you like

warnings: threesome, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex, double penetration, spanking, biting, choking, cum play, anal (female receiving)

"Make A Wish"

You're searching for some books at the occultism part at the library, you're not exactly sure what you're looking for, you just hope to find some answers for the dreams you're having. It was always the same dreams, well not the same story every time but it was always with the same men and at the same place, since you could remember. "Aren't people supposed to have different dreams?"

But the funny thing is, you're not afraid, the dreams are not nightmares, you actually like the feeling. There are these beautiful men, you think they are angels, always the same ones, there's something about them, when they appear in your dreams you get a level of serotonin you don't need anything else, you can feel them touching you, it's like you loved them.

You were almost obsessed with it, to a level where you spent most of your time sleeping trying to dream about it again. Of course you couldn't tell them to any therapist or friend because they would say you were insane, so you decided to do your own research.

While searching over the bookshelves, a word grabs your attention "Incubus".

'These demons crave sex and often attack their victims while they sleep.' You've heard about this before. While reading that quote a flash went through your brain of one of them fucking you, you couldn't remember which one was it, but the fact that you had a better feeling of orgasm from a dream that your real life was exciting. Maybe that was the reason you wanted to dream about it again.

Do you know that feeling when you wake up from a dream and don't remember about it at all? But you know you had the dream, and who it was with. That's how you feel about the demons or angels from your dreams. But the only thing you're sure it's you have to find a way to extend the feelings, enjoy them and ironically be conscious. You want to remember their faces, to talk to them, to fully feel them.

When you get home you prepare tea to start reading your book, you don't want to drink coffee because you want to sleep easily. Reading through the pages you learn that since the old days people experience dreams like the ones you do, for some people it might feel like nightmares, sleep paralysis and some even feel pain, it can last years. Then you learn something called lucid dream, that basically you can have control over your actions. You just wanted to see them again.

Can you induce a lucid dream? You were going to try it. There's a lot of ways to lucid dreaming, a lot of them involved setting up an alarm after you're in an REM phase of your sleep, which is the deepest level of sleep, then staying up for 30 minutes and getting back to sleep again. It was too much work, you were gonna try the easiest way.

Hours later, after reading the book and googling everything about lucid dreaming, you lay down on your bed and you try to remember some of your old dreams, that's what one of the articles says. You try hard to remember details, things you normally don't remember like the smell, the noises, the colour of the walls… And you repeat to yourself "I will dream about them tonight, I will remember my dream"

After about 30 minutes you're impatient, you can't stand to stay still anymore, you try everything but can't fall asleep. You open your eyes and stare at the ceiling then you grab your phone.

[1:00 am]

"- I love when she uses that silk night dress" A voice from the corner of the room says.

"- Look how perfect she is waiting for us!" Another voice says.

The two tall men walk towards your bed. They are tall and beautiful. They wear silk white clothes and have a skin that looks like porcelain.

Did it work? Were you dreaming?

"Are you angels?" You ask and sit down on your bed.

Both of them look at each other and laugh, they are sitting at the tip of the bed now.

"- You're the only angel here princess" The guy on the right says.

They come closer to you.

"- You were waiting for us, right? Did you miss us?"

"Ye-Yes but… Who are you? Can I know your names?" You say afraid you're going to wake up and they will disappear.

"- It's ok princess, we're not going anywhere! My name is Johnny" - He says passing his fingers through your hair.

"- I'm Jaehyun!" He lays on your side.

Gosh, how could they be so beautiful? It seems that you're in control of your actions now. You suddenly get shy and don't know what to do. If it's a dream then why does it feel so real?

"- You called us, right princess? Don't be shy" Jaehyun says and moves his hands up your tights, your whole body shivers with goosebumps.

"- Just relax angel, we'll take care of you, that's why we're here" Johnny says while kissing your neck.

Jaehyun moves his hand up and touches your core with the tip of his fingers.

"- Look Johnny, she's not wearing any panties! She was begging for us to come"

You moan while Jaehyun kisses the other side of your neck. Johnny takes off the shoulder strap from your night dress exposing one of your breasts and he goes down giving wet kisses on your nipple. Jaehyun moves your chin to his direction and kisses you, soft but intense.

"- Tell us what you want princess! Make a wish!" Johnny says, kissing your collarbones and grabbing your boob with his hand.

"I want you, both, all night"

Now Johnny kisses you, and Jaehyun starts to finger you slowly.

"- You have us, wish conceived!" Jaehyun says while taking off your night dress.

"- You're perfect!" Johnny passes his hands through your body and takes off his clothes. He kisses you again and sucks your bottom lip.

When Jaehyun's mouth makes contact with your clit you moan in Johnny's lip. You reach out to Johnny's length and start to move your hands up and down, spreading the precum from the tip to his base. Johnny comes back to sucking your nipple while Jaehyun is eating you out.

"- I want that pretty little mouth around my cock" Johnny says, grabbing your face to his cock. He pushes his length all the way into your mouth making you gag, saliva leaking from the corners of your mouth while you moan and take him all in. Holding your neck with one hand Johnny finds a way to reach your clit with his free hand while Jaehyun is devouring your pussy. Jaehyun's twitching back muscles looked so beautiful with his head between your legs and Johnny making sure he was also pleasuring you while you sucked him.

"- Such a good girl, does it feel good having both of us all for you?" Johnny says, pressing his finger harder on your clit. You pull out Johnny's length from your mouth for a second so you can breathe, your back arches and whole body tense because of how close you are. You give a loud moan when Johnny taps your clit and kisses you again.

"- Are you gonna cum on Jaehyun's mouth angel?" He bites your lower lip.

"Yes... Yes, I'm coming!" You scream in pleasure.

After recovering from your high Jaehyun bites your inner thigh and comes up to kiss you. "Look at how sweet you taste" Jaehyun gives you a deep kiss and Johnny collects your juices with his fingers and puts it in his mouth to also taste you. "- So wet for us!" Johnny says, his eyes get darker and he grabs your neck and kiss it from behind. Johnny grabs your hips and pulls down on his lap, he teases you brushing his cock on your ass.

"- Bend over for me!" Johnny says. You obey and get on all fours, looking up to see Jaehyun's smirking at you. Johnny gives a slap on your ass and you moan in surprise, getting even more wet.

"- Look at me "Jaehyun positions himself in front of your mouth and grabs your neck hard while Johnny enters your pussy with one deep thrust. He fucks you hard and deep while Jaehyun chokes you.

You reach for Jaehyun's dick hard on his stomach and take him in your mouth. You pick up a rhythm, tears coming out of your face from being stuffed with both of their dicks, room filled with the obscene noises of moans and skin slapping. Jaehyun moves his hips deep in your throat making you gag and choke and each one of your moans sends vibrations making him twitch. Jaehyun pulls out for a moment just to tease his tip on your lips, then you deepthroat him again. Johnny's thrusts are getting faster, making you moan into Jaehyn's cock, Johnny is moaning hard as well. "- I'm gonna cum" He digs his nails into your hips and comes hard inside you. At the same time Jaehyun removes himself from your mouth and grabs his dick in his hands "- Me too" he says. With no warning Jaehyun releases into your face making a mess, splashes of cum all over your face. Johnny is still inside you, he pulls your chest against his, holding your boob with your hand and your neck with the other. "- Look at the mess Jaehyun did to your pretty face, you like that don't you?" You push down in his cock and start moving your hips in circle motions "- You're so dirty, are you gonna come for us one more time?" Johnny asks. Johnny holding your weight on him, Jaehyun puts his fingers on your lower ab. "You look so good with Johnny's cook deep in your pussy" Jaehyun teases you while you keep thrusting on Johnny, he puts his hand in your belly, right where Johnny's dick is, then lowers to your clit. "- Cum for us one more time" Jaehyun says. You cum on Johnny's dick, legs shaking and you relapse on your bed.

Johnny and Jaehyun lay on your sides, Jaehyun is facing you and Johnny is behind. Johnny pulls your hair exposing the back of your neck giving you a kiss. "- Are you ready for round 2?" Jaehyun asks, kissing you. He lifts one of your legs, giving an easy access to your core, he teases your pussy lips with his tip, you whine wanting more. Johnny takes the leaking cum from your core to your butt hole, inserting a finger carefully to stretch you out. You squirm to reach Johnny's face and kiss him, rolling your hips to feel Jaehyun's dick brushing against your core and Johnny's fingers on your ass. "- Do you want our cocks filling you up? Can you handle that?" Johnny asks. "-Yes, yes please fuck me, I can take it".

Jaehyun stops the teasing and pulls his whole length into you, then pulls slowly out leaving only the tip inside you, he keeps doing that over and over, the overstimulation in your pussy lips is driving you insane, you whine. "- Sorry, I didn't hear you" Johnny says and slides his cock into your ass, you moan even louder than before with every thrust. The new feeling of pleasure consumes your body, two cocks inside your holes filling you up so good. They were being more gentle, the thrusts were slow but deep. Their hands running all over your body.

"- Fuck, how can you be so tight?" Jaehyun moans "You'll be so full with our cum" you drag your nails into his back. You tilt your head back, resting on Johnny's chest.

"Oh God, I can't hold for much longer!" You scream. Your body and mind are going blank with the overstimulation. Johnny and Jaehyun still thrusting into you, deeper and harder. You squirt on Jaehyun's dick so hard and he climaxes right after you. Jaehyun removes from you and Johnny's thrusts gets messier as he grabs your body with more strength as he is closer to his orgasm, with a few more pounds he releases into you groaning.

You breathe heavily trying to recover. "You did so well, my love!" Johnny says kissing you. Jaehyun helps cleaning you up and softly passes his fingers through your body.

"I don't want you to disappear, please stay with me, only with me!" You lay your head on Jaehyun's chest. "- Don't worry my angel, we are only yours!" Jaehyun says. "Promise?" You look at them. "- Yes baby, we promise!"

"I don't want this dream to end" You say and fall asleep in their arms.

"Find us in your daydream" Johnny whispers.

[futurewriter2000]

Rocks and Dust

A/N: I don't know why Remus gave me such Heath Ledger vibes when I was writing this but he did and I am honestly so fucking proud of it. Now, I really want to make myself some rice and chicken... or just rice. I hope you like it <3

REQUESTED BY @cloudywitchh: Hiiii, Im not sure if your requests are open, but if they are i have one. :)) Before I request, I want you to know that I love your oneshots and series! ive been binge reading. Could you possibly do a Gryffindor reader that has both james and remus that like her. oneshot or series. if you choose to write it, thank you, if not i understand

XX

Souls meet when eyes do and it hasn't been much easy to hold yourself back when such mesmerising hazel eyes had done nothing but watch you seductively.

At first you couldn't feel it but after a while, something in the back of your mind told you to look a certain direction. When you did, your eyes met his and a certain colour started to appear on your cheeks.

You watched him, he watched you. "Yes, Potter?" you asked with a smirk forming on the corner of your lips.

He smiled, tilting his head a bit to the side before speaking. "Had you done something new with your hair?" he asked, glancing up at your hair as you let out a laugh.

"Not really."

"Well, no matter of it." he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "You look absolutely stunning."

You felt your heart flutter in your chest but you were not about to let him know that. "Thank you. When don't I look absolutely stunning." you joked and he rolled his eyes.

"Hey, mate." Remus came into the common room and tapped James' shoulder as he passed him by, sitting next to him.

James smile faded a bit. He was a tad disappointed in his friend's presence. Everything had seemed to go so well between you and him. If the two of you continued to be alone, he would have had more confidence to ask you out on a date. Knowing that Remus took fancy in you too, it was a bit challenging to do so.

"What's up, Moony?" James looked at him, clearly not in a friendliest tone Remus was used to.

Remus' lips twirled upwards and he felt amused by his friends' frustration. He looked at you and smiled wonderfully. "Hi." he said and you smiled cheerfully, oblivious to the competition in front of you.

"Hi, Remus."

You seemed to be a tad disappointed as well. You loved to flirt with James because it seemed so easy and fun to do yet sometimes you couldn't understand whether he truly likes you or if he's doing it just out of fun. But you live by your mother's words; If a man truly likes you, he will do absolutely everything to let you know and pursue you.

That was why you were always so laid back. You didn't overthink anything when it came to boy. They seemed to think more simply than girls and whatever they did, they did because they wanted to, not because there was a whole scheme behind their actions.

You could see a bit discomfort in James. You couldn't really figure out why but he started to pout, which had made you a bit more uncomfortable around both of them.

Remus, however, loved to talk to you. He was open and honest but sometimes you felt as if he held too many secrets inside of him. To you, he was a bit harder to get to know, no matter how much he could tell you.

"You're going to love this, (y/n)!" he started to sound more excited. "I had found the oldest yet most interesting place a few nights ago-" he hear- both of you heard James scoff to that. "And I know your curious spirit cannot wait to explore it."

"Where?!" you threw all your books away and jumped forward. Old ruins and historic backgrounds always made you overly excited. You must have gotten it from your dad's side of the family. Everybody seemed to be more of history freaks and you were no different.

"I can show you. What do you think James?" Remus turned to James, who only laughed.

"No, thank you." he stood up and stretched his arms over his body. "Rocks and dust? Not my cup of tea. If I wanted to take a girl I fancy-" he looked at you with a grin and a soft chuckle. "I'd take her somewhere more romantic." he walked to you and winked. "A lovely restaurant or a walk among the trees under the moonlight." he was leaning down to you, close and observing the flush in your cheeks.

Your eyes were meeting and it lit a fiery spark between the two of you but as you didn't want to give him the pleasure of it, you rolled your eyes and moved away. "That's a bit of a cliche, isn't it, Potter?" you stood up and stretched your back as well. "I don't do romance." you turned from James to Remus and smiled excitedly. "Shall we go and explore!?"

"Yes we shall."

---

Remus hasn't felt you this excited over some 'rocks and dust' in all the years he had known you but he had felt his heart fill with joy and love when he could see how a person can live for the small things in life. You didn't care about wealth or power, neither if a person was physically beautiful and attractive. You neither cared if person had its flaws, you still loved anybody for who they were; good or evil. You always tried to look the best in people and your gift was, that you always seemed to bring out just that out of everybody and especially out of him.

As the two of you had walked, he had realised that he wants to tell you something important to him. It wasn't a secret to his friends and family but it was a shameful secret to him and to everybody else.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked as the two of you were climbing up the hill.

"Yeah." you stopped, gasping for air and putting your hands on your hips. "I think we need to rest too." you smiled and he laughed.

"It's not that far. We're almost close."

"My heart is almost close to stopping too."

He laughed again and sat on the rock, finding the moon shining on him as if it was leaving its fullness from a few days ago. "I just have the need to tell you this... and I'm serious."

You looked up at him and found the moon perfectly cut out the colour of his green eyes. "Your eyes look so pretty in the moonlight." you said without any filter but sat down next to him.

"Thank you."

You smiled and looked up at the moon before taking a look of his worried expression. "What is it?" you shoved him a little as he smiled. "You can tell me your deepest darkest secret." you joked but it was no joke to him.

"Well... I'm... I'm a werewOlf." he stuttered out, trying to sound casually as he said so but unsuccessful.

You only stared in silence, clearly processing the information as he was impatient to wait for your reaction. Your eyes only narrowed at him and you nodded. "I knew it."

"You knew it?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I mean, I didn't know it. I just know there was something to you that I couldn't put my finger on but I kind of knew it. It did cross my mind once but I brushed it off quickly. I didn't believe it but apparently my intuition was on to something." you laughed and stood up, offering him your hand. "Shall we continue?"

"You don't seem a tad phased by it." he took your hand gently and stood up.

"Oh, I am but I really don't mind people being people. You know?" you started to talk fast. "I don't judge people by their flaws, more by their actions and I don't seem why your werewolfness would bother me when there are far worse withces, wizards and Muggles in this world, who are far more worse than any werewolf I had encounter. Which, you're the first but still. You don't seem the one to eat children and howl at the moon."

He let out a loud laugh. "I don't eat children but I do the latter."

---

The two of you walked up the hill hand in hand, him trying to pull you up as his steps were much larger than yours. He was more of muscles than you, faster and careful as for you seemed to trip over a branch or two.

He had opened up as the two of you made your way to the top and started to walk on the flatlands. It stretched far away from the castle but you could see the ruins so clearly from the distance. The light of he moon made the subject far more pleasing to the eye and at that moment when Remus was talking to you and your eyes seemed to wander on the view- everything seemed to be perfect and you imprinted that moment into your memory so that you can look back and re-live it all over again.

As he talked, he seemed more lose and excited. He hadn't held back on anything. He had told you about Animagnus forms of his friends and how he isn't the only one who howls at the moon. Sirius apparently loves to do it just as well in his other form. He had constantly made you laugh by his full moon stories and how he accepted the awful fact of his life-long destiny of sharing his body with a beast.

He was glowing, literally glowing when he was telling you all the things he was hiding from you and for the first time, you were the one to listen and he was the one constantly talking.

"We're here!" he pointed at the ruins of an old castle. It wasn't big or notorious as Camelot or Hogwarts or any other historically known castle. It was small and poor in it's built but it was still a castle, just not the traditional kind.

He let go of your hand and it gave you a sort of an electrical shock as he did. You seemed to be so comfortable and in love of holding hands that you completely forgot what it was like without his fingers intertwined with yours.

It wasn't for long though. He had opened the old wooden door for you and offered you his hand to lead you inside. "After you, m'lady." he bowed as a gentleman should and you hurried up inside, taking him by the hand and leading him behind you.

Your wands needn't to be lit as the moonlight made it's own natural light through the large gaps between the rocks. Nature made it's own charm by growing vines around the walls, flowers and grass among the cracks. It truly did feel more magical than the magic itself.

"Oh, Remus look!" you ran to one of the walls and saw names carved in. "Ibzan." you smiled back at him.

"Old biblical name." Remus followed and saw many other names written around it. "Arthur." he laughed. "Wouldn't be an English castle without an Arthur in it."

"Tatiana." you looked at it. "Like a princess." you looked at him but he seemed to be very close to you, staring forward. His chest was against your back and his head leaning over your shoulder. You didn't have to look back. You could only move your eyes to the side and see him there.

He seemed to be so focused on the rocks in front of you that he hasn't even noticed you marvelling at him. All you could see, for the first time noticing his sharp, nicely structured side profile. His cheek bones were finely defined, his lips sharp and plump and his eyebrows nicely arched.

He truly was a beautiful boy and you hadn't noticed it till now. His palm was placed against the rock as he was supporting himself but when he had noticed you looking at him, he slyly looked back. A corner of his mouth quirked up and he said: "A girl doesn't need to be a princess to have a beautiful name." he spoke low and quietly.

The spark that James lit before was over-flamed by the passion Remus arroused in you. Before you knew it, he was leaning down and kissed you softly. One short kiss and it was enough to tempt you for more. You put your hand around his neck and pulled him down for me, smiling into it as you had felt him smile as well. As heavy as they felt, they seemed light as well because no kisses seemed to be as perfect as his; soft, teasing yet deep and passionate.

When he placed his hand on your cheek you could feel the dust set on your skin. You let out a giggle and he pulled away. "What?" he smiled but then just noticed how dark your cheek was. "Oh, my-" he let out a laugh, then looked back on the wall his palm was pressed on before. "I am terribly sorry."

You laughed as well. "Don't worry." you continued to laugh and wipe it away. "It'll probably wash away."

"Probably." he tilted his head a bit and gave you a peck. "And we should probably head back."

Putting your arms around his neck, you made a big stretch and looked up at the sky. "Ugh..." you looked back into his green eyes, burning your soul into sparks and bitses. "But it's so beautiful here." you let out a small whine and he chuckled.

"Well, (y/n)(y/l/n). I didn't think you did romance." he teased.

"I don't. I let the man do all the romance for me." you stepped on your tiptoes and brushed your nose against his.

"That's a bit unfair."

"I wouldn't worry if I were you, Lupin. I have time to make it fair."

"Glad to hear it."

[all-about-seggs]

Dropped Façades-

Rating:❌ 18+, Explicit ❌

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x shy! female reader

Word count: 2K

Warnings: Masturbation, fingering, vaginal sex (on the rougher side)

 A/n: This is a happy!AU where everything is good and nobody dies OKAY?!ಥ_ಥ

Shining bands of morning light filled your vision making you squint from its brilliance but the sunny whether didn’t do much to deter the hazy clouds looming over your sunken heart.

   “ I’m heading off then”, the apathetic tone of your boyfriend’s voice matched his equally deadpan look as he called out to you from the front door.

 Another night of Levi staying over at your place came to a monotonous end. Ever since the beginning of your relationship, your nights have been a predictable cycle of him cooking for you, a few kisses exchanged before bed, that too if he’s feeling generous and then going your separate ways the next day.

Your shyness combined with the intimidating aura of the drill sergeant you were dating held you back everytime the sun went down and the ache in your core begged for attention.

Being an astonishingly disbalanced mix of prim and proper and foul mouthed, Levi didn’t left much to the imagination when it came to his likes and dislikes so you often ended up being what you figured he needed the most.

Be it keeping up with his mandatory cleaning or intervening everytime you know he’s on the cusp of whiplashing his subordinates, you were what placated him and brought serenity in his life.

You thought being in love with him and have it reciprocated would make the entire process as natural as breathing but the longer it went on the more harder it became to get out of your shell. Maybe it’s not the most idealistic phase of your relationship, self sacrifice was afterall, just a pretty word.

And the primary cause of your concern was completely at odds with the noble emotions of the duty you took upon as Levi’s girlfriend.

Lackluster was what the current state of your sex life could’ve been described as if it existed in the fist place. For the first three weeks of your budding relationship, not only work but your internal conflict was getting in the way of your understandable desires. And the fact that even he didn’t tried to make a move on you got you wondering if he was even interested in sex or in you physically.

Pushing the thoughts of potential sexy times with Levi away you walk over to the front door to send him off him, every second of the ten step way filled with the silence of unspoken words.

Even after he left, your stared at the empty place getting more and more annoyed by your own incompetence to speak out. Wanting to distract yourself from your current trail of thoughts you started to think of stuff to do until your laundry basket caught your eye.

There among your clothes laid your boyfriend’s shirt that he wore last light and despite your attempts at talking yourself out of the upcoming urge to play with your untouched pussy you find yourself grabbing the article out of the basket and onto your bed.

Spreading the shirt over your pillow, you take in Levi’s lingering scent. It was an embarrassing sight of considered from a second person’s point of view, creepy even. But right now this was all you had to calm your sexually frustrated self. Lying sideways on the bed you shoved your pants and underwear down your legs to get better access to your core.

As you caressed your clit you thought about how his own fingers would feel, the calloused and roughened tips of his fingers that held more strength than one cannot even imagine, just the thought of those digits entering you and stretching you out fuelled your arousal.

You were sure he could make you cum with his hands in less than half the time it takes you but gosh did you wanted his cock. You wanted to see it, touch it, suck it and choke in it if possible, how it would feel stretching your cunt and hitting that g-spot which made you shiver and scream for more. Thoughts of your pussy being filled to the brim with his girth overtook all five of your senses.

Letting your imagination run rampant your trembling body was practically making the bed creak, not even sensing Levi’s presence even when he was standing next to the bedroom door, arms crossed with a look of utter disdain.

“Have you been spending the past three weeks getting off of your hand?”, his annoyed voice overtaking your soft mewls pulled you back from the edge. Recovering from the initial shock, your naked body splayed out on the bed clammed up under his sharp eyes, thinking it’d be best to not hide your visibly throbbing pussy so you waited for him to continue, face and neck growing hotter by the second in shame and guilt.

   “ I forgot my shirt so I had to come back, but”, eyeing up the spit covered clothing he strutted towards you, “ it seems you’ve already taking a liking to it”.

Now taking a spot right next you, his one arm reached out, taking your chin in between his hand, he gave it a hard tug, to make you face him from an angle that made his callous eyes seem downright frightening.

“Look at that mess. Who do you think is going clean it up? ”, Levi’s voice was almost a hiss, an icy thread crackling along the cold air of your bedroom.

Drooling all over his shirt, you haphazardly started fixing your clothes you pushed yourself in a sitting position.

“I’m- I’m sorry! I’ll clean that up!”, You squeak, searching for some tissues or towel to wipe the fabric and making it a point to avoid eye contact. Watching you panic like he just caught you committing a crime, he heaved a sigh, half exasperated and half amused by your shyness.

His face didn’t give away his thoughts but surprisingly, his words did.

“I wanted you to feel comfortable enough to bring it up”, eyeing at the slick that covered your inner thighs he dropped his gaze to the ground before starting back up, “ but I guess I am partly at fault too for not taking any initiative either”.

“well?, it’s your turn to tell me what you want”, The stiff tone of his voice was offset by the gentle look of his eyes.

All his straightforwardness came to a halt when he saw you sitting there shell shocked. Your dazed look, induced by his unexpected words, became still for a while. Not wanting to be the only one who kept their cards closed you forced yourself to speak.

  “ Then, I want you to stay here……. And”, trailing off you meekly take a hold of his crisp dress shirt, still unable to look at him directly and hoping he’ll get the gist.

The next couple of seconds went by in a flash when your top came off and got thrown to the floor, with him pinning you down, Levi takes off the rest of your cloths and his effortlessly.

With only his boxers on he sat next to you, taking one of your thigh in his firm grip, he spread your legs open. Sharp gaze falling on your already moistened core he wordlessly slipped two of his thick digits inside, making you jolt at the contact.

“Move”, his command seemed both out of place and erotic at the same time, making you struggle a little before finding the right pace.

Back unintentionally arching against the bed you lift your hips, bucking against his hand while he leaned down to bit your nipple, coaxing a cry of pleasure out of you. Your entire body trembled with the sheer amount of effort it took for you to move.

“I saw you move your hips better than this when you were fucking yourself y/n. Faster”, his every word sent pleasant shivers up your spine, making you wonder if you always had such an authority kink. Or if you  were just naturally submissive in front of your deliciously dominant boyfriend.

You rolled your hips faster, gyrating them deeper into his fingers, only for them to be abruptly pulled out, making you feel empty. But in your daze you noted Levi's own impatience when he got off the bed to reach for his pants.

The thumping of your heartbeat filled your ears as you watched him take out a condom from his pant pocket. Revelling in the fact that he too wanted this to happen sooner or later.

Rolling down the latex over his shaft, Levi didn’t wasted a single moment before sliding himself into your sopping wet hole. His length stretched you enough to make you cum on the spot but you wanted him to take you higher so you waited for him to move. Settings his own pace he started plunging in and out of you ruthlessly, filling your senses with both pain and pleasure.

“You- You’re being …Too rough!”, Voice cracking by the force of his thrusts your entire body shifted higher up the bed and for a split second you worried about the state of your bed.

“Well we did decided to be more honest with each other”, with his voice as steady as his hard thrusts, Levi rammed his cock into with an unforgiving pace right off the bat “ and this is my way of doing this”.

It didn’t take him long to hit your sweet spot, your high pitched yelps just confirming his perfect angle and he snapped his hips again and again to reach the depths of your cunt.

The constant pounding of his cock was bringing you closer to your release, the toe curling pleasure just within your reach made you impatient so you bucked your hips to match his movements.

Levi’s pulsating member inside you soon gave you the final push you needed to experience the mind numbing euphoria you wanted for so long and with a few more rolls of his hips you felt him follow right after, with some low grunts of his own.

His muscular body falling on top of your, he breathed in your raw scent, tucking his face in the crook of your sweaty neck and for the first time ever you saw the sight of a disheveled and messy Levi Ackerman.

It was undeniably sexy, the way his bangs stuck to his forehead, body gleaming with a sheen layer of clean sweat. The pleasant fatigue you were experiencing took you in a dreamlike state from which you didn’t wanted to wake up from until,

“Get your ass off of the damn bed and go shower”, abruptly rolling you off of you, Levi’s words are almost like a warning.

“I’ll clean up in here”.

“Wait- what happened to my sweet and gentle aftercare?!”, Feeling a bit dejected you whined as you watched him put on his boxers, the seriousness of his face told you it’s better to just get off the bed without any questions. Your desire to bask in the afterglow of your hot sex coming to a premature end was expected. Yet you couldn’t accept it so this time you let your hesitation go, not wanting to repeat the same cycle of frustration you had experienced a while back.

“Then……..Can I expect some action in the bathroom too?”, biting your lips to hold back your smirk you turn to look at Levi for a response to your obvious attempt to elongated your intimate time together. “what?! Can’t blame me for asking you to make up for the past dry three weeks!”.

“If you behave like a good girl then I’ll give you something in the bathroom too”, not even glancing in your direction, he spoke nonchalantly, making quick work of the dirty sheets.

“ like what, a bath?”, Sceptically eyeing his face you silently hoped you had a longer night ahead.

“You were not the only one who was waiting for this you know”, his uncharacteristically soft voice made you do a double take.

Levi was smiling. But for all his delicate features, his smile was like a knife.

And this was all the confirmation you needed to know he’s gonna wreck you good and long.

[darlingletshurttonight]

The Piano

(okay yall i wrote something. this takes place after gaon finds out yohan is alive the second time. i had written this for myself but if this helps anybody get their daily dose of gahan, here it goes. its not proofread or anything so bear with me :’])

Gaon walked out of the mansion, feeling empty. Of course, he was happy that Yohan was alive, and he was with Elijah. He was relieved that he was able to keep his promise to Elijah. It was such a relief that they were together again.

Only, without him.

Yes, he had fucked up. Yes, he almost messed up the bleak relationship Yohan and Elijah had. It never struck him how easily he blended in with them. Okay, it did strike him, but he chose to ignore that it might not have been permanent. It probably never would be. He just... wished he could go back.

As he walked his usual path home, he noticed another sapling, growing in dire conditions on the side of the road. The leaves were yellowing, roots sticking out from the mud.

"Are you alone too?" he murmured, picking up the broken pot.

He held it close as he walked down the stairs, wondering when was the last time he felt so lost. Alone.

Maybe this was a good thing? Even if the thought of having nobody made him shiver in anxiety and pain. He couldn't even process how he lost so many people so quickly. He regretted some things, he appreciated some things. By the time he reached his front door, his sleeves were stained with the mud, and mind still hazy from everything that had happened. He was hoping the walk would clear his mind. But this wasn't something a walk would fix. He soon realized, this wasn't something that diving deep into work and losing the little sanity he had left would fix. He skipped meals, came home late and didn't talk to many people. His only company was his mind, which wasn't really helping.

He was sitting on the bench on his terrace with his dinner that consisted of a single coffee. He knew that he was getting a fresh start, he had to start living for himself now, there was no other way. He wondered how Elijah's rehabilitation was going, was she able to feel her legs? Was she able to stand, walk around? What was their relationship like now?

He felt a turmoil every time he even vaguely thought of Yohan. His emotions would fly through a spectrum. The more days went by, the more he got time and clarity to think, and the more his anger and acceptance clashed.

Was he not enough?

He was never a part of them, he was just visiting.

Did he not repent for his mistakes enough?

They needed time away to heal.

Did Yohan lose all the trust he had in him?

Elijah's treatment was a priority.

Had Yohan finally pushed him away?

He must have needed space from the person who didn't choose him many times.

Had Gaon, read it all wrong?

There was only so much he could do to convince himself that there was once a beautiful phase in his life - short, surrounded by pain and betrayal - but beautiful nonetheless. He now had to build meaningful relationships with people from the ground up, and people were exhausting. He was tired of losing.

Why was he the one always losing his people? As he watered his plants, he noticed the newest one not doing so well. He put in some fertilizer, adding some rocks at the bottom and placing it in a different location.

Maybe this is what he needed. Some reorganizing.

Gaon had known how to play the piano. His father's piano was still in the house, by the corner. He had learnt a few things from him. He wasn't the best, but Gaon liked learning it exactly the way his father played it. After their death, he never looked at it. He had managed to sideline its existence, simply because no one could play it the way he was used to.

It seemed old now, worn out. Gaon had cleaned it once in a while, just as any other furniture in the house. Not a single key had been played since the last few years, this was the first time Gaon was properly looking at it. He sat on the seat, immediately regretting it. He felt the keys softly, trying to gain some familiarity.

Nothing.

He pressed a key, another one, and another one. His pace got quicker and the sound messier as he desperately tried to make sense of the unfamiliarity,

He stood up in frustration, and gave up on the attempt. As he lay curled up in bed, the weight of not just the loneliness but the strength he didn't have to continue weighed on him. His tears fell, and he was at the rock bottom again.

He came home the next day, and stared at the piano from the kitchen table. Why he was so adamant on playing it, he didn't quite understand. He rummaged through some old boxes in his house, and found a music notebook, with some loose sheets inside. Placing them on the sill, he tried to read and play. He didn't care if he was playing it right, he just wanted to play. He wanted to feel something. He wanted to feel the comfort of sitting next to his father who played a love song for his wife, every time she came home from work. He wanted to feel that belonging.

He played after work everyday. He missed a lot of notes, he had to look up tutorials to understand things he had forgotten. He wasn't acing this, but it kept him going.

He chose to ignore the images of Yohan that crept in his mind as he played the piano. And then one day it didn't hurt so much to think about Yohan as he played. And the next day he deliberately thought of Yohan, not that he had to put in much effort for that. He imagined playing the piano for Yohan. He might never have Yohan again, but this was for him. For letting him choose his own paths, for giving him a family and that feeling of belonging, for allowing Gaon to see him vulnerable, for trusting Gaon. And, for accepting the way Gaon was.

Gaon was planning to reorganize his house after the day of the reform meeting. He'd have some time on his hands to give it some thought. A few days ago he had bought groceries and made himself proper dinner. A few days before that he had cleaned up the mess that his house had become.

Before he left for the meeting, he noticed the leaves of his new plant turning a rich shade of green. He smiled on the way to work.

But the smile disappeared when Jin Joo mentioned she was leaving. He realized he could've spent some more time for her. But he wasn't going to regret it. enough of that. He promised to visit and keep in touch. He knew that she wouldn't expect him to, but he was still going to try.

What he did not prepare for, was to see Yohan again. He had given up. And here Yohan was, standing in front of him. His unkempt hair, informal clothes, the vulnerability in his eyes, and the hopeful smile. Was this another chance? There was so much Gaon wanted to say. There was so much Gaon wanted to make sure Yohan knew. His heart raced as he tried to conjure up some words, something, anything.

But he realized he didn't have to say anything, Yohan knew. Of course Yohan knew. He knew him better than anyone.

He stood frozen, a smile and tears plastered to his face, as he watched Yohan walk away. Now he knew, they were finally on the same page. Gaon would chase Yohan to the ends of the world, if Yohan allowed him. But Yohan was always by his side, right from the beginning. He loved Yohan, and it was only a matter of time before he would bring up the courage to tell him so.

He visited the mansion as soon as he could escape from the office. He saw the lights on for the first time in a month. He'd never understand how he had conflicting emotions, yet a sense of comfort everytime he was here. He entered the house, on his way to Yohan's study, where he knew Yohan would be. The last time he did so, he was holding a knife. This time, it was his own heart in his hand.

He stopped in his tracks as he turned around the corner and watched Yohan leaning against the table, hands folded across his chest, as if waiting for him.

"I was waiting for you" he said. His eyes were unreadable but Gaon knew he didn't just mean about this meeting.

Gaon closed his eyes and let a tear fall. He'd never thought he'd hear this voice again. This was all real, after all. He really was here.

"What brings you back?" Gaon managed to ask, taking a few steps forward. He didn't even try to hold his tears back, whatever the answer was going to be, he was going to show Yohan his honest feelings. That's what he was here for. He wanted Yohan to see him.

He watched Yohan's face softening, relaxing his arms. Gaon wished he'd hold him.

"I came to check on you"

Gaon felt like the floor was swept off from under his feet. He was worth it after all.

"Thank you" he whispered, sniffing away his tears.

"How's Elijah? Is she here?" Gaon asked, after a pause.

"No, she's getting adjusted to the center there. She's okay, she misses you"

"And you?"

Gaon watched Yohan look for an answer. He hadn't prepared for this blunt question, and frankly, neither had Gaon. The longer the silence was, the more afraid Gaon felt to know the answer.

Yohan had a habit of communicating with his eyes. Gaon was pretty good at reading them, but today he just had to be sure. What he didn't know was that Yohan was remembering every waking memory of him missing Gaon in the last month. Elijah's first appointment, their first meal they had made themselves, every single meal they had, the milestones Elijah was reaching, just...everything. How was he supposed to say this?

When Gaon got impatient, he decided to simply confess.

"I've missed you," he let out a breath he was holding all this while "a lot. I was losing my mind"

"Gaon-ah"

"I really thought I had lost you two forever," he paused to get a reaction, anything, from Yohan. He realized Yohan wouldn't have anything to say unless Gaon laid himself bare for him. So be it.

"I didn't even think you were real today, at the office. I was really really happy that you got out of all that alive, only that, you left. I wished you'd have told me. I was angry at first"

Yohan furrowed his eyebrows.

Gaon continued, "But I know Elijah's treatment was important, and you needed some peace, after... after all that. I'm sorry for everything I caused. Honestly, you gave me a second home and I, I just can't imagine...I cant imagine a world without you"

He averted his gaze and said one last thing, "If you want me to leave, please say so. I'll -"

"I've missed you, Gaon-ah"

Gaon dared to look at Yohan.

"So much that it hurt"

Gaon swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Yohan stepped forward.

"After everything we've been through, I could never leave you behind. I thought you knew me better than that"

They stood close, their faces inches apart. Gaon couldn't tell what the anger in Yohan's voice was for. But he was willing to take it. He would take anything.

He stepped forward and held Yohan's shoulders, gently pulling him into his arms. He buried his face in Yohan's neck, the cloth of the robe absorbing his tears. He felt Yohan's arms sliding up his back, grip slowly tightening.

Neither would let go for a long time.

Later that night, Yohan watched as Gaon moved about the kitchen at Gaon's home, preparing dinner. He sat on one of the chairs, arms folded, eyes moving wherever Gaon went.

Gaon felt his gaze and didn't hide his smile.

"I'm guessing you haven't been eating well" Yohan observed.

Gaon bit his lip. "Guilty"

Yohan shook his head and looked around the place. "You play the piano?"

Gaon looked over, his hands still working on the stove. His saving grace stood there in all its glory.

"My father used to play, mostly for my mom. I had learnt from him but didn't touch it for a long time. I got back to it a few weeks ago"

"I'd like to hear you play"

Gaon's eyes welled up but he focused on the cooking. He smiled back at Yohan, like it wasn't a big deal.

Gaon stared at Yohan as he ate. He ate like a child, and Gaon adored him. He rubbed some crumbs off Yohan's lips and fed him some more. Was this really happening? He didn't really care, he was just happy.

They sat on the piano seat together. Yohan stared at Gaon as the latter played. Although Gaon's face felt hot with Yohan's gaze in such proximity, he focused on the music. He wanted to play it right.

"This is something my father used to play for my mother. I used to watch them sit here and reminisce about their college days"

Gaon struggled to get more words out. He wanted to be explicit with Yohan. He wanted to be unabashed. He took Yohan's hand, the one that held the scar. As he traced a finger over it, Yohan laced their fingers together.

Gaon looked at Yohan, who had scooted closer than ever. He squeezed Gaon's hand, reassuring and soft.

"Let me love you" Gaon whispered, as if saying it any louder would break the delicate moment.

He closed his eyes and gently pressed his forehead against Yohan's.

"Please" he added.

"Are you sure?" Yohan asked, his voice heavy. Like he’d played this conversation multiple times in his head before, and had thought of all the responses he could come up with, with very few of them favorable.

Gaon swooped in, closing the short distance between them.

On the terrace, the new plant bloomed a flower bud.

[ellieswhoreeee]

The Two of Us. pt 3

Author’s Note; Hello everyone! Welcome back :) Thank you once again for reading The Two of Us, i’m so excited for he directing this will be heading. The ideas are flowing! Anyways, i think this story will be less then 10 chapters. There will be conflict- with some angst so be prepared! Enjoy!!

Endgame Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem! Reader

Warnings: Violence, marijuana, swearing, ect.

———————————————————————

“Wanna hear a joke?” Ellie asked after a couple of minutes of silence. You smiled, somehow feeling nostalgic. Ellie used to have this pun book that she would carry around when you two were younger and randomly tell you jokes.

It was refreshing.

“Alright, hit me.” You nodded, looking over at Ellie who was next to you. Ellie was on Shimmer, riding gracefully. She was looking straight ahead, almost as if she was avoiding eye contact with you.

But she wasn’t. If anything she was nervous.

Suddenly, she leaned over towards you- and smacked you over the head. She retreated back to where she originally was and smirked at you. The look on your face told her everything. “What? You said hit me, so i did. You’re welcome.”

Funny girl. Of course, you couldn’t even be mad or negative. You let out a small laugh. “Ellie, i’m pretty sure that wasn’t the joke.”

“How’d you figure?” With another look that you threw at her, she understood what it had meant. She thought about something for a moment, and then remembered what the joke was. “What did the grape say when it got crushed?”

“I don’t know, something with raisins?”

“What? No- you really suck at this,”

“Shut up and finish the joke.”

“Nothing, it just let out a little wine.”

“Ellie, god that was horrible.” You chuckled out, and continued to grip onto Gemini’s reins. At the moment you were passing a small town. You had no idea what the name was since the vegetation was covering all the signs, growing onto the buildings and overgrown as shit. Everything was so green and lush, but the way it was abandoned made it look scary.

Which made you even more cautious for infected.

“Oh yeah? Well, i’d like to hear one of your fabulous jokes.” Ellie’s voice rang through your ears. You looked over at her, somehow she was now ahead of you. You stared at the back of her head, looking at her long neck, her hair that was tied back and her slender shoulders. Ellie made you forget about the apocalypse.

“Sorry to break it to you but my speciality is pick up lines.” You answered with a smile. You finally looked away from her and your attention fell onto the graffiti on the buildings. But the moment you felt Ellie’s eyes on you, you looked back.

Ellie’s eyes were sparkling. You didn’t know what that look on her face meant, it was the first time you’ve seen her like this. “Really? Alright, i’d like to hear what your ex’s fell for.”

“Ellie, they don’t count since they’re not really ex’s.” You frowned, remember the people who you used to… Well, “hang out with”. There was a time in your life where you denied the feelings for Ellie. Where you thought it was a phase and that you were mistaking your feelings as something else. You thought the interest was you just wanting to be her close friend because god, Ellie was amazing. It took you some time and talking to some friends to realize what you felt was more than wanting to be a close friend.

“Doesn’t matter. I want a good pick up line!”

She seems fine with it, why wouldn’t she? It’s not like it’s something serious. You got this. Playful attitude and it’ll all be okay.

You nodded, and cleared your throat. You stopped Gemini from continuing to walk. You waited for Ellie to stop Shimmer, so she could actually look at you. And she did, she turned shimmer around so she could stare at you. You two were in the middle of the road, out in the open. “Can i borrow a kiss? I promise i’ll give it back.”

Ellie’s face flushed- it couldn’t be helped. That was a good pick up line, she couldn’t deny that. The way you said it, the way you were looking at her and… God, she was helpless. Wait- what was she thinking? She had a girlfriend back home! She swore to get over after realizing you couldn’t have liked her back!

“What? Was that not good enough? Well, i do have seasonal pick up lines. Like, If a kiss was a snowflake, I would send you a snowstorm.” And with that you sent her a small wink, and leaned closer to Gemini’s neck. The look on her face was… Different. You couldn’t really understand her.

“Y/n-“ There was a scream- multiple screams and clicks that brought you back from your little world with Ellie. You felt your stomach drop at the noise. Infected really are a pain in the ass.

“Infected,” You warned, looking around in the town where the sounds seem to be coming from. You noticed a broken window from a grocery store. It was dark, and there was small noises coming from in there. “I thought this area would be clear.”

“They like to wander, remember?” Ellie reminded you with a hard look on her face. You jumped off Gemini, and decided to tie him to an old bike post. “What are you doing?” She asked with a frown.

You pulled out your handgun from your holster, checking to see how much bullets you had in the clip before looking at her. “We have to clear this place, we are on patrol.”

“This isn’t the checkpoint, what are Danny and Axel gonna think when we don’t show up on time?”

“Then we should deal with this quickly. Come on,” You urged, walking towards the broken window and jumped in without hesitation. Ellie quickly followed behind you, trying to catch up.

You get pretty impatient when it comes to clearing areas. She’s not sure where it came from. You were more hostile around infected- with good reason too but it was to the point you would jump in even if it killed you. That’s how bad it was.

From where she was she could see you silently bringing down one of the runners. There was three clickers strolling around the registers while there was some more runners strolling the isles. 7 infected in total- well now six.

She followed your lead, and decided to take down some of the runners quietly. It was much easier than showering them with bullets that you needed. But just in case, you kept your gun close.

After a couple of minutes, you two finished and decided to look around in hopes of finding something good. Which was rare, but it was still worth a shot. You body lead you to the back of the store where a door caught your attention. With your left hand you attempted to open the door but of course it was locked.

“Come on, let’s get going now.” Ellie walked up to you, watching you as you kept your attention on the door. You looked up, finding the entrance of the vent open. Bingo.

“Ellie, give me a boost.” Ellie raised her eyebrows at you, and it seemed like all she wanted to do was leave. First, Ellie promised Joel she wouldn’t take the longer routes and that she would start off with groups patrols but here she is, doing the longer routes and doing paired patrols instead. She just hopes that Joel doesn’t find out. “I’ll just check in there and then we can leave. I promise.” You reasoned, giving her a convincing smile.

She sighed, and nodded. She couldn’t say no to you. She leaned against the wall, and got in position to give you a boost. With one foot you stepped into her hand and she hoisted you up. You climed straight into the vent and crawled into the locked room. The room was bigger than you expected. You thought it was a janitors room but it was actually an office. It was nicely put together for a room that has been locked for what you assumed was years. You were about to walk closer towards the large desk when you heard something, but the banging on the door distracted you.

“Y/n! Open the door already!”

You sighed, and moved towards the door. Just as you were about to unlock it, an ear piercing scream sent you into panic but you weren’t fast enough to react to the stalker who had grabbed you from behind. You were so close to its mouth that you could hear it’s teeth chattering in anticipation.

You struggled against its hold, trying everything in your power to get it the fuck off you because god, this thing was disgusting. “Get the fuck off of me!” You grunted, continuing to fight off against the thing but you don’t remember where you put your knife. You were barely holding the stalker back, but you grip on its neck was the only thing keeping you alive at the moment.

Two gunshot rang out, and the stalker dropped behind you. You fell to the ground, feeling the sick to your stomach. “Y/n! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Are you bitten!?” Ellie jumped down from the same vent that you came through, and kneeled down to you. She grabbed your face and continued to check for bites- or any signs of injuries.

You couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Shit.” You closed your eyes. “I’m loosing my shit.”

“Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” She grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the ground. She unlocked the door and lead you outside where the horses were waiting for you. Almost as sensing something was wrong, Gemini leaned into you once you were close enough.

“Hey, buddy. I’m okay.”

Ellie decided to let go of your hand. Your skin was warm and somehow she was comforted by that. But then she remembers that it probably meant more to her than it did to you. It always did.

She could never read you.

-

“What took you two so long?” Axel asked once you two made it to the dam. You two walked into the building, and straight to the watchtower. Ellie went straight to the couch while you walked towards the notebook and decided to report what had happened.

“Infected, we were clearing the an area and lost track of time.” You explained briskly. Axel nodded, noticing something was off but decided to say anything. Danny and Axel left after packing up.

You looked over at Ellie who was lounging around on the couch that was in another section of the room. She was writing something in her journal. You were curious as to what she was writing. “Watcha writing there, El?”

She didn’t look up and just continued to write. But she was smirking. “Only writing that i had to save your ass… Again.”

You groaned, hearing her laughing from her spot. “Watch it, William. I swear i’ll haunt you from beyond the grave.”

“You’ll never get the chance because i’ll always be there to save your ass.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, yay. My own personal prince charming. What’s next, saving me from an evil queen who placed a curse on me?”

“We’ll, it’s on my list.” She joked, finally finishing up whatever she was writing in her journal. She closed her journal and hides it back into her backpack. You decided to look into the other room, you were looking for something specific. After some scavenging you finally found it. A bong.

“Hey, El! Guess what i found!” You yelled from the other room. You looked at the beautiful glass piece in-front of you.

“Please tell me you won the lottery, i would kill for a cruise ticket!”

“Funny,” You walked into the room Ellie was in, and presented the bong to her. Ellie’s eyes widen.

“How’s you know that was here?”

“There’s always at least one at each checkpoint.” You replied swiftly, giving her a grin. “ Eugene is a very chartable man.” 

“We shouldn’t. Plus, we don’t have- wait, do you have some on you?”

You reached into your bag and pulled out a small bag of bud. You smirked and tossed her the bag. “As i said, Eugene is very charitable.”

Ellie was awestruck. “Jesus, y/n. Since when did you become a pothead?”

You hummed. “That’s a really good question- i’m not going to answer though.”

“Aw come on! I literally tell you everything.” Ellie slightly pouting at the fact that you were withholding information from her.

“Come talk to me when you’re 18.” You responded with a smirk on you’re face.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Quit being a dick. You turned 18 a couple of months ago and don’t know how to act.”

“Shut up,” You walked over to her and sat on the opposite side of the same couch as her. You pulled out your bottle of water. “So, inside or outside?”

“Outside, obviously. Only one bowl, deal?”

“Deal.”

-

After many hours of waiting, you and Ellie were finally replaced at the dam checkpoint, so you two finished running your routes while riding back to Jackson. It started out rough but at the end of your shift you were feeling better. You had made it through the gates in one piece thanks to Ellie- and she made sure you didn’t forget it.

As soon as you made it to the stables you let out a relieved sigh. You started to stretch out your limbs. “It feels so good being back.” You let out a yawn, after you jumped off of Gemini. Ellie followed after you and stepped off of Shimmer. She grabbed Shimmer’s reins and held out her other hand towards you. You were confused on why she was doing that. “Uh… Is this one of your weird ways of telling me i’m awesome?”

“Psh, you wish. Give me his reins. I’ll bring him in.”

“You sure?” She nodded without any hesitation, so you handed her Gemini’s reins. “I’ll wait for you outside, maybe today’s the day we finish the flood arc.”

Ellie looked just as excited as you- maybe even more. “I’ll hold you to that.” She grinned, which made your heart beat faster. You turned on your heels and waited right outside the stables for her. You shouldn’t get too excited. She’s you’re best friend, your best friend who has a girlfriend. She doesn’t like me back. She doesn’t.

You felt like you were being watched so you looked around, finally finding as Cat walking over to you. She was taller than you and way more intimidating. “Uh, hey?”

She looked unimpressed. “Hey? That’s all you have to say after everything you’ve been doing?”

“Woah! What the hell are you talking about?” You had no idea what she was talking about. You didn’t do anything wrong, at least you don’t think you did. You wouldn’t do anything intentionally.

“Don’t pull that crap. I know you have feelings for Ellie.” She had said it a little too loud, and that’s what made you uncomfortable. You hated how open she was about everything- not everyone can be like that. It was one of the things you envied and hated about her.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Cat. Remember… before anything that Ellie is my best friend. So whatever the hell you think happened- didn’t!”

She scoffed, laughing bitterly. “Right. You expect me to believe that when you’re making Googly eyes at her all the time?”

“Cat! This isn’t the time or place to be talking about this. I’m serious.”

“Fine. Just admit that you have feelings for her and i’ll leave you alone.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms in an attempt to protect yourself from her glaring eyes. “Yeah, right. So you can kick my ass when you hear something you don’t want to hear? Why can’t you understand that what i’m feeling is one sided and that Ellie literally loves you! God, Cat. Couldn’t you have realized that instead of cornering me like this? I cant lie to you.”

“Y/n.”

You immediately recognized the voice, and you felt sick once again. You slowly turned around to face the girl who had been the cause for this altercation. She knows.

“Ellie…”

-

[corpsedaydream]

point of view

corpse husband x reader

word count: 2.4k

_______________________________

pov

Growing up, you’d spent so many afternoon and nights in your childhood bedroom scribbling down notes into diaries. Some of it was reality, some of it was fantasy, but all of it was you. Once you were done, you would hide the journals all over your room, they were for your eyes only but your brother use to have a habit of finding them and reading them and teasing you if you happened to write about a boy you had a crush on.

Ironically, when you’d first started talking to Corpse, before he became your boyfriend, your brother had caught you sending him some heart emojis, and even as grown ups, he still teased you about it.

You weren’t surprised that hadn’t changed, but something that did change that did take you by surprise is how that hobby of writing brought you to where you were in your career.

You were on your way to your boyfriends place and in the passenger seat of your car was a CD. In a very early 2000s style, there was writing scribbled onto it done with a black sharpie and the letters read, ‘POV demo’. You could feel nervous butterflies gathering in your stomach as you neared closer and closer to Corpse’s place.

You’d had an incredible past few days. Writing always felt like something for fun, never something that would actually be a career prospect but when your YouTube videos of you sharing your original song ideas started to take off, people started to notice. Someone in particular being Ariana Grande. She’d fallen in love with your writing style and wanted to work with you to create a song for her next album, so of course you graciously and excitedly agreed.

It seemed you and Ariana were in similar phases of your life, both falling in love with someone who seemed so perfect for you. So the song came so easily for you, all you had to do was think of Corpse.

Your car came to a stop out the front of his place and you took in a few deep breaths as you unbuckled your seatbelt and picked up the CD from beside you. You’d written about Corpse before, but never something that was as confessional and honest as this song was.

Will he even like it? You thought to yourself and for a second you contemplated placing the CD under your car to run over it to destroy it. But you wanted him to hear it before it was released to the world. So with one last deep breath you shook your head to try to send the nervous thoughts to the back part of your brain as you exited your car with the disc that had the song on it in hand.

The time between knocking on his front door and him coming to open it had never felt this long before. You were chewing on your bottom lip and your forefinger was picking at the corner of your thumb nail as you anxiously waited. Then when the door opened, you spoke up before Corpse even had a chance to greet you. “I have a surprise for you!” You blurted out as you stepped inside and avoided bumping into him.

Corpse had a humoured yet confused expression as he watched you slip past him, usually you greeted each other with an exchange of touch, but you were barely looking at him right now and seemingly keeping your distance. “What-”

“No, please don’t say anything.” You held your hand up that wasn’t holding the CD as a signal to shoosh your boyfriend. “I have to show you right now before I change my mind.” You were visibly nervous, he could see it so clearly in you right now, so he listened and kept quiet. He wanted you to feel okay, but now you had spiked his curiosity, he had to know what the surprise was. “Can I put a disc in this?” You asked as you walked to a laptop that sat on his coffee table and sat down on the floor to place the CD beside it so you could inspect.

“A disc for what?” He was puzzled by the question.

“Just answer!” You didn’t mean to snap at him, this was supposed to be a good surprise, but god your heart was beating so fast and it felt like it was lodged in your throat. You were about to spill your heart out to him like you never had before and you were terrified of a potential rejection if he thought it was too much. Instead of questioning or arguing or snapping back at you, he neared you instead. Corpse could see your hands shaking a little and you were hunched in on yourself. Usually you were the confident one of the two of you so seeing you in this insecure state was something he wasn’t exactly used to. However, he had seen it before, but only a very few times. As confident and bright as you were, he’d been slowly learning your more deep seeded fears and vulnerabilities, so he was learning how to handle it when you were in a state like this.

“Hey,” He called for your attention as he crouched down beside you his voice ever so calm, one of his hands coming to land on the small of your back and his other grabbed hold of one of your hands. “Look at me.”  Finally, you did. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth you turned your head and found his gaze, your eyes flickered between his, you were still so nervous. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“I mean, yeah, I am. I’m just-” You cut yourself off and you broke away from his gaze.

“Just what?”

“Scared.”

At that answer, his hand on your back rounded around you further as he let go of your hand so he could instead shift closer to you again and use that hand to bring it to the side of your face, encouraging you to turn to him again. “Why are you scared?”

“I’ve really just got to show you this.” Was the only answer you could give him without spoiling what the surprise was.

“Do you want to?” How badly he wanted to know what the surprise was, but he wouldn’t push for it if it caused you to be more on edge.

“Yeah.” You answered him and he smiled before leaning in to kiss you.

“Go ahead then, baby.” Corpse told you after you broke apart, his hands falling from you as you scooted forward to be in front of the laptop and he leant back against the couch.

One last time, you looked back at him over your shoulder, you were more in front of him now, but he was still within an arms length. He nodded fervently at you, watching with interest as turned your attention back to the laptop and opened the device and inserted the disc. With a few clicks, the beginning of the song started to play and you dropped your vision to your hands that sat in your lap before the first lyrics were sung.

It's like you got superpowers Turn my minutes into hours You got more than 20-20, babe

Hearing this, Corpse sucked in a quick breath, it was clicking in his mind what the surprise was.

Made of glass the way you see through me

He directed his gaze to the back of your head, how he wished he could see your face right now, but he knew you must have needed to be facing away from him right now to feel okay with doing this.

You know me better than I do Can't seem to keep nothing from you How you touch my soul from the outside? Permeate my ego and my pride

You spent so much time laughing and joking around, you were a very playful person and sometimes, you found it hard to get more serious. Corpse had been one of the only people to be able to see through this, to be able to reach a more exposed part of you. And as he listened to those lyrics, he recounted a time the two of you were wine drunk and and it was one of the first times you’d ever really opened up to him. But then right after, you’d attempted to laugh it off and he stopped you and made you feel okay with not having to seem like you were at 100% all the time, especially with him.

I wanna love me The way that you love me Ooh, for all of my pretty And all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me The way that you trust me Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

The chorus played and Corpse couldn’t help himself, he leant forward slightly to make contact with your elbow. And even though nothing was said, you understood fully what he wanted, because you did too. Your hand left your lap and without turning your head towards him, you reached your arm behind you, he grabbed your hand once more, intertwining your fingers with his.

I'm gеtting used to receiving Still gеtting good at not leaving I'ma love you even though I'm scared

These lyrics caused his hand to squeeze tighter around yours. It was only a few weeks ago the two of you had a pretty big fight, although it was only born out of fear and it ended in tears. When you were apologising, you’d told him you were so happy he was still with you and you’d also opened up to him about how with every past relationship, you never let yourself get in too deep, you always made a run for it before your heart was too in it. But you didn’t want that to happen with Corpse.

Learning to be grateful for myself You love my lips 'cause they say the Things we've always been afraid of I can feel it starting to subside Learning to believe in what is mine

The chorus began to play again and Corpse tugged on your hand.

I wanna love me The way that you love me Ooh, for all of my pretty And all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view

At first, you didn’t respond, and he really didn’t want to interrupt the song, but he wanted you to be in his arms so badly. “Come here.” He tugged again and this time, you finally moved. Your hands broke apart as you scooted back to sit beside him where he was still leaning against the couch and as soon as you were there, his arms came around you, pulling you in so close.

I wanna trust me The way that you trust me Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

Your heart was beating so hard and your cheeks were flushed as you nestled your head into his neck.

I couldn't believe it, or see it for myself Know I be impatient, but now I'm out here Falling, falling, frozen, slowly thawing, got me right

His arms were around you so tight and your emotions were running so high. Tears were pooling in your eyes as your hand grabbed ahold of his shirt, the material pulling taut as your hand tightened into a fist over the material.

I won't keep you waiting All my baggage fading, safely And if my eyes deceive me Won't let them stray too far away

Corpse turned his head in order to be able to press his lips against your forehead as the chorus begun to play out one last time.

I wanna love me The way that you love me Ooh, for all of my pretty And all of my ugly too

Just like earlier, one of his hands would come to cup around the side of your face, encouraging you to look at him again. With his aid, you’d move your head out from the hiding spot you’d found in the form of his neck.

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Corpse swiped his thumb across your cheeks upon seeing that a few tears had spilled over the edges of your eyelids, you were still keeping your eyesight down.

I wanna trust me, ooh The way that you trust me, baby

He’d dip his head then, still trying to connect eye contact. You’d glance up and much to your surprise, tears had begun to bubble in Corpse’s eyes too. You’d let out the softest gasp and your hand would lift to grab a hold of his wrist of his hand that was still cradling the side of your face.

'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do

As the songs last lines were playing, the two of you moved your faces closer together to meet for a passionate kiss.

I'd love to see me from your point of view

The both of you poured every emotion you were currently feeling into the physical display of love and adoration. Deepening the kiss, you’d kneel up briefly so you could climb into his lap and sling your arms around his neck and his arm would tighten around you.

When you both parted to catch a breath, you’d have your foreheads resting against one another until you lift your head back up to look at Corpse properly.

“Did you like it?”

He smiled and shook his head in disbelief at your question, how could you not know that the answer already? “I loved it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“It’s everything I’ve always wanted to say to you.” Yet again, you moved your eyes away from his.

He could see that still, you were feeling vulnerable about sharing the song with him. “Baby,” And once again, he was using his hand against the side of your face to coax your eyesight back to his. “It was perfect.” He assured you and he would feel so pleased to finally see a smile appearing on your face. “Should we only communicate in songs now?” He’d joke and he’d feel even more delighted to hear you laugh.

“I love you.” You’d tell him.

“I love you, too.” He’d reply.

“No, like, I really fucking love you.”

“I get it, because I really fucking love you.”

The both of you would laugh again and when it subsided, you shared another kiss.

“Play the song again.”

[tippedbykreider]

your love is my turning page | c. kreider

Word count: 17,700 Warnings: Mentions of death, grief, sex, mention of breakdown of previous relationship, mentions of infidelity. Author’s note: This was the first long-fic I ever wrote and to say that I was proud of it is an understatement. I’ve made some minor additions to this and hope you all enjoy it second time around as much as you did the first time. Fic title is from ‘Turning Page’ by Sleeping at Last Summary: Chris Kreider doesn’t believe in fate but a chance meeting in a Manhattan bookstore opens his mind, and his heart, to things he has only ever read about in the books he loves so much.

*

‘We are asleep until we fall in love’ – Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace.

Sometimes in life there are moments where everything changes, suddenly and unexpectedly and in ways that make it impossible to be the same person that you were before. It’s a bit like a storm, sweeping in and rearranging your life completely to a point beyond recognition, where everything changes and you’re left with a choice: mourn what was lost or use it as an opportunity to rebuild and come back stronger than before.

That was the dilemma Roseanna Williams faced after the man she thought she’d grow old with turned out to be nothing more than a huge disappointment. She should have seen it coming if she was to be completely honest with herself, years of waiting for him to outgrow what she presumed to be a teenage phase yielded nothing but frustration and a growing sense of impatience. If you asked any of her close friends and family they would tell you that she should have done it years ago but it never was as easy as just walking away, not when it came to the man whom she had been with since the tender age of fifteen. After she’d graduated university and completed her teaching degree, she was itching and ready for them both to take the next step in their relationship, to make more of a commitment, hell, even get married, but every attempt at an adult discussion about their future was met with resistance and a string of excuses.  The realisation suddenly began to dawn on her that maybe he was a lost cause and that she was wasting the best years of her life by waiting on him to get his shit together. The final straw came when she’d come home early from a teaching conference and found him in bed with someone she had considered to be a friend. That was when the flood defences failed and all the water she’d been ignoring for so long came rushing in, destroying everything she thought she knew and leaving her shaken to the core and gasping for breath. 

It started as a spark of an idea, moving away and getting a fresh start, London perhaps, or maybe somewhere further North. Exeter held too many memories now, the hurt and betrayal burying all of the wonderful times she’d had in the city that had always been her home. She’d discussed it at length with her parents who, while saddened at the prospect of their youngest daughter moving away, encouraged her to pursue whatever would make her the happiest. The spark caught, much like it always did whenever Rosie set her mind to something and before she knew it she was applying for a United States work visa and looking for places to live in New York City. All that was left to do was to pack up her life and trust in the magic of new beginnings.

That was how she ended up in Brooklyn, New York, teaching English Literature at a local high school. It was a different kind of life, one that took her a couple of years to get used to and while Rosie wasn’t quite confident enough yet to call herself a New Yorker, she definitely felt like she had found somewhere that she could call home. That feeling started as a seed, growing roots and leaves every time she would get off the subway at the right stop or find a new coffee shop to try until eventually she could rattle off her favourite places to get an Americano or the best places to get pizza. Her family and friends loved it, naturally, having the perfect reason to come and visit the Big Apple and Rosie loving nothing more than having the opportunity to show off the city she’d grown to adore.

Of course, there were parts of her old life that she missed. How could she not? She missed her family and her university friends. She missed afternoon teas with Devonshire clotted cream and summer days spent at the beach in Torquay. ‘You can always come home, love,’ her mother would say and that was completely true and while a part of her would always yearn for the smell of the sea or the cry of a gull on a soft summer breeze and while her roots were very much planted in Devonshire soil, her heart belonged to New York City.

She’d developed somewhat of a routine during the first couple of years that she’d lived in Brooklyn and it was one that hadn’t changed much, loving nothing more than taking the subway to Manhattan on weekends to spend the day checking out all the small independently run bookstores (when she wasn’t drowning in unmarked papers, of course). This particular late-October Saturday had started much like the others; she allowed herself a well-deserved lie-in after a hectic week of teaching and a bottle of Sangiovese the previous night, savouring her first cup of coffee like it was the first she’d had in months while she set about watering her house plants. A shower that lasted entirely too long, which doubled as a Fleetwood Mac tribute concert that she was sure her neighbours appreciated, was next on the agenda before she finally bundled herself up to face a chilly Autumn day in the city. 

She’d stopped off at her favourite coffee shop on the way to the station and chatted with the young barista, Laura, behind the counter, whom she’d grown to know over the months since Laura had started working there. She’d learned that Laura was planning a trip to Europe next Summer and offered some suggestions of places in England to visit, making sure to get her to promise to not just visit London. With her take-out coffee cradled in her hands, the cup serving her well as a much needed hand-warmer, the late-morning had Rosie heading towards Westsider Books, a favourite haunt of hers that she couldn’t help but keep coming back to. She had no reason at all to think that going to that store was going to prove to be another one of those moments that she could look back on as being a defining moment in her story, but with a push of the door, every star and planet aligned that set her on a course that would change her life forever.

*

Christopher James Kreider was a self-confessed simple man, despite his career choice and the lifestyle that came with it seeming to be anything but. He was incredibly thankful for the certain level of anonymity that came with living in a place like New York; certainly, there were times where he would be recognised and would be stopped for a picture or autograph, but in the sea of a-list celebrities that called the city home, he was just a small fish and was happiest when he was flying under the radar. The kind of life afforded by being a professional athlete playing in the National Hockey League was one that he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. Sure, he had a sweeping Tribeca apartment that he called home, he had a nice car, he went to work wearing expensive suits and could afford to eat out in the city anywhere he wanted, but the reality of it all was that he was most at ease sprawled out on his couch with a good book and a bottle of wine.

His teammates affectionately called him the hockey Renaissance man, a nod to his impressive pursuits off the ice, but it was never a name that sat comfortably with him. As far as he was concerned, he was just Chris, there was nothing special about him and his ability to deflect praise or compliments was nothing short of reflexive. His days off during the season were few and far between and he was always keen to make the most of the time afforded to him. An early start and cup of coffee usually preceded a quick workout, followed by a shower, a second coffee and a crossword puzzle while he decided how he was going to spend his day. Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to stay within the sanctuary of his apartment and read Hemingway until the sun began to dip below the skyline, other times he would venture out into the city and check out the new exhibit down at the art gallery in Soho before finding somewhere quiet to enjoy a good cup of coffee.

The season had gotten off to a decent enough start, the chemistry between the team seeming to grow with each game and Chris hitting his stride early on. He’d just returned from a three game trip in Canada and despite the slight fatigue he was feeling, he was eager to get out into the city. He wasn’t in the market for anything in particular but there was a lot of joy to be found in rummaging through old record shops or second hand book stores, at least in Chris’s opinion anyway. There was something so special about a pre-loved record or book, he thought, each had their own tale to tell and each held a special place in someone’s heart at one point or another. There were barely any new editions of books on his bookshelves, some so tatty and worn that their bindings were stringy and the pages threatened to abscond if held the wrong way.

Chris was a creature of habit and it was something that he would freely admit. He often visited the stores closest to home, not often venturing further than Midtown, but with nothing but time he found himself on the 1 train and headed towards Upper West Side, Westsider Books his destination of choice. The first thing he noticed upon entering wasn’t the towering shelves that stacked books upon books but the unmistakable scent of vellichor, that grassy, almost vanilla aroma that felt a lot like coming home. The owner offered a friendly smile before nodding towards the vast collection of books.

“There’s fiction all down here, poetry’s at the back and non-fiction’s upstairs. Let me know if there’s something in particular you’re lookin’ for, I know there’s a lotta books in here.”

“Thank you,” Chris replied. “Do you have any Russian literature in at all?”

“We sure do, whatever we’ve got is on the third shelf from the back there, on your left.”

“Perfect, thanks a lot for your help.”

Chris offered the man behind the counter a smile and headed deeper into the shop, stopping in front of an impressive looking collection of Russian classics. It was easy to get lost in the volumes on the shelves, flicking through pages of different editions, some of them older than he’d ever seen before. There was one book in particular though that caught his eye, unassuming and inconspicuous enough, nestled between War and Peace and the Death of Ivan Ilyich. He reached out to touch the navy blue leather but was suddenly caught off-guard by the sensation of cold fingers knocking against his own.

“God, I’m so sorry, I was completely in my own world there.”

His eyes flicked to his right towards the source of the voice, soft and feminine with an accent that he knew not to be local. Rosie hadn’t even noticed him, which now that she was taking in his appearance properly didn’t exactly understand how she’d missed him standing beside her. He was well over six foot, she noted, and impossibly broad, but the thing that stood out to her the most about him was the unmistakable kindness in his hazel eyes, a tranquil grove of moss covered trees with their different shades of bark.

“No, no, you’re good. It’s me, big clumsy oaf over here,” he trailed off with a soft laugh, a slight heat rising in his cheeks now that he was really seeing her, with her eyes that were as blue as a summer sky and hair that reflected the colour of the autumn leaves outside.

“Did you want Anna Karenina?” Rosie asked, nodding towards the shelves.

“Oh, um, it’s okay, you go for it,” he smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that gave him a kind of softness, a familiarity almost.

“Please, I insist,” Rosie reached for the book and took it from its resting place amongst the other Tolstoy works, handing it to Chris. “I already have three different editions of this, if I took home a fourth I think an intervention would need to be staged.”

Rosie grinned as Chris laughed, the sound full and rich to her ears, while he took the book from her hands and tucked it under his arm.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He started, his eyes flitting across her features before they settled to meet her gaze. Her grin had faded into a warm smile that reached all the way up to her eyes and she was surveying him with an almost curiosity, one that he found himself matching. “I’m sorry, I know you probably get asked this all the time,” he continued, with an endearing kind of sheepishness that kept the corners of Rosie’s mouth lifted upwards, “but I gotta ask about the accent. I wanna say British but I don’t want to come across like a stereotypically ignorant American if I’m wrong.”

“Oh it’s okay,” Rosie chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “you’re only the third person to ask me today.”

Chris could tell from the sparkle in her eye and the smirk on her lips that she meant no malice in her reply and made an exaggerated cringing grimace in return.

“God, I know. I’m sorry. You must get sick of it.”

“I mean, if I had a dollar for every time someone asked I’d be a very rich lady, but yeah, your ears don’t deceive you, I’m British. Actually from Exeter in Devon specifically, which is like South West England and now I realise that that probably means nothing to you,” she laughed as she caught the slightly vacant expression that had graced his features while she had been explaining her place of birth.

“I know, I’m sorry. I guess I really am a stereotypical ignorant American.”

Rosie responded with a gentle shake of her head as she spoke, “Nah, I wouldn’t say so. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about the rest of the States, it took me longer than I care to admit to just not get lost going two or three blocks down.”

Chris smiled, both at her kindness and the gentle lilt of her accent. “So are you here visiting, or?”

Rosie shook her head again, the auburn waves shaking and falling about her face in a way that had Chris’s smile doubling.

“Well, I’m visiting Manhattan, but I live in the city, been here coming up five years now.”

“Yeah? And you like it?”

Rosie’s smile sparked at the corner of her mouth until it spread like wildfire and lit up the whole of her face. Chris couldn’t help but notice how beautiful it made her look, that kind of smile that was so undeniably authentic and genuine and yet so incredibly rare in a city as big as New York; but there it was, right in front of him and warm like sunshine.

“I love it here,” the affection in her voice clear as day. “It’s so different from anything back home and in the best possible way.”

Chris got the impression from her seemingly deliberate choice of words that there was a story there, but the classic literature aisle didn’t really seem like the time and place to get into it with someone he’d just met, nor did he want to assume that she would even offer that tale to him freely. Instead, he took the book out from under his arm and held it out to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take this home with you?”

“I’m positive. ‘Live in the needs of the day’ as Tolstoy would say and I don’t really need that book. I’m sure you’ll give it a wonderful home.”

She met his eyes briefly, her stomach flip-flopping at the softness she found there, and gave him a warm smile that matched the one he was wearing. Chris wasn’t sure what had made him feel so bold. Perhaps it was the feeling of being so completely at ease with her, despite not even knowing her name and despite having known her for a mere five minutes, or perhaps it was the gentleness in her eyes. He didn’t spend too much of his time thinking about it as the words were out of his mouth before he could second guess them.

“At least let me buy you a coffee as a thank you.”

“Do you buy all the women you meet in bookshops coffee?” Rosie quipped without missing a beat.

“Damn, you caught me.”

Rosie laughed, easy and free with her head tipped back and Chris knew in that moment that he needed this woman in his life in some way, the sound bright and rich like the first sip of coffee in the morning or the first rays of summer sunshine filtering through curtains. He was still surveying her with an easy grin as she shuffled on her feet slightly, deciding whether she was going to let her head or her heart reign supreme today.

“I don’t usually make a habit of getting coffee with strangers,” the small smile still playing on her lips despite the tentative nature of her words.

Chris instinctively offered his hand out for her to shake.

“Well, I’m Christopher and you are?”

Rosie placed her hand in his, the smile on her face doubling in size at his kindness as she shook his hand, and tried to ignore the way her heart started to race at how warm and easy his touch felt.

“Rosie, or Roseanna if we’re using our Sunday names.”

“Nice to meet you, Rosie,” Chris said, his tone gentler than was probably necessary in the moment but it had Rosie feeling more relaxed in his presence by the second. “See, we’re not strangers anymore.”

“No, I don’t suppose we are. Alright then, Christopher, I accept your proposal of coffee and if you turn out to be an axe murderer then I hope you enjoy the book.”

It wasn’t very often that Rosie let curiosity get the better of her but there was something telling her to surrender to this moment in front of her, to let her heart win for once and throw caution to the wind. There was something about Chris and his aura that made it incredibly easy to ignore that prudent and wary voice in the back of her head that would usually call for rational and cautious thinking in situations such as this one, the voice that is often nurtured during childhood by parents and adults alike to help keep you safe from harm, the voice that would warn you about the dangers of strangers. Chris was a stranger, this was, of course, an undisputed fact, but Rosie didn’t feel like she was in any danger with this man. She guessed that it had an awful lot to do with the genuine warmth that seemed to radiate from him that made her feel less like she was with a someone she’d just met in a book shop and more like she was catching up with an old friend. It was incredibly rare that she felt so at ease with someone, let alone a man she knew nothing about except for his name, but she’d grow to learn that that was just the magic of Chris, his sincerity and kindness always radiating from him like the glow of an open fire on a cold winter’s night.

“I can say with absolute certainty that I’m not an axe murderer,” he grinned. “But if it would make you feel better I was planning on taking you to Irving Farm, y’know, so you can check in with someone if you wanted.”

That simple gesture alone told Rosie all she needed to know about Chris, the fact he was so cognizant of how a woman might be feeling going to get coffee with a man she’d just met. It was that thoughtfulness and that tingle of curiosity and wonder that had her following him to the counter and waiting as he paid for his book before they both ventured back out into the chilly air and towards the café. Making small talk on the short walk there was incredibly easy, the effortless nature of their conversation not lost on either of them and as they sat down opposite each other in a quiet corner of the shop, shedding their coats and scarves, Chris took the opportunity to really appreciate the beauty of the woman in front of him.

She was classically pretty, he thought, with her auburn locks freed from the confines of the scarf she had been wearing and the slight ruddiness to her cheeks from the way the cold air had kissed them during their short walk. But more than that, it was the way her presence seemed to uplift him in a way he hadn’t ever experienced before. Chris was an incredibly practical and logical man and the idea of kindred spirits wasn’t something that he subscribed to, but there was just something about Rosie. It was a sense of familiarity and a feeling often only felt between two people who had known each other for years. It was a feeling that, unbeknownst to him, Rosie shared too, not quite being able to remember a time where she was able to enthusiastically discuss literature at such great lengths with someone.

“So come on,” Chris said over his cup of coffee after they’d settled at a table in a quiet corner of the café. “You were able to quote Anna Karenina from memory, is there a particular reason for that or have I managed to find an even bigger book nerd than I am?”

Rosie smirked as she took a sip from her cup, eyes sparkling as she surveyed Chris. “I am a pretty big book nerd, but no, I actually teach literature.”

Chris’s eyebrows raised as an impressed little smirk pulled the corner of his lips upwards. He set his cup down and clasped his hands in front of him on the table.

“Forgive me for being bold here and by all means tell me to mind my own damn business, but what exactly makes a British literature teacher cross an ocean and put roots down in New York City?”

Rosie paused for a moment, chewing over her words in her mind.

“A vague sense of wanderlust, I guess,” she began carefully. “I don’t know, there was just… a lot of stuff that happened in my life and it felt like a good time for a fresh start while I was still young enough and brave enough to do it.”

“I’m sorry if that was too personal,” Chris looked at her apologetically, the slight flicker of sadness that had appeared in her eyes too prominent to ignore. “I didn’t mean to bring any painful memories back for you by prying.”

“It’s absolutely fine. All the diversity, all the charm and all the beauty of life are made up of light and shade, right?”

“You really love that book, don’t you?” Chris asked her softly, recognising the quote from the book currently sitting in the brown paper bag by his feet immediately, and with a gleam in his eye.

“It’s one of my favourites,” Rosie replied. “It’s probably up there with Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, Pride and Prejudice and For Whom the Bell Tolls.”

“You like Hemingway?” Chris’s eyes crinkled with his grin and shone with excitement as she nodded in agreement. “I love Hemingway,” he added. “He’s easily my favourite author.”

Rosie leaned forward in her seat and rested her arms on the table with her cup still cradled in her hands, Chris mirroring her action, like two school children about to share a secret.

“I love the beautiful simplicity of his writing. It’s direct but without losing any of the emotion or feeling. Like, don’t get me wrong, Russian literature and authors like Tolkien are wonderful and they certainly have their part to play, but sometimes there’s just no need for pages and pages just to get a point across. That’s the beauty of Hemingway, the straightforwardness of it.”

“Yes!” Chris exclaimed, his face lighting up. “That’s exactly it. Take The Old Man and the Sea as an example, that book is what? Twenty-seven thousand words? But the feeling and the message that he’s able to get across, it’s amazing. God, I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve read that book.”

“A favourite of yours, then?”

Chris nodded as he picked up his mug. “Without a doubt, followed closely by For Whom the Bell Tolls and An Immovable Feast.”

He punctuated his statement with a wink and a smile, savouring the way Rosie’s face would ignite with pure joy as she laughed.

“Perhaps we should compare notes,” she mused behind her coffee.

“Is that you saying you wanna meet up again?” Chris asked, a cocky grin on his face.

“What if it is?” She countered quickly, a twinkle in her eye that had Chris’s heart thundering in his chest.

“Then I think you’d better take my number.”

 *

The weeks passed and autumn collapsed into winter, the first frosts clinging to everything and covering the city in opaline glitter. Rosie’s schedule had begun to slow following the initial insanity of the beginning of the academic year as things started to wind down for the holidays. She’d spent a lot of her free time preparing for her annual trip home to England to spend Christmas with her family, something that she looked forward to all year. Whatever time was left was spent reading or catching up with Chris, who had been equally busy with his work as a professional hockey player. He’d mentioned this to her briefly and in passing during their phone calls, which certainly explained why his schedule was often so all over the place, but the concept was so alien to Rosie that she didn’t feel the need to pry further. Growing up in Devon meant that her exposure to a sport like ice hockey was next to nothing, her knowledge extending as far as movies such as The Mighty Ducks would afford. In fact, when she thought about it, she didn’t know anybody who played sports professionally in any capacity and so while she was intrigued by Chris and the story behind how he came to be in such a career in a city like New York (knowing him to be from Massachusetts originally), she also knew that he was so much more than all of the stereotypes she’d heard associated with professional athletes.

He wasn’t a big, dumb jock, far from it actually. Chris was incredibly intelligent, philosophical in ways she admired so much but with an endearing and quick sense of humour. His thirst for knowledge and appreciation for the world around him was unlike any she’d ever seen and it somehow made him more handsome than any of his classically good-looking physical features. There was an intrigue, of course, surrounding him and his job, but Rosie also knew that he would offer that part of himself to her in time and when he felt most comfortable doing so. She imagined that he didn’t always get to have the luxury of authentic meetings with people who didn’t already know about him and his job, and for all the lovely moments he’d already given her in their growing friendship, she wanted to pay him back in kind by not forcing anything on him that he wasn’t yet ready to talk about.

It was incredible really, how easy it was for her to fall into friendship with Chris, made only easier with each discovery of a new shared interest. Their texts would often consist of them sending things the other might find interesting such as a new book or a new song to listen to. Hearing from him was something that she found herself looking forward to, especially appreciating when he would take time out of his day while he was away from home to check in with her and catch up.

As the end of the semester creeped closer, Rosie found herself surrounded by gifts she had already wrapped ahead of her trip home and a small pile of clothes, the open suitcase on the bed still empty despite her best intentions. She always found packing incredibly dull (although admittedly not as bad as unpacking once she returned to New York) and would often preoccupy herself with anything and everything to avoid doing it, which always resulted in a stressful last-minute packing situation that she was keen to avoid this year. She stood with her hands on her hips as she surveyed the situation in front of her, deciding the best way in which to go about organising her suitcase, when her phone vibrated against her dressing table. Unable to contain the flicker of a smile that tugged at her mouth as she saw the Caller ID flash with Chris’s name, she answered.

“Hey, you.”

She could hear what sounded like a group of very rowdy men in the background in what she could only assume was a bar.

“I need you to help settle a debate.”

Rosie smiled as she cradled her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, using her free hands to pick up a pair of jeans and place them into the suitcase.

“Sounds serious.”

“Oh it is and we’re at a deadlock over here so your opinion decides it, I hope you can handle that kind of pressure,” Chris teased.

“Oh, Christopher, I was born ready.”

“Alright, but this is like legit serious stuff.”

“Out with it, Chris,” Rosie laughed.

“Crunchy or smooth?”

“Excuse me?” Rosie asked with an incredulous look on her face that she knew Chris would’ve laughed at had he been able to see her.

“Peanut butter,” he clarified. “Crunchy or smooth?”

“Wow,” Rosie deadpanned. “And here I was thinking you were about to ask me something incredibly philosophical.”

“Oh come on, Ro, don’t leave me hanging here.”

“I suppose if I had to choose, I’d probably go with smooth.”

“Ha!” Chris exclaimed, causing Rosie to jump. “She said smooth, looks like you’re the one with the weird peanut butter preferences, Foxy.”

Rosie furrowed her brow at the incoherent shouting and cheering in the background as she put more clothes into her suitcase.

“I’m so confused right now.”

She listened as the sound of raucous chatter faded into a faint buzz and Chris’s voice came back through the speaker clearer yet softer than it had been before.

“Sorry about that, the guys can get a little excitable sometimes.”

“Rookies had too many beers?”

“Yeah,” Chris breathed. “Something like that. How’re you doin’ anyway? Things settled for you at work?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly, perching herself on the edge of her bed, careful not to knock any of the small wrapped packages onto the floor. “I got all of those papers turned round and the results were actually kind of encouraging, which was nice.”

“That’s probably because they’ve got a good teacher.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Rosie blushed, thankful that he couldn’t see the interesting shade of pink her face had turned.

Chris’s reply was unexpected, somehow managing to knock her back a bit with the sincerity and softness in his tone that seemed more intimate than perhaps their current level of friendship afforded.

“I mean it, Ro. I know you know your stuff. They’re lucky to have someone like you teaching them.”

His words hung in the air around Rosie for a few seconds while she processed them, or rather, while she started to analyse the tenderness in his tone that she was sure she hadn’t imagined. He didn’t give her too long to get lost in it though as he was speaking again before she had a chance to truly unpack her thoughts.

“So things have settled down for you, yeah?”

“Um, yeah.. Yeah. I’ve just been packing for my trip back home,” Rosie replied, picking up one of the small gift-wrapped boxes and examining it for no particular reason.

“Right, of course. When is it you fly?”

“December twenty-first, fly back into JFK on the fourth of January.”

“I’ll be in California when you get back,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “But it’d be great to see you before you go to England. Maybe dinner or coffee?”

“That would be really nice, Chris,” the smile evident in her voice to Chris even through the phone.

“Great, we’ll arrange something once I’m back in the city at the end of the week.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Chris hesitated, not quite ready to say goodbye but knowing that he should probably get back to the others and leave Rosie to the rest of her evening. He knew he had to though, even if it did make his chest ache for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

“I’ll let you get on with your packing,” he half-sighed.

“Please don’t feel like you need to,” Rosie replied with the faintest hint of a plea.

“I do because if I don’t you’ll never finish packing your suitcase.”

There it was, that easy teasing that had become a defining feature of their friendship in just the few weeks they’d known each other and had managed to shift the atmosphere between them from something that neither could quite put their finger on to one that was much more playful and familiar.

Rosie groaned exaggeratedly, earning her a hearty chuckle from Chris.

“But I hate packing,” she whined.

“Welcome to being an adult, suck it up, Buttercup.”

“You’re mean.”

Despite her words, Chris knew that there was no truth in them and he also knew that she herself didn’t believe them, which made the playful back-and-forth banter between the two of them come easily.

“No, I’m Chris.”

“Oh my god!” Rosie laughed, exasperated. “I’m hanging up now, goodbye!”

Chris’s rich chuckle was the last thing she heard before she ended the call and tossed her phone onto her pillows, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of his humour before turning her attention back to the pile of clothes by her suitcase.

 *

Christmas went as quickly as it came, passing in such a blur that it had Rosie questioning if she’d had any time off at all. It didn’t take her long to settle back into the groove of things though, it never did, and by the time the frosts of winter began to thaw, the warm glow of the festive season was nothing more than a cheerful memory. Much like the first beautiful petals of spring, Chris and Rosie’s friendship continued to blossom.

Rosie would have been lying if she said that she didn’t wish their schedules would match up more. A particularly busy January for Chris meant that they hadn’t had chance to meet since just before Christmas and it had Rosie wondering just what exactly Chris’s job entailed. It wasn’t really something that had come up during their phone calls and it was something that she felt deserved to be done face-to-face rather than over a text message, because truth be told, she didn’t have the first idea when it came to ice hockey. Keen to know more about the man that was fast becoming somebody she considered to be a close friend, she resolved to ask him the next time they met for coffee.

“So are you ever going to tell me about this big, shiny career of yours or am I supposed to just keep thinking you’re some James Bond of professional hockey,” she mused as she broke off a piece of blueberry muffin and popped it into her mouth.

Chris blushed slightly as he took a drawn out sip of coffee.

“I mean, yeah, sure. What do you wanna know?”

He set his cup down and clasped his hands on the table in front of him, the flicker of nervousness extinguished quickly by the kindness that rested within her eyes.

“Well,” she started. “I believe I’ve mentioned before that the only hockey I knew of before meeting you was the field hockey they made us play at secondary school. So, everything I guess? Oh, and I’m going to need you to explain like I’m five.”

Chris couldn’t help but chuckle at the good-natured smirk on her face and ran a hand along the stubble at his jaw.

“Alright, well. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to start from the top. I played hockey in high school, then went to Boston College, they have a really good collegiate hockey programme there and it’s a good school to boot. I got drafted in 2009 by the New York Rangers then I signed my first contract with them in 2012, been here ever since.”

“So you must be bloody good at hockey then,” Rosie said after swallowing her coffee which made the pink tinge to Chris’s cheeks even more prominent.

“I mean, I’m not terrible.”

Rosie grinned at him and at his humility which she had come to know as being one of Chris’s prominent traits. “And your schedule? I know it’s a bit mental but what does an average day look like for you?”

“That depends,” Chris replied. “Are we talking an off-day? Game day? Away trip?”

“All of the above?” Rosie laughed.

“My days off I still like to get a work-out in, even if it’s just a small one. But other than that? I don’t know, maybe meet incredible women from Devon in bookshops?”

It was Rosie’s turn to have her cheeks flush, especially with the way Chris was looking at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. Chris continued though, despite the thundering in his chest at how beautiful she looked in that moment.

“Game days I’ll usually get up, go to practice. I try and take a nap in the afternoon before I have to go down to the Garden to get ready for the game and it’s much the same if I’m away on the road. We usually practice before we travel to wherever it is we’re headed.”

“That sounds incredibly full-on.”

“It is,” Chris agreed. “But it really makes you appreciate the time at home and the moments of stillness. Why’d you think I love getting lost in a good book so much?”

“Because, in the words of Dr Seuss, ‘the more you read, the more things you’ll know. The more you learn, the more places you’ll go.’”

Chris looked at her softly, a warm smile on his face. “Spoken like a true teacher.”

“So come on then,” she blushed, steering the conversation away from herself and back to him. “You went to Boston College, right? What did you end up studying?”

“Communications,” Chris said as he finished taking a sip of coffee. “I uh, it was really important to my mom for me to finish my degree so I kept plugging away at it even after I went pro.”

“Wow,” Rosie looked at him, clearly impressed. “That’s incredible, Chris. I mean, getting a degree is a hard enough slog when you’re doing it full time, but to do it while you’re travelling here there and everywhere? That’s no easy feat.”

It was Chris’s turn to blush now, too humble and too modest to be able to accept the praise Rosie was giving him.

“I knew how much it meant to my mom and I just wanted to make her happy, that and I was too stubborn to not finish something I’d started.”

“Your birthday is the end of April, right?” She said rather suddenly but as if something had clicked in the back of her mind.

“Yeah, April 30th. Why? You been googling me?”

“Oh it’s nothing really,” she said quickly, face flushing and suddenly aware of how stupid it would sound to him if she actually said it out loud. “And for the record, I haven’t googled you, I just remembered you mentioning your birthday last time we met up.”

“Nah, you can’t just do that,” he chuckled softly. “Come on, what were you gonna say?”

“Well,” she started, her fingers and eyes finding the coffee cup in front of her, anything to avoid the part where he looked at her like she was mad. “I was just gonna say that you really are a typical Taurus.”

Chris leaned forward in his seat, hands settling just shy of hers but the almost contact enough to make her skin spark.

“That so?” he mused. “You big into your astrology?”

“No, well yes, sort of,” she rushed and Chris could tell that she was almost ashamed of the admission. “I don’t read magazine horoscopes or anything like that because they really are a load of bollocks. But natal charts and stuff like that? I find them totally fascinating. I um, I’m kind of into crystal healing, I sage my apartment, I know it’s nuts.”

“No it’s not,” Chris took her hand then, the need to reassure her and ground her in a moment where she felt vulnerable and exposed. “Is it something that I believe in personally? No, not really. But truthfully I don’t know anything about it either. If it makes you happy then it really doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Maybe you could tell me more about it over dinner or something?”

Rosie looked at him thoughtfully, so appreciative of him in that moment and that ineffable gift of his to make her feel valued and listened to. It was that and all the other wonderful little facets of himself that he was showing her that had her agreeing to his proposal of dinner. She thought about the level of bravery that it must have taken for him to talk about that other side of his life, the side that she knew nothing about, no matter how small or trifling it might have seemed to anyone else. While she might not have had the first clue when it came to the sport or could even truly comprehend what Chris’s life was like, she understood that it must be incredibly difficult for somebody in his situation to forge true and meaningful relationships with people, friendly or otherwise, because when it feels like someone you have just met thinks they already know everything about you, it’s incredibly hard to let the guard come down and let people get close. That is what Chris appreciated the most about Rosie, though, the fact that she hadn’t the faintest idea who number 20 of the New York Rangers was. Every conversation they’d ever shared and every question she’d ever asked came from a genuine and altruistic desire to get to know him better. Even now, as she encouraged him to share that other part of him, that so many others defined him by, it came only from a place of pure and innocent curiosity. She asked about his job much in the same way she would ask an accountant or doctor about theirs.

Being able to have that conversation with her about his life and his job only served to strengthen the bond that they shared and he was incredibly thankful for Rosie’s understanding and willingness to fit her schedule and life around his. As the months passed and summer fast approached, Chris found himself for the first time reluctant to escape the stifling heat of the city after the season had ended. He was enjoying being able to spend more time with Rosie now that the school year had come to a close and he was shocked to learn that even after living in the city for close to six years at that point, she still hadn’t explored all of Manhattan. Their days were filled with walks around the West Village, Midtown or Tribeca and having lunches at tiny hole-in-the wall cafés where they would show each other the books they had picked up in whatever shop they’d found themselves in that morning.

It was that time shared together that made it incredibly easy for Rosie to become a stable fixture in Chris’s life with evenings spent at each other’s apartments having dinner and sharing wine. Rosie had learned quickly that Chris was a capable cook and Chris loved nothing more than when Rosie would cook pasta for him, even if it wasn’t exactly his nutritionist’s dream. It was easy to relax in that kind of way around her, forgetting the strict food regime every once in a while to really savour the beef ragu she made that he loved so much, always washed down with a couple of bottles of Sangiovese shared between them and finished with a homemade tiramisu. It was wholesome, much like she was with the softness of her curves and her insouciant attitude when it came to her looks. That was not to say that she didn’t make an effort, that wasn’t the case at all, for she would always look so put together and incredibly beautiful whenever Chris would see her, but she was the kind of woman who wouldn’t think twice about letting herself indulge in a slice of cake with her coffee or get too hung up on the calorie content of a pasta carbonara, which was a quality that Chris found to be both incredibly refreshing and endearing.

The natural quality of their relationship should have made it incredibly easy for Rosie to give in to those feelings she found beginning to settle in her chest. Chris was a wonderful man, that much was undeniably true and it should have been simple to confront the ache she felt whenever he went away. But if there was one thing Rosie had learned in her life, it was that if you expect too much, if you put people on pedestals that were too high, you would find yourself being disappointed. That was a simple fact of life. People were just that, people, capable of making mistakes. They were not divine beings, no matter how much we saw them as such through our own eyes. It was that idea alone that startled her; that a man such as Chris could be capable of disappointing her by the pure reasoning of the human condition and that was a thought that she couldn’t bear. So she pushed it down, down and down until it was quieter than a whisper. But even whispers can’t be ignored forever, and so with each comment from Chris’s friends about how happy he was since meeting her or each time her skin would spark at the feeling of his hand on the small of her back, the whisper grew, growing and growing with every team event she attended on his arm or every party he asked her along to, until it was a shout.

Relationships had never been something to come easy to Chris, he was too careful and too private; the gnawing feeling in his stomach that told him there was always some ulterior motive was often too arresting to ignore. It should have frightened him, the way Rosie came into his life and smashed through every wall he’d ever built without even doing much at all, but it didn’t. Rather than look at all the bricks and the rubble and be unnerved by the ease in which she was able to coax his vulnerability out of him, he found himself inspired, determined even, to build something truly beautiful with her. Chris knew that he would have to find a way to navigate these feelings with her, cognizant of the need to not throw her into the deep end and shock her system. Rosie deserved better than that because this wasn’t just about him and his feelings, it was about them and their relationship, what it was now and what it could be.

She was brilliant, in every way a person could be, beautiful and with a passion that glowed like the fiery tresses of her hair under a New York sunset. She was bold and sharp as a tack, keeping him on his toes in a way that no one else had ever been able to and he was sure that no one else would ever again. It was late night conversations where they were three bottles of wine deep talking about philosophy and ethics or her reading silently while he played guitar, it was listening to Pearl Jam with her whenever she cooked or Billy Joel when they were curled up together on the sofa, debating whether Radiohead or Nirvana was more influential in the grunge music scene. Hell, it was even looking up his birth chart, even though he didn’t believe in astrology, because there was just something about the way she said ‘You’re such a typical Sagittarius moon.’ Her warmth and her kindness always managed to ground him in moments where he would feel himself slipping, as sure as the moon rises and sets each night, especially once the season had restarted and those niggling insecurities would rear up and settle heavily in his chest, and yet he could tell that she never really knew the exact power that she held. She had his heart completely, whether she was aware of it or not and that was something that Chris hoped would never change. She’d slotted into his life like she had always belonged there, like she had always been there and that feeling only seemed to grow inside of Chris with every dinner they shared with his friends and every time he would see her face in the stands of MSG.

*

The week before Christmas brought an uncharacteristically early winter storm to New York unlike any Chris had ever seen throughout his whole time living there, forcing the city to a standstill and grounding flights, which meant that for the first time since moving to the States, Rosie wasn’t going to be home for Christmas. The idea of her spending the holiday alone in her apartment made Chris’s heart ache and so that was how Rosie ended up in his Tribeca apartment on Christmas Eve, bundled up with him on the sofa under a blanket, each with a mug of homemade mulled wine. The Muppet’s A Christmas Carol played quietly through the tv, one of Rosie’s Christmas Eve traditions that he would never dream of denying her, although, no matter what he would later admit to, he spent more time observing the gentle expression on her face as she got lost in the nostalgia of it all than he did actually paying attention to the screen. She felt him though, not even needing to take her eyes off the movie to know that he was watching her.

“You’re missing all the good bits,” she smirked.

“It’s okay, I’ve read the book. I know what happens.”

There was a slight grit to his tone that Rosie couldn’t quite place but crawled under her skin and kindled a small flame in her stomach all the same.

“But there were no Muppets in the book.” She turned to face him then and took in the expression within his eyes, darker than she’d ever seen them before. “Kermit really brings Dickens’ story to life.”

“I mean, Beaker steals it for me but we’ll agree to disagree.”

The air thickened around them and Rosie took a long sip of her wine, longer than perhaps she should have, but she needed to swallow away the tightness in her throat from the way Chris was looking at her. Like planets to a sun, Rosie found herself drawn to him, suddenly feeling him everywhere despite the fact they were at opposite ends of his couch. It was that gravity that had her shuffling towards him, crawling into his space in the same way she had crawled into his heart. He was warm, she thought, comfortingly so and the worn hoody on his body felt soft and had the familiar, soothing scent that was so uniquely Chris. Perhaps that is what had her curling into his side and resting her head on his shoulder and perhaps that new-found closeness was what had him pressing his lips into her hair.

There was no way either of them could deny what this was between them, the spark too bright to ignore. Rosie knew that they weren’t just friends, she knew that and she knew that Chris felt it too, that was why his face was turned towards hers, his lips impossibly close so that all she needed to do was tilt her head and give in to what her heart was crying out for. But her head was a cruel mistress indeed and it was that irrational but crippling fear of eventual disappointment that made her clear her throat and scoot back a shade, giving herself some much needed breathing room.

Chris exhaled quietly, the deflation leaving him on the breath. It was almost frustrating how close they were, the finish line within touching distance and yet they always seemed to stop short of it. Chris was there, he was there waiting and willing her to take those last few steps and cross it with him but he knew that he couldn’t force this, nor did he want to either. She had to want it for herself and Chris knew, as he looked at her sitting there chewing on her bottom lip with her brows knitted together in pensive thought, that she was worth the wait, even if it took a lifetime.

The post-holiday back to work rush was one that was felt universally. Those first few weeks always seemed to feel as though there was never enough hours in the day to get everything done and it was no different for Chris and Rosie, both caught up in their jobs to really sit and digest the moment between them at Christmas. Christmas Day had been incredibly busy with Chris hosting a couple of the younger players for dinner and no sooner had the festivities ended he was packing a bag ready to depart for Washington the following morning. They both knew that they had a lot of things to discuss, because that’s what adults did, they talked about their feelings in a healthy and open way, but as the busy-ness of their schedules ramped up, the hours slipped away and turned into days. Days spanned into weeks and weeks turned into months and before either of them knew it, the moment seemed so distant in the rear-view mirror, that it almost felt weird to bring it back up.

 *

The hockey season ended for Chris some time during May, the Rangers making it as far as the second round of the playoffs but unable to close it out after seven hard fought games. The disappointment sat heavy in his chest, much like it always did after losses like these, but he would have been a fool not to notice the way that it didn’t hang all about him in the way it had previous years. Of course, the wound still cut deep but without the festering ache of poison and he knew the antidote was the woman who had swept into his life nearly two years prior. 

It was remarkable really, how she came into his world like that. It was an event that Chris had always described as being purely serendipitous but the longer he spent with Rosie, the more he began to wonder if there was something else at play, hell, even fate perhaps. He had prided himself on being a shrewd man, his practicality something that had always defined him and guided his thoughts and actions, but whenever he thought about them and their relationship, he had to believe that it was more than just some happy accident. Rosie was pure magic, in every sense of the word, always having an uncanny ability to know what he needed before he even did and making him relax in ways he had never previously allowed himself to. It was cliché to say, but Chris genuinely believed that he had never lived until he met her and slowly, over the course of the last year, maybe even longer, the love songs on the radio made a little bit more sense and every love story he’d ever read sat a little bit differently in his heart. He knew that he was going to have to find a way to truly make her his, because despite all of the times where he felt like he could’ve just grabbed her face and kissed her, despite all of the unspoken feelings that had surfaced at Christmas, and despite the fact that they hadn’t yet managed to talk about them, the dynamic between them both after their almost kiss hadn’t changed at all except in the small way that he found himself having to stop himself from holding her in the way that he wanted to more often than not.

He thought about the one night she’d almost burst with excitement over their dinner at her apartment when he told her he had finally sat down and read Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, remembering the wind-scattered waves in her eyes and so sure that if anyone was brave enough to enter their depths, all else would blur and they would fall so deeply in love that they’d choose to stay there, no matter what, because he knew for certain that he had befallen that very fate. He recalled thinking that if that was the last thing he was to ever see, he would surely die a happy man. She had recited her favourite quote to him that he thought to be beautiful at the time but now hitting him like a freight train and knocking all of the wind out of his sails. It crawled through his skin and into his veins until he felt it coursing through his body until it had made a home within his very soul:

‘Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body… for that is just being in love, which any of us can convince ourselves that we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away.’

It was those words that had his feet carrying him to his car and those words that had him driving from his apartment to her home in Brooklyn and it was those words that had him standing outside of her front door ready to offer his heart to her. He knocked, more out of habit than anything, the key she had given him a few months ago being turned over between his fingers as he waited and the anxiety beginning to rise with each second that passed without her appearing at the door. He exhaled before finally putting the key into the lock, certain that she was home despite the fact that his visit was unplanned and unannounced.

“Rosie?” he called out into the hallway. “Are you there?”

The silence was unsettling and completely uncharacteristic, made worse by the fact that her car was parked outside in its usual spot and the fact that he could’ve sworn she’d mentioned during their phone call the night before that she was planning on having a day at home to do laundry and catch up on all of those less-important chores she didn’t have the time to do during the school year. 

‘Maybe she’s not home after all’, he thought after a couple of minutes without a reply, more to soothe his own anxiety more than anything else. ‘She’s obviously decided to go out for a walk somewhere. That must be it.’ He was just about to turn away and leave, suddenly aware of how intrusive his presence in her home was when she clearly wasn’t there, when he was certain he heard her voice call his name.

“Rosie?”

A sob drifted down the hallway, muted but no less full of raw pain and anguish that had his legs carrying him towards the sound in big, long strides until it brought him to her bedroom where the door stood slightly ajar. He slowly pushed it open with an exhale of a breath he hadn’t felt being held within his lungs and his heart lurched at the sight of her curled up on her bed sobbing into her pillow. To go to her was instinctive, his soul called out to hers in a desperate attempt to soothe whatever pain she was in and he found himself kneeling at the side of her bed with his long fingers smoothing back the titian strands that had fallen into her face and clung to her tears.

“Ro, what happened?”

She didn’t answer him, couldn’t answer him, in fact, and so he moved onto the bed, gathering her up into his arms and held her close to his chest while he rubbed circles on her back, murmuring softly into her hair to try and still her sobs. He felt the way she clung on to him like she was drowning and he was the life-preserver and pressed gentle kisses against her forehead until her crying was no more than quiet sniffles.

“Rosie, sweetheart, talk to me. What happened? Are you okay?”

“My grandma,” she choked out against the fabric of his t-shirt. “My grandma died.”

Chris closed his eyes and exhaled as the second wave of tears took her, holding her steadfast against him and saying nothing other than reassuring her that he was there for her. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that for, with her still impossibly close to him long after she’d finished crying herself hollow, until after the tears had dried and all that was left was the crippling deadweight of grief. It was Chris that spoke out into the new but deafening silence, his voice barely audible and a little rough from his own emotion that sat threateningly high in his throat.

“I’m so sorry, Rosie…”

The tiny exhale that passed Rosie’s lips had Chris’s heart breaking in two for her. Her reply small and full of defeat. “She’d had dementia for a while… Didn’t really know who any of us were,” she sniffled, dangerously close to losing it again. “Every time I went back home it was like she had to learn who I was all over again. I know that this was the kindest thing to happen but-”

Chris kissed her forehead as she choked back a sob, a wordless assurance that she didn’t need to say another word and a quiet understanding of the pain and emptiness that she was drowning in. 

“When are you flying home?” He murmured softly.

“I’m going to try and get a flight home for tomorrow, Thursday at the latest.”

“It’s gonna be expensive to try and get something that short notice, Ro.”

“That’s why I have savings,” Rosie gave a small, almost robotic shrug as she wiped her face, the emotion quickly being forced back down into her stomach as she turned her focus towards the things that she could control to keep herself from spiralling into hysterics again. “In case of an emergency.”

“Let me pay for your flight home,” Chris offered. “Please, it’s the least I can do.”

“You know I can’t accept that, honey.”

Chris had been friends with Rosie long enough to be familiar with the fact she often used terms of endearment whenever she was talking to him, but even now, especially now, with all those feelings of complete clarity about her and about them and their relationship that sat in his chest, it still managed to knock him back a bit and make his heart swell even in a moment as awful as this one. 

“Why not?”

He knew that this was a situation where he shouldn’t push too hard, that she would either pull away from him or direct all of that grief and emotion his way, like a cornered animal seconds away from deciding whether to fight or bolt. He knew he shouldn’t push this but he needed to do something, the overwhelming demand coming from his heart to make this right and fix this for her too much to ignore.

“Because I’m not your problem, Chris,” Rosie said, completely deflated. “Because this doesn’t need to be your problem.”

“I want to help, Ro, please. Please let me help. Please let me help fix this.” He was pleading with her and while a part of Rosie understood his desire to make this better for her, the swirling hurricane of emotions inside of her was reaching a fever pitch and, unable to make sense of it all, she found herself directing her howling gales towards the one thing she should have been holding on to.

“This isn’t something you can fix, Chris! You can’t fix this, you can’t make this right and you can’t bring her back!”

She stood with her fists balled tightly, the pain on her face as she sobbed and the realisation that she was right cutting through Chris like a knife. He had never been one to lose his nerve in a crisis, always the dependable one, always the stoic one. He was the guy people could rely on when things were shitty and it was something he prided himself on, but seeing her in front of him, shattered and in agony, knowing that he would have to sit this one out until she’d had a chance to process everything, left him feeling weak and powerless.

He watched her in stunned silence, unable to articulate feelings that he couldn’t make sense of. She was standing no more than three meters away from him but the distance between them felt like it stretched light-years. He couldn’t let her go to England with that hanging between the two of them, that ocean that would separate them felt like she would slip into another universe entirely and leave him with too much uncertainty about how things would be once she got back to New York. She didn’t give him a choice, though, her voice sounding abstract and unlike her own as she spoke into the void between them.

“I’m sorry, I just… I think I need to be alone right now. I need to wrap my head around this and it,” she paused for a moment, a shaky sigh filling the space. “It’s not fair on you for me to throw my emotions at you like this.”

“Rosie,” he spoke her name like a prayer, an oblique supplication that she heard but couldn’t accept.

“Please, Christopher. I know that you just want to help and, Christ, I appreciate you so much but I can’t accept your money, that’s just not my way, and I need to process this in my own way. I promise you though, I’ll let you know when I’m leaving for the UK and I swear that I’ll keep in touch.”

He hated it, all of it, but he loved her and he knew that she needed this, no matter how much it killed him to have to let her do things her own way. So that’s how he found himself nodding and respecting her request before folding her into his arms and pressing a kiss to her temple that he hoped would convey all of the affection and love that he held for her. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to cry as he drove back to his apartment and prayed to whoever was listening that she would be okay and that they would be okay, because if he lost that magic, if he lost her, he would have nothing.

It was two days later when Rosie reached out to say that she was at the airport waiting for her flight back to England, those forty-eight hours without talking to her the longest he’d ever endured. She assured him that while she was still not in a great place herself, that they were okay and that she appreciated everything he had offered to do for her. The messages were shorter than Chris was used to but it did help to make that feeling of distance between them feel a little less insurmountable than before.

*

June would usually have him heading to his coastal home in Connecticut or making the trip back to Massachusetts to be with his family, but he instead found himself lingering in New York, although with Rosie in England indefinitely he wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t committed to definite summer plans. If he really thought about it, though, really gave it more than a second’s thought and was completely honest with himself, he knew that he was waiting for her. He didn’t want to go home to Boxford and for her to come back to a city without him there. He wanted to be the one to welcome her back, pick her up from the airport and wrap her up in a hug that would have her never doubting how he truly felt about her. But really, when he spent time dissecting that desire to be there for her when she got back to New York, it actually stemmed from a desire to be with her, period. That was what had him picking up the phone and scrolling through his contacts, not even giving it a second thought when he hit that ‘call’ button but the guilt instantaneous when a sleepy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I completely forgot about the time difference,” Chris exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You never call without texting first. What’s on your mind?”

Chris sighed into the receiver, using the pause to gather his thoughts into some kind of semblance of coherence rather than dumping them all out in one go.

“I don’t even fucking know anymore, Mika.”

Mika’s tone shifted as the last remnants of sleep fell away, taking on the familiar quality that seemed to be reserved only for Chris. “Did something happen between you and Rosie?”

“Not really?” Chris offered, unsure of the answer to Mika’s question himself. “It’s just… It feels wrong, all of this.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. What feels wrong? I thought you loved her.”

“That’s just it, Mika,” Chris exhaled. “I do, fuck, I love her so much and the fact that she’s there and I’m here-”

Chris’s deep sigh through the receiver had Mika sitting up in bed, his next words spoken with such a surety as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So go to her.”

“What?”

Mika laughed so softly that it was barely audible, shaking his head despite Chris not being able to see him.

“Y’know, for someone so smart you really are dumb sometimes.”

“Okay, first of all, ouch,” Chris grumbled. “Second of all, rude. Thirdly, what’re you getting at exactly?”

“What I’m getting at,” groused Mika, too tired from being woken up in the wee hours of the morning to have any great level of patience. “Is that you should book a flight and get your ass to the UK.”

“Just like that? Just go?”

“Yes, Jesus, Chris. I don’t know what else you want me to say, man, it’s three in the morning here and Irma will kick my ass if I wake her up.”

“Right, yeah,” Chris mumbled, the guilt at waking up his friend rearing its head again. “Sorry, I know I shoulda thought about the time difference.”

“The only reason you have to be sorry is if you don’t pack a bag as soon as we’re done talking and go get on the next fucking plane to England.”

Chris paused, long enough to gather his thoughts but not long enough for Mika to be concerned.

“I guess I’ll let you know when I land then.”

“Give her a hug from me, Chris,” Mika said with complete sincerity.

“‘Course I will, and Mika?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, man.”

Mika smiled into the darkness of his bedroom before answering softly, “anytime.”

 *

Chris had never been to England before and he wasn’t afraid to admit that his geography knowledge of the country was somewhat lacking, so to say that this trip was going to be a baptism of fire would have been entirely accurate. He was a confident enough driver, if he were to say so himself, but he’d have been a big fat liar (to put it in Rosie’s words) if he didn’t admit that the prospect of driving the 160 miles from London Heathrow to Exeter, on the wrong side of the road he might add, filled him with a little bit of dread. But if there was a woman worth braving the complete absurdity of a roundabout for, it was Rosie.

He couldn’t help but feel like he was going behind her back a little bit, using the excuse of wanting to send flowers to her as a means to get her parents’ address when he’d spoken to her on the phone the previous morning. He hoped that she would be able to forgive his little deception and see the purity of his intentions behind it, although he did pick up some flowers on the way to her parents’ house from the small hotel he was staying at, wanting to fulfil that part of the bargain at least. His heart thundered in his chest as he turned into a quiet residential street that the GPS was signalling as being his destination. He pulled up outside the house, checking, double checking and triple checking that he had the right address before he shut off the car engine and got out, grabbing the large bouquet of flowers off the back seat. He can’t ever remember a time that his palms were this clammy or where his legs felt like they were about to give way from under him quite like they did at that moment as he walked up the short driveway to the front door.

He rubbed his free hand on the front of his jeans, taking a settling breath before he knocked on the door, unsure of what to expect when it opened. His eyebrows raised in surprise when an older looking gentleman answered, who looked equally surprised to see a slightly dishevelled looking, six foot three stranger on his doorstep.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Chris spoke, thankful that he was at least able to find his strong voice despite the distraction of his heart hammering in his chest.

“Alright there, mate?” the man greeted, with an accent that Chris noted to be far stronger than Rosie’s. “You lost or summat?”

“I hope not,” Chris laughed more out of nerves than anything else. “I’m actually here to see Roseanna.”

He hadn’t meant to sound so unsure of himself, his statement coming out as more of a question and nothing at all like his normal confident self. The older man didn’t seem to pay too much notice to it though, instead breaking into a smile that Chris recognised as being near enough identical to Rosie’s and gestured for him to come inside the house. 

“She’s just got back from walkin’ the dog, I’ll get ‘er for you.”

Chris watched as the man disappeared the short way down the hallway and called Rosie’s name into the kitchen, unable to stop the grin from forming on his face as he heard her voice reply to the man he had assumed to be her father.

“Someone’s ‘ere to see you, love, what? No, I don’t know who he is… maybe one of your university mates,” he turned back to give Chris a friendly nod before adding, “she’ll be right with you.”

Sure enough, no sooner were the words out of his mouth did Rosie appear in the doorway at the end of the hall, all red cheeks and light freckles from the sunshine. She stopped dead in her tracks, her face switching from total surprise at the sight in front of her to overwhelming joy before finally settling on complete disbelief at the realisation that Chris was standing right in front of her in the home she grew up in. Her legs instinctively carried her into his waiting arms, tears starting to fall before she could even register what was happening. Chris was certain that he would never forget the way she held onto him in that moment, with her face buried into his chest and her arms tight around his back.

“What are you doing here?” She finally managed, bringing her teary eyes up to meet Chris’s. “How? When?”

His only response was to kiss her forehead sweetly, holding her against his body like she was about to float away.

“I wanted to be here for you. I know you have your family but, God, it just didn’t feel right to be back in New York.” He stepped back from her a fraction so that he could offer the blooms he was still holding to her. “And I believe I promised you some flowers.”

“I thought you were sorting them with a local florist not travelling across the Atlantic to hand deliver them,” she laughed through her tears, a hand coming up to whack his chest lightly. “You are completely ridiculous, Christopher James Kreider.”

“Anything to see you smile, Ro.”

He kissed her hair before taking her outstretched hand and followed her as she led him into the kitchen to meet her family for the first time.

 *

The next few days had Chris feeling a little bit like a spare part. Rosie and her family were busy with the last minute preparations for the funeral and Chris wished that he could do more to help out but, just like always, Rosie managed to allay his worries and settle his heart by assuring him that his presence alone was enough. They’d spent their free time taking in the sights of South Devon, Rosie relishing the opportunity to show him around the place she grew up and all of her favourite spots. He particularly enjoyed the day they spent down in a place called Torquay, the beauty of the ocean and the way the sun kissed her hair had him feeling bold enough to reach for her hand as they walked along the sea-front while enjoying an ice cream each.

On the day of the funeral, Chris made himself completely indispensable to Rosie and her family, nothing being too much trouble. He held Rosie tightly throughout the ceremony, never once letting her go and whispered words of comfort to her as she said her final goodbyes to the grandmother she loved so much before they exited the church. He stayed by her side throughout the wake at her request. The emotional rawness of the day had her feeling more vulnerable than she would have liked but there was something about the way Chris’s hand rested above her knee as they sat around the table that had her feeling more grounded and centred than she knew she would’ve been had he not been there. It was easy for her to go back to Chris’s hotel with him, the emotions of the day still weighed heavy on her and she couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping alone.

The gravity of those feelings wasn’t lost on Rosie and she knew that sooner or later she’d have to really take a step back and take a good look at her relationship with Chris and what it all meant. It was easier to be dishonest with herself and keep up the pretence that they were just friends because if she let herself think about them being anything else for too long she would feel her chest tighten and hear her heart start to whoosh in her ears. Was it childish? Absolutely, but she’d be damned if she let herself get hurt by a man again. Her self-preservation mechanism had been working like a charm so far and if it wasn’t broken then why fix it? It wasn’t completely infallible though and after two bottles of Chianti and the way the lamplight accentuated the softness in his eyes, Rosie found herself slipping. 

“What’s on your mind?” He whispered, fingers finding her chin to bring her thousand yard stare away from the wall and back to his searching gaze.

“Everything,” she sighed softly. “It’s loud in my head tonight.”

“Is there one thing in particular that you can pick out?”

He took the wine glass that she was cradling and set it down on the table, taking her hands in his and rubbing his thumbs gently across her knuckles.

“Not really, today has just been a lot.”

Chris nodded in understanding, not wanting to pry further and cognizant of the emotional strenuity of the day. Instead he pulled her closer, nestling her into his side and pressing a gentle kiss to her hair.

“I still can’t believe you came all this way for me,” she murmured.

“Why darling,” Chris started, Rosie immediately recognising the quote as being Hemingway. “I don’t live at all when I’m not with you.”

She tilted her head up towards him, her lips impossibly close to his as her fingers danced along the stubble at his jaw and swallowed down the nerves that had lodged in her throat. She closed her eyes, so close to giving in to her heart and letting it win, for better or worse. Chris had been dreaming of this moment though, longing for it with every close call and missed opportunity. This is how it should’ve been at Christmas and all of the team events he’d the delight of having her on his arm, but instead he let himself chicken out, the fear of spooking her and losing her too much to allow himself to take the risk. But now, he had Rosie right there. She was impossibly close and all around him and he knew that if he didn’t take that leap and place his lips on hers, he might never get that chance again and that is what had him brushing his lips lightly across hers, his fingers finding a home amongst the loose copper curls that were glowing like hot coals in the low light of the room.

Instinct took over and had Rosie arching her body into him, her hands reaching up into his hair to muss the short curls. Even with her body pressed against his, Chris needed her closer, his big arms looping around her and pulling her into his lap. He kissed her desperately, a kiss to make up for all the kisses they should have already shared and all the words that should have been spoken. It should have terrified him, how easy it was to be with her like this and how easy the push and pull of it was, neither taking more than they were giving in the moment. This was what Boris Pasternak meant when he said ‘you and I, it’s as though we have been taught to kiss in heaven and sent to Earth together to see if we know what we were taught., Chris was sure of it because nothing could compare to how Rosie’s lips felt against his and the feeling of her hands on his skin. Her kiss was heaven and her eyes felt like home and Chris knew in that moment that he needed all of her.

As he carried her to bed, Rosie thought about how right being in his arms felt. It was a strong sense of belonging that she couldn’t ever remember having with anyone else - ‘whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same’, she thought. He spoke her name against her ear like a prayer, all the love and want for her conveyed in one simple word while he removed her dress with tender hands. Her body was laid on display for him like a canvas, his mouth was the paintbrush and Chris knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life painting a masterpiece onto her skin with his lips.

They moved together between the sheets as sure as the gentle waves that lap against the shore, her hands never feeling more at home than they did running up his back and over his shoulders before settling against the broad plains of his chest. Her every breath and every moan sounded like an aria to his ears and his name tumbling from her lips with every thrust of his hips was met with a moan of hers. He thought she could never look as good as she did underneath him, blooming like a rose, until he found himself on his back with her above him, her hair falling around them both like a curtain and her mouth panting against his as she rolled her hips. His hands made a home at the dip of her waist, guiding her in her movements but never taking the reins from her, giving her the control they both knew she needed in the moment.

It was intuitive, really, the way she was rocking her hips into his and the steady build of pressure in her stomach had her chanting Chris’s name like an incantation. He saw on her face the exact moment that the coil snapped, moaning as she fluttered and tightened around him and brought his hips up to meet hers as she rode the wave of her orgasm.

“I’m with you,” he murmured against her neck.

“Please, Chris. I need you.”

“I’ve got you, Ro. I’ve got you.”

She turned her face to meet his lips in a deep kiss, Chris moaning into her mouth as he spilled inside of her with stuttering hips. Rosie let out a contented sigh as she kissed him through his release, her chest pressed against his and her fingers playing with whatever ends of his hair she could reach. They stayed that way long after he’d gone soft inside of her, content to just bask in the afterglow of the moment as Chris’s fingers traced up and down her back. Rosie knew that she needed to have a frank discussion with Chris about her feelings but now didn’t seem like the right time for that. The sudden realisation that things would never be the same and that there was no going back to the way things were after this embedded itself like a seed, but Rosie let herself surrender to the feeling of safety and security Chris’s arms offered her before it could take root. She nestled herself against his side, her head resting on his chest with her eyes closed, and let his heartbeat be the gentle lullaby to lead her into the beautiful twilight.

 *

Chris awoke to the feeling of Rosie snug and secure within his arms, a peaceful look resting on her features that gave her an angelic quality. He let his mind wander to the night before and allowed the love he felt for her run wild through his veins and fill every corner of his mind, body and soul. For so long it had just been him and hockey, never subscribing to the idea that a person needed a relationship to be complete. But as he looked down and saw his entire world resting within his arms, he realised that he had been right all along. It wasn’t a relationship that made a person complete. It was love. That all-consuming wildfire that burns everything else away until there is nothing left but a new-beginning. He remembered the quote from Corelli that Rosie loved so much and felt everything fall into place. He felt like he’d waited a million years for this feeling and now that he felt it consume him like wildfire, he knew that he would have waited a million more, just as long as he had the privilege of being hers. It was surrendering all that he had ever been for everything that she was, for every kiss and every touch. Her love was his turning page and loving her was the greatest and best thing that he would ever do in his life, he was sure of it.

He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, eyes crinkling with his smile as she stirred.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he whispered against her hair. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” she croaked, voice still thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

Chris looked over her shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. “Just gone eight-thirty.”

“Oh, okay.”

She furrowed her brows again, suddenly feeling Chris everywhere as pieces of the night before flooded her consciousness as she fully emerged from sleep and into the waking world. She was naked, she registered, and so was he and she was blindsided by an abrupt awareness that a definite line had been crossed that they could never go back from. It was that recognition of their friendship never being the same again that had her rolling away from Chris without warning. She was out of bed before he could even register what was happening, gathering up her clothes and dressing quickly without as much as a word.

“Rosie?” Chris was sitting up now, a slight waver to his voice as he spoke her name. “What are you doing?”

“I have to go,” she mumbled, an almost robotic edge to her tone that had Chris jumping out of bed and throwing on a pair of sweatpants, already catching up to her racing thoughts without her needing to say another word. He rushed to the door that she was making a beeline for, stepping in front of it and reaching desperately for her hands.

“Don’t do this, Ro… Please, don’t run from this.”

“Chris,” she warned, the emotion sitting dangerously high in her throat and her eyes glossing over with tears.

“What’re you so afraid of? I know you feel it too, Rosie. I know you do.”

“Chris, please,” she tried to brush past him but Chris wouldn’t let this moment slip through his fingers, not this time.

“No, we’re not doin’ this anymore. We’re not gonna spend the rest of our lives pretending that we’re just friends because we’re not, Rosie. I don’t think we have been for a long time- look at me, Ro, please.”

Chris saw the flicker of hesitation cross her face but the desperation in his voice was too much for her to ignore. She brought her eyes up to meet his and saw a fire burning within them that she had never seen before.

“I love you, Rosie. You have to know that by now.”

She shook her head vehemently, the tears she had managed so far to keep at bay finally slipping out and onto her cheeks.

“Don’t,” she whimpered. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Who says I don’t mean it?” He brought his hands to cup her face to keep her eyes on him. “You? Do you think I’d travel across an ocean to be here with you now if I didn’t love you?”

Rosie answered only with a sniffle, the feeling of his touch along her skin anchoring her in a moment where she felt like she was drowning in a sea of every repressed emotion and feeling from the last eighteen months.

“But what if this doesn’t work? What if we’re better as friends?”

“I know you don’t believe that,” he wiped away the tears on her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “I know that you’ve been hurt before and I know that you’re scared. But you can’t keep holding on to the past, Ro, because if you do you’ll miss out on what’s right in front of you.”

“It’s not the loving you part that’s hard Chris,” she whispered. “It’s admitting to myself that it happened at all that is. I’ve had all these defences that have worked to keep me from getting hurt for so long but it was like you didn’t even see them at all, like they were meant for others while you had your very own door. I’ve spent so long asking myself why that is and come up with nothing. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

He kissed her forehead softly in response before pulling back to look into her eyes, making sure that she saw him, felt him, heard him. “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

The corners of Rosie’s mouth quirked up into a smile despite her tears and her doubts, her favourite passage from Pride and Prejudice never sounding as good as it did coming from Chris’s mouth and extinguishing every fear she was holding within her heart. She closed her eyes and nodded, her lips connecting with his in a kiss that could’ve stopped the world from turning. She gave herself to him completely and surrendered to the overwhelming love that burned within her for him. There were no words that could convey to Chris just how much he meant to her but she hoped that ones from Rupi Kaur would do it justice:

“You might not have been my first love, but you were the love that made all the other loves irrelevant.”

Chris smiled against her mouth and kissed away every fear and worry until there was nothing left but him and her and the love they had for each other.

 *

Life continued much as it had before, a testament really to the relationship that Chris and Rosie already shared and the official label did nothing more than earn them a chorus of “it’s about time” from their friends and had Mika looking incredibly smug for the next few months. The passage of time only served to make their relationship stronger, both able to give themselves completely without the uncertainty of their feelings looming over them or holding them back. Rosie often found herself being struck by the easiness of their relationship and she never once found herself questioning Chris’s commitment to her and what they had. When he asked her how she would feel about ending the lease on her Brooklyn apartment and moving into his place in Manhattan she didn’t have to give it a second thought. Everything about it felt natural and they were both ready to take that next defining step in their relationship. Once Rosie’s belongings and houseplants were moved in, Chris couldn’t help but feel as if they had always been there, like his apartment was finally complete and that it was the home he had always imagined it would eventually be.

Of course, there were bumps in the road, both of them had been on their own for so long that they were set in their ways at first, but their disagreements never lasted long, their shared knack for communication often diffusing the situation before it had chance to grow arms and legs. The adjustment was harder for Chris in some ways, especially when things on the ice weren’t going so well and he would retreat into himself or misdirect his frustrations towards Rosie with a sharper tone than was necessary, but she stood firm, never one to suffer fools and for that Chris was eternally grateful. They complimented each other in ways they couldn’t even have imagined, Chris able to pull Rosie out of her own head when the world weighed heavy on her shoulders and Rosie never afraid to put Chris in his place when he needed it. As the months rolled into years and their love went from strength to strength, Chris knew for certain that she was it for him and there was nothing he wanted more than to start and end the day with Rosie for all of the days to come.

 *

Rosie looked at Chris with confusion as their Uber pulled up outside Westsider Books one early September evening. There was a faint glow of lights inside but it didn’t look as if the shop was open and Rosie couldn’t understand why Chris had brought her here when she was sure they closed at five.

“I didn’t realise this place opened late,” she said as Chris opened her car door and offered his hand to help her out of the car.

“I think it’s just a one-time thing,” he replied as he thanked the driver and closed the door. He placed a hand on the small of Rosie’s back and guided her towards the shop entrance, pushing the door open and gesturing for Rosie to go in ahead of him. Rosie wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting to find inside, but hundreds of glittering fairy lights, candles and more flowers than she could count wasn’t even on the list.

“Chris?” she breathed, turning to look at him.

“If you were to list your top three favourite books of all time off the top of your head,” he started, wrapping his arms around her waist. “What would they be?”

“Christopher…”

“Come on, Ro,” he grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way she loved so much. “Just... play along… Please, for me?”

“Alright, well…” she conceded with a gentle sigh. “Off the top of my head I would probably say Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, For Whom the Bell Tolls and Pride and Prejudice.”

Chris’s smile somehow managed to double in size, the soft glow of the string lights and candles had his eyes sparkling like smoky quartz, the lush green flecks that usually lived among the dark bark of his irises hidden by the low light. He knew she would say that, of course, knowing her with an intimacy that even after all their years of friendship and the years of loving her still managed to knock him back a bit. He took her hand then, leading her along the aisle before stopping in front of a shelf with a dozen hand-tied sunflowers. He reached out and took a book from the shelf.

“Captain Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières,” he murmured, passing the book to Rosie with an easy grin. “Go on, open it.”

He watched as she opened the cover of the book, her face softening at the sight of a delicate pendant necklace nestled between the pages. A small silver fern leaf hung at the end of the thin chain, a nod to the many houseplants she had brought into his home when she moved in that he had playfully grumbled about but in all actuality loved.

“Chris, it’s beautiful.”

He gently took the necklace from her hands and spun Rosie around, draping the chain across her chest and fastening it behind her neck with sure fingers before turning her back to face him, his eyes falling to the pendant that glimmered in the low light of the room.

“It looks gorgeous on you,” he smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Right, what was the next book? For Whom the Bell Tolls, right?”

“Chris, what is all this?” Rosie asked softly, taking Chris’s outstretched hand and following him down the next aisle to another shelf. He ignored her question, simply picking up the book and handing it to her.

“I love that you love Hemingway almost as much as I do,” he whispered softly. “Almost. You have no idea how much it means to me that I get to share that enjoyment with you and I want us to keep making memories together and sharing enjoyment of the things we love.” He watched her expectantly, waiting for her to open the book to reveal the piece of paper he’d folded in there. He took the book from her hands so that she could open it.

Rosie’s eyes widened as she read what she realised to be an itinerary for a trip to Europe next summer.

“I’ve only been to a couple of places in Europe,” Chris started. “And I figured who better to show me around than the girl who’s visited near enough every country on that continent?”

Rosie was unable to contain her sniffles by this point, overwhelmed at the thought and preparation that Chris had put in, not only in the trip to Europe, but this whole evening as well. She shook her head gently as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest.

“This is too much, Chris, you shouldn’t have.”

He pulled back from her just far enough to get her eyes on his, his face set with an expression that held all the love in the world.

“Ah, ah, there’s still one more book, which if I’m not mistaken is your all-time favourite and you, Roseanna Williams, are worth all the good things in this world.”

Her slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his side as they walked back towards the front of the shop, Rosie gently wiping the tears away from her eyes. Pride and Prejudice sat pride of place in the middle of a small table, the book surrounded by petals. Chris gave her an encouraging look and stepped back as she picked it up, taking a small envelope from out of the book before setting it back down again. Her eyes found her name on the front of the envelope in Chris’s unmistakable handwriting before turning it over in her hands and opening it, pulling out what appeared to be a letter. She took a steadying breath as she began to read.

My dearest Rosie,

There will never be the words to adequately express just how much you mean to me or how grateful I am to have found you. You are everything that I didn’t even know I was searching for, that I didn’t even know I needed.

I never believed in fate, every happy accident is just that. A happy accident. Coincidence. Right place, right time. But you, you have opened my eyes to the idea of pure magic because how can a love like ours be founded on pure coincidence alone? How can a soul yearn for someone they had never met? I know now that the reason I found myself in this very book store on that day you came into my life was because your soul was calling me here.

In you I have everything I’ll ever need. No matter where my career takes me, no matter what lies ahead, as long as I have you I have everything. I love you more than anything else in this world, you have given me a higher purpose and I will spend the rest of my life making you happy if you’ll let me.

All my love, Always

Chris

We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright - E. Hemingway.

Rosie closed her eyes and let her tears fall onto her cheeks as she clutched the letter to her chest.

“Chris…”

“I’m gonna need you to open your eyes, babe,” Chris chuckled softly.

Rosie smiled as she allowed her eyes to drift open, her hand immediately coming up to her mouth as she stifled an unexpected sob at the sight of Chris down on one knee in front of her, a ring box open in his hand that looked as if it contained an entire galaxy of glittering stars.

“Ro, I can’t even remember what my life was like without you in it, I didn’t even know that I was in the dark. Until I saw your smile. It was only then that I realised and now I never want to live a single day without the warmth and light of your love. It’s us, babe. It’s always been us and it’s always been you, since the day we met. I didn’t even realise I was waiting for you and now that I have you, everything is as it should be. I love you, Rosie. I’ve always loved you and I would be the happiest and luckiest man on Earth with you as my wife. Marry me, babe?”

Rosie sank slowly to her knees in front of Chris, her hands reaching up and cupping his face as her tears fell. In front of her was a man who had given her everything, who had helped her to let go of the past and right now, he was offering her a future brighter and more wonderful than anything she could’ve ever imagined and never dared to dream she would have.

“Oh god, please tell me those are happy tears.”

She cut him off with a kiss, a kiss that gave Chris his answer without her even needing to say it. She kissed him with everything she had, kissed him with all of the love that coursed through her veins, kissed him until her lungs were gasping for air and she finally had to pull away, resting her forehead against his with her hands stroking along his jaw.

“Yes,” Rosie whispered. “A million times, yes.”

As Chris slid the ring onto Rosie’s finger, he took the opportunity to look into those eyes of hers that he’d grown to love so much. It was there that he saw their future, all of their hopes and dreams and the promise of all the joy in their lives that was to come and as her arms wrapped tightly around him, Chris felt their souls sigh as they folded into one another. Chris couldn’t tell what the future had in store for them both, but no matter where their path together would lead them, it was in her embrace that he found solace and it was in her heart that he found a home.

[shinicalstorytime]

Trafalgar Law x reader - The Crownest

After weeks of nothing but water, the Heart Pirates were more than sick from travelling. Sure, a submarine helped with sea-sickness, since the waves don’t really affect it. That didn’t mean, however, that seeing nothing but sea got stale.

To make matters worse, the crew had underestimated the time it would take to travel to the next island. This meant they hadn’t stocked enough food and drinks to last the journey. They’d been going on just rice for the past week. The crew had been cursing their captain since he had not allowed them to stock any bread.

As soon as the submarine docked, the crew rushed to  land. Penguin and Shachi even fell to their knees and kissed the ground, as if they’d never see it again. Law walked past his crew members, thinking to himself that they were exaggerating and went on a quest for finding a restaurant where they could fill their stomachs before going around to find resources.

The group of pirates stumbled upon a restaurant called ‘The Crownest’, where they noticed other pirates eating. They decided that this was a safe bet for their meal and entered. As soon as they had all settled at the table, they were approached by a girl.

“Hello, may I take your order?” you asked the band of pirates sitting before you. Of course you had immediately recognized them as the Heart Pirates. After all, you see their wanted posters pass by quite often.

The crew eagerly placed their huge order and you retreated to the kitchen to give the order to the cook. Law had noticed that you recognized him, and was slightly surprised by the fact that you hadn’t been phased by it at all. Then again, the place was filled with pirates and none of the worked even so much as batted an eyelid at it.

A little while later, you started bringing over the plates of food to the Heart Pirates’ table, having to go back and forth a few times considering the size of their order. They seemed really hungry and there was no doubt in your mind they would finish every single plate.

Once you made sure they’d gotten everything they wanted, you went to serve other customers. Everything went smooth until you heard the bell ring, signaling that new customers had entered the restaurant.

You looked up and frowned a bit when you saw a bunch of marines, that were stationed in your town, looking around the restaurant.

You made your way to the group of marines. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” you asked, shooting them your usual smile. They completely ignored you and pushed past you, heading over to the Hear Pirates once their eyes fell on the group of pirates.

The group of marines pointed their weapons at the group. “Trafalgar D. Water Law, you and your crew are under arrest for your crimes against the government.” The leader of the bunch stated. Law stopped eating and took a quick look to properly assess the situation.

You could tell the marines were getting impatient by the lack of response from the pirates and were about to speak out again, when you interrupted the whole situation. “And what are we doing?” Your voice was stern, as well as the look on your face.

“We are taking in a dangerous pirate. Now, (Y/N), step back. We would prefer it if no innocent civilians had to get hurt.” You rolled your eyes. Did you really seem that fragile to him?

“I don’t care how dangerous this man is. Nor do I care what kind of crimes he committed. He is a customer and he will not be bothered during his meal here.” you stated, making sure to put on your most intimidating face. If pirates didn’t scare you, the marines had no chance at all to frighten you in the slightest.

“(Y/N), don’t be so ridiculous, he-“ You didn’t let him finish his sentence. “He, is eating. He isn’t harming anyone at all. Besides, have you forgotten our deal? You promised to stop bothering my customers. At this point even the non-pirates’ meals are interrupted. As soon as someone walks through the door here, pirate or marine, noble or theif, poor or even a king. They are a customer and they will get the proper treatment.”

The marines were all silent, as well as more than a little bit surprised that you were daring to speak out like that. “So, by definition, that makes this man a customer, whom you are bothering.” you said. The marines knew there was no way to reason with you and left the restaurant, obviously quite pissed they had to let go of a chance to capture the infamous Trafalgar Law.

“Stupid marines, always ruining my business.” you muttered as you watched them leave. The Heart Pirates were all staring at you in disbelief. Never, not even in his wildest dream, Law had thought someone would stand up to the marines for him.

You noticed the confused faces and burst out laughing. “Oh please, don’t be so surprised.” Law blinked a few times and then decided to finally speak up. “Whyd didn’t you just let them take us? It would have saved you quite some trouble.”

“Didn’t you listen to anyting I have just said? You’re a customer. I won’t let anyone bother my costumers.” you said simply. “And you don’t scare, me, Mr. Surgeon of Death. I used to be a pirate myself, so nothing you could have ever done would frighten me.” You added.

Your explanation seemed to have been satisfactory and the crew let you go back to work. They were all still in disbelief about what had just happened.

After their meal, the Heart Pirates went to gather resources and stock up on food. This time they made sure to take more than they had estimated to need. Once they got everything they needed, they headed back to the Polar Tang, ready to continue their journey.

However, Law (and by extension, the crew) was brought to a halt when he heard a familiar sounding voice yell out. “Would you take your filthy hands off of me, you brute!”

Law noticed a muscular marine holding you, trying to restrain you. “Stop fighting back, (Y/N). You’re only making things harder for yourself.” You replied to the man by spitting in his face.

The marine was obviously getting impatient with you. “(L/N) (Y/N), you are charged with helping out wanted criminals and pirates. You are hereby sentenced to Impel Down for deliberately acting against the government.” He stated.

He finally managed to put a pair of handcuffs on you and pushed you forward to a marine ship that was waiting, ready to take you to the infamous prison. You sighed and walked along, knowing there was nothing you could do to prevent your fate at this point.

“ROOM!” The noise startled you. The marines were sent flying backwards and were reassembled by none other than Trafalgar Law. You had heard stories of the Ope Ope no Mi, but you couldn’t even imagine what it would be like seeing it at work up close. It was truly insane.

Law was actually kind of enjoying the panic his powers was causing. While the marines were distracted by their newly assembled bodies, Law went over to you and broke your handcuffs. “Now we’re even.” He said.

“Why don’t you join my crew, (Y/N)? You clearly can’t stay here.” he offered. You shook your head. “Nu-uh, I gave up on the pirates’ life.” you told him.

At this point, the marines had regrouped and had their target set on you. “Doesn’t seem like you have much choice.” Law said with a chuckle as he headed over to the Polar Tang. You debated shortly before following him, knowing he was right.

Who knew an unfortunate even like this would lead to the best decision you would ever make in your life? Living the pirate life with Law was even better than you had imagined.

[solarwonux]

Cherry || Vernon

vernon x f!reader: soulmate!au

w.c: 4k

warnings: angst, heartbreak, suggestive themes but very minimal 

note: this is one of the works I’m most proud of, so I really hope you guys like it or love it as much as I do. Let me know your thoughts, yes this is a repost and I reposted it for good reason, hehehe.

p.s: read the sequel: sunflower hehe

masterlist || sunflower

The sun was shining down, peeking through the delicate petals of the cherry blossom trees as the two of you strolled hand in hand underneath them. “Why do we do this every year?” Vernon asked a soft smile decorating his face as a gentle breeze blew effortlessly causing the pink and white flowers to fall from their perspective branches into your hair. 

“It’s tradition.”  You said ruffling your hair, trying to get the un welcomed flowers to fall out. Vernon shakes his head reaching over and slowly untangles the dainty petals from your unruly hair. A soft giggle falling out of your cherry painted lips before you stood up on your toes to kiss him. 

He smiles against them, moving his hand from the top of your head down to your cheek, his thumb caressing it gently. A colorful burst of emotions spiraling in the pits of your stomachs, a comforting warmth embracing the two of you. He pulls away, a small whine falling out of lips while he chuckles resting his forehead against yours. Locking his eyes with yours. He searched them admiring the way they looked against the pink and white of the Sakura trees. And he decided that this was why he always came with you to see the cherry blossom trees once they were in full bloom. The feeling he would get in his body as he watched you gaze up at them with so much adoration and care was indescribable and something, he would never trade for anything in the world. 

But now as he was looking down into your glimmering eyes, he panicked because felt it. The sinking feeling in his stomach. The same one he had been ignoring for the past month as the bright colors around him started to fade, turning into pale versions of themselves. He knew what it meant, but he also knew that he loved you like the way the moon loves the stars. So, he kept ignoring it, pushing it aside, burying it underneath all the precious memories he kept of you. Because accepting the fact that one day he’d fall out of love with you was something he never wanted to face. 

He sighed, closing his eyes tightly. He had somehow convinced himself that this was all in his head. And that the second he would open his eyes again the color he had grown to love would come back into his world. But of course, the universe had its way of working and right now it was working against him because when had opened his eyes, the color around him continued to fade. 

“Are you okay?” You said wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s waist. Lately you noticed he had been acting differently. Listening to sad songs, spacing out and confusing colors with one another, but the two of you were going through a rough period in life. Money was starting to become tight and both of your jobs weren’t enough to pay for the overwhelming amount of bills, fights between the two of you had started to happen more frequently as well. But you just assumed that this would pass because as long as the two of you were together, you’d be able to take over the world someday. 

“Mhm, I was just thinking of songs I could add to my new mixtape for you.” He winked playfully. A giggle escaping your throat. Vernon’s smile falling as the feeling of joy he would get whenever he heard your laugh was nowhere to be found.

“It’s been five years and you’re still making me mixtapes.” You smiled widely. Another cool breeze blowing, rattling the trees around you causing the petals to fall again, making you look like an ethereal angel. And if Vernon wasn’t so panicked or scared, he would’ve let himself indulge in this moment wholeheartedly. But he was terrified. 

“It’s tradition.” He spoke, placing a soft kiss against your temple, grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. “And I love you.” 

“I love you more.” You smiled reaching up into his hair and grabbing the single pink petal that had found its way into it. You held your thumb out to him where the petal had stuck. “Make a wish.” You whispered watching as his face contorted into something you couldn’t decipher. 

Every year the two of you made a wish together underneath the falling flowers and every year he had thought it was childish, but he never once complained. Now he wondered if what he was going through was punishment for being so selfish back then. He sighed lowly before placing his thumb against yours and closing his eyes as tightly as he had closed them before. The two of you mumbling underneath your breaths, unknowingly wishing for dreams that had started to become unattainable as the days passed by.

When he opened his eyes again the disgusting feeling returned but decided to push it aside again as he smiled and hugged you tightly. The air leaves your lungs along with a gentle laugh. He frowned noticing that the color he had once associated with your laugh disappeared. “Let’s go home, it’s wine night.” You pulled away from him, tapping his nose with your index finger. “You promised you’d watch The Bachelor with me.” You smirked before pecking his lips and pulling your hand from his. The feeling of emptiness increased as he watched you walk away awed by the trees around you. Leaving him behind to deal with the fact that maybe in a few seconds, minutes, hours, days or months; his home wouldn’t be with you anymore. 

The heat was unbearable making the clothes stick onto your bodies. The two of you were sitting out in the balcony of your apartment because although it was hot outside, for some reason it was hotter inside. Your bare legs were resting on top of Vernon’s clothed ones, his dress shirt opened, revealing his glistening chest. 

“How was work?” You whispered, wrapping your cherry red lips around the straw of the lemonade you had made in a desperate attempt to cool down. 

“The air broke again, at this point I think they’re doing it on purpose just to go home early.” He chuckled looking over at you, the brightness of your lips making his heart palpitate out of time. 

Ever since that day at the park, the colors had faded almost to a black and white, except for the bright red of your lips. He wondered why you still wore it, especially during the summertime where you usually opted for soft pink colors. And on days where the two of you stayed home doing nothing, but he never voiced his curiosity. Mainly because it was the only color about you that hadn’t practically faded to nothing and the color that he had started to associate with hope. 

“How was your day off…did you miss me?” He smirked his hands mindlessly massaging your calves, kneading out the tension. 

“Awful, I had to move the couch all by myself…my body hurts.” You pouted sitting and wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head against his shoulder. 

“I told you to wait for me before rearranging the living room.” He said turning his face and placing a small kiss into your hair. “But you’re impatient and stubborn, which is why I don’t feel bad about your pain.” He said wrapping his arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer to him, wishing the touch of your skin still gave him the same effect as it did before. But as of recently he hadn’t been able to feel anything, and he hated it. 

In fact, he had started to hate a lot of things ever since that day at the park. He hated coming home to face you, seeing a smile reach your eyes when he couldn’t offer you one anymore. He hated lying through his teeth, telling you he loved you when he honestly wasn’t sure anymore. He hated listening to you talk about work and how Janice—your co-worker had started cheating on her husband with Mark—the IT guy. He hated feeling your lips against his and your hands on his skin. Because it all meant that you still loved him. That your world wasn’t fading like his was. That the universe had no other soulmate for you but him. It hurt him because he was so sure that he loved you and that you were the only one for him, but as the days passed by, he was reminded more and more that you weren’t. And he hated himself and the universe for punishing you in such a cruel way. 

He was angry and frustrated trying to convince himself that whatever he was going through was just a phase. But he was starting to run out of energy and that’s what scared him the most. 

Vernon wanted to fight with you over stupid things again, like leaving the empty milk cartoon inside the fridge. He wanted to feel happiness whenever he woke up next to you with the sheets of your body, one of your legs caging him in and your mouth open as small snores fell out of them. He wanted to see you walk down the aisle in the prettiest white dress as he cried his eyes out like a child. He wanted to see you carry his children and complain about the weird cravings he was preparing himself for you to have. He wanted to move into a house with a big lawn and a backyard so he could run around it with his kids, while you sat back, your loud laughter erupting around them. He wanted to grow old with you, retire in a quiet town with a golden retriever. 

But he knew his wish was getting farther as the days passed by and he hated it.

“Yet you love me and my impatient and stubborn ass.” You giggled planting a kiss against his cheek, the residue of your red lipstick left behind as a gentle reminder. He took a deep breath returning from whatever daydream he had been inside of. He turned towards you, his best fake smile etched on his face. “And I will never stop.” He said before connecting his lips with yours, the sparks erupting inside of you just like they had done the first time, unbeknownst to you that Vernon had stopped feeling them long ago. 

The leaves had changed color. At least that’s what you had told him when you came home one day boosting about how pretty the scenery had been while you were walking home. And he wished he would have joined in on your excitement especially because fall was his favorite season. The season he had first laid eyes on you five years ago on a Monday morning. Where he rushed inside the bakery by the University campus for a quick breakfast before class. He had bumped into you, crushing the chocolate croissant you had in your hand against your chest, urgent apologies escaping his mouth as he tried to help you clean up your shirt. Stopping once he noticed he could see the color of it—a pale yellow. He raised his head, his eyes locking with yours as you stared at him speechless, holding the remainder of your croissant in your delicate hand.

“Fuck me.” You breathed out, your eyes getting wide as you realized what you had said. “Not like that, I didn’t mean it like that…I’m just—wow this is wild.” You blushed putting your hand against your cheek as you looked around taking in your surroundings. 

“Shit.” He cursed hearing his phone buzz uncontrollably in his pocket signaling he was going to be late for class, he could care less. He wasn’t sure why he had done it, but he hugged you tightly, the colors hitting him like a wave, and he couldn’t be happier. You stiffened in his arms before relaxing and hugging you tightly, a comforting sigh falling out of your lips. “I-I found you.” 

He shook his head trying to push back that memory, Nostalgia clouding his judgement just like it did whenever the memories of you flooded back to the surface. He tightened his hold around your waist cuddling you into his side even further. It was Sunday and the two of you had decided to stay in after a stressful week at work. You were mindlessly drawing inside of your notebook, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you concentrated. Vernon had always scolded you on that habit, claiming your lips were too beautiful to be put through that unnecessary stress. Now he didn’t have the energy to tell you anything about it. 

You sighed feeling his thumb graze the skin of your hip, his lips finding your neck as he searched for anything that could make him feel. You smiled putting down your pencil and sat up, turning your head a small pout on his lips as he tried pulling you closer to him. “You’ve been so touchy lately.” You grinned placing your hands against his chest. 

“Are you complaining?” He smirked moving your hair away from your neck and finding your sweet spot. A soft sigh coming from your lips. 

“I’m not…” You paused moving your head away as he let out a whine. “It’s just not you.” You whispered looking down at your closed notebook, running your index finger against the spine. 

“What do you mean, I love touching you.” He spoke removing his hands from your body, untangling himself from you. “Do you not want me touching you anymore?”  His heart breaking slowly as words flew out of his mouth before he could process them. 

“No…I love you touching me, it’s just you’ve never been this overly affectionate before.” You shrugged, opening your notebook again and grabbing your pencil as Vernon let out a frustrated sigh and stood up from the couch. 

“I can’t show my love to you anymore without you getting suspicious.” He scoffed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. You slammed your notebook shut throwing it aside before standing up to face him. Anger that you had been pushing aside for months coursing through your veins.

“Do you?” You spat out, closing your hands into fists at your sides. Vernon gives you a confused look making you roll your eyes. “Do you love me?” You spoke feeling smaller than usual as you fought back tears, Vernon’s heart stopping. 

“O-Of course I do, why wouldn’t I love you anymore.” He ran a hand through his hair, his words coming out of his mouth at lightning speed as he tried to process everything. He should’ve prepared himself for this moment instead of walking on eggshells around you, worrying about making the wrong move. And for the most part he had succeeded but he knew that one day you would catch on and he guessed that day was today.

“The other day when I asked you to hand me a yellow marker you stared at them for longer than usual before handing me the blue one. You usually gloat about the leaves around this time of the year and this year you seemed to care less and finally you’ve been dressing in just black and white clothes and when you don’t nothing matches. So Hansol I’m going to ask you again and I need you to answer me honestly.” You grabbed his hands holding them up to your chest as he stared at you wide eyed. “Do you still love me?” You choked out. A single tear falling from your eye and Vernon swore he heard your heart cracking along with his. 

He closed his eyes, counting to five before opening them. The color of your bright red lights staring back at him. The same color he had started to hate because he understood why that had been the only part of you that hadn’t faded. He took a deep breathing wiping your fallen tears with his thumbs wishing he could still see the color of your eyes burning holes inside his. 

“Yes, I do still love you.” He said pressing his lips against your forehead. Your heart breaking because although that was the answer you needed. It wasn’t the answer you wanted because it was a lie. 

He knew you hadn’t believed him as he heard your sobs, but he held you closely hating himself even more now that you knew the truth. 

The first snowfall of the year had fallen, while the two of you were having dinner on the rooftop of your apartment building. The first snowflake landing on top of Vernon’s nose, the first smile you had given him ever since that Sunday afternoon. You laughed at his confused face as it rang in his ear like a sweet melody that had slowly started to go out of tune, but he didn’t care. You laughed, you smiled, and it made his heart swell knowing it was directed towards him. 

You had put your noodles down, your eyes glowing as you watched your surroundings turn into a pale white, the bitter cold hitting your bones, but you didn’t care because it still meant you could feel something. You turned to face Vernon as he watched you with calm eyes, hating the way his gaze made you feel. You looked down wrapping your arms around yourself welcoming the numbness that accompanied the cold.

“Let’s go to the bakery.” Vernon spoke standing up and gathering the trash on the table. You looked up opening your mouth before closing it again looking for words to say. But you had ran out of them long ago and it frustrated you. So, you nodded agreeing with him, because despite everything that was going on between the two of you. The traditions that two of you had built still mattered. 

“You’re paying for the hot chocolate this time.” You said nudging your side against his as the two of you walked down the street hand in hand. His touch had started to feel foreign to you and you wondered if he felt it too. 

“I always do.” He chuckled, shaking his head, bringing your hand up and resting it against his heated lips trying to warm you up. You tried everything not to pull away because days were getting harder than before knowing that one day the universe will finally give him the person he was meant to be with. But you were selfish just like Vernon was and just like every other human being on this planet was, so you pretend. You let him treat you the same way he had always treated you. You let him touch you the same way he always touched you and in return you’d do the same, opting to deal with your heartache when the day the two of you would have to exchange your goodbyes came. 

“Wait outside.” He said as the two of you stopped in front of the infamous bakery you had first met five years ago. 

“Deal.” You nodded taking a seat on the bench the owners of the bakery kept outside. A small kitten poking out from behind the legs making you smile widely. Vernon watched you, admiring the way you carefully picked up the kitten and placed it on your lap. Your heart was too big for your body sometimes which is why this whole situation was worse. He nodded once before walking inside.

Vernon took his place in line looking around, wishing he could remember the colors of everything he once had grown to love, trying to decide whether the glass display where all the sweets were laid out was still the same one as before. He racked his brain for a while before deciding that it wasn’t, adding it to the list of items that had changed ever since his life started falling apart. 

“Next.” He heard the cashier yell. Vernon took a step forward looking up at the menu displayed behind the bar as his hands searched for his wallet in the pocket of his jeans. 

“Two peppermint hot choco—shit.” He said as his eyes finally landed on the cashier in front of him. His heart stopping, his breath catching itself at the base of his throat as the feeling he had once felt with you rush through his veins. 

His world that was now completely black and white, the world that had you in it. The one he had gotten accustomed to the last year slowly started changing. The colors return to their rightful places, starting with the cherry stain of her lips, fully understanding why he suddenly stopped seeing the color adorn your perfect lips days ago. 

His chest tightened as her eyes widened and he knew she had seen it too. The fear that he had kept locked away in a wooden box, spilled out as his hands started to shake. He ran a hand through his hair tugging at the roots before closing his eyes shut. Scrunching them tightly hoping he’d see black and white once he opened them again. 

A fool he was because the second he opened them the colors came rushing in faster than before. The color around her felt foreign to him because it wasn’t the colors he had grown to love when he was with you, and that broke him. 

“S-Sorry.” He mumbled before rushing out of the bakery, bumping into passengers along the way, whispering his apologies. He pushed the door open, the annoying chime ringing his ear as his eardrum threatened to burst. His gaze landing on you and he swore he could physically feel his heart shatter into millions of pieces. Pieces he would no longer want to put together if it meant a life without you.

You paid him no mind as you beamed petting the head of the small kitten, humming the same song you would sing to him whenever he had trouble sleeping. He approached you slowly, the bitter snow crunching underneath his feet. His shaking hands down by his side as he stood in front of you. His bright shoes coming into your line of sight. 

“Wow, that was fa—.” You stopped mid-sentence the second you finally raised your head to look at him. Tears falling down his face, making his cold cheeks even colder. He fell in front of you. His clothed knees scraping against the frozen payment. 

“I-I don’t want this.” He sobbed, his arms tightening around your legs as he buried his face in your thighs, making the kitten meow in protest and jumping off. “I w-want to keep loving you.” He hiccupped. 

You rested your hand on top of his head, letting your fingers tangle themselves into his dark locks. As you blinked back tears trying to come up with any comforting words to say as the two of you faced the moment you had been avoiding ever since that spring day at the park. The same moment that had kept you up at night as he soundlessly slept next to you. The reason why wore the atrocious red lipstick, even if it was out of character and clashed with your outfit. But you kept wearing it knowing it was the only color Vernon had been able to see, your heart breaking each time he unconsciously smiles whenever he saw it. 

You knew this moment would come; you knew it would hit the two of you like a dozen bricks. The tightness in your chest getting worse as he held you, his sobs mixing with the sound of the chime from the bakery door. 

“Is everything okay?” A soft voice spoke making your head turn, Vernon’s nails into your calves. You silently watched as everything around her faded at a rapid pace. Your breathing getting faster before the sob that you had been holding in finally fell out of your lips. 

The last color you had seen before everything turned black and white, was the shade of her cherry red lipstick. 

[cursestothemoon]

They Forgot Everything The Minute They Were Together

Requested: yesss

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: war, death, animal death, briefly mentioned moment of intimacy (not overtly crude), children, marriage

Summary: Draco Malfoy and Y/n L/n were arranged to be married, this is their story of growing into love while a war looms over everyone’s heads.

Word Count: 3996

✧✧✧

The weather was a biting cold, the kind of cold that makes the tip of your nose numb and your eyes water. Snow was anticipated all over the grounds, the bitter cold mirroring the somber mood of the pale blonde boy inside. Draco Malfoy was sixteen, and his life already seemed to be planned out for him. It wouldn't have bothered him, not really, to be arranged to marry a girl of high society. Someone wealthy, and snobby, and incredibly cold. Someone who deserved to have the luxury of free will ripped away with a firm hand. But he was arranged to marry you, Y/n L/n. He loved you, he was sure of it, it was the only thing he was ever really sure of. You’ve been there for him for as long as he could remember. You grew together, and you were kind, and sweet, and you were everything soft and gentle while Draco was cold, and sharp, and nothing like you. He had jagged edges and loose wires, Draco was everything that you weren’t and it was in the search of your warmth to soothe his frostbite that he fell in love with the smell of your shampoo and the crinkle of your nose. And now as he stood looking over the railing of the astronomy tower, he wished he didn’t love you, not after what he's going to do.

The time neared for their arrival and the boyish innocence that remained somewhere in him was slowly dwindling with the job he was given, but he thought of you to calm his nerves. Draco was lucky, he was well aware of how rarely arranged marriages are between two people already in love. The wedding had been planned since his birth, neither you nor him old enough to understand the meaning of what your mothers whispered about. It was a vague memory, both of you aged six, when the bond became more official. Lucius Mlafoy and your father, Y/F/N, made the arrangement a promise, a vow. Narcissa was the one to bind the unbreakable vow between the two men, and a younger you placed bright purple heliotrope flowers delicately into the almost transparent blonde hair of Draco’s.

Since then the two have been inseparable, whether they liked it or not. They had started as innocent friends, a young girl and boy who often spent summers, Christmases, and birthdays together, always joined at the hip. This continued until their second year of Hogwarts, both of you entering a rebellious phase that didn’t end until the end of fourth. Draco would sneer at you and you’d send it right back to him, he hated the arrangement then, he hated that he’d have no choice, and most of all he hated that he was starting on to hate it at all. You felt similarly, he was rude, and arrogant. You didn’t like the way he treated people and you hated how when he focused on something, face relaxing into a look of wonder and gentility, you felt the incredible need to smother him with love.

It was the end of fourth year, Cedric was dead, Voldemort was back, and Draco and you found comfort in each other. For the first time in three years, you and Draco were friends again. Your relationship hadn’t developed yet, instead always teetering on the edge of friendship just waiting to be pushed over. That push came during the summer after your fifth year.

Draco and you were set to get the Dark Marks. Pledge your loyalty to a man who both of you were brainwashed to believe was meant to be a leader. You, ashamed of it now, were quiet about your disagreement with the Dark Lord's ways but Draco had told you to keep quiet, to keep it to yourself. It seemed Draco matured far faster than you during this time, every flinch and the plethora of bruises forced the snarky little boy to grow into a looming man. One whose eyes were swimming with despair and pain, and whose cries kept you awake during the nights you spent at Malfoy Manor.

“Don’t say that! Don’t you ever say that about him!” Draco bellowed

You felt yourself shake with rage at the way he acted so spineless, “You can’t tell me you agree with what he’s doing.”

He took a breath, his shoulders coming down and his face relaxing into a look of eerie stoicism, “Don’t speak of the Dark Lord like that, he is far more powerful than you and me combined. We weren’t made to be heroes, so don’t waste your energy.”

Your eyes followed Draco as he left the room, the ceremony was starting soon.

The room was dark, curtains drawn, fire extinguished, the only light coming from the dim flicker of the overhead chandelier. Two families stood in a circle, the L/ns and the Malfoys, along with others such as Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, and Severus Snape amongst other unrecognized faces. In the middle stood you and Draco, waiting for the arrival of the Dark Lord. It was with a spine chilling whoosh that he appeared, Nagini and Wormtail in tow.

“Ah, Draco...Y/n. My youngest.” His voice was light, the happiness seeping through each word.

Your heads were kept down, neither of you being able to meet the snake like man’s eyes just yet. The air seemed to thicken with discomfort when you felt a hand wrap around her, pushing your face into the chest of Lord Voldemort. His robes smelled of mildew and something else that you couldn’t put your finger on, and they felt just slightly damp and cold much like his skin. You tried not to gag as the smell of decaying skin assaulted your senses, eyes watering as you prayed to Merlin you’d be freed. Draco also seemed impatient for him to let go of you, he worried you were going to burst, do something to get yourself killed. He took a welcome breath of the mildew smell, relishing in the fact that you were still there, silent and obedient.

“Wormtail, the sacrifice.” The command was drawled out, lips stretching to a smile.

Wormtail drew his wand and muttered a few words, none detectable by you or Draco. He thrust his wand one final time toward the floor in front of you, making a white dove appear along with a white rabbit.

“The rabbit is yours, Y/n. Remember, you must use all three curses.” Voldemort instructed.

You stepped forward, eyes falling onto the snow white bunny. Its red eyes looked back at you, its nose twitching ignorantly.

Stupid bunny, you thought. It won’t even try to run.

It was ironic really, you'd only realize this years later.

The shake in your hand was masked impressively, your wand pointing straight at the white rabbit. You took a breath before muttering the first curse, Imperio, and the bunny moved at your will.

Next, Crucio, and the rabbit flopped and squealed in pain as you waited for your Lord to tell you it was sufficient. The rabbit started to twitch as it fell to the floor, the painful sounds of a prey animal suffering filled the room for what felt like hours until Voldemort called for it to stop.

“Next one, my girl. Go on.” He coaxed you, his tone far too excited.

With a final look at the animal still withering in pain, you found this curse was the easiest to do out of the rest as it would put the suffering bunny out of its misery.

“Avada Kedavra.” Your words were firm but nothing happened.

“As suspected, though it was quite impressive you were able to use the Cruciatus curse.” Voldemort smiled at you before he gave Nagini the ok to eat the suffering animal.

Whilst the snake took advantage of the opportunity, Voldemort continued, “Bella, if you will.”

Bellatrix hoped to your side, wand waving excitedly as she grabbed your wrist roughly.

“Good work you did there, girl. Marrying my nephew, you two’d make a strong alliance for the Dark Lord.” She cackled, pointing her wand to the inside of your left forearm.

She muttered the words for a spell you’ve never heard and the pain was almost instantaneous. White hot, searing pain that made you gasp and instinctively move your right hand to try and push Bellatrix’s wand away. She was quicker than you, her free hand shooting out to grab a chunk of your hair, pulling your head back, her face getting closer to yours making you feel her breath on your cheek.

“Feel the pain. Own it! You do it for the Dark Lord.” She smiled, her teeth yellow and cracked on display.

The mark was finished and Bellatrix let go of you roughly, a sharp cackle coming from her mouth as she pranced back to her spot. Your eyes connected to Draco’s, his holding a look of worry intermingled with horror, but he refused to let them wander down to the mark.

“Draco, my boy. You next. And I’ll be the one to gift you my mark.”

Draco remembers that night, although tinted with horror, with a smile adorned on his face. You had been quiet the entire dinner, and as everyone left you were silent in the retreat to a spare room. This was odd, seeing as Lucius always insisted that you two share a room when together ever since youth. Both of you have grown accustomed to sharing his room when you visit and him making himself comfortable in your own room when he makes the trip to yours. With a destined marriage, it seemed that your parents wanted to push you two impossibly close. This is why Draco was a bit frantic when he opened his doors to see a completely empty room. He ran through the manor, his parents already in bed, their room equipped with a silencing charm in order to keep out the bustling of house elves and visiting death eaters seeing as the manor was the meeting place for most things. So Draco wasn’t worried about his heavy footsteps waking his parents, nor his calls for you.

He found you in the back acres of the house near the little purple flowers, they were your favorite.

“They tried to take them out over winter holiday, had to fight tooth and nail for them to keep it in.” Draco said, a soft smile coming to his lips when you looked at him.

“Thanks.” Your voice was cold, calculated, and Draco hated it.

He moved to sit down next to you, his arm pulling you down with him as he put his back to the grass. Both of you looked up at the stars, wondering how they were still shining so bright when everything inside of you felt like it was dimming steadily.

Draco slowly slid his hand into yours, his cheeks blossoming in a heated tingle as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He focused on the sky again, his hand coming up to point at a cluster of stars.

“That’s the constellation, Leo. Has the star, Regulus.”

You recognized the name but kept quiet hoping he’d continue.

“That one- can you see it? Just there?- is Cassiopeia. Then there’s Cepheus, her husband an-”

“I hope we are to become stars when we die.” The words slipped past your lips almost unknowingly to you.

Draco looked at you, eyes searching yours to understand how you were feeling, but he only found the sparkles of wonder.

“You’re a bit late to the party.” He laughed as you gave him a knowing look.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He admitted quietly, turning to look back at the stars.

Your voice greeted him again, “Where’s Draco?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m with you right now.” He answered back, a small smile playing at his lips as your hand came out to shove his shoulder.

“Alright, alright. It’s just there- no you’re looking in the wrong area- next to the Big Dipper.” He said, pointing in the direction of the constellation.

You propped yourself up on your forearm, looking at Draco who was still flat on the ground.

“How do you know all this?”

He shrugged, fingers going to play with your own absentmindedly, “Mum would bring me out here when I was little and had a bad dream. She’d point out the constellations and stars, our family, she’d call them, until I fell asleep.”

Draco spoke calmly but his voice was heavy with emotion, his eyes unmoving from the sky above him as he longed for a simpler time, for a time he could run to his mother when he had a nightmare instead of having to self soothe.

You noticed the way he seemed to get lost somewhere, and you knew it’d be best if you didn’t pry. Draco was never good with prying and you understood he was vulnerable now.

“I’m quite lucky to be marrying you, Y/n.”

The smile you gave him was gentle, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’ll be marrying someone I love.”

The confession had you giddy, unable to form the right words because just an ‘i love you too’ would not satisfy the magnitude of how deeply you loved this boy. Deciding to show him instead of  tell him, you were quick to lean down to his lips.

Draco moved fast, his hand not wasting any time to grab hold of your jaw and draw you in closer. He pushed himself up onto his elbow, face now level with yours, though only for a moment as he used his weight to push you to lie on your back. He heard you whimper into the kiss, making electric jolts shoot through his body before he pulled away slowly.

“The stars aligned when you were made to be my wife.” He whispers, his thumb going down to caress the fresh Dark Mark that seemed to not belong on your ethereal body.

Draco felt his lips tug into a smile at the memory but it didn’t help the tremble in his hands. His eyes wandered through the sky trying to find the constellation, his constellation. But he exhaled hopelessly as it seemed the stars had turned their back on him this night.

“Draco, they’re here.” Your voice was rough, and you spoke in breaths as you told him of the success of the vanishing cabinet with the news of the newly arrived Death Eaters.

He gave you a quick nod but his eyes welled with tears, “I suppose it’s too late to throw myself off this tower then.”

“Draco, you don-”

His anger seemed to take over as his face contorted to an expression of frustration, “Don’t- don’t say that. You know what he’d do to my family, to me. You know what he’ll do to you. I have to do this.”

“He’s doing this to punish your father Draco, he knows you can’t do it.”

This only seemed to fuel the fire, you soon realized.

“I can do it! I will do it, for you and for my dad. You can't change my mind.”

You took in a breath, battle already lost as you said, “I know. And I know you’ll hate yourself forever if you were the one to do it.”

“As long as I still have you to love me, the sun will shine again.” His tone turned cold before starting again, “We should go, he’ll be coming back any moment now.”

That was the night you and Draco had a hand in catalyzing the war.

The war was dark, especially for those marked with the remnants of death. You watched on the sidelines, a bystander to evil, and watched your family commit unspeakable acts. And you’d do it all over again if it meant your memory would be cleared of the way Draco slowly crumbled as the war went on, his cheeks sinking in, and eyes losing their shimmer. You’d go through it all if it meant you could forget the way Draco ate away at himself from the inside out.

Draco was running on empty as the Battle of Hogwarts began, the thought of being with you in the end was the only thing really keeping him going. It was the way you’d still curl into his side during the nights you spent in his room, your hand reaching for his underneath the dinner table when the Dark Lord would torture his next victims high in the air, and it was your body that was warm and bare that seemed to make him forget, just for the night, that he was destined to be the villain.

His hands ran down your bare sides, his head buried in your neck as he kept pace with his thrusts. Your moans spurring him on and your fingers that ran through his slightly sweaty hair, starting from the nape of his neck.

As Draco slowly drew out your release, he wasn’t a killer, he wasn’t a Death Eater, and he wasn’t fighting on the wrong side of the harrowing war. He was just your lover, grateful for the trust you instilled in him to care for your body as no one else has.

He pressed a kiss to the black swirling of the Dark Mark on your wrist, you had already fallen asleep as he did so. He looked at the mark as a disgrace to the skin he believed to be free of any and all imperfection. Draco hated it.

It was with fear and guilt that you two fought at Hogwarts, not for the cause but for each other. Every spell and every curse was in the name of your lover, and you couldn’t help but pray that it ended soon.

Ended, it did, with Draco and you finally fighting for a better cause. The Dark Lord had just been killed, his body crumbling to ash horrifically, and Draco was quick to grab your hand as he walked somewhere with purpose. He knew what would happen to those with the mark still on the grounds, regardless of who they helped in the end. He couldn’t lose you, not when you had just won.

That was how you had found yourself, hand in hand with Draco, in front of a fairly good sized house in the countryside somewhere. The house was old, not in condition, but in style. It stood tall as Weeping Willows extended delicate tendrils over the area, the exterior was a gentle sage green with white accents and many, many windows.

“It was left to me by my great-grandmother. It’s our home now.” Draco whispered, not wanting to ruin the fragile moments.

The emotions seemed to hit you like a tidal wave, not just from today but the past two years were finally over. Your shoulders shook with your cries and Draco watched nervously, worried you had changed your mind of loving him, and he wouldn’t blame you.

“What’s wrong, Darling?” Draco asked as he pulled you into his chest.

He smelled of ash and dirt, but his familiar scent of expense peeked through carefully. His clothes were tattere, much like yours, and hair messy but when you pulled away to look into his eyes you couldn’t help but think he was the most exquisitely attractive person you had ever seen.

Your hands came up to cup his face, “I love you, Draco. So much.”

He smiled before kissing you gently, then his lips dropped to the inside of your left wrist placing another kiss there before pulling you towards the house. Walking on the white and grey cobble path made in the grass toward the house, you noticed the same little purple flowers that you had accompanied you when you kissed Draco for the first time outside of the manor.

Upon entering the house, you noticed the way it was evident it belonged to a family of wealth. The inside looked freshly cleaned, everything in its place. The interior was beautifully Victorian, it was proud as it basked in the light that pooled in through the large windows.

This was your home.

You and Draco loved your home, you married behind the house in the intricate garden with family and friends, your bouquet adorned generously with Heliotrope flowers. You healed your wounds of foolish childhood and rushed maturing within the walls, and it was in this home where you raised your children.

Arcturus Malfoy, named after a boy with a brave story that mirrored your own, a son whose pale blonde hair and cool blue eyes derived directly from his father, along with his nose but he got his stubbornness and sarcasm from his mother. Asterope, an asteroid that blazed bright without hesitation, the twin sister of Arcturus. Her hair and eyes were just like yours, but her lips were shaped like her father’s and her quiet stealth and calculated thinking was also, just like her fathers.

“Come on, we can’t have the train leaving without you two on it.” You said, holding your son's hand as Draco had your daughter.

Your daughter’s voice piped up, “It’s rather ridiculous this is the only way there.”

“Your dad said the same thing when we were almost late our fifth year.” You smiled at the memory.

Draco laughed at the way Asterope scrunched her nose at the other children making their way to platform 9 ¾. She was far too mature for the ripe age of eleven but he failed to remember himself as just the same way.

“You can just swim, Aster.” Arcturus said with a comically straight face before his lips split into a grin as he looked up at you.

You guys stopped in front of the barrier, fond memories warming your heart as you looked at the bricks.

“What now?”

You looked at Arcturus with a smile then turned to Asterope as you motioned for her to come stand next to her brother.

“You run through it.” Draco informed as he stood next to you, hand snaking around your waist.

“How convenient.”

“That doesn’t seem very safe.”

Both twins responded at the same time making you and Draco laugh. Eventually, Arcturus was the first to run through the barrier with his cart, Asterope following with furrowed eyebrows.

“You know she’s just like you.” You said, making Draco scoff.

“I was so much worse, Darling.”

His answer made you laugh, bringing up your intertwined hands to your lips. Placing a careful kiss to the barely there mark, it had started to fade the moment Voldemort was killed. Draco felt his heart flutter at the action, wondering how he got so lucky.

“Whatdya say? Run through it for good luck?” A mischievous glint flashed in your eyes.

“Of course.”

The otherside of the barrier was just as you remembered it, and the nostalgia made your eyes tear up. The goodbyes were quick, but still incredibly difficult for you and Draco to let go of your kids when they hugged you before boarding. You two waved as Asterope and Arcturus found their ways into the train.

You and Draco turned to leave as your kids settled into their compartments with kids they, presumably, just met. A mixture of blonde, brunette, and raven haired kids sat in one compartment no longer needing the ready hand of a parent.

“Y/n! Wait!” A voice called behind you, and if you had paid a little more attention maybe you would’ve recognised it, but instead you stood a bit frozen with Draco still wondering who it was.

“I still remember what you did.” The voice said again, making you finally turn around.

Your eyes found the culprit and you gulped, worried of what he was going to say.

“I never got to thank you.”

Fred Weasley smiled at you, his hand resting around the shoulders of a young boy with bright red hair and his father’s lopsided grin.

[heytherejulietx]

Gold - Bughead

@riverdalepromptathon week 10

Masterlists

Read on AO3 here!

Requests are OPEN!

Prompts;

Daydreaming.

Gold.

Notes - ten weeks in and this is my first time taking part in the promptathon… oops. i’m glad i started though because this fic was so fun to write and i love it so much. though i swear i’ve got like three fics that end the same way this does. oh well, i still like it. enjoy. :)

Warnings - N/A.

Word count - 1.7k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @literarygetaway21 @bc-jh22

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A hand in hers. Lips pressed to her hair. A cold golden band slipping over her ring finger. The thoughts swirled around in her barely-coherent mind as Betty attempted to wake up. Her eyelids fluttered underneath the gentle sunlight that peeked through the curtains to lay across her face and she had to turn her head to the left to get the light off of her eyelids. With a quiet yawn and a stretch of her arms she blinked her eyes open with a gentle smile when she saw her snoozing boyfriend buried underneath their light copper - almost gold - bedsheets beside her.

Betty propped herself up against the headboard and sighed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms for a moment. The memory (or was it her imagination?) of the golden ring made her look down at her hand, though no ring could be seen. She closed her eyes and let her head lean back against the headboard behind her. Had she been dreaming that Jughead had proposed to her?

Just the thought of him proposing made her smile warmly to herself. Betty and Jughead had been together for a good few years again after their high school sweethearts phase had ended for seven years. They had their own house, they had a cat, they both had stable jobs and things to do; far from old worries of serial killers and cults and aliens. They were finally living normal lives. Or, as normal as it could get for them.

The icing on the cake would be to get married to Jughead. It would be the perfect addition to their lives. Of course, eventually Betty also wanted children, though she knew how Jughead felt about that topic. After everything with his dad, he needed to be one-hundred percent ready before he could even think of going through with that next step in their lives, and Betty completely understood that. They had their whole lives ahead of them for that.

Jughead shifted in his sleep beside her and she opened her eyes to look at him with a soft smile. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. There was a time in their lives when the only peace either of them could get was when they were asleep in each other’s arms, and Betty was glad that they didn’t have to live like that anymore. No worry of serial killers or solving murders or devastating breakups. Just them. And their cat, of course.

Almost as if Toffee knew that Betty was thinking of her, a meow could be heard beside the bed before the fluffy creature jumped up onto the bed with Betty, meowing as she climbed into her lap.

“Good morning,” Betty mumbled with a soft smile as she scratched the back of Toffee’s neck, leaning her head down enough to allow the fluffy white cat to nudge the end of her nose with it’s own. With a fond smile towards the creature she ran her hand down her back and stopped at her tail, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Want some breakfast?”

At the mention of food Toffee meowed again and Betty smiled, waiting for Toffee to jump off of the bed so she could get up too. Shuffling into her slippers she slipped on one of Jughead’s shirts before she followed a meowing Toffee out of the bedroom, letting Jughead sleep for a little longer.

Toffee zigzagged between Betty’s legs on the way to the kitchen, meowing loudly on the way. Managing not to trip over her cat by the time she got there Betty reached up towards one of the cabinets in the kitchen and pulled out a tin of wet food, scrunching her nose up in disgust at the smell as she emptied it into Toffee’s bowl before she sat it back on the floor.

With her cat now eating happily Betty moved around the kitchen, gathering what she would need to make scrambled eggs for breakfast. Though as she moved around the room she still couldn’t help but think back to her dream. Of course they had spoken about marriage before; when they had gotten back together again they had both agreed that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, and that certainly included marriage, right?

If they got married then she would no longer be Miss. Cooper - she would be Mrs. Jones. The thought alone had her smiling widely at the frying pan in front of her as she sat it on the stove, an egg in her other hand. It would officially make her a part of his family, although she already knew how welcome she was into the Jones household. Betty was well aware that Jughead welcomed her into his household with open arms from day one when he was living at the trailer, though over time - through staying at the trailer some nights and then living in the same house as them - she grew close with his family too. Jellybean seemed like a little sister to her, even if she took some warming up to, and FP was like a father to her - more so than her own. After everything that had happened with Hal (she refused to refer to him as dad) FP treated her just as his own. And when she saw the man for the first time in seven years he greeted her like she was his daughter. A smile and open arms to hug her immediately. A kiss to her head and a mumble of “I missed you so much, Betty.” He liked her for who she was, not just for Jughead.

If they got married would FP walk her down the aisle? Would he dance with her at the reception? Would he gladly accept her as his daughter-in-law?

Getting along with Jughead’s family would be important, of course, but simply just having Jughead as her husband would be amazing in itself. They already acted like a married couple, but she knew life with him as her husband would be perfect. She could imagine small things like him referring to her as “Mrs. Jones”, calling her his wife and not just his girlfriend, always wearing matching wedding rings so they have something to connect to even when they aren’t together. Holidays together in a secluded cabin, slow dancing at parties, anniversary celebrations; she wanted it all.

She wanted to be married to him.

“You know,” a pair of arms snaked around her waist and held her into an embrace, bringing her out of her daydream. “If you want to cook the eggs, you have to crack them into the pan and not just stare at them.” His voice, though groggy with sleep, held a teasing undertone to it, and she smiled fondly to herself as she shook her head.

“I was just daydreaming. Got away from myself.” Betty mumbled, closing her eyes with a soft sigh as she felt kisses being placed to the back of her neck and wherever her shoulder was exposed.

“Was it about me?” Jughead teased again, and moved his hands to her hips to spin her to face him with a smile.

“It was actually.” Betty giggled, slipping her arms around his waist to tuck herself into him properly, shutting her eyes again as he dropped a kiss to her temple.

“Oh yeah? I’m flattered,” Jughead held her tightly against himself, his hand running across her back underneath the shirt she was wearing. “Can I ask why?”

“I had a nice dream about you.” Betty said softly, smiling to herself as she held onto him a bit tighter, tilting her head upwards slightly to leave a gentle kiss to the bottom of his jawline.

“A nice dream or a nice dream?” He teased, and chuckled as she gently nudged his side.

“A nice dream. It was very sweet. I don’t remember much about it but I know it made me really happy.” Betty said softly.

She looked up at Jughead as he hummed and leaned back slightly, and she leaned into his hand as he lifted it to rest against her cheek. It was moments like that when she knew that being married to Jughead would be perfect. They didn’t need to go on dates all the time or do fancy things to be happy with each other. Just having each other’s company was enough for them. All they needed was each other.

His hand cupped her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her and Betty smiled against his lips as her hands gently gripped onto his shoulders. They stood there for a few minutes, enjoying gentle touches and soft whispers between each other which only they would get, before they both felt fur brushing against their legs and an impatient meow following.

Betty pulled away with a pout as she looked down at Toffee who was looking directly at Jughead. “She likes you more than me.” She complained.

Jughead chuckled as he leaned down to lift Toffee into his arms, letting the cat nudge his face as she started purring. “I am very likeable.” He joked.

Betty fondly rolled her eyes and turned away from him and back towards the stove to turn it on, actually starting to fix their breakfast that time without getting distracted. “Of all people you don’t have to tell me that.” She pointed out, and heard him laugh behind her as he pressed a kiss to her head.

“Good point.”

As she focused on the eggs, she didn’t see Jughead move across the kitchen to where he had left his work bag on the table from the day before. She missed his hand reaching into one of the side pockets from which he pulled a velvet ring box. She didn’t see the sun reflecting on the golden band as he opened the box to check it was still inside. As Betty stirred the eggs Jughead slipped the ring box into his jacket which was hanging on one of the coat hooks by the door way; the jacket he’d be wearing out later that day when he took her out for lunch at their favourite restaurant. Where he would hopefully quite literally make a dream come true.

[jarofstyles]

Oh baby, baby

A/N: Hello! We know we had to add a dad!harry series to our masterlist, one that was sweet and smutty and full of all that kinds of stuff. But as always, we added our own little twist, some angst or tension if you will. In this AU Harry is just a songwriter who goes under a pseudonym and Y/N is his manger. Again, this is all fiction so enjoy ✨✨- n + d

send feedback and requests here

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: none really?

word count: 4.1k

“So, I was thinking... Do you wanna like, have a kid? Like, with me?” 

Y/N knew it was a bold question, a very very bold and strange question. To him it probably came out of nowhere, but she had been thinking about it for quite some time now. They were both young, 25 almost 26 year olds, and neither of them were anywhere near finding ‘the one’. Harry and Y/N had always said that when ‘the one’ came around that they’d both understand, they’d support one another and carry on as always, but ‘the one’ never really had come around and they weren’t getting any younger. Y/N really wanted to be a mom. It was something she spoke about often, especially whenever she saw little kids in any given situation. She was a fit of squeals and coos and if appropriate, kisses and cuddles. Harry seemed surprised still, probably confused as to why she was asking him. 

“We’ve worked up enough money for us to be set, a baby and a house and even their college.” Y/N chuckled, continuing on with cooking their dinner. “And... we’ve got lots of time on our hands when we aren’t working. I just— you know how I want to be a young mom and all, want to be able to be fun and cool.” Harry knew all of this about her.

“Y/N— what?” Harry slowly blinked at her confused look. He had just been helping her cook dinner when she popped one of the most unexpected questions on him. Talking about the damn schedule for the week, and she asked if he wanted to have a baby with her. She genuinely looked sold on this idea. His head was still spinning from the mere suggestion. Obviously it was something she had been thinking about for a while or she wouldn’t have mentioned it. “With me? Are you sure?” Harry furrowed his brows before continuing. “Wait— okay, hold on. When did you begin to think this over, because obviously I’ve been the one out of the loop for quite a bit, babes.”  They’d always done everything together. School, living, college, all of it. So he wasn’t necessarily ruling it out but... a baby would be a whole other ball game. An at least 18 year old commitment.

Y/N nodded her head, looking at him with a raised brow and shaking her head when he’d asked if she was sure. “Course, I’m sure. Have I ever been unsure?” She was very stubborn and he knew that, knew she usually didn’t bring things up unless she had mulled them over at least a thousand times in her brain before mentioning them. “I was just on Pinterest looking for some lemon bar recipe and then I saw this really cute photo of a baby girl who looked just like she could be our baby and then it clicked... It just made sense to me? Like I know, it would be weird at first but— been around you my whole life and if I trusted anyone else with my child’s life it would be you away, might as well make it yours.” That was something she was genuinely serious about. Any other man would leave her, could cheat, screw her over. Harry was her most loyal friend, he genuinely loved and cared for her and would never think of leaving her nor a child. “Don’t have to answer me now, just like.. wanted to talk about it. Can take your time with it and mull it over.”

“I mean... you know I want children.” Harry said slowly, turning the stove off but still feeling that confusion but he wasn’t angry about it. “I’m just... confused, is all.” He admitted, leaning against the counter. He was seriously considering her offer. “All the points you made aren’t wrong but I suppose I’m curious as to when you thought this over and all that. M’flattered, I’m considering it but I’d like to hear more.” He tilted his head and looked at her. There had always been an unspoken tension that would remain unspoken to them. He was aware of that. But he was concerned how that barrier they’d set for intimacy besides a good cuddle and shit would be smashed by sex. 

Y/N felt herself grow a little giddy when he had said he was considering it. She had been hopeful, yes, felt like it would take some proper convincing yet he seemed to be intrigued already? It was a hopeful sign in all honesty. “Yeah, I... started like, 6 months ago?” 6 months was usually Y/N’s bench mark for everything. Whenever she had thought about something for 6 months it usually meant that it was something she really wanted. “I didn’t expect you to not be confused, but then again, there wasn’t really a subtle way to ask was there?” She laughed and pushed her hair away from her face. 

“Like... how are we gonna... you know. Get said baby into you. We using a turkey Baster? Or old fashioned?” Harry asked with a smirk.

“No! Not a fucking turkey baster, are you mad? Course we’re gonna—” Y/N stopped herself as her eyes locked with his. She had always felt a tension with him but she could never really put her finger on it. “We’re gonna do it whichever way feels most comfortable.” She didn’t want to put in unnecessary effort. “Know I love ya... and we’ll make the baby that way.”

“I mean, could have softened the blow and started talking about babies.” Harry snickered, but he really was distracted by the fact that they’d have sex. Actual sex. They’d kissed before a few times. Always when drunk. Once it was to get a guy to back off of her when she was uncomfortable too, and she always was comfortable around him. It wasn’t weird. Sex was a whole act though. He wouldn’t have problems getting hard because... well, Y/N was hot as fuck. It would be a different thing entirely though, to make her cum and shit. To actually cum in her multiple times. “Mean, m’not against It. But it’ll probably take a few tries or something.” He said slowly. She didn’t seem phased by it. “Wow. You’ve thought it out entirely, haven't you?”

“Okay, but if I did that then you’d know something was up and I didn’t want to bring it up unless I was certain.” Y/N explained with a small sigh, “and you know I’m impatient, just wanted to let you know as soon as possible... but also, I’m ovulating next week.” Y/N has really calculated this. She was prepared for it all, mentally and physically. Sure, having sex with Harry was something she’d have to mentally prepare for, but it wasn’t in the way you’d think. Harry was hot, anyone with eyes could see that. She knew he was massive too, she’d seen him naked far too many times. It was that intimacy that came with sex that was something she needed to prepare for, but many being horny and or drunk would fix it? “Know it’s going to take a few tries but.. I just really want a baby, and if I’m going to have a baby with anyone it’s going to be with you.”

“Alright. Well... let me think about it after dinner. I think the answer is yes, but I need to think about it.” Harry explained. Y/N wasn’t a pushy person nor would she make him do it if he didn’t want to. And he did, he was 99% sure but he would have to think. So he did. Sitting in his rum, he strummed his guitar absentmindedly. They’d done a ton of traveling from 18—24. They settled here. They had money for a proper childhood for a few kids if they worked together. Harry’s main goal was to be a father and Y/N wanted to be a mum. He couldn’t see their friendship fading in any circumstance. He didn’t matter how much happened, they’d been best friends since the womb. Their mothers were best friends too. It was something they couldn’t escape either way. It was a real thing he had to think about. 

“We can do it.” Harry stood in the doorway of the girls room in their shared apartment. “If you’re sure then I’m down.”

She hasn’t expected him to come back with an answer so quickly, but the smile on her face was evident. “Yeah?” Y/N asked again, feeling herself get all emotional at the thought. She stood up, walking over to here he was standing. “I’m sure, if you’re sure.” Y/N wrapped her arms around him in a hug and squeezed tightly, this was real. They were planning on having a baby. Of course, they weren’t going to tell anyone for a while, not until she was actually properly pregnant. For now, they just needed to get comfortable around each other and prepare for the impending week. Y/N was just coming off her period so she’d be extremely horny within the next week and it would be prime time to get her pregnant. It would definitely take a few tries, but she had been off birth control for a while now and she was rather regular. She felt like she was meant to be a mom. 

“Love you, h.”

“Love you too, Bun.” He loved her a lot. She was his absolute best friend ever and he knew this wouldn’t be bad. 

Their mothers will be thrilled when they kind out— but they also would be confused they weren’t together. Harry was a little confused too on how it would all work. The sex part of it and the fact that they’d be parents together. If it would change their dynamic or not. There had always been an undertone of feelings, at least on his side. No one else measured up to her. None of his exes or hook ups. No one stuck or got him like Y/N did. Their friendship bothered relationships on both of their sides and neither of them were willing to choose a boyfriend or girlfriend over the other so that’s how it was. It was always Harry and Y/N against the world.

Y/N could understand why it was strange. They were best friends after all, they weren’t dating or anything. The friendship the two of them had was rather unique. It wasn’t like a sibling vibe nor was it an ‘ew’ we’re best friends vibe. It was very much, you’re hot and I’m hot and we know that and we’re really good friends. It was beyond Y/N how neither of them had done anything remotely sexual with each other. They’d drunkenly kissed a few times, but honestly who hadn’t done that before? Y/N definitely had thought about it before, but not too much into detail. They’d both just done their own thing and come back to each other like nothing was wrong. She would always pick Harry over anyone and maybe that was shit but until someone treated her like he did or better? A boyfriend could wait. She knew that if she wanted a good father for her child, she would trust no one but Harry. Harry would make a great father and on top of that, their baby would be beautiful. 

They were both at the point in their lives where they could afford a baby and give it the utmost attention. So what if they weren’t actually together? They lived together and they loved each other. Maybe not in that way, but they could teach their child about how important it is to love your best friend.

----

“Babes?” Harry walked into the living room where Y/N sat on the couch. It had been a week since they’d agreed on the decision of a baby. Today, they were going to get prenatal vitamins and groceries so they could up their chances. “I was doing some research, to see the best chances to knock you up. They said we may not want to drink because it affects my baby juice or whatever.” He murmured, sitting on the couch next to her to pull his shoes on. Harry was obviously very excited, and it wasn’t a surprise. He really liked the idea of Y/N being pregnant, surprisingly. “N’ I was wanting to ask when you stopped birth control.” He wouldn’t tell her yet but, it was literally his kink in a way. Breeding was something he had into the depths of his mind and he thought about when he got off. She would find out about it and he was a little nervous about that, but she was his best friend. The one person who he could trust. He just didn’t want her to take the piss.

“Please never call it baby juice again.” Y/N snorted a laugh and smacked his arm, getting up with a small sigh. He’d been doing research? That was cute. It was nice to know that he was excited about it all because she was too. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out I’m sure.” She knew that it might be a little awkward, but animalistic instincts would take over at some point and it’d be fine. “I stopped like... 6 months ago. Wasn’t really seeing anyone anyway so I figured I didn’t need it. Besides, I was already thinking about this then so...” Y/N knew that it was completely out of her system. “I’m pretty regular with my period as well.. been tracking it for years and it’s always right so, I’ll sync you up if you get the app.” Y/N stood up and grabbed the reusable bags, “you got the keys?” She asked, knowing he’d be the one driving. The two of them were really good together. The dynamic duo. They’d been doing it for so long that this whole baby thing didn’t seem as never wrecking.

“Mhm.” Harry took them out of the pocket and jingled them. Harry wasn’t misled by any of this— he knew it didn’t mean they were together. They’d have sex and stuff and parent but it didn’t mean she liked him more than a friend and he was okay with it. It didn’t stop his sexual attraction, not his protectiveness. To be fair, he had always been a protective little fucker. He was the first one to call people out on their bullshit or to intimidate guys away from her if she wanted them gone. He made sure she was safe every time he could. But with the idea of his child inside of her, Harry felt that he went into overdrive— and they hadn’t even tried yet. “C’mon then.” He patted his side like a dog and she rolled her eyes. They had a good banter between them. Locking the door behind him, he walked down the steps of their place and went to the car with her. “Vitamins first, lunch and then grocery, yeah? So nothing frozen melts.”

“Sounds good.” Y/N nodded, climbing into the Range Rover. It would be interesting to see how things went for them. People often mistook them for being a couple. That would only increase now that they were a couple, however, it really didn’t really bother them. No matter how many times they’d tell people they were just good friends, people didn’t believe it. Hell, even their mothers were waiting on them to actually get together. They never blatantly said they’d be against it, but it just seemed like something that would change their friendship too much. Having sex for the sake of having a baby was one thing but having sex because you want to love up on each other is a whole other thing. When they arrived at the store Harry had looked up, Y/N realized that it would probably be easier for them to just act like they were together. Trying to explain it would be too complicated.

Harry raised a brow when she came to his side and hung on his arm but shrugged it off. He didn’t care, in fact she knew he enjoyed physical touch very much. He was a puppy when it came to Y/N and enjoyed his pets and strokes, so he felt good about it. The store was a maternity store that had the best selection of vitamins and mother stuff. He had an idea of what vitamins she should get but he wanted a second opinion. According to yelp, they had a knowledgeable staff who were very well versed in new mothers and babies. 

“Hello! Welcome.” As soon as they stepped into the store, a peppy older woman grinned brightly and made her way towards them. “What can I help you with today?” 

“Hi.. we’re looking for good prenatal vitamins. Anything that will help her or the baby.” He smiled, feeling her rest her cheek on his arm.

Y/N was really happy that Harry had taken control of the situation, she wasn’t too good with asking for things, but she would if she had to. She licked over her lips and watched as the lady smiled at the two. “Lovely! Are you pregnant or trying?” She asked and that’s when Y/N decided to speak up. 

“We’re trying.” She smiled, “If there is any you’d recommend for pre and during... if there are any that you could recommend for him as well?” Y/N patted his arm a bit and watched as the woman nodded and began to lead them over to a specific section. 

“Are there any medications you take now?” The woman asked, searching through a few of the bottles to find something. 

“No, I’ve been off of birth control for about 6 months also. I’d say I’m pretty healthy.”

“Perfect. I’m so happy for you both. I know that it’s a big decision.” She smiled, picking out a few and explaining the benefits of each. Harry didn’t have any issues asking questions.

“Should we get a vitamin that covers all over, or separate ones?” Harry questioned. 

“I suggest separate ones. The all over vitamin is good, however I think these three will provide more results for you.” The woman said. “And, it's only a few dollars more for all three of these.” 

“Money is not an object.” Harry said politely. “Not when it comes to her or the baby. I’d like the best things you can recommend. I did some research, and I know there isn’t much one can do for morning sickness. But did you have anything that you know works? She hates vomiting and I think I can speak for her and say anything that will make that not as bad would be lovely.” He grabbed her hand, squeezing it.

Y/N was taken back a bit when he went out of his way to tell the woman about how she hated vomiting. She couldn’t lie, it did make little butterflies erupt in her stomach. Harry had always been thoughtful, but to know he was in this just as seriously did excite her. She never doubted him either. It was just nice.

“Oh, of course... These are definitely worth a try. I’ve heard they’ve been successful, but again, it’s not something that can necessarily be guaranteed.” The woman explained, going to get a few other vitamins for both her and Harry. 

After she’d explained all of them, she rang them up and Y/N let Harry handle it. Their money was basically shared anyway, she was his manager after all. In a way it was really nice to just have somewhat joint funds. Again, it’s why people thought they were together.

Harry squeezed her when she got nervous or tense when they spoke about anything else they could need. It wasn’t too long in the shop before Harry said goodbye and walked out with Y/N in one arm and the bag in the other. He had gotten 5 bottles of vitamins for a bigger price however he didn’t care at all. If Y/N was cared for, he was happy. They saved a lot of money. They didn’t live luxuriously and he thinks maybe it was the universe preparing them for this. 

“Alright, little Bun. Let’s get some lunch. Are you feeling tacos? Pizza? Italian?” Harry questioned, asking oddly in want to make her pleased. He was definitely someone who liked being the one to make others happy. A people pleaser. But for Y/N was even more so.

“Can we go to Cheesecake Factory?” Y/N asked, knowing that they’d definitely find something to eat there. There was everything on the menu. It was a win for the both of them and she’d get a bomb ass dessert. She had noticed the little shift in him too. It was small and if you didn’t spend every day of your life with him you wouldn’t know, but she knew. Harry has a certain way about him. He was ambitious and supportive, caring and intelligent. He was always one step ahead on everything and that’s why they had gotten so far with their careers. However, she knew that having this baby meant a lot more to him than anything else in the world. It meant the same for her. 

“It’s crazy how this is all really happening.” Y/N breathed out, “I’m just... i'm really excited. Like.. I’ve always wanted to be a mom and it’s just so nice to know I’m going to be doing it with you? Do you know what i mean?”

“Yeah. I dunno I’ve just... I've never imagined who I would have a baby with. But in my head it did look like a mix of us. I’ve wanted one for so long, always wanted to have kids and stuff.” Harry smiled. “I’m happy it’s with you. I was nervous I’d end up with some crazy woman who would take me to court or something and take my kid away. Think that’s my greatest fear. One of ‘em. Losing you and losing my child.” It would make sense later as when she got pregnant, why he would treat her like glass. 

“I get that... think that’s always been a fear of mine in a way. I never met anyone else I’d trust my life with it my baby’s life with..” Y/N knew Harry was a constant in her life and that he wasn’t going anywhere, they were basically a family of their own already. A baby would only strengthen their bond.

“I’m excited. I trust you and I know we can do this together. Know our mums will have some choice words for it but they’ll just be excited to be grandmothers.” Harry added, he knew they both wanted grandchildren so badly. 

Arriving at the restaurant, Harry held his hand out for her to take. They didn’t usually do this in public but he felt a ton more protective now and didn’t want her to be far from him. Was it possible he already went into daddy mode?

When he took her hand, Y/N didn’t really question it. She liked being around him and could understand why he wanted to be a bit closer with her. If they were having a baby together, they weren’t really looking for anyone to come and flirt with them were they? In all honesty, Y/N has accepted that she’d likely be single forever now. It would just be her and the baby and Harry and she’d be happy with that. What mattered more to her was that.

They were seated across from each other, the massive menu taunting them. Harry always had a hard time choosing here, but he knew he would get classic strawberry cheesecake or the caramel one for dessert. He liked those. 

“Gonna get an appetizer then?” Harry questioned with curious eyes. Y/N would probably have a much bigger appetite when pregnant, and they’d come here again. He knew that she would be so beautiful as a mum. She’d have the glowing skin and the round belly and the pretty pregnant woman aura around her and he would have a hard time with that. He was going to want to love on the belly quite a bit and he hoped she was okay with that. He had been doing a lot of research and was curious about what she was going to be like with the hormones. Was she going to be an angry pregnant? Emotion swings? Horny? He wasn’t sure. Harry would take any of it.

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

[part 2]

A/N: aHHH hope this lays down a bit of ground before we really get into things. If there are any specifics you’d like to see during Y/N’s pregnancy, let us know! - n + d

masterlist

[ladynestaarcheron]

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Six

ao3 - masterpost

Hey, babes! Here are our canon fixes for the week:

1. When Nesta was six, she met with a man who declared more or less immediately that she would forever be hopeless at playing an instrument or singing, but that she had a good ear for music. Bull.

2. Nesta is apparently so desperate for a friend that she gives the House life, but never really hangs out with the priestesses. Um. Okay? Sounds fake, but okay.

3. Both Gwyn and Emerie have never left their homes in Sangravah and Illyria, respectively, except for when the IC brings them to the library. Not exactly a fix, but something we will start to explore.

Enjoy!

---

Since Nesta's accomplished virtually nothing in her life, she expects her ideas of "new things" to try to be easy to come up with. But after an hour of brainstorming in bed that Thursday evening, she only has two things scribbled in the notebook Thalia gave her: Wear yellow and Learn to play the trumpet.

"Don't suppose you have a trumpet in here?" Nesta says to the House.

The House only pulls the curtains shut in answer.

"Bedtime," she agrees, shutting the notebook and placing it on her bedside table. "I think this one-per-day rule is a bit much, don't you? Especially considering these self-defense lessons. Do you think other girls will come?" Nesta doesn't always wait for an answer when talking to the House. It tends to interject as it pleases, generally by opening doors or magicking a cup of tea in front of her. "I think that Emerie girl would like to. From Illyria, I told you about her...oh, thank you," she adds, for the House has placed the novel Nesta started last night by her pillow. "Shall I read aloud, then?"

She does, until she falls asleep.

The next morning, she draws looks from the hood-less girls and slight double-takes from the veiled priestesses; no doubt courtesy of the bright yellow dress the House had pulled out of her wardrobe this morning. She ignores them, not stopping until she reaches Clotho's office. When she knocks, Thalia's voice calls for her to enter.

"Well!" Thalia says, smiling.

"I'm never wearing this color again. It washes me out." Ruins the detox and more regulated eating she's had this past month.

"I think you look lovely," she insists, and Clotho nods. "But that's certainly your prerogative. Is that the worst consequence?"

"Yes, yes," Nesta says impatiently, waving a hand. "It won't kill me to try new things. Lesson learned."

Thalia looks over at Clotho. Perhaps she can tell what the priestess looks like under her hood, or perhaps she talks to her mind-to-mind like Feyre and Rhysand do, but Nesta almost thinks they exchange a glance of some sort. Amused, perhaps?

"Can either of us help you with anything, Nesta?" Thalia asks pleasantly, and gestures for her to sit down.

"Maybe," Nesta says taking a seat. Her cheeks color slightly as she does; why is she bashful about this all of a sudden? Around Thalia and Clotho? "I...well, I've started some self-defense, you know."

"We know." They both did, had both asked her how it was going. "You're still enjoying it, aren't you?"

"I...I am-it's good for me." Enjoy is a strong word.

"You said it helps keep you focused," Thalia says. "Centered."

"Yes. It...makes me feel good." She doesn't normally struggle with her words so much, does she? Does she sound like an idiot to the two of them, or just to her own ears? No, Clotho and Thalia would never say that about her. Never even think it. It's only her who's like this, trapped in her own wretched mind, slave to something dark and horrible and become just as vile-

But no, that isn't true. It's not just her who feels that way. And that's why she's here.

"It makes me feel more in control," Nesta says finally. "Of my life and my body."

Thalia leans back, satisfied. Clotho doesn't move. Nesta wonders if they know, if they can guess at what just went on in her mind. Either way, they both wait for her to continue.

"And I thought," she says, pausing to draw breath, "that maybe some other girls might be interested. With...Cassian."

At this, Clotho does cock her head.

"We meet in the mornings. Not on Tuesdays and not over the weekend," she adds, just so they aren't sitting in silence.

After a few moments that feel ridiculously long, Thalia says, "I think that's a wonderful idea, Nesta."

For a brief, strange moment, something happens. Nesta breathes in as Thalia finishes her sentence-not in relief or any emotion in particular, just to breathe-and as she does so, something inside of her shifts. Un-constricts.

But it's gone just as soon as it arrives, and before Nesta has time to dwell upon it, one of Clotho's notes appears. For a select group of girls, perhaps.

"Yes, I think we have the same few in mind...Of course, Nesta, you're welcome to share this with all of the students, but just between Clotho and myself, I think we'll privately encourage four or five...yes, thank you for bringing this up to us, Nesta," Thalia says, finishing with another warm smile.

Don't go just yet, Nesta, please, Clotho writes as Thalia takes her leave. I wanted to ask you how you were doing.

"I'm well. Thank you."

I'm glad to hear these self-defense lessons have something to do with that...our own lectures and exercises too, I hope?

Nesta raises her head slightly as her cheeks tinge pink. "I-yes. I think so." Clotho waits, unmoving, until Nesta sighs and says, "I do like the lectures."

Wonderful. Which ones?

Nesta answers honestly, "All of them." It's...it's quite something, to learn things. Things she never knew, never imagined, from females who are so passionate about them. "And...I like the jewelery. I like working with my hands."

I'm so very happy to hear you're finding yourself here, Nesta, Clotho's pen writes out. Have you given any thought to a more permanent assignment?

"I...thought you were supposed to."

With your input, of course. We would never want you to do something you were uncomfortable with.

But Gwyn's not comfortable with Merrill, is she? "I don't know. There's not really anything wrong with any of the priestesses, I suppose." It's only when Clotho begins lightly shaking with amusement that Nesta realizes she probably shouldn't have said that. "That is...I like them." She does. Enough.

Well, I'm happy to hear that, too.

Nesta rises, rather abrupt. "I've got to sort books," she says, and doesn't wait for a proper goodbye before leaving.

---

The amount Nesta has improved after only a few short weeks of being in the library floors Cassian. Her weight gain, voluntarily asking him for self-defense lessons, her performance in said lessons, and she still manages to find time to ask if other girls can join. Not even touching upon the fact that she's said she doesn't feel so dependent on alcohol anymore.

It shows incredible strength of character, and it makes Cassian's heart swell so much that he almost doesn't care when he meets an unfamiliar, tipsy young male he realizes must be one of the rebels in Windhaven, glaring at him.

Almost.

"What are you doing outside of your camp, boy?" Boy, he says, because he is one. He's not yet participated in the Rite.

"Visiting family," the boy slurs. "Sir," he adds, mocking.

"Go home," he orders, trying to imitate Nesta when she's at her coldest.

Perhaps it works, because the boy blanches before sneering and turning away.

He has to tell Rhys they're getting more brazen. Normally Cassian wouldn't care at all what any of them say to him-or at least, say he doesn't care-but if these pricks are bringing Nesta into it, all bets are off. He's going to follow up on whoever that was and make sure he doesn't come back to this camp until this situation is under control. Until the threat on the throne, on Nesta's life, is vanquished.

Shaking himself, he pushes into Emerie's shop. "Good morning."

She looks up. "You're back. Hello," she adds.

He gives her a smile. "Who was that?"

Emerie does not return his expression. "My baby cousin, Bellius," she says, bitter. "But never mind him." Just like that, Emerie phases out of her ire and into a cool, detached expression. Just like Nesta, he thinks. Perhaps that was why they liked each other-if they liked each other. "What can I help you with?"

"Perhaps you can help me," he says. "Nesta-Lady Nesta-you met here a few weeks ago?"

"Yes," she says, careful. "I remember."

"Well," he says, unsure of how to introduce the subject. "She's...started taking some self-defense lessons. For exercise. With me."

Emerie looks unconvinced. "For exercise?"

"And she thought you might be interested in joining. And that you have some friends who might be interested, too."

Emerie's face doesn't betray anything. She studies him, and it's been about ten seconds before she says, "Did she?"

"Yes," he says, feeling only slightly like perhaps the two of them training together might not be good for him.

"Hm," she says. After another minute of her own quiet deliberation, she says, slowly, "I will attend one of these lessons...and then I will...consult with my friends."

"All right," Cassian says, thankful that it's over. "Someone will be along to pick you up Monday morning."

He doesn't dawdle too long in saying goodbye. He has a lot to cover before Monday-figure out the best way to introduce self-defense to very traumatized, potentially, females, and now he'll have Emerie, and Nesta. What kind of dynamic will that create?

But he's been a soldier his whole life. Surely he can handle a few young females.

Hopefully.

---

Nesta has taken to carrying around her notebook wherever she goes, just in case she gets an idea of some new thing she can try. A girl named Deridre approaches her and asks her what self-defense is like, and if it's at all like the meditative yoga they do with the priestess Agata, so she writes that down. She goes to one of Daphne's lectures for the first time and learns about resuscitation and scrawls the name of a method to stop choking that seems simple enough to learn. Gwyn sees her writing and says, "You know, your finger nails are shaped so nicely. How come you never paint them?" so she adds that to her list, too.

She finds, actually, that it's quite nice to carry the book around. It's nice to have an excuse to write with such a fine pen. It's been years since she has.

Her sisters visit her over the weekend at her invitation and they are thrilled by her new things.

"I could teach you to paint," Feyre suggests.

Nesta wants to reply that the idea is to attempt things that do not make her want to pitch herself off the veranda, but instead she says, "You already tried that."

"Right," she says, deflating.

"But," she says, oddly disturbed by this response, and grasping for something to say, "maybe we can...sculpt. Or something. One day."

Feyre brightens at this. "Whenever you have time," she says, happily.

"How's self-defense going, Nesta?" Elain asks, would-be casual.

Nesta rolls her eyes. "You've heard we're inviting other girls?"

"Oh, Nesta, I just think it's such a grand idea-"

"Everyone's really excited about it, honestly, they've been trying for something like this for so long-"

"And with the Illyrian girls, Cassian said-"

"We know it's not exactly a unit, but still so impressive-"

"And we hear you're doing really well!"

"Yes! Really well! Maybe I could join you one day, too," Feyre says, hopeful.

"I'd watch. Or, or maybe even try some!"

Nesta takes a sip of water. She forgets how much noise these two make, honestly. "I don't think it's as exciting as you've imagined," she says. "Sure, you can come one day. Maybe not while the other girls...I'm a bit nervous," she confesses, suddenly. "Clotho and Thalia wouldn't let if they thought it was a bad idea, but I don't know..." She looks out onto the rainy city. The House keeps the interior warm for her, but sometimes she thinks she can still feel the cold in her bones anyway. "I mean, I'm the only one who ever leaves the library, and it could go really wrong. Obviously, no one's going to force herself to do this, and they can just no, but-uh," she finishes on a stammer, as she turns back to look at her sisters.

For there are shining silver tears in Elain's eyes, and Feyre's face looks cracked.

What has she said? What horrible thing has she done?

"No, no," Feyre says hurriedly, reading her expression.

"Sorry, Nesta," Elain says, bringing her hands to wipe her eyes. "It's just...it's just so nice to see you like this...about something."

"Oh," Nesta says, eventually.

Her sisters leave in the evening, but the likeness of their faces in her mind do not. Their expressions, their...love.

Is she really so different now, she wonders all weekend. Is she so much better? She doesn't feel particularly much of anything.

If this is better, then what had she been before?

Monday morning rolls around quickly, and she is decked in the uniform the House has supplied her and finished with a light breakfast, waiting at the arena on the roof before the sun has even fully risen.

"Nervous too?" Cassian says from behind her as he neatly lands in.

"I suppose," she says, not turning around.

"How long have you been here?"

"Fifteen minutes."

He chuckles. "Maybe more nervous than I am. Well...shall we begin?"

"No one's here yet."

"So? We can start just the two of us." He shrugs out of his jacket. "Would put us at ease, at least, don't you think?"

Us, he says. Like they are the same. They get nervous by the same things and the same things calm them down and they do it all together.

"Yes," she says, clearly needing it.

The movements come easier than on Thursday. Each time she gets better, and it is, she will admit, a rare sort of feeling. To know that she is improving at something. To feel it in her blood and bones.

Cassian's instructions leave no room for worrying in her mind. When she slips out of his holds, breaks out of his grip, all she can think of are his body and hers, anticipation of his next move and victory when she gets it right, or disgruntlement when she is wrong. They move through the steps in sync, almost like the ballet she used to study, and she is so consumed with it that she does not notice until they are done that they have an audience.

Not a particularly big one. Gwyn, Deirdre, and Azriel has brought Emerie, but an audience nonetheless.

"All right," Cassian says. "So what Nesta and I just did is called the Grunge Hook." He launches through into an explanation of what it means and Nesta blinks as she realizes he must have known they all had arrived. Seen them, heard them.

Her cheeks go cold. She can never notice anything else when he's there. Certainly not as they were; touching, talking...

"So Emerie and Nesta, and, ah, Miss..."

"Gwyn," Gwyn says at the same time Deirdre says, "Deirdre."

"Right," Cassian says. "Well, you two pair up."

Emerie walks over to Nesta and they are ready faster than the other two. Nesta tenses. They have not yet been outside-perhaps this was a mistake-what will Gwyn think of her now? She won't sit next to her for lectures anymore, won't come help her put books away-

But it is only a moment, and then Gwyn turns to Cassian and says, "I guess we should have dressed differently."

"You can wear whatever you're comfortable with," he says. "And you don't have to do anything you don't want to, either."

So Deirdre keeps her hood secured on, but Gwyn shrugs her robe off entirely to reveal simple, like-colored dress. Perhaps she'd like leggings and a skirt like Nesta's, she thinks. If she decides to continue...if other girls decide to join...

Emerie's, surprisingly, not as good at the movements as Nesta is. Surprisingly because Nesta doesn't really think of herself as good at this, just better than before, and because, well, Emerie's Illyrian, and all the Illyrians Nesta knows...

"It's your wings," Azriel says, approaching. "They throw you off balance."

She droops. "So I can't. Because I'm clipped."

Nesta flinches-it's such an ugly word. But what to say?

Azriel answers before she can, his shadows clearing from his face. "Of course not," he says, patient. "Just hold yourself this way," and he shows her how to maneuver her wings.

Emerie seems as though her emotions sway easier than Nesta's, as she appears cheered up by this. "Let's try again," she says to Nesta.

And they do, but it is not like before, with Cassian. It is not as in sync, and she is not as focused. Over on the other side, under Cassian's watch, Gwyn and Deirdre are doing even worse.

When the hour is done, Deirdre hurries back down faster than she has moved throughout the whole lesson, and Gwyn shoots Nesta a small smile, and nods her head once at Azriel, before saying, "Good to see you again," and leaving. Emerie says, "Thanks for thinking of me," and perhaps sounds a bit more genuine, but she turns to ask Azriel to take her back right after, and then she is gone too.

"Brilliant," Nesta says aloud, miserable.

Cassian looks over at her, surprised. "What?"

"Are you kidding me? That was horrible."

Cassian laughs. "Are you kidding me? That was great!"

"Enough," she snaps, skin burning. "I don't need-"

"Woah," he says, raising his hands. "Woah. Seriously, Nesta, what's wrong?"

She clenches her hands into fists. "Stop mocking me."

"I'm not!" he protests, and his stupid eyes are wide and innocent and his stupid voice is confused and concerned when he says, "Come on, why are you upset?" so she has no choice but to answer.

"They hated it and they were bad."

Cassian laughs again. A real laugh this time, with his head tilting back, and the sound echoing in the mountains. Her heart lurches. She ignores it.

"They did not hate it," he says, eyes twinkling. "And they were not bad. They're novices. Not everyone's a born natural like you, with a perfectly paired partner in me," he teases, winking, almost as though good-natured.

"They couldn't get away fast enough." Deirdre didn't even take off her hood. So much for helping other females.

Cassian's grin falters. Shit. Had she said that out loud?

He moves closer to her. "Do you know how many clipped Illyrian females have agreed to come to anything remotely similar to this?"

"You know I don't," she snaps, but he doesn't rise to her bait.

"None," he says, calm. "Emerie is the first. Do you know how long Deirdre's been in here?"

"No," she says. Longer than Gwyn, but not more than that.

"Since before Amarantha took over."

Nesta winces. Over fifty years, at least, then.

"And she came...you convinced her to come."

"I didn't," she says. "Thalia-"

"She told me," he interrupts. "She told me you told her what it was like and she wanted to try it."

Nesta stills at this. "Well...what does it matter if she just tries it once?"

He laughs-again! Why does he laugh so often? "Aren't you doing that? Trying things once? Oh, no, I don't mean it in a bad way, Nes, don't look like that. I'm just saying...okay. So it's not for everyone. Maybe she tries it once and never does it again. But it's still worth a whole fucking lot that she tried. And that's because of you. And how do you know she's not going to try again, anyway? Because she left when the hour was up?"

Nesta reddens slightly.

"Fuck," he says, and this time it doesn't amuse her, his easy swearing. "I-shit. Nesta. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings."

She startles. "I-what?"

"I just mean..." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Look. You did a good thing. Whether or not they continue, you did a good thing. And I think they will, for the record. Emerie might not want to come every day, you know, she might not have time...but I think Gwyn liked it enough."

Nesta feels something inside of her flutter. "She did?"

Cassian nods. "Definitely." He looks at her for another moment, then shakes his head.

"What?" she asks, dreading the answer.

"Nothing," he says. "I just don't understand how you can't possibly be so proud of yourself. Especially today." He shrugs slightly, completely oblivious to what is happening inside of her. That feeling from Clotho's office. What is that?

But it is gone as soon as it arrives, just like last time. He says, "See you tomorrow, Nesta," and leaves. And then she does too.

---

Cassian, Nesta learns over the course of the next few weeks, is right.

Not about her, obviously. But about the females still being interested.

Gwyn's excited about it. "I didn't realize you were so good," she gushes.

Nesta huffs in amusement. "Hardly."

"Well, better than the rest of us!"

"Just a bit more practice," she says. And there is something about the lessons with Cassian...though they don't do as much together, though, anymore. Not with the others there now. She almost wishes that she had not invited everyone for each of the lessons...maybe one morning with him just to herself.

But that's-that's just absurd. He's hardly hers.

Deirdre finds her that Monday, too, and thanks her for convincing her to go. Nesta privately wonders what on earth it was she had said that worked, because the conversation barely stands out in her mind, but she tells Deirdre she's glad to hear she enjoyed it, anyway.

"I think Roslin and Ananke would like it too," she says. "Thalia told them it would be good for them, but they were too nervous. I'll try and convince them...I didn't realize how much fun it would be," she adds with a gentle laugh.

Fun?

"Oh," Nesta says. "Oh...well, good. I mean, good to hear. I hope they...join too."

And Cassian is right about Emerie as well. She does not come on Tuesday, but she does on Wednesday, and tells Nesta she thinks she can keep coming twice a week.

"And your friends?" she asks.

"They're interested," she tells her. "But I think I have to work a little harder at convincing them."

Nesta nods, not wanting to ask what they might have stopping them from coming. Whatever happened to Emerie's wings-whoever had clipped her-perhaps those females have someone like that in their lives.

It is on the second Wednesday that Emerie arrives that Nesta asks her if she'd like to stay a while longer. She'd already asked Azriel the day before if he could possibly take her back after lunch, and he'd agreed.

There was something odd about talking to Azriel, she noticed. Something about those shadows. Something about the way they-looked?-at her. Something...

But Emerie agrees, if a bit shyly, and she asks Gwyn if she'd like to take lunch with the two of them instead of in the priestesses' dining hall, and Nesta has her new thing for the day: hosting people for a meal.

They ogle everything openly, jaws dropping as the House pulls out chairs for them and food appears as Nesta requests it.

"Thank you," she says.

"You're...talking to the House?" Gwyn asks.

"Yes."

"Oh. Thank you," she adds.

"Thank you," Emerie says quickly.

The House likes them too. Nesta can tell. There's a bit more effort being made here today, she thinks, as she notes a fancy bouquet in the middle of the table and finer china than she normally uses. Nesta smiles to herself.

Nesta searches for something she can say, a safe topic that has nothing to do with self-defense, but Gwyn beats her to it. "So, how do you two know each other?" she asks.

"Nesta came to Illyria to scare some rebels who are trying to kill her," Emerie answers casually.

Gwyn jerks her head towards Nesta. "Really?"

"Not quite how I would have phrased it," Nesta says. "But true enough, I suppose."

"Why are they trying to kill you?" Gwyn says, eyes wide.

Wonderful. What a fantastic luncheon this is.

"They don't like me very much."

"They're scared of her," Emerie says. "And they want to overthrow the High Lord and High Lady." She turns to Nesta. "What do you think of that?"

Nesta raises an eyebrow as she cuts into her food. "Of killing my sister and Rhysand? Well, I've certainly thought of it myself, at times."

They both laugh. Nesta blinks. Then she smiles slightly.

"I have to assume I'm against them," she says. "But to be honest, I don't really understand any of the politics here. I'm...not very well-informed."

"Oh, neither am I," Gwyn says, shaking her head. "It's terrible. I mean, I've lived in this court all my life, and I'm so pitifully ignorant. It's ridiculous. I don't know the first thing about Illyria, like. Or even Velaris, really. And I have no excuse. I live in a library, for gods' sakes."

"I don't know of any books I'd recommend for you to learn about Illyria," Emerie says, thoughtful. "Not unless you read Illyrian, that is."

"See, I didn't even know there was an Illyrian until you just said that. Pathetic."

"Can you recommend other books?" Nesta says, latching on the chance to steer the conversation away from the history of the Night Court and into perhaps the only topic she might be able to contribute to.

"Oh, of course," Emerie says, pausing to swallow. "What do you like?"

"Romance," Nesta says, as Gwyn says, "Adventure."

"Ooh, The Knight Society. That's both. You can read that together."

Gwyn grins at Nesta. "Book club," she says. "What's it about?"

Emerie launches into a description of the book-the series, actually-and eventually, Nesta finds herself not looking for things to say, but rather just...talking. Not forced. Not desperate. Just a part of the conversation. Easy, flowing...fun, almost.

Funny, at least. Emerie is clutching her sides laughing as she describes the worst romance novel she ever read and Gwyn giggles, her hands covering her mouth, but Nesta says thoughtfully, "That's not such a horrible idea, though."

"You think-"

"No, no, the premise is atrocious, yes," she says. "But that exact scene...that has potential."

"Potential, right," Emerie says, laughing still.

"No, I mean it," she says, but she lets it go, lets the conversation drift naturally.

She is disappointed when Azriel comes to take Emerie back, but picked up by the fact that they all are. Emerie promises to make time to stay for lunch again, either Monday or Wednesday of next week.

"This was so lovely," Gwyn says to her, wistful, as they walk down to the library together. "So much nicer than in the dining hall.

"Really?" Nesta says before she can stop herself. "Well...I eat lunch every day. You can join...if you'd like."

Gwyn brightens. "I would!"

So after two weeks of lessons with other girls (Roslin and Ananke have joined, and Lorelei and Ilana, too, though the later doesn't participate so much as watch), and more random assignments from Clotho, and new things for Thalia, Nesta finally finds herself with a few hours of quiet after Friday evening's lecture has been canceled.

"Shall we read?" she says to the House.

Lights flicker in answer. Too many for the usual yes or no. This means Nesta has to follow.

"All right," she says, standing. "To the veranda?" she asks. But it's too cold out, so she hopes not.

Instead, the House leads her to a room she hasn't been in since her first stay, upon first exploration. She has had no need.

"Oh," she says at the door, softly.

The knob turns slightly, not fully opening. The House giving her the final decision.

But she doesn't want to hurt its feelings, so she opens the door.

The music room-a conservatory, it can be called-just by the sheer size of it-is grander than she remembers. She had opened the door and not even stepped inside, that first time. Just stood there, frozen, before snapping the door shut and hurrying away.

She takes a slow step in, but almost as though she is being walked by some other being, she takes another, and then another, and before she knows it, she is seated at the piano.

Ballroom grand. Enormous. Sleek and glossy and it would sound just perfect, she knows.

Lights flicker from behind. She turns and lets out a little laugh.

"Thanks," she says, shaking her head at the spotlight, "but I don't think I'm going to be learning the trumpet this evening."

The lights stop, as if the House is acquiescing.

The lights above her now flicker briefly. So will you play the piano, then?

Nesta inhales and exhales deeply. Slowly. Again. And again. The same way Cassian has her do after lessons.

There's really...there's really nothing stopping her. There's no reason not to. If she were to pick up her notebook and write down the reasons why she can't play right now, there wouldn't be any.

So why can't she do it?

She doesn't have an answer. So with another deep breath, Nesta closes her eyes and gently presses her thumb to middle C.

The sound is soft, and then that feeling, from with Thalia and Clotho, and Cassian, hits her again. But as she hits the second note, it does not fade away. It stays this time. So she plays.