#and making all these plans to take leo to the sea side so he can recover from the drugs and such

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Ngl, while I do mock Eastenders at times for how it goes about character exits, Leo Taylor's death hit pretty hard.

[jungkook97]

admit it; jjk (m)

pairing: canon idol! & fwb!jungkook x staff!reader

word count: 3.1k

rating: ma

genre/warnings: romance, angst, smut, jungkook is a deeply insecure and jealous lil kiddo in this fic, you two are fwb, but jungkook clearly is getting too fucking attached bc he's m e s s y and he wants you so damn badddd like give him a chance!!!

18+ content: dirty talk, jerking off, sloppy handjob, unprotected sex (WRAP IT PEOPLE) and uhhh mouth fucking?? IS THAT WHAT THE PEOPLE WANT IDK

summary: you, taehyung and jungkook go out for the night much to jungkook's dismay. you looked fine as fuck tonight, and jungkook feels a certain type of way about it.

notes: my first attempt at smut lmaoooo pls don't kill me!!!

© jungkook97 2023. do not repost or modify. please ask for permission to translate.

Jungkook hated bullshit. He hated things getting messy because like every Virgo, he wanted things to be clean and neat.  

And yet, he committed the biggest crime of all time: catching feelings. 

He didn’t know when it started with you. Probably last week in the middle of railing you, or maybe the night before when he caught you staring at Taehyung a little bit too long, making him feel for a hot second he wasn’t going to have you all to himself anymore.

Not that it mattered. What Jungkook knew was that he was an idiot. 

Again.

There he was, standing over you like a complete fool, tongue swirling around his right cheek as you pressed him further. 

It was around midnight when it happened, a nice little Saturday night, a perfect night to go out. You weren’t planning to do much besides grabbing a few drinks at the rooftop bar upstairs with Taehyung, who, for some reason, has gotten on Jungkook’s bad side. You knew after being friends-turned-fuck buddy that he was jealous because well, he has told you before jokingly about his possessive issues in the past. 

“I can’t seem to share,” he would tell you before swooping in for a sloppy drunk kiss as you playfully suggested to make out with Jimin in the car last week, much to Jimin’s dismay. The residential Busan flirt hated public displays of affection, and seeing the two of you just eat each other every other time he saw you two was sickening. 

In fact, everyone was pretty sick of it. It didn’t come from jealousy but rather, it was clear to everyone else that Jungkook was going through that cycle again, fucking through the rest of Seoul in order to forget his ex-girlfriend who dumped him for some billionaire because “specs”. You knew what the situation was (Taehyung had told it in great tremendous detail like the noisy dude he was), and you didn’t mind some sloppy seconds. After all, the fact that you can fool around with the most popular member of BTS sounded fun, and frankly, you weren’t looking for much. 

However, it wasn’t to say that you didn’t enjoy the pining. Boy, was Jungkook bad at not showing it. But you, being the Leo dominant queen that you were, you enjoyed every single millisecond of his attention, especially when he was fucking you rentless in bed (or anywhere that seemed fit). 

The way he gripped you tightly, his eyes boring into yours as his dick dug deeper in you with every gasp, every mewl that came out of your mouth. He was a menace, and he knew he fucked good. 

Normally at this point, Jungkook would’ve pounced on you already, taking off the very skimpy see-through lace dress you were wearing and went to town, but weirdly enough, Jungkook was holding back some restraint. Maybe he was too tired to fuck, or wasn’t in the mood. You were worried, but also, the night was still young to mess with him. 

“Just don’t,” he said, as you asked once again why you can’t go out. His brown eyes turned dark as you laughed, patting him on the shoulder in the most friendzone way possible to rile him. His nostrils flared up as he clenched his jaw, his tongue swirling even harder in his right cheek.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

It didn’t take long before Jungkook showed himself in the sea of strangers as you were dancing with his bandmate not that far away. You spotted him immediately as he wore a Calvin Klein jacket and hat combo, along with some dark jeans and stompers. His eyes were hidden in his cap as he moved closer to you, his hands firmly on your side as you pulled away from Taehyung. 

“About time you showed up,” Taehyung smirked, his hand off of your back to avoid getting smacked by the youngest. “I was keeping her warm for you.”

Jungkook leaned into Taehyung and whispered what sounded like “fuck off” to signal that he wasn’t fucking around. The jazz loving singer shrank a bit, pulling himself away completely before clearing his throat. 

“I’m going to take a piss. I’ll be back,” he murmured before winking at you. You returned the favor, blowing a kiss in his direction, only to be stopped by Jungkook blocking it. He was furious as his fingers gripped your waist tightly as you two swayed to the music to avoid causing a commotion. You smirked, playing innocent. 

If there was something incredibly hot about your little fling with JK was the fact that he got jealous easily. Maybe because it was his insecurities from his last few failed relationships, or just the pure fact that he’s the least experienced in the group in terms of successful long-standing relationships, but you relished every moment of it. It boosted your little ego, especially since you previously had dated losers. 

Jungkook on the other hand, was not a loser. He was a bonafide rockstar with hundreds of thousands of girls who would fall to his feet. 

However, tonight, he fell on yours. He was a man after all, simple and horny. 

As the music got slower, you began to sway your hips against his, leaving him growling softly under his breath. 

“Stop that,” Jungkook commanded, biting his bottom lip. “You’re doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what?” you said nonchalantly and naively, your hands traveling down his torso. “What, you think I’d fuck Taeh–”

“Don’t say his fucking name.”  

“Ooh, fiesty,” you cooed, leaning in and putting your lips to his ear. “I thought you said you don’t get jealous…?”

Jungkook sighed deeply, cupping your head with his other hand as he began slipping his other fingers through the holes of your dress.

“I can’t help myself when you’re literally naked in front of him, in front of everyone. That’s only–”

“–for you?” you moaned lightly back.

“Fuck.”

You felt him harden in front of you as your fingers lightly brush against his clothed cock, just throbbing underneath his jeans. He was breathing heavily at that point, his eyes wandering into yours as he was telepathically trying to tell you where he wanted to go. 

“Admit it.”

“What?” he said breathlessly. You two were tightly intertwined at that point, his length throbbing against the pit of your stomach, waiting for you to suck him off. 

“Admit that you like me.”

Jungkook froze a bit as you laughed, pulling away as Taehyung returned. He was still grinning as if nothing had happened as he patted his friend’s back. You pulled your arms around Taehyung to really do a number on Jungkook, in which, to your surprise, he only cleared his throat and looked away. He seemed…hurt. 

Aw, baby’s hurt.

“Anyway, she and I were thinking of doing more drinks in the room if you wanna come along,” Taehyung suggested as you flaunted your curvy and delicious-looking body, getting not only for Jungkook to glare at Taehyung in jealousy, but a few others in the area. 

“Come on, let’s go kick back,” you giggled, grabbing Jungkook’s arm to link it with you. He immediately relaxed at that gesture as Jungkook smirked, pulling you into him so he could share you with Taehyung. 

“Yeah, why not? What’s the worst that could happen?” 

You were having the time of your life. The heat in the room was impalpable as the three of you fanned yourselves with whatever slips of paper from the notepads as Taehyung hit the AC unit a bit harder once again.

“Dude, I don’t think that works,” Jungkook drunkenly laughed, his hand massaging your inner thigh as you pulled him closer. He was dripping in sweat even after taking his jacket off, revealing a tank top underneath. His tattoo sleeve was in full display, something that turned you on immensely every time he revealed it. 

You leaned in, kissing the top of his tattooed shoulder. You could feel him stiffen, his thumb pausing what it was doing and hesitatingly, almost painstakingly, moving towards a direction that he knew Taehyung would not want to see in person. 

You bit down on his shoulder to signify him to stop, but Jungkook didn’t care. All night, he had been suffering from the urge to fuck you on top of being drunk, and on top of Taehyung openly flirting and suggesting that they do some form of strip poker without any playing cards involved whatsoever (“We’ll figure that part out,” Taehyung waved vaguely and nonchalantly before popping open another bottle of wine). He was getting exhausted, his eyes slowly blinking to sleep as he yawned for the umphtenth time, but he also had plans to fuck you before he did. 

“Maybe hit up downstairs to see if they could get this fixed?” you exhaled sharply, grabbing Jungkook’s hand from entering the folds of your underwear and pulling away, much to Jungkook’s dismay. He scowled quietly, leaning back against the bed as you pulled off of it, trying to find the number for the front desk. 

“Hyung, why don’t you go down and find a guy to fix, yeah?” Jungkook asked, although it definitely did not sound like it. He was getting irritated, and the daggers from his eyes were clearly indicating he’d kill someone if he didn’t get what he wanted. Taehyung understood right away without even being the actual recipient of the glares, but rather the very hostile text messages from Jungkook consecutively to leave the room. 

“Okay,” was all Taehyung murmured, waving goodbye and leaving the room without looking back. “Have fun in here,” he announced before unceremoniously shutting the door. You frowned, the phone still ringing for the front desk. 

“He didn’t seem like he’s in a good mood.”

“I’m not, “Jungkook sighed, reaching towards you as the phone continued to ring. “Hang up. He’ll take care of it. Let me…” he started to massage your thighs again. “Let me take care of you, babe.”

He leaned in towards your neck, slowly smooching it as the other line picked up. 

“Guest services, how can I help?”

“Um…”

Jungkook’s fingers started to make its way down your dress as he slowly unzipped it, his teeth still making marks on your neck. After it was halfway unzipped, he slipped through and underneath your sheer dress and into your breasts, cupping your nipples as he began to swirl them around with his fingers, twisting them because he knew how much you get turned on from your nipples alone. You held back a moan, your hand cupping his. 

Putting the phone against the other side of your chest, you looked at him, shocked. 

“What are you doing?!”

“Giving you what you deserve,” was all he replied, pulling you up against his body roughly to the point where the phone dropped from your hands, banging against the nightstand. You freaked out, trying to reach the operator to awkwardly hang up. You clicked once, pulling back your dress up from the straps, leaving the tone dead on the other end.

“Fuck, you almost put yourself in danger, you fucking idiot!” you exclaimed. “What if she heard us fucking over the phone?” 

Jungkook leaned back, chuckling and pushing his hair up. He licked his lips after, chewing around his lip ring. 

“That would’ve been fun, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes. 

“It wouldn’t.”

“It would,” Jungkook smirked, his hand resting on your leg. “Much better than Taehyung seeing everything.”

Oh?

“What’s Taehyung gotta do with your fetish of voyeurism, JK?”

He clicked his tongue before turning away, looking towards the door. 

“I’m saying I’d rather let a front desk girl listen to us fucking than having Taehyung seeing us fuck. But then again…”

He leaned in once again, now hovering over you. You let the straps of your dress fall down, revealing your bouncy breasts with the hardened nipples. 

“...I don’t mind fucking you in front of him either. Gotta make sure he knows you’re fucking mine.”

You two started kissing, this time passionately as he pushed you against the headboard as you two’s tongues danced with each other. He moved down towards your breasts, suckling on your nipples as you moaned loudly, gripping his hair as he hungrily went at it, praising it. His hands pulled up the rest of your dress, revealing absolutely no underwear underneath it. This drove Jungkook absolutely insane. You were naked the whole night, in front of everyone…in front of Taehyung…

Did Taehyung knew? He thought. Was he jerking off in the bathroom while we were still out there? It only made sense that you didn’t wear anything, after all, your ass and breasts seemed a bit more bouncier than normal and he could clearly see your nipples throughout the night. He knew he didn’t imagine it because his dick had been hard for the past couple of hours. 

“You fucking whore,” he whispered during kisses, pulling up to your mouth to passionately kiss you even more. Using his tattooed arm, he choked you as he kept kissing you silly, delirious from the heat that was coming from his genitals. “You’re such a fucking whore, wearing nothing underneath the whole night.”

“Yeah, I am,” you mewled, your hands pulling his pants closer to yourself as you spread your legs out, showing your newly waxed pussy. “I’m a fucking slut and I want you fuck me like a slut, Jungkook.”

He chuckled, his hands fidgeting his pants open. You began touching yourself as you dug your two fingers into your clitoris, rubbing it as you moaned for him. He was unraveling, still fiddling with his pants as you started to masturbate in front of him, peeling off both the straps of your dress to show your beautiful breasts on display on top of your wetting pussy. 

“Come on, Kook…” you whispered seductively. “Come on, and fuck me good. Please. Please, fuck me really good…”

He pulled out almost immediately after you said it, his cock throbbing and wet with precum. He groaned loudly as you put your hands on it, slowly rubbing it. 

“Fuck….” he uttered out, putting his hands to the sides of you, looking down as you slowly began to move your fingers back and forth along his shaft, your tongue out and rolling around your lips. 

“It looks so fucking good, Kook,” you said in your tiniest voice, knowing that Jungkook absolutely loved hearing it. “I want to suck you off…or maybe…” you leaned in closer, licking the tip, “you can fuck my mouth instead.”

“Fuck…”

You began suckling at the tip of his cock, massaging the rest of it with your fingers as you bobbed up and down, sucking it in the most sloppiest way. Jungkook buckled his hips, moaning loudly as you quickened the speed as he cursed his way nonsensically at you, mixing between English and Korean. You quickened your pace, vocalizing as you gave him the best blowjob of his life. 

“Fuck, you’re such a fucking slut,” Jungkook exclaimed, growling and starting to shove his cock into your mouth, making you go even faster. You began to choke, but with much restraint, you clenched your jaw even more, looking up right at him as he continued to fuck your pretty little mouth. “Fuck, baby, please…you’re so fucking good to me.”

You pulled away as Jungkook started to heaven as a pool of precum came out, spilling on your dress. You smiled, laughing at how undone Jungkook was at that point as beads of his sweat dripped on your face. You did one last little lick on his cock before pulling yourself up towards him, his eyes glazed a bit over. 

“Fuck, you’re too good to me,” was all he said. 

“Is fuck the only word you can say, baby?” you whimpered, pushing your shoulders together for your tits to be up in his face. 

Jungkook’s lips came into contact with yours again as he pushed you down, his hands now grasping most of your sheer dress. You spread your legs wide open for him as he started to position himself to dig his cock deep into your pussy, wanting to rail you until you came all over him. 

“You’re just asking to get cum in your little pussy,” Jungkook growled, gripping more and more of your dress as you nodded excitedly, still showing off your breasts. 

“Come on, baby,” you urged, shaking your tits. “Fuck me until all I can say is fuck.”

Jungkook pushed himself in, groaning from pleasure as he did. You mewled after him as he pounded into you harder and harder. Every bit of his cock was juicing you inside, your walls are leaking with cum as he pushed deeper and deeper in. The rhythm was the fastest but steadiest you’ve ever experienced as you moaned for his name, gripping the sheets as he railed into you.

“Fuck…Jungkook…” you said in between thrusts, sighing deeply as you let your breasts bounced free. Soon, Jungkook took them and started to caress them, grunting more and more as he did. 

“You like this fucking cock, don’t you,” Jungkook growled, pushing deeper and deeper with his thrusts. “Admit it. Admit you fucking like this cock.”

You could feel the build up to the orgasm as you continued your rhythmic moans, breathing heavily as you two worked up a sweat. 

“Fuck, I love your fucking cock, Jungkook!” you admitted as he gripped your ass, pulling you closer to him. As he got faster and faster, the wave had built up all the way, making you ready to release. And as you do–

“FUCK!” Jungkook exclaimed out, letting out a loud moan as he released all his cum inside of you, shaking as you threw your head back, orgasming as well. You could feel his cum being pushed up from your contractions as he continued to dig into you, his hands on either side of you as he released every last drop into you. 

You laughed lightly as you began kissing his cheeks, thanking him for the fun time. 

“Aw, you’re in love with me aren’t you?” he chuckled, whipping his hair back. “Admit it.”

“In love with the way you fuck me, yeah,” you replied cooly. You weren’t going to let him get away with it, but you were just a bit more romantically into him after seeing how caught up he was.  

Knock knock.

“Are you guys done in there?” Taehyung’s voice echoed in the room. Flushing deeply, you two started scrambling to get your clothes together. 

“Uh, give us a bit!” Jungkook yelled back, his face red. You giggled. As he pulled his shirt on, you leaned in, kissing him on the cheek. He flushed harder, laughing quietly to himself. 

“Admit it.”

Knock knock.

“Yes. I do like you. Happy?”

[END]  

[sadakorosee]

back to december

fem!reader, relationship

genre: angst

summary: leo and y/n broke up in december. it was years later when y/n realized it was her mistake wishing she can undone it.

"I'm so glad you made time to see me How's life? Tell me, how's your family?"

"I haven't seen them in a while." Your voice cracks when face to face with your ex mutant boyfriend, Leonardo, after 3 years.

April still makes contact with you even after your break-up with Leo. The break up was brutal for both of you but Leo took it harder than you did. Your relationship lasted only 1 year but he was willing to swim through the sea for you. He was willing to die for you.

The day of your break up, it was noticeable that Leo loved you more than you loved him. You just didn't put enough effort like he did in the relationship.

It takes two to tango, people said.

When you received the job offer from a company in Switzerland, you were more than thrilled to accept it and just get out of New York not even considering your ex-boyfriend's thoughts. He didn't even cross your mind until Vern brought it up during his stop at the lair.

"Oh, y/n. Congratulations on your job offer in Switzerland. Heard you accepted it. When are you leaving?" Vern chugged down his beer draught when the lair went silent. The turtle brothers all shared a look before turning to see their leader's reaction and it broke Mikey's heart at how betrayed Leo looked. You on the other hand looked like a deer caught in the headlights. You didn't intend to bring up the topic and wait for the right time but Vern ruined it for you.

But did you really wait for the right time?

Of course not. You had no intention to say anything about it and have thought of ways to tell Leo you won't be visiting the lair as much because of work.

Switzerland was hours and thousand of miles away from New York. What were you thinking? Did you think you could pull off lying until you land in Switzerland for your job?

The night ended with swearings and tears in Leo's eyes when he found out you made your own decision without consulting him about it.

"y/n, I'm more than happy you get to work for a bigger position but the fact you hid this from me and not planning to tell me about it?" Leo paced back and forth, fists clenching to contain his mixed emotions about the news. "You even accepted it without telling me. Am I not worthy for you not to tell me about this? I'm your partner. I'd do anything to keep you happy, y/n. How could you?"

Tears flowed out of Leo's dark blue eyes staring into your lifeless ones. The lump in your throat refused to let you respond and Leo took the silence as you not denying it.

It was actually a week later that they found out you were flying to Switzerland. The turtles were... speechless. Donnie was never the type to pick sides, however, he was disappointed with your actions. Mikey was depressed because 1) you won't be around anymore and 2) Leo has never been the same since. Raph was, understandably, angry at you. Like, very angry.

Leo won't eat or socialize with anybody for months. He'd fight alongside his brothers and did small talks but everything he sees or hears reminded him of you, he just broke down without warning.

He was so broken after everything he did for you was out of love and sincerity. He never wanted anything from you, especially gifts, but to be able to love someone for once. Someone who doesn't look at his family as mutants, monsters or freaks. He thought you were different but you were selfish.

You took his love for granted.

You only realized that after 3 years working overseas and have a 'mature' mind about your relationship with him.

How you realize you were the fool for letting the man you thought you love go.

Even if you didn't love him romantically, it hurts him either way that you took his attention for granted. How could you?

Leo has grown mature over the last 3 years because after you asked about his family, he smiled. Not the loving way but it was the smile he flashed at you when you two first met at the lair after April's introduction.

"My family is alright. Raphael got a new tattoo underneath his armpit. Couldn't stop whining about it." He chuckled like as if you were never a part of his life.

April sensed your demeanor changed and took over, "Oh yeah, Mikey sent me a video of that. Whose idea was it, anyway?" Leo's attention was now on April who seemed interested in the Raph situation.

You chuckled bitterly to yourself. Of course he's changed. He doesn't love you anymore; why would he, after what you put him through 3 years ago?

"I deserved that."

"Your guard is up and I know why."

[lizzybeth1986]

Eleanor's Kitchen

Books: The Royal Romance/Heir, Rules of Engagement

Pairing: Queen Eleanor & Prince Leo + Liam (mother-sons/siblings), Leo x Damien (mentioned in RoE) (romantic), Liam & Jason (OC) (platonic).

Rating: PG

Summary: Liam notices Leo's friendship with Damien, their gardener's eldest son, becoming stronger.

Series: Eleanor's Kitchen

Note: Damien (not Nazario from PM!) has been mentioned in this scene in Rules of Engagement, Book 2. I played fast and loose with the timelines for this backstory, and have given Damien a younger brother who was Liam's age.

This chapter takes place almost a year following Ch 3. Liam is now 8 years old, Leo is 14.

Word Count: 3, 718 words

Tagging @kingliamappreciationweek for KLAW Day 4: Childhood, @aprilchallenge for the prompt "just want to be with you", @choicesholidays for National Sibling Appreciation Day (April 10th) and @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW.

Chapter 4: Garídes Saganáki

(Photo from this recipe)

Liam greets the salt air that briefly kisses his face, and the sand that pools around his toes at the beach, with a sense of homecoming. This beach has felt as much like his home as the palace he was born in, suffused with memories of sandcastles and uniquely-shaped seashells and the rush of excitement that came every time a wave crashed against the shore.

And most of all, it feels like home for the moments long past. For the rare times both he and Leo did things together, back when Leo actually liked taking him along for things. When his talk was actually more talk and less eyerolling and "oh you're too young to understand". The love is still there, and so is the need to protect each other (especially against Father's acid remarks, usually aimed at Leo) - just...the companionship isn't, any longer.

The sad, sinking feeling that used to emerge from realizing that is, thankfully, rare now - Liam much prefers the company of his own friends - but when he was four and hanging on to his big brother's every word, it had stung.

"Every big brother does that," his newest friend, Jason, shrugged. Jason is the palace gardner Giorgos Vasilakis' youngest son, accompanying his father since last year on visits to the Queen to discuss the plans surrounding her dream project: the palace hedge maze, that was to echo the one in Château de Villandry in France. Jason's older brother Damien had always been the one at Kýrios Vasilakis' side before that, but of late Liam has begun to associate his presence more with his own elder brother.

Jason is lonely. Unlike Liam, who has managed to bring together his own motley band of merry playmates, Jason has only the one older brother and has never gotten the chance to venture beyond the palace and his father's cottage. Liam has experienced only a fraction of that kind of loneliness and it had felt like hell. He and Jason may not know each other well, but he'll be damned if he let the other boy he has no one. And so he brings Jason along to meet all his friends.

Both Liam's and Jason's older brothers accompany the group of exhilarated children to the beach, but slip away in another direction before the group can notice. Liam notes the direction Leo and Damien are headed - their heads leaning towards each other as they walk - but says nothing. More friends, Liam reminds himself of his purpose here, first make sure we give Jason more friends.

Liam isn't disappointed. Before long, Jason's name has been shortened to Jase, his shorts and shirt have been drenched from jumping over the crashing waves with Maxwell, and he's snacking happily over pine nuts with Drake and Olivia. He even enjoys collecting seashells with Tariq, even if he did find him a little odd at first.

"I can understand not wanting to get your shoes wet but why would he want to keep them 30 feet away from the sea??"

Liam giggles a little. "They're not just shoes! They're...uh... Salvatore Ferra-somethings!" he says, already forgetting the Italian names that slip so easily from Tariq's tongue when he's talking about a shoe brand. Liam would too, if his father spoke his ears off about shoes as much as Tariq's did.

"If you say so," Jason replies doubtfully. What a funny bunch of people these nobles and royals are, he must be thinking, "but what if they get stolen?"

"Then Tariq will sniff and say he hopes they were stolen by someone who truly understands the value and beauty of Italian shoes."

Just before they leave, the children build a sandcastle. Liam and Jason deem themselves the architects of the main structure, Drake and Olivia choose to build a fortress. Maxwell ropes in a skeptical Tariq to help him construct a fantastic "Tower of Fun and Parties" right next to the castle itself. They are almost done when Jason stands up, declares the castle incomplete without a good garden, and pokes dots into the sand to form imaginary flowers.

For a moment all they can hear is the shriek of the gulls and the buffeting crash of the waves. They are all silent, and smiling, and very, very proud of themselves.

This structure is the biggest sandcastle the children have ever built themselves thus far, and by the time Leo and Damien return (hair damp, skin glistening, breathing hard as if they'd jumped down the steep cliffs of the Forgotten Falls and climbed back up, hands very close but not really touching) they are all convinced it is the biggest castle they ever will conceive of building. Even if it is one built in sand, soon to be a victim to the crashing waves.

--

Liam puts on his baking gloves, balancing himself on the balls of his feet as he waits to take his freshly-baked bread out of the oven. It's a moment he likes to gear himself up for - there's just something, some magic, about that first, comforting, soul-filling whiff. He'd experienced that feeling the first time he actually watched Chef Anais bake, and he's felt it ever since.

His version of Greek village-style bread is perfect today - the crust a lovely brown with little cracks and ridges to show off how crisp its outside is, and he is certain the inside will be soft and a light shade of yellow from the semolina he added to it. The aroma is good enough to make his mother stop in the middle of her own cooking just to breathe it in.

Her face covered in a fine sheen of sweat today from the heat in the kitchen, her hair bunched into a wrap and her hands waving away steam and smoke from her face. Liam can't quite tell whether it is excitement he sees on her face or exhaustion. But from the corner of his eye as he carries the bread to the table to rest, he can tell it is more of the former.

There are two pots boiling away at once on the stove: one a creamy, garlicy, peppery fish broth; the other a beautifully silky tomato-based sauce that he knows from experience will become even silkier and creamier when Mum adds a sinfully liberal amount of feta chesse to it.

He almost reaches out for it with a spoon when his mother stops him.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Mum says, playfully wagging her finger, "Not yours, thisavré mou. This is for your brother and his friend only. That's why I'm making something with your favourite Stone Bass fish as well. For you and your friend."

Liam frowns. "But I've had shrimp saganaki before. You know I like it too. Why couldn't you just make a bigger batch?"

Mum lets out a sigh suffused with embarrassed laughter. Her hand inadvertently motions itself towards a bottle of alcohol on the table titled Ouzo. "This one is... different. Not for children."

Liam pouts in petulance. Of late reminders that he is still a child and his brother isn't have begun to annoy him. There is something so mythical about teenagehood, Liam is beginning to realise, something he wants to know more about but is too out of his reach to even begin to understand.

Don't be so eager to let go of your childhood, pet, then you'll spend the rest of your life wanting it back, Mum would often tell him. All that phrase does now is make him even more impatient.

The smell of ripened crushed tomatoes, mixing in with the garlic, onions, and chilis, makes for a heady combination. He secretly thanks Uncle Franci for sending them yet another carton of San Marzanos - Mum said he'd written in his last letter that his wife, Aunt Pari, would be making a trip down to her home province of Bethulia soon for the Navroze festival, and was hoping Mum would come celebrate it with her this year.

There is another aroma in the sauce Liam has never smelled before, and has a hard time identifying - it's slightly pungent and makes his eyes water a little. It must be from the bottle of Ouzo.

Mum tosses the feta into the small, two-handled heavy-bottomed frying pan at will - she has never really been one for measurements - and quickly places the pan beneath the broiler to melt the cheese. Liam watches in fascination as her hands crumble extra feta; there is no rubric for how much, she just stops when she feels like it. Just throw! she will tell him anytime he asks her for a measuring cup. Cooking for Mum has always been just a play of hands; trust your hands and give them their time with the ingredients - and the results may not always be consistent but over time they will be forever delicious.

Liam has timed his baking closely enough that by the time both his and Leo's dishes are ready, his bread will have rested long enough, and is ready to serve as a side.

They find Leo talking to Jason's brother at one of the more intimate drawing rooms of the palace, their heads so close they're almost touching. Both their hands are jammed into their pockets, as if they'd hurriedly put them there from whatever their original position was. Their eyes dart everywhere and both seem to turn a little pink. A curl from Damien's dark hair rests carelessnessly on his forehead, and Liam catches his brother looking at it at least twice.

Jason skips to Liam's side. "Where is everyone else?" he whispers.

"Drake and his sister have gone to Texas to stay with their aunt, Olivia's with one of the Elders in Lythikos, Maxwell and Tariq are back home. It's just me, I'm afraid." Liam shuffles his feet in uncharacteristic awkwardness. He knows that a lot of the things he likes to talk about can either bore or confuse his own friends.

"Good enough for me," Jason says, grinning. "Her Majesty says she's got us fish stew."

"Bianco. And shrimp saganaki for Leo and Damien." Liam lowers his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't tell your dad - Mum made those herself. Father built her her own kitchen two and a half years ago. Not many besides some of the kitchen staff know."

Jason's eyes widen at the bowl that's just arrived, and then brightens. Imagine that, being treated to the cooking of an actual queen!

Mum had wisely decided to seat the pairs of brothers in different areas, confident that they would be bored stiff if they were made to eat together. It's a lot better this way, Liam thinks, as Jason talks animatedly of the new toys his dad got him with the increase in his salary from last month onwards. Leo and Damien would perhaps find their chats rather silly, and a lot of the things they say fly like seagulls over Liam and Jason's heads.

The Bianco is as good as Liam and Jason had hoped: the sauce smooth and creamy, the fish mildly sweet and with flesh so soft it crumbles a little on the tongue. Liam can't help but puff his chest in pride as he and Jason use the bread he made to sop up the rest of the sauce, the heat from the pepper and garlic and the delightful tang from the lemon warming them all down to their toes. Jason tells Liam to tell Her Majesty to forgive his lack of manners but he is this close to licking his plate.

Normally, Liam would be ecstatic about getting to eat a Stone Bass, especially here where the catch is always today's, wild and fresh and soul-stirringly tasty..."not that garbage you get from the fish farms" as Grandmother used to say.

But his thoughts keep crawling back to the meal his and Jason's older brothers got. The dish that has been so familiar to him all these years, yet seems so alien now. All because of an added mysterious... thing that seems all the more exciting because he isn't allowed to touch it.

Liam goes and sneaks a look at where their brothers sit, enjoying their shrimp. Leo looks over to his friend's plate, notices his bread is over, breaks his own loaf apart and offers it to Damien, looking straight into his eyes as he dips it into his sauce and eats it. Damien's fingers lightly brush his as he takes the bread.

"You know who made that bread?" Leo's voice for some reason sounds different, warmer and deeper and a little more serious. Liam turns pink with forgotten filial pleasure at the note of pride in his words. "Liam. My baby brother."

Damien grins. "There's sauce near your lip."

Leo makes a great show of pretending not to know where. "Where?"

Damien looks left and right - and satisfied that they cannot be seen (Liam heaves a sigh of relief as he emerges from behind a corner Leo and Damien cannot clearly see) takes his napkin and dabs softly at the corner of his mouth. The two boys suddenly cannot look each other in the eye, and their smiles hold secrets that make Liam feel like an intruder on this little moment, for perhaps no reason. Damien's only cleaning Leo's face.

But when he returns and tells Jason what he saw, the other boy stays silent for a few minutes.

"Babás almost saw Prince Leo at our home once," Jason says quietly, "Mamá had to hide him in a cupboard."

"But why?" Liam asks back, puzzled, "I thought Kýrios Vasilakis liked him. Ever since he started attending his lessons regularly and actually -"

"I know. I thought so too. I'm not sure why Leo and Damien and Mamá look so scared these days. No one ever tells me." Jason finishes with a nonchalant shrug that belies his petulant frustration at not being told things he cannot fully understand.

Liam sighs, all thoughts of their brothers forgotten. "No one thinks I'm old enough to understand anything either."

As Liam watches Jason's older brother reluctantly take leave of his own, their gazes lingering more than their touches ever could...and realises how childishly enthusiastic their own goodbyes are, Liam goes to bed wondering what Leo's shrimp saganaki tastes like. Is it pungent? Is it sweet? Does it leave a bitter aftertaste?

That night, Liam lies in bed in his silk unicorn-and-rainbow pajamas, burningly aware of how like a child he looks in it. How unlike his older brother - in his leather jackets and carelessly tousled hair. He begins counting the months before his mother can properly deem him "of age", and falls asleep before he can even reach his pre-teen years.

--

Days later, Leo takes a walk around the Wishing Well with his mother.

It's amazing how much things have changed in the years Eleanor has been married to Constantine, and therefore into the Royal Family. His little son had only been four then, and he'd hidden behind his father the first few times she tried to come near. Constantine and his mother had fumed over this in the beginning, wanting to help ease him into trusting her but neither having a whole lot of patience - so it had been up to her to reassure him that they would only set his relationship with her at his pace.

And it had paid off. Little Leo had once seen the "new mother" outside, trying to stargaze, and sat beside her in silence, listening for half an hour as she pointed out constellations. She'd known he loved stargazing and knew he needed a companion of sorts The first ever times they talked were all about stars...until five months later when he lost interest and Eleanor found out whatever it was that captured his fancy next.

Still, because that night was the night they tentatively began to consider themselves mother and son, she often brings back memories of it by calling him astéri mou.

"Your tutors have been very pleased with you this year," Eleanor says, suppressing a little smile, "they've been seeing how hard you've been working at your studies lately." There's a mischievous glow in her eyes. "Any more efforts and you'll soon be surpassing Liam, they say."

Leo snorts. He knows, no matter how hard he tries, that he can never reach his kid brother's level in either interest or acumen for politics. That is a quality unique to just him and he's more than happy to let him bask in it, but ever since Damien....

A quick, intense memory of him flashes. Dark curls, full lips, skin smooth beneath Leo's fingertips. It had amazed him how they'd been playmates one minute, pretending to be pirates and running around the palace gardens, and he'd never in all that time noticed that kind of gut-capturing beauty. His voice deep and passionate at the Forgotten Falls two weeks ago, as Damien whispered into his hair, "Let me hold you for a bit. We don't have to talk...we don't have to do anything. I just want to be with you."

He knows becoming a good King will be a hundred times harder for him than it was for his father, than (he is beginning to realize) it could be for his brother. He had made his peace with that at some point this year. But being around Damien...knowing that in his future position a relationship like theirs could be both legally permitted and morally viewed as sheer irresponsibility (and this is in only the kindest of parallel universes) and still knowing it is a relationship he cannot ever conceive of giving up...

If he could just prove himself capable in every other area of his life, just please his father and bring pride to his mother in other ways, maybe both his father and Damien's may just not force what they could have together, to die.

Mamá sighs. "Leo...astèri mou. You don't understand. I am already proud of you."

Oh no. Had he just said the words aloud?

He responds to her answer with another question. "How did you find out about us, Mamá?"

She shakes her head. "Kyría Vasilikou." Damien's mother, who hid Leo in a cupboard that one time Kyríe Vasilikos almost caught them. She had been extraordinarily kind and very contrite - sending Leo with a box of melomakarona and begging him never to come to this house again for fear of what Damien's father may do to him next.

He remembers Mamá's words from that evening.

"Damien's father - and his father before him - are extraordinarily dedicated to the King. It was His father that ensured their family would be set for many, many years to come...and his gratitude towards them can make him blind to what could make his own son happy."

The mother who had birthed him, the one he had often called Mummy, is at best a faded memory now. He called Eleanor Mamá almost a year after she'd married his father, because he finally felt ready and because it suited her. That evening, he understood his Mamá's underlying message.

I will always support you. But until we can figure out a way, you must be careful.

And so he will be. Both Damien and he will try their darnedest not to be too obvious about their love for each other...and Leo will continue to work harder on his lessons.

Smiling, Mamá changes the subject. "Liam's very upset we won't let him have shrimp saganaki."

Leo bursts out laughing. "He's had it so many times already!"

She shrugs. "Oh no, not that way. He's demanding the "Leo and Damien special". Ouzo and all. I suspect the baby of our family wants to be seen as a baby no more."

He rolls his eyes. "He's going to be really disappointed. It's not going to be that different from regular saganaki. Just makes it taste a little bit more like anise."

If that isn't a fitting symbol of what adolescence feels like when you come out of your big impractical dreams of what adolescence might be, Eleanor doesn't know what is. It is a lesson they all learned the hard way, only to see their children struggle with it too. They can only sit back, knowing that nothing they can say will change the kids' minds.

Leo at age 14 is already bored of his teenage years and raising his eyes towards the glamour of adulthood. Liam at age 8 has a far too rosy picture of adolescence, and envies his brother for being the whole-body-manifestation of everything he now wants but knows he needs to wait to have.

And while Eleanor will be forever grateful Liam has inherited her vast capacity for patience and not his father's, she is also aware that that patience is beginning to wear thin.

Leo may be too focused on his feelings for Damien to see it, but a time will come when the brother he has always considered a kid will grow before his eyes, and he will be too surprised by the change to understand, or know how to communicate. She can only hope they'll find their little ways, as they once did before.

Sighing, she passes her eldest a coin, and takes a second in her own hand.

"Ready to make a wish?"

Leo nods. Eleanor smiles. She knows already what he's going to ask.

Eleanor tosses hers into the well, watching as it makes its rapid descent down.

Whatever else changes, just make sure these two never forget how much they need each other.

Eleanor returns to the palace with her son, smiling. Between the Wishing Well and the official gardens, there are bits and pieces of a plan taking shape, a plan for a garden maze. Around it, she can see her youngest playing tag with his friends: one of whom is the youngest of their gardener, a little boy Liam seems to have taken under his wing.

Leo and his mother stop by to watch the children. Both sigh, and both realize it's for the same reason.

Liam will be thrust into his adolescent years before he even knows it. But at least they both can enjoy this sight of him enjoying his childhood completely, wholeheartedly, for what it is. If only for today.

--

Recipes:

Shrimp Saganaki

Corfoit Bianco

Horiatiko Psomi

A/N2: For Sibling Day I really wanted to do a fic that explored the dynamics of a sibling pair with a significant age gap. There is some amount of awe at older people - esp older kids- at their age, as well as a little envy and a desire to become them.

Meanings:

Kyríos/Kyría: Greek for Mr and Mrs usually.

Thisavré mou - my treasure

Ouzo - Ouzo is an anise-flavored liquor produced from grape must (the remnants of wine-making). It can only be made in Greece and Cyprus

Feta cheese - A brined, white cheese with a soft and creamy texture, often made from sheep's milk.

Navroze - Festival for Parsi New Year, often celebrated with Iranians around the world as well as other Zoroastrian communities.

Babás/Mamá - Greek for Dad and Mum.

Astéri mou - my star

[xinnamoon]

Aisha Sesame (TWST OC)

I decide to revamp my twst oc Aisha! I missed my girl so much you have no idea.

Name: Aisha Sesame

Female

Age: 16

DOB: August 5

Star sign: Leo

Height: 150 cm

Eye color: Violet Blue

Hair color: Black with blue highlights (the blue comes from her curse)

Dorm: Honorary member of Scarabia

Occupation: Kalim’s aide and bodyguard

Homeland: Scalding Sands

Dominant hand: Ambidextrous

Favorite food: Bread, just plain bread

Least favorite food: Sand and bugs

Dislike: Caves

Hobbies: Climbing and parkour

Talent: Pickpocketing

Magic: None but can physically move sand in such a way that it looks like magic (an old thief trick her father taught her)

Bio:

With her father being the leader of a gang of 40 thieves, Aisha was literally born to be a thief. However, after trying to steal from a Djinn, Aisha’s father unintentionally cursed his daughter who must obey any order of anyone who holds the lamp connected to her soul. Because of this, Aisha had to learn to twist words of the command for her own safety, and keeps the cursed lamp on her body at all time so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. One day, the gang of thieves attempted to rob the Al-Asim family, but underestimated the security, leading to Aisha taking the fall for her father. To save her life, Aisha’s father allowed the Al-Asim to take in Aisha and use her skills to protect their son Kalim. Ever since then, Aisha has been Kalim’s personal guard, although Kalim assumes that Aisha is just a good friend who hangs around and not the deadly silent guard that protects him from the shadows. 

Relations:

Kalim: 

Kalim adores Aisha as she is one of his closest friends growing up. However, unbeknownst to Kalim, Aisha is actually his bodyguard who stick close to him to keep him protected. The Al-Asim decided to keep Aisha’s role a secret to Kalim so that if one day she dies protecting Kalim, he wouldn’t be grief stricken for thinking he caused her to die. He still doesn’t know that the shadowy bodyguard is Aisha, but he admires her anyways. (Jamil, on the other hand, knows and plan to keep Aisha’s secret for Kalim’s safety and for Jamil’s own personal gain.) 

Jamil:

These two have a complicated relationship as Jamil lives for Kalim while Aisha would die for Kalim, leading to their opposing view on life despite both being children of the shadow. Jamil try not to stand out to much, sticking to playing it safe. Aisha on the other hand, lives life to the fullest since one day she can die at any moment. Since Aisha is already cursed, she cannot be swayed by Jamil’s unique magic, much to his frustration. Jamil understands how skillful Aisha is and hates her wasted potential, causing him to want to monopolize her to let her finally shine (aka Jamil has an unknown dumb crush on her and don’t know how to deal with it so he just thinks he wants her by his side forever as a scheming thing and not a romantic thing).

Speed round time:

She gets along with the other first years and likes the shenanigan they get up to as it makes her feel just a bit normal.

Aisha and Ruggie are street rat buddies and get along due to the shared poverty background which lead to them serving a rich boy. 

 Riddle is often annoyed with her as she always finds way to break the rules, intentional or not. 

Azul doesn’t like her but does begrudging admit he is impressive with her skills to twist his words and find loopholes in his contracts that even he didn’t think of. 

Vil hates her fashion as its literally clothes she gotten out of the dumpster. He see Aisha as a diamond in the rough as she would be so beautiful if she actually worked on herself.

Floyd’s nickname for her is “Sea Monkey” and Rook’s nickname for her is “Mademoiselle Genie”

[fangaminghell]

So early yesterday I talked about the mermaid au with a mut( @kiroons-hyperfixtations , hope you don't mind the tag!)on discord. I wanted to share some thoughts :)

Originally I thought of Richard as a fellow merman but it was suggested to me that instead he's a monster hunter that lures Leo into a false sense of security ( again). He basically goes to convince Leo that not all humans are bad, only to turn his back on Leo ( though tbf, he never was one Leo's side), trying to kill Leo for his scales.

Blair is a former monster hunter who works with Adrienn and Arclight in protecting monsters, like merfolk.

To make things easier, merfolk have the ability to shift into more human appearances with legs. However, I think that some look more human than others. For example a merfolk can shift but might have visible fins or scales, while some do not. It makes it very hard for merfolk to even live on the surface if they ever wanted to ( you know I can see Ace being a merfolk but is able to hide it well. Though I don't think they would really want the genocide of their species? So maybe they'll still be human, idk)

Monster hunters have varying reasons for why they do what they do. It's mostly for the money that comes from selling monster parts on the market ( for example, merfolk scales), but it can also be for potential fame, believing that all monsters are evil, or it's considered a sport. Team Meteor believes that eradicating monsters/merfolk is "cleansing the earth".

Suraya and Cain are merfolk! You already know about Cain but I didn't mention Suraya.

Into some plot stuff, it's still vague but we discussed that Leo possibly gets kidnapped after he escapes team meteor. Most likely by Richard, but something happens to make it so Leo does not know it was him.

Blair pretty much helps Leo with the human world BUT when Richard comes into play, xe are threatened that they will kill Leo is Blair tries to interfere with their "relationship ' ( I can see Richard initially planning simply taking Leo's scales - which would result in Leo getting severely hurt to do so- and then dumping him back into the sea so this is kinda big). I also can see Richard saying that he won't contact team meteor about Leo, less Blair wants what xe, Adrienn and Arclight have been working so hard for to crumble down. Blair begrudgingly agree to Richard's terms, but is still actively trying to get Leo away from Richard.

Suraya and Cain friendship <3. They're also freaking the fuck out when Leo goes missing. Suraya pretty much trying to get Cain and Leo together lmao. Is Leo still on denial in this au? Probably yeah. Either that or very oblivious. Pulling an Imani.

I can see Leo being sought out for not only his scales but his magic? Maybe what makes Leo special is his connection to something greater? Not 100% sure, but there's some potential there.

Leo doesn't want to be in his situation. The only human he truly trust is Richard ( unfortunately) and everyone else he is distrustful of, even when trying to help him. He especially doesn't want to see Cal or Taka ever again( lie)

Speaking of Cal he left team meteor after letting Leo escape. He wants to find Leo to make it up to him but between Leo still being hurt and betrayed and Richard it's going to be very difficult.

Taka is miserable but what else is new

For angst reasons, I can see something happening where Leo isn't able to shift back into his merman form and his gills are covered so he literally can't breathe underwater and almost drowns. :)

I think that's everything? Oh wait, Fern joining team meteor since he can pass as a human and thinks it's safer for him to be with them than his own kind.

And yeah. Mermaid au, though I guess it more of a monster au? Whatever, it focused on mermaids. I wanna think about other characters too in this au so feel free to share ideas <3

[ducknotinarow]

"It's okay, I'll hold your hand~" ( 2k12 Leosagi - have him being a lil shit now )

| Muse interaction

Out of the four of them, Usagi had to admit Leonardo was the more skilled of his brothers so they were the best option for a second pair of eyes as they went out to the forest to gather up firewood for the night, ambush wasn't that likely but being prepared for it was the best plan of action, Leo, if a fight happened, was the best option to go with out of the four of them, even if Leo was also the last one he wanted to be left alone with.

Nothing personally against them or maybe a bit personal? The kappa just got under his skin something about Leonardo just left him unnerved he didn't dislike the feeling but the kappa just left him a little off kilter when they were together. Even now as they were walking around, he found himself so aware of where the turtle was when they would slightly bump into each other. Or how they kept trying to strike up conversations. Only for the hare to pull away or dismiss the conversations with simple answers. Busying himself by listening to thier surroundings. The hare's ears every so often would lift his long ears, trying to listen out for anything that may be trouble.

When Leo spoke not even above a whisper just to make sure nothing was around though, he found himself a little to fixed on thier voice. Gritting his teeth he just pointed out to a sizeable piling of wood, wordlessly making it clear he was telling them to pick it up now. "Since when were Ninja so chatty?"

Usagi went on to say as he kept on walking ahead of them, more making them into a pack mule since he had decided Leo could be the one to deal with picking up any firewood they came across.

"You know if you complain I'll hear it, you never know when someone will try and attack you can never let your guard drop no matter how calm it may seem to be," Usagi said lecturing the turtle as if they had no clue of the same trouble Usagi did. There wasn't anything to worry about they were in a safe area however he just couldn't afford to not worry. Where one saw a nice scenic forest path to walk along. Usagi only saw a sea of trees possible enemies could hide among and at any second jump out. His hand at the side of his katana finger twitching just ready to grab for it the very second he heard anything.

Snap!

Usagi paused again couching a little even his ears lifted as he went to set a hand onto the hilt of his sword. Only for the sound to be coming from a roaming Tokage snapping twigs around them, Usagi eyed the little lizard for a moment not daring to move from his stance not because he suspected the harmless creature but because of the one behind him, he was certien he heard a snort or something come from Leonardo. Embarrassment was setting over his shoulders he was going to turn and look at thier face he swore on it! Slowly moving to stand up tall once the Tokage continued on his own way, Usagi lifted his hand from his side to his mouth couching into it.

"We should gather a bit more it'll be cold tonight" trying to act like nothing had happened.

"It's okay, I'll hold your hand~"

And there it was once again, ignoring the way the suggestion crossed the hare's mind and the slight palpitation in his chest as he looked over his shoulder to Leonardo now. A fixed stern glare at thier suggestion before he rolled his eyes and huffed. Turning to take whatever wood they were already holding themself before walking back to thier camping site for the night. "Not a single word." Was all he utters thier way. As a tinge of red crossed over his powered white fur having been made to look like a fool in front of them of all, why did that matter so much he didn't question further he knew if any of the others saw that just now sure he'd still be annoyed at best. But around Leonardo? why was this feeling crushing him weighing down on his shoulders like this?

"If you don't move I will leave you behind kappa!" he snapped adding haste to his stride now the sooner they weren't alone anymore the better.

[fruitcoops]

hey! i love your work so much and i had an idea. what about the whole team going to pride? or maybe just the cubs or coops, but i would love to see the whole team supporting and maybe breaking out flags of their own. :)))

Happy Pride, everyone!!! It has been such a wild year, but I hope you all find comfort and joy during this month <3 I'm sending you all love and hugs (or high-fives, if you prefer), as well as positive vibes for the summer. SW credit belongs to @lumosinlove as always!

Credit to @queercanoe for the the rainbow bracelet idea <3

“This is…this is really nice,” Sirius said as they stood in line for popsicles. His face glowed with happiness and Remus squeezed his hand where it laid over his shoulder.

“Better than last year?”

He hummed in thought. “I like being here without the Cup and all the cameras. It’s just us.”

“And half the team,” Remus added.

“True,” Sirius laughed, bending down to kiss his forehead. Some of the glitter Lily had managed to sprinkle over his head and smear on his cheeks fell onto Remus’ shirt, and he brushed it off with a laugh. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. The kids are still arguing.”

Sirius glanced behind them and snorted; on the other end of the block, Leo hitched Logan higher on his back as he held Finn’s baseball cap out of reach. Talker and James had started an impromptu game of volleyball with a stray balloon, and the sight of Regulus playing peekaboo with Harry using his pride flag cape sent a burst of happy butterflies through Remus’ stomach.

“D’you think they’ve even noticed we’re gone?”

“Doubt it.”

They tapped their popsicles together in a toast and meandered back to the group—the afternoon heat toned down some of the manic energy of the morning parade, and Remus was content to just wander hand-in-hand with his fiancé for a while.

Not your fiancé for long, he reminded himself as the ice cooled his mouth. Just five more days, and then you’ll have a ring, too.

He stood on his toes, still a little sore from dancing earlier in the day, and kissed Sirius’ cheek. “What was that for?”

“Nothing. Just ‘cause I love you.”

Sirius let out a slow breath and squeezed him a little tighter around the shoulders, catching a drip of syrupy red before it slid down to his elbow. “This is the perfect day.”

“It is, isn’t it? Ooo, blue raspberry.”

“Can I have a taste?”

“Of c—” Remus was cut off by warm lips against his own, shorting out every braincell in one fell swoop. You sly little shit, he thought, smiling into the kiss as Sirius dipped him back.

They straightened up after a moment and Sirius raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s pretty good.”

“Your lips are purple.”

He licked his own half-melted popsicle before dragging Remus in for one more kiss, though both of them were almost laughing too hard for his plan to work. “There. Now we match.”

“Thanks, babes.”

“Hey!” Finn cupped his hands around his mouth, clearly giving up on retrieving his hat. “Are you done yet? I was promised popsicles!”

Remus flipped him off and pulled Sirius down by the collar of his shirt, suddenly uncaring of the stickiness making its chilly way down his forearm. It was their day to do that, after all; their day to be flamboyantly affectionate to anyone in sight, regardless of contracts and media and expectations. It was a day drenched in popsicle sugar where he could turn his soon-to-be-husband’s lips more purple than the dahlias he loved so much.

“You could’ve just said ‘no’,” Finn remarked as they rejoined the group, both a little flushed.

“As if you’ve kept your hands to yourself,” Remus teased, gesturing to the various smudges in Finn’s face paint.

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Good point.”

“I have them on occasion.” A burst of giggling caught both their attention and softness bloomed in Remus’ chest as Sirius tossed Harry a few inches into the air, making rocket ship noises. Next to him, Leo had set Logan down so he could lift Katie up and tickle her until she shrieked with joy.

“God, they’re cute,” Finn said around a mouthful of syrup-soaked ice. The look in his eyes was unmistakably fond, and Remus knew it was reflected on his own face.

“They are. The boyfriends aren’t bad, either.”

Finn snorted, then spluttered as he nearly spat out his popsicle, sending Remus into peals of laughter. “Stop it!” he complained, though the didn’t sound very upset at all. “I’m gonna get a brain freeze!”

“A brain freeze?” Sirius turned to Harry with exaggerated shock.

“Oh, no!” Harry gasped. Behind them, James stifled his smile in the side of Lily’s neck.

“It’s not lookin’ good, buddy,” Finn said with false gravity. “Popsicles are a dangerous food.”

Harry made grabby hands until Finn settled him on his hip, then took his face between two chubby hands and looked deep into his eyes. “Your lips are blue,” he proclaimed after a long moment.

“Are they?”

“Uh-huh. Tremzy’s got red lips, an’ Knutty’s got red lips, and Mama has pink lips, and Uncle Pads has purple lips.” Harry poked the side of his mouth. “You’ve gotta have purple lips, too.”

Finn raised his eyebrows at Remus over Harry’s shoulder. “Not a chance, Harzy.”

“We’re better kissers anyway,” Leo said with a grin as he sidled up and gave Finn a light peck. “Better, Pocket Pots?”

Harry stuck his tongue between his teeth in a comical imitation of Sirius’ concentration face; Remus shoulders shook as he held back his amusement. “Almonds.”

“What?”

“Almost,” Sirius corrected gently. “Not almonds. Close, though.”

“Tremzy!” Harry called. Logan looked up from Katie, who was quite happily upside down as he swung her like a clock pendulum. “You’ve gotta make Harzy’s lips purple!”

“Do I?” Logan glanced back down. “Can I set you down, ma princesse?”

“No!”

“Okay,” he laughed, hauling her over with careful steps. Finn leaned down to kiss him; over his shoulder, Leo and Harry made faces at each other.

“This is perfect,” Sirius murmured, resting his forehead against Remus’ (admittedly sweaty) hair. Remus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the stress of wedding planning roll off his back. He could be surrounded by their family in a sea of color for just a little longer—they could be there together.

“I’m proud to be with you,” he said as Regulus clambered onto Leo’s back for ‘a better view’.

It was a cheesy sentiment, but they had never shied away from romcom moments before. He felt Sirius’ soft huff of breath on his temple. “Re…”

I’ll never get tired of the way you say my name. “That’s me.”

The sigh turned to quiet laughter and a kiss. “We are such a cliché.”

“But you love it.”

“Damn right I do.” His lips were sweet and a little sticky, still; Remus wanted to drown in the feeling. “I will always be proud to be with you.”

“Uncle Pads!”

“Yes?” Sirius lifted him out of Finn’s arms with a dramatic groan. “You’re growing up too fast!”

Harry squished his cheeks, then poked the tip of his nose. “Why don’t you wear rainbows?”

Sirius frowned slightly. “I’m wearing rainbows right now.”

“But you only wear them now.”

“You want me to wear rainbows every day?” He cast a look at Remus, who half-shrugged.

“You do look good.”

“Everybody should wear rainbows all the time,” Harry declared. Down the street, a series of party poppers went off, followed by loud cheering from another group.

“Excuse me?” a timid voice asked. Remus startled slightly and turned around; a small group of teenagers was huddled by the massive balloon arch. One young man held his phone up. “Could we—uh, could we get a picture with you guys?”

“Do you want me to take it for you?” Leo offered as Finn took Harry again.

The kid’s eyes went wide, and he nodded enthusiastically. “Sure, thanks!”

“Alright, on three!” Leo squinted in the sunshine as they gathered in a semicircle. “One, two, three, smile!”

“Could we get one with you, too?” one of the girls asked when he lowered the camera.

Sirius took the camera as they shuffled around and swapped positions, crowding close to the rainbow balloons while Harry played with Remus’ colorful suspenders. “Ready? Say cheese!”

“Cheese!” they chorused.

“I got a couple, just in case.” He handed the phone back to the first boy with a smile. “Are you guys having a good time?”

“Yeah, this is amazing,” he answered, a little breathless. “It’s—this is so cool. Thanks again.”

“Pas de problem.”

Remus glanced over just in time to see the girl bump her own rainbow bracelet with Leo’s; both of them were grinning broadly. “Have fun today, okay?” he said, giving the shortest of the group a high five. A jumble of goodbyes answered before they hurried back into the crowd, whispering among themselves while their pins flashed in the sun.

“They were cute,” Sirius said, watching them go with an indecipherable look. “Feels good to know it meant something, y’know?”

“It always does,” Remus agreed, snuggling against his side despite the heat. “I wish—”

Sirius looked down at him when he faltered; Harry yawned so wide his eyes closed. “What?”

“I wish we had this when we were kids.”

Regulus and Leo tumbled out of the rapidly-growing crowd, bickering over who got which part of the cotton candy, while Kasey stood as still as he could so Natalie could finish the small bi flag on his cheek. Sirius’ whole face lit up as he watched them. “It’s even better now.”

Remus watched the second wave of the parade build around them—people of every shape and size were decked out in a whole spectrum of colors, turning the street into a living rainbow in the afternoon sun. He tucked his hand into Sirius’ back pocket and laced their free hands together, listening to his heartbeat under his cheek. “This is the best thing we’ve ever done.”

“Coming to Pride?”

“No.” He held their hands up, and Sirius’ ring caught the light. “This.”

[lumosinlove]

It’s the Olympic break and the boys are taking a little vacation. Leo gets a spicy present in the morning, and then it’s Finn’s planned Leo-day around NYC, plus a promise from Logan.

Happy 20th birthday, Knutty!

Leo was sure that he always had some sort of checklist running in his head. He liked waking up and going through the day before it happened.

Leo woke up in Finn’s childhood bedroom on his twentieth birthday. There was the smell of coffee coming from just down the hall, and New York City was getting a fine dusting of snow outside. Most of the time, Leo was the first one awake—not to mention a few times in the middle of the night. He liked laying there with his eyes closed and listening to Finn and Logan breathing. Finn had rolled away in the night, but Logan was plastered against his side, breath warm against his neck.

“You’re awake?” Leo whispered softly to him.

“Because you’re awake,” Logan replied, accent heavy with sleep.

That was another thing. Logan seemed to have a sense for Leo’s irregular sleeping habits.

“How’d you know?”

Logan pressed a gentle kiss to Leo’s neck. “How’d you know?”

That made Leo smile a little. “Your breathing.”

“Mhm,” Logan said, and hooked his thigh higher across Leo’s hips. Leo reached down to drum his fingers lightly over the muscle.

“Happy Birthday,” Logan murmured the phrase into a kiss against Leo’s mouth this time.

“Thanks,” Leo smiled.

Finn made a noise in his sleep, and Leo felt them both turn to look at his bare back, but he didn’t stir any more.

Logan sighed, pressing closer to Leo’s chest.

“Where should we go for breakfast?” Leo whispered. “I was doing some research.”

Logan’s laugh was his soft morning one. “Of course you were.”

“I’m just thinking,” Leo said. “Hey, did you see the snow outside?”

Logan’s palm had started trailing warmly down his chest about half way through Leo’s thought process, and it was resting low on his stomach now.

“Oh?” Leo asked softly, his previous next words dying in his throat at Logan’s touch.

“Settle down, Peanut,” Logan whispered into the skin. “It’s your birthday.”

Then, he was disappearing beneath the blankets.

“Lo,” Leo let his eyes slip closed, a soft smile on his face.

Logan began to kiss his thighs first, tugging Leo’s underwear off and away. Leo bent his knees to help, trying not to kick Logan where he couldn’t see. Logan just used it as an opportunity to wrap his arms around them, pulling them close around his shoulders. Leo could feel the soft tickle of his hair as Logan’s mouth trailed along. He could feel himself filling quickly and settled into it, head dropping back on the pillows. He couldn’t see Logan, and so each touch was a surprise. It amplified the feeling, the sudden jolt of Logan’s lips brushing the head of his dick, just beginning to peak out of his foreskin.

Leo could hear his own breathing getting louder, too, and looked up to make sure the door was closed. Finn’s family was out there. He reached beneath the blankets to tangle his fingers into Logan’s hair, running a thumb along his temple. He heard Logan hum at the contact, and then felt his hot tongue dip around the tip of his dick, gathering the wetness dewing there. Leo pressed his calves into Logan’s sides.

The checklist was going askew. There was just Logan, and Finn’s stirring weight beside them. Seeming to have sensed their motion, Finn turned onto his back, cracking an eye open to glance at the blankets tented by Leo’s knees, and the absence of Logan from the other pillow.

“Huh,” Finn said as he squeezed his eyes shut and stretched his entire body. Leo laughed breathlessly when he heard a few loud pops in his back. Finn blinked his eyes open when he was done and smiled, rolling onto his side towards Leo. “Nice.”

Leo just parted his lips a little for Finn’s gentle kiss.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” Finn said softly into Leo’s mouth.

“Very,” Leo sighed. “Very happy.”

“Morning, Tremblay,” Finn said, peaking beneath the blankets and laughing as he reached to run a hand through Logan’s hair. “Hi.”

Logan just kissed Finn’s palm before returning his attention to Leo.

Finn drew the blankets back, hand still in Logan’s hair, and leaned in to kiss Leo again. “I have so many plans for us today. I’m gonna take you to the best spots, you’re going to love it so much. A Knutty-curated day.”

Leo looked down to see Logan mouthing at his hip bone. “This seems like a good start, then.”

Logan’s mouth became a warm heat around him as Finn kissed him leisurely. Finn’s hand cupped where Logan couldn’t reach. Leo loved this. The weight of sleep still lingering, making everything sharper. Finn kept saying soft I love yous, which Logan echoed in low hums that made him twitch. They brought him off slow and easy, Finn kisses growing more sloppy, the way he knew Leo liked, as he arched into Logan’s mouth.

Leo smiled, breathing hard as Finn bit gently at his bottom lip.

Logan pushed his way up his chest, pressing a kiss just above his collar bone. His hair was a mess from sleeping and the static and heat that being beneath the blankets brought. His cheeks were flushed and he was hard in his underwear, like Finn.

“Happy Birthday,” Logan laughed, and kissed Leo’s cheek.

“Well, yeah,” Leo wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist. “Fuck, Lo.”

Finn ran his hand through Leo’s hair and cocked an eyebrow in question. “Anything you want.”

Leo stretched, sleepy again and sated beneath Logan’s weight. “Just let me see you two. But don’t go too far away,” He pulled them closer towards each of his sides.

Logan hummed and tucked his face up against Leo’s neck as he pushed his underwear down below his balls and took himself in hand.

Finn nudged his nose against Leo’s cheek, following Logan’s lead and pressing up all along Leo’s other side. Leo pushed Finn’s underwear aside so he could press his cock against the soft skin of Leo’s hip, Leo’s other hand combing through Logan’s hair. He smiled, eyes hooded as Logan panted into his neck. They were hot against him, their thighs brushing together, hooked across Leo’s hips.

“Love you,” Leo said, and was answered by a kiss to his neck and a nip to his jaw.

Logan spilled first, and Finn followed, tensing and his breath stuttering like it always did. Logan buried his noises in Leo’s skin.

“Fuck,” Leo breathed as he watched the white paint his skin.

Finn moaned lowly and pressed a burst off kisses to Leo’s cheek, making him smile.

“Leo,” Logan said, but it sounded like he was just sighing his name. He pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at Leo and Finn, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Well, good morning.”

Finn threw the tissue he had used to clean them up in the direction of the garbage and laughed. “I have so much planned for today.”

Logan huffed back onto Leo’s chest. “Can we have coffee first?”

“Oh,” Finn said. “Can we ever,” and then threw himself on top of Logan, Leo laughing beneath their weight.

“You boys gonna watch USA against Canada today at three?” Haley O’Hara asked as she sipped her coffee and watched them put their coats on. “Pretty good game to have on your birthday.”

“We can’t miss Alex,” Leo said. “And Kasey, with their Olympics debuts.”

“But we have plans first,” Finn said. “We’re going to my favorite place. Which will be Leo’s favorite place.”

“Ah,” Haley smiled. “I know where that is. Have fun, Leo.”

Leo smiled. “I’m sure I will.”

“Where are we going for breakfast?” Logan asked.

“You’ll see, you’ll see,” Finn said, pulling Logan’s hat down over his eyes. “Man, you without your coffee…”

Leo laughed. “Yeah, Harz, and I thought you were bad.” He righted Logan’s hat for him, and kissed him softly.

Haley was smiling at him when he looked up. “You boys have fun. And Happy Birthday again, Leo.”

New York was cold, but Leo didn’t mind. They huddled together as they walked, Logan jokingly running every once in a while as if to keep up with Leo. Finn took them to a bakery with tall, heavy doors, but hustled them to a table without letting them look at what was offered too much.

Logan leaned back in his chair and hooked his ankles around Leo’s beneath the table while they waited.

“You’re—très beau.”

Leo rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning his chin in his hand and looking at the way Logan’s white beanie made his eyes brighter. If anyone was beautiful…

Logan mirrored his position, smile teasing. “Maybe I’ll take you to Nice this summer. No one knows us there. I’ll give you the best wine, and we can swim in the sea, and I’ll watch you read your books with our feet in the sand.”

Leo tilted his head, listening and loving.

Logan smiled, like he could tell. “And we’ll walk through all the markets…”

Leo nodded. “I want that. But not because it’s my birthday. Just because I want to be there with you.”

Logan was perfect in the snow, but Leo was dying to see him in a small, French village.

“Love you,” Logan said softly.

“Love you, sweetheart. Do you know what he’s up to?” Leo flit his eyes to Finn, who looked like he was charming the socks off of the girl and boy working the register. Something smelled incredible, like chocolate and bread.

“Not a clue,” Logan said, then laughed. “He hasn’t trusted me with secret plans since I told you I loved you first.”

Leo snorted. “Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”

“I do know this place, though,” Logan smiled. “And I think I can guess what he’s bringing you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s as sweet-tooth as Harz gets.”

“Here we go,” Finn said, announcing himself. He was carrying a tray with three steaming cups on it, and three frankly giant croissants. “Okay, okay, now listen up, Lovernut.”

Leo put his arm along the back of their booth, behind Finn as he sat down. It was a gesture he’d learned quickly that he could do, even in a crowded place. “I’m listening.”

“This, darling—”

“You're so dramatic,” Logan shook his head.

“—is a pretzel croissant.”

Leo tilted his head. “What makes it pretzel?”

“Now,” Finn placed it carefully in front of Leo. “Get any visions of those big vendor pretzels out of your head. This is like—God compared to those.”

Leo and Logan glanced at each other, hiding smiles. It was as if they could just trade the one, single thought they were both thinking. We love him.

“Uh-huh, Harz,” Leo laughed. “And is that hot chocolate?”

“This is the thickest chocolate you’re ever going to have, and floating inside,” Finn slid the large cup beside the croissant. “You will find the worlds largest homemade marshmallow.”

“Why does it sound like you’re selling a car?” Logan laughed.

“It needs a speech,” Finn smiled. His cheeks were still red from the cold. “All right, most important part.”

It did smell amazing. “Yeah?”

Finn took his own croissant. “Rip,” he ripped it, “dip,” he dipped the croissant into the hot chocolate. “And…nothing rhymes, I don’t know, but it’s so good.”

Leo let his hand brush Finn’s neck as he retrieved it to take his own croissant in hand. “Lo? Is it?”

Logan, who had already torn a big piece and soaked in in chocolate, shrugged, then smiled. “Could be sweeter.”

They walked just a few blocks until Leo laughed when he recognized a large, red awning from one of Finn’s many sweatshirts.

“The Strand,” Leo smiled. “You’re always talking about this place. Aw, Harz.”

“You fucking bet I am,” Finn said. “Come on.”

They walked through the shelves slowly, starting downstairs in the fiction and history sections. Logan trailed behind, occasionally taking pictures of the two of them and smiling at his phone for a moment.

In one of the deserted, narrow rows, Finn pressed Leo carefully against a bookshelf and kissed him soundly.

“Hey, hey,” Leo heard Logan say, and pulled Leo down for one of his own.

Logan held up his phone to show a picture of Leo and Finn standing over a book with their heads tilted together. “I’m never going to be able to stop looking at this one.”

“Send it to me, Lo,” Finn said, and took the pile of books in Leo’s hands. “Come on. Let me buy you those, and then let’s go home, get warm, and watch the game. Sound okay? And I have a dinner plan for us tonight.”

Leo, honestly, felt a little choked up at just the perfect thought, and nodded quickly. “Yes. Yeah, perfect.”

The hot chocolate had good. The window shopping, too, and the books, and the pastries. But this, Finn’s chest against his back, Logan’s back against Leo’s chest while they shouted at the TV. This was all Leo wanted for his birthday.

[bbrandy2002]

A Beautiful Ending

Prologue

Pairing: Liam x MC

Book: The Royal Romance

A/N and Trigger Warning: I’ve had this one stored away in my mind for a nearly 2 years, the idea itself being based on something I’d watched a long time ago. It will only be a few chapters long. **There will be a character death in this, and it does involve a child. **  I can say though, what you think is going to happen isn’t exactly what happens, not that that makes it any better. 

Word count: 1105

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

Billowing vapors of heat and humidity rose like seas of sweltering fractals across the tarmac. The slosh of softening tar and cement could be heard as a small caravan, led by the Royal Guard in SUVs and motorcycles, drove boldly through the gates that led to the private 757 jetliner owned by the Crown.

The limo came to a complete stop with a squeal of its brakes and dulling engine, just steps away from the plane. Bastien causally departed the front passenger's side, adjusting the brim of his black woolen suit jacket, the bright yellow sun reflecting in the shaded frames of his glasses. Within only a few seconds, beads of warm sweat had already pooled at his temple and slowly crept along his hairline.

A Cordonian summer could be cruel and intense.

Pausing for just a split-second, he winced at the stiffness and throb in his knee as he took his first step -- a constant reminder of what he gave for the crown six years ago at the Costume Ball.

A constant reminder of what was always at stake.

He stepped away with an unremarkable limp to the rear of the limo and placed a firm grip on the door latch; he glanced to his left, then to his right, ensuring his men and women were in their designated positions. Confidence and precision were essential here; everyone knew their part. One wrong move, an error in judgment, or a slight mishap, could make the difference between life and an unthinkable tragedy. Nothing should ever be taken for granted.

For what they are securing inside that vehicle wasn't just royalty -- a young King and Queen of Cordonia -- but a little family, precious cargo, timeless treasures of love and devotion to one another.

A beautiful beginning.

In all of his 25 years of service, Bastien Lykel understood all too well what the King had lost: a childhood marred of its innocence, the untimely death of a beloved mother, the horrific death of an implacable father, and the plans he had prepared for his life as the spare. It was all terribly sad, really, but in the here and now, His Majesty carried on happily with the help of one woman and the two children they lovingly brought into the world. To Bastien, he would be damned if he allowed another deadly incident to take all that away from Liam.

But sometimes, those unforeseen occurrences caught up with a person — destiny and fate bowed to no one.

Nodding to the driver who stood on the opposite side of the limo from him, they simultaneously opened the doors.

Almost instantly, a powerful gust of wind swept through the vehicle, causing Riley's lustrous textured hair to become artfully messy as it hurtled wildly across her radiantly smiling face.

With knees pressed together and her grinning one-year-old son -- whose wispy blonde locks resembled the most yellowish of marigolds -- wrapped in her secure arms, the beaming Queen stepped out into the noisy haze. Her floral print sundress twisted and clashed like a dauntless flag against her thighs, and she had the presence of mind to bunch up the lower part to keep her backside from making its way onto the front pages of newspapers again.

Shifting her son higher on her hip, the Queen whirled around to see if the other half of her heart was behind her.

Across from them, the driver stepped back and lowered his head to the towering figure of the King as he made his way out of the limo. Offering a courteous wave and smile to several dozen royal watchers, all pressing themselves against a chain-length fence several yards away, calling out his name, Liam reached back inside the limo where a tiny hand clamped onto his and scooted her way across the leather seats to join him at his side. A smaller version of her mother, the five-year-old princess shot a curious glance at the boisterous crowd; she could never quite figure out why people were so interested in what her family was doing.

While staff worked diligently on loading luggage onto the plane, the family of four joined Bastien, who would follow closely behind them as they headed toward the rolling steps of the jet.

The enthusiastic crowd roared louder when they got the first glimpses of the monarchs with their small children together. Liam and Riley enjoyed a popularity that seemingly was unparallel to anything the country had ever experienced. None of which would be possible without their generosity and charismatic personalities; the press and the people clung to their comings and goings like magnets.

Liam gently tugged on his daughter's balmy hand while she sluggishly trudged alongside him. He shook his head with an amused grin, taking in her dainty curls, bouncing and bobbing with each change in the wind's direction. There's nothing quite like admiring your very own piece of artwork, whose hearty giggles or cries had the ability to break him into a withering shell of himself.

Placing his other hand on the small of Riley's back as she took the first step onto the stairs, Liam's stoic gaze turned back to acknowledge his citizens one last time with a quick wave before ascending the steps behind his wife. Thoughts of a long, exhausting work week were put behind him, and he looked forward to landing in Greece within the hour. It had been months since the family last got away together and even longer since he'd visited his brother, Leo.

As Liam's foot hit the fourth step, a thunderous commotion of sorts broke out over the blare of the jet's whirling engines. There was no time to turn and see what had caused the crowd to erupt. No time to even process whether their gasps were something nonsensical or cause for concern. It was the gentle hand that had earlier clutched his so tightly, in only the way a daughter who trusted her father's loving protection would, slipping away, that gained his attention.

He couldn't catch her -- a fact that would torment him later. It wouldn't have made much difference, but his long-held beliefs were that a daddy was supposed to be the one to catch his child, not the guard.

But this wasn't a fall or a slip.

Liam's eyes widened, a noticeable expression of worry and panic etched on his face. His Princess laid limply, motionless, outwardly void of life, in Bastien's arms. "El?" he muttered, with a shudder in his voice, before tearing her away from the clutches of his head guard and cleaving her to his breathless chest.

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

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[miawin6]

PERCY JACKSON CHARACTERS AS EVERMORE LYRICS

Percy Jackson

And if it was an open-shut case

I never would've known from that look on your face

The more that you say, the less I know

Wherever you stray, I follow

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

When we were younger, down in the park

Honey, making a lark of the misery

And we live in peace, but if someone comes at us

This time, I'm ready

And when I was shipwrecked, I thought of you

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you

Annabeth Chase

You know that my train could take you home

Anywhere else is hollow

There is happiness

Past the blood and bruise, past the curses and cries

Beyond the terror in the nightfall

Haunted by the look in my eyes

That would've loved you for a lifetime

Leave it all behind

Tell me, when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk?

When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?

I can't make it go away by making you a villain

All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness

Never be so kind, you forget to be clever

Never be so clever, you forget to be kind

Piper Mclean

I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night

Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife

As if you were a mythical thing

Like you were a trophy or a champion ring

And there was one prize I'd cheat to win

If I can't relate to you anymore

Then who am I related to?

And the skeletons in both our closets

Plotted hard to mess this up

Jason Grace

It's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass

But I felt it when I passed you

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me

But if it's all the same to you

It's the same to me

You can run, but only so far

I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

But if it's okay with you, it's okay with me

I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay

Sorry for not making you my centerfold

Were you waiting at our old spot

In the tree line, by the gold clock?

Did I leave you hanging every single day?

Were you standing in the hallway with a big cake?

Happy birthday

Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray?

A universe away

Sometimes walking out is the one thing

That will find you the right thing

Hazel Levesque

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

I sit and watch you and notice everything you do or don't do

You're so much older and wiser and I

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

Use my best colors for your portrait

Lay the table with the fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

Will you forgive my soul

When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

No more tug of war now, I just know there's more

I rewind the tape but all it does is pause

On the very moment all was lost

If our love died young, I can't bear witness

And it's been so long

Frank Zhang

And in the disbelief, I can't face reinvention

I haven't met the new me yet

Fatefully

I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me

If the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go

Never be so polite, you forget your power

Never wield such power, you forget to be polite

I should've asked you questions

I should've asked you how to be

Asked you to write it down for me

All your closets of backlogged dreams

And how you left them all to me

Leo Valdez

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own

To leave the warmest bed I've ever known

We could call it even

Even though I'm leavin'

There'll be happiness after me

But there was happiness because of me

Both of these things I believe

There is happiness

After giving you the best I had

Tell me what to give after that

I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows

And now I'm covered in you

I'd live and die for moments that we stole

On begged and borrowed time

And you know in your soul

When it's time to go

Nico di Angelo

I'm begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans, that's my man

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

They count me out time and time again

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea

'Cause you know it could never be

My mind turns your life into folklore

There'll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you

Both of these things can be true

And you passed right by

I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides

Long story short, it was the wrong guy

Now I'm all about you

Actually

I always felt I must look better in the rear view

And he's passing by

Rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

And he feels like home

Long story short, it was a bad time

Long story short, I survived

And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

This pain wouldn't be for evermore

When the words of a sister come back in whispers

That prove she was not in fact what she seemed

Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano

You had a speech, you're speechless

Love slipped beyond your reaches

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky

Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

But what would you do if I, I

Break free and leave us in ruins

Took this dagger in me and removed it

Gain the weight of you then lose it

Believe me, I could do it

This place is the same as it ever was

But you don't like it that way

It's never too late

To come back to my side

Yes, I got your letter

Yes, I'm doing better

I know that it's over

I don't need your closure

I know I'm just a wrinkle in your new life

Staying friends would iron it out so nice

Guilty, guilty reaching out across the sea

That you put between you and me

Right where you left me

You left me no, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Fourteen

We’re here. The final chapter. Y’all. I’m gonna cry.

@lumosinlove thanks for these characters!!

@donttouchmycarrots thanks for being my partner in crime during this whole mess of a story <3

And thank you, lovely readers!! For sticking with me for this crazy rollercoaster of a story, for encouraging me when I felt like quitting, and for always being so, so wonderful. I appreciate y’all more than I can say.

CW: prison, food, anxiety

Clandestine Masterlist

.

The drive back was silent, punctuated sharply by the two empty seats in the van. It was something they should’ve seen coming, but yet were completely blindsided by. Sirius had been on their side for so long now, it seemed odd to picture him anywhere else. It was like he’d been there for years already, fitting in seamlessly and making friends fast, filling a gap that hadn’t been obvious before but felt like a chasm now. He belonged in Gryffindor with them. And Regulus, while more reserved and distant than his brother, didn’t seem to deserve the fate he’d found. The main motive that kickstarted this whole mission had been him – all for him – and he still couldn’t avoid being dragged down with the Snakes.

Remus was on the phone with a contact from the FBI – he had been since they’d taken Sirius away – trying his hardest to find any loopholes he could. He was… actually strangely calm. Methodically tackling one idea after the next, his analytic brain working overtime. Logan could understand, though. Being productive was helpful. It was when things settled down and got quiet, when all you could do was sit there and wait…

That was when things got tough.

His leg bounced up and down in anticipation the closer they got to the cabin, his one-track mind stuck on one thing and one thing only – getting a blond safe-cracker into his arms again. Not having Leo with them had been like missing a limb, making everything feel out of balance. And even thought he was safe, he was still too far away. Logan couldn’t stand it.

Finn reached over and placed a hand on Logan’s with a knowing smile. He was ready to be home, too.

Gravel crunching under their tires only fueled the eagerness. There were lights still on in the cabin, a warm, inviting pull. The front door was open before the cars had pulled to a complete stop, revealing Leo and Hope and Lyall. Julian was presumably asleep, given the hour. Logan’s seatbelt was thrown off and the door closest to him was yanked open, Finn hot on his heels.

Leo bounded down the steps of the porch and flung himself at the two of them, finding every inch of space between them and filling it, a soft sound escaping from his lips as he held on tight in a one-armed grip. Logan and Finn both stumbled back a few steps at the impact but quickly returned the embrace, Logan’s face buried in the junction between neck and shoulder and Finn’s forehead pressed against the blond’s. They seemed to take their next breaths in tandem, slow and steady, as they leaned into each other. Time slowed, everything in the periphery faded, and the world, previously off-kilter, evened out in equilibrium.

Finn suddenly realized he felt the coarse, scratchy texture of Leo’s sling pressed up against him and pulled back a little. “Careful, baby.”

That made Leo pull back. “Why?” He glanced over them nervously. “Are you hurt?”

Logan sighed long-sufferingly and cupped Leo’s face in his hands, looking him in the eyes with a fond expression that belied his exasperation. “No, but you are,” he moved his hands to smush Leo’s cheeks, causing Finn to laugh, “so take it easy.”

Leo smiled – a real one this time, not one of the fake ones he’d given them before they left – and relaxed. After a quick kiss from Logan he asked, “So it went well? Mission’s done?”

Logan and Finn both froze at that. Finn looked over to Remus, who was still on the phone (like he had been for the past hour at least) and frowned.

“Not quite.”

“We can talk inside,” Leo said, looking worried again. “there’s lots of food for y’all.”

He wasn’t wrong. Food covered pretty much every open surface of the countertops, ranging from pancakes to grilled cheese to the cinnamon swirl muffins Leo brought to their first briefing all those months ago. Finn smiled at the memories and instantly snagged one on their way to the kitchen table. His eyes landed on Talker, who was explaining something to Hope as she took a look at his leg. Nat, Kasey, and Alex were piled onto one couch, looking tired and each with a grilled cheese sandwich in hand. He could see Remus on the porch every once in a while when he passed by a window as he paced, phone pressed to his ear.

It didn’t bode well.

Logan sat down with a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and started telling the story, voice a quiet murmur and only interrupted when he shoveled food into his mouth. Finn wondered how none of them had really seen this coming. In hindsight, it made sense that there would need to be a trial – after all, Sirius and his brother weren’t innocent. Finn wasn’t sure what happened next, though. Criminal trials and sentencing weren’t part of the job for them. He hoped they could get the brothers out of this mess, though. If anyone could find a way to do it, it would be Remus.

At least the Snakes were done for. The information on the flash drives was enough to lock them away for a very, very long time.

He took a bite of his muffin, no longer really hungry, and listened to Logan talk.

***

Remus sat down on the porch swing, tired and stressed and not at all ready to quit. He listened to Alice, his only contact in the FBI, rattle off some statistics that he couldn’t even begin to understand. And he wasn’t trying to be rude – that really wasn’t his intent – but he needed to act quickly about this. So he grimaced and cut her off. “Can we get them placed in another prison? Or even in solitary until we can figure something out? If the Snakes can get to them…”

Well. Remus didn’t think they’d show much mercy to the two people mainly responsible for putting them in jail.

Alice sighed, the sound of her rummaging around in her desk filtering through the phone. “We can try. Since they did help you guys, we should be able to swing it. If something jeopardizes their lives, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Remus’ heart twisted – a deep, chronic ache under his ribcage that refused to let up. “Do it fast. I’m going to start reaching out to lawyers.”

“Lupin, it’s four in the morning.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. “Thanks for all the help, Alice.”

He hung up, then braced his forearms on his knees, hands gripping his hair, and breathed.

If there was one thing Remus Lupin was good at, it was planning. It was his job, and a big part of the reason he’d switched from field work in the first place. He relied on structure to get through his days, needed the stability in order to function.

There was none of that.

This was being adrift at sea, constantly assaulted by the waves and the current without rescue in sight.

And Remus had no idea what to do.

His phone pinged, catching his attention. A text from Alice flashed across the screen.

I’ve got a friend who’s a lawyer, and she’s a damn good one. I know you’ll want to do your research on her yourself, but I can vouch for her too. Here’s her contact if you want to reach out.

The contact number and email were listed under the name Dorcas Meadowes.

***

Dorcas Meadowes was, to put it simply, awe-inspiring.

Black curls, a dark complexion, and a serious, no-funny-business expression on her face. Her office was neat and organized, a few pictures around the place of her and a blonde girl with a wide grin and freckles. There was a small pride flag on her desk. Without a word, she motioned for Remus to sit, cool and composed and ready to get to work.

That was all it took for Remus to instantly respect her.

“So I’ve heard some of the story from Alice, but I’ll need you to start at the very beginning. Don’t leave out any details, tell me everything.”

Remus did, settling into the chair and getting comfy. It was a long story, after all. When he was done he looked back up at Dorcas, whose face was expressionless except for a single, raised eyebrow.

“That’s…” she trailed off with a low whistle.

“Yeah.”

“Well, the good news is that, if we’ve got enough evidence to back your story up, we can reduce his sentence by a lot, maybe even get him released.”

Remus sagged back into the chair, relief taking over and wiping out the tension radiating through his muscles. “Great.”

He’d known, logically, that they’d be able to reduce his sentence. With all the work he put into taking the Snakes down, there was no way they’d give him a full sentence. But getting him out of there for good…

Remus had never wanted anything so much in his life.

Dorcas leaned forward, powering her laptop on. “We’ll go visit him in the next few days and tell him what’s going on, but first we need a plan. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

***

Sirius hated this.

He was bored, he was tired, and – more than anything – he was lonely.

In Gryffindor, he’d become so accustomed to always having at least someone with him at all times. It was usually Remus, but he’d also grown close to most of the team. And it was nice at the time – god, did he miss it. But it was painful now. He’d witnessed what his life could be like, happy and surrounded by friends and possibly in love, and now he was back to the way his life used to be. Alone and on the wrong side of the law.

He hadn’t seen Reg since they’d been escorted into isolation for their own safety. Which don’t get him wrong – he was grateful for it. Knowing Riddle, they wouldn’t have survived the night if they were all being held together. But it was too quiet now.

The door to his cell rattled and Sirius looked up sharply. A guard was standing there, unlocking his door and opening it.

“Come with me,” the guard said, sounding bored as he opened the door further and held out a pair of handcuffs. Sirius looked at him hesitantly, not moving an inch. The guard rolled his eyes. “You have visitors.”

Sirius perked up at that, the only thought running through his head being Remus. He knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t going to take this sitting down. He’d be fighting to get Sirius free, no doubt about it. He wasn’t sure who else would be visiting him, anyways – if someone was here, it was sure to be Remus.

So Sirius got up and held his wrists out to be cuffed, then watched as the officer pointed down the hall.

“This way.”

It took all the self-control Sirius had to not run, to slowly put one foot in front of the other until he finally reached his destination. The guard moved around him to open the door and then Sirius was moving again.

He spotted caramel curls as soon as the door opened to the visitation room and felt his shoulders sag with relief. “Remus.”

Worried brown eyes followed him as he crossed the room quickly to sit in front of him, separated by a thick wall of glass. The movies weren’t lying, apparently. But it was so good to see him that Sirius didn’t care.

Remus looked tired. Unfortunately, that didn’t surprise Sirius at all. He knew the tendency to overwork all too well at this point. More than anything, it made Sirius want to get out of there, to wrap him up in his arms and let him take a nap there, to make sure he was taking care of himself. He settled for giving him a stern look instead.

“You need to get some sleep.”

Sirius expected a sharp, witty retort. Some sass, a comeback of some kind. Instead, Remus did the unthinkable and just smiled. “I missed you.”

Sirius sighed, softening at the gentle admission. He’d missed Remus too, of course. More than he could really put into words, and it had barely been a day. The smell of his shampoo, the quiet, reassuring presence of him by Sirius’ side, those eyes that just seemed to see right through him and know even the things Sirius tried to keep hidden. He found he didn’t mind it too much - not when it was Remus.

“I missed you,” he echoed in agreement, refusing to look away until someone cleared their throat loudly. Sirius looked over to a woman sitting next to Remus, looking unimpressed. Sirius hadn’t even known she was there, as wrapped up in Remus as he was.

Remus, to Sirius’ endless delight, blushed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Remus blush before. It was cuter than it had any right to be. “Um, Sirius this is Dorcas. She’ll be representing you in court.”

Right.

He had to go on trial.

Dorcas took over from there. “We think, with the evidence we have, that we can get the charges reduced, maybe dropped if we’re lucky. If you can think of any evidence we don’t know about, we can use that to strengthen your case, too.”

Sirius nodded, relieved. That sounded better than he thought he’d get, to be honest. “What about Reg?” he asked, looking between the two.

Dorcas was very hard to read, Sirius realized. And Remus looked confident… until he looked over at the lawyer. Then his expression flickered.

And Sirius’ heart sank.

“That’s a bit trickier,” Dorcas stated slowly, treading carefully. “The thing is, he never tried to get out. He stayed with the Snakes. And I know it’s not easy to get out of situations like that,” she rushed to continue when she saw the look on Sirius’ face, “but the fact still stands. And he didn’t do as much to help take the Snakes down, not like you did. We can probably reduce his sentence, but he’ll be in prison longer than you. I don’t think we can fix that.”

Sirius felt himself being torn in two different directions. He wanted to be free, to be able to live his life again. Maybe make a home in Gryffindor (or maybe move in permanently with a certain spy), get a job as a consultant. He’d make sure the poor houseplant in Remus’ apartment survived, the poor thing, and he’d keep Remus’ favorite tea stocked in the cupboard. He’d be able to relax for – well, the first time in a very long time.

But his brother.

He was the main reason Sirius got out in the first place. The reason he ended up in Gryffindor, this entire mission was for him. To get him out, to make sure he was safe.

What was the point, if he was stuck in jail while Sirius got to walk free?

He could practically hear his brother telling him how stupid he was being in that dry voice of his, but he pushed the thought away. He’d made up his mind, and it was practically impossible to sway him when that happened.

Sweet, caramel eyes might test him, though.

Sirius looked up at Remus guiltily, dreading the response he was going to get. But yet again, Remus took him by surprise and smiled sadly.

“I understand.”

Those words hit Sirius like a freight train. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes stinging and throat getting tight. “I’m sorry.”

Remus just shook his head. “Don’t be.”

Sirius loved him.

Remus glanced over at a confused Dorcas. “He can’t leave his brother. Whatever sentence Reg gets, Sirius wants to do the same.”

She was silent for a long time, looking back and forth between the two of them. Then she sighed, seeming resolute. “Well then we’d better get those charges as low as we can.”

***

Four Weeks Later

.

Leo found Remus in the courthouse hallway during the trial recess before they were supposed to reconvene for the sentencing, looking seconds away from pacing from one side of the building to the other. The past few weeks had been hard on all of them. Between coming to terms with everything that had happened in the recent months, to trying to figure out the evidence they needed to bring forward to try and get the charges dropped against both Sirius and Regulus, to the strange feeling in the Agency brought forth by Sirius’ absence, it had been weird for all of them. Remus had been hit the hardest by all of it, though – and understandably so. That didn’t make it any easier to watch, though.

He’d been running himself to the bone the past four weeks, going above and beyond to make sure everything was in order for the trial. He looked ready to drop, if Leo was being honest.

But he understood. If it were Logan or Finn in Sirius’ place… well. He’d already figured out just how far he’d go for them.

He put a hand on Remus’ arm, trying to be as calming as possible. “You’re going to be ok,” he said carefully, choosing his words meticulously. He didn’t want to be cold, but he didn’t want to get Remus’ hopes up only for them to be dashed.

Carmel eyes met his own, and Leo sighed at the stress he saw there. He looked tired – so tired.

“What do you need?” Leo asked quietly, hoping for some sort of guidance on how to help him, how to get that look off of his face.

Remus just laughed under his breath, a sad sound. “There’s a lot of things I need.” He shuffled on his feet, gathering his sleeves in his hands. “But a hug would be a good start.”

Not hesitating, Leo gathered him into a hug, the stretch pulling at the scar tissue in his shoulder that was finally free of a sling. Remus was tense and still for a while, then relaxed into it. Leo wished he could do more, wished he could make any sort of difference in this situation. But everything was so far out of their control now; the only thing left to do was wait.

“Whatever happens, we’re here for both of you. You’re not alone in this.”

Remus stepped away with a fake attempt at a smile. “Yeah.”

There was a visual cue that neither of them seemed to catch and people started filtering back into the courtroom, making Remus’ face grow paler and more pinched. Leo stuck by his side as they walked back inside, trying to ignore the soft sound Remus made when he saw Sirius again – all the way in the front, in a jumpsuit that looked too big for him, hair longer and eyes a little duller than they remembered, fidgeting with something in his cuffed hands. Regulus was next to him, head down and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Leo just stuck to Remus’ side as they squeezed into the row of chairs with the rest of the Agency, making sure Remus was right in the middle, surrounded by so many of the people who cared about him most. Finn and Logan sat down next to him with grim smiles.

Leo reached over to tangle his fingers with Finn’s, feeling him squeeze back gently. The bruises were completely gone from his face, and he was walking limp-free now. He dropped his head onto Logan’s shoulder, having to angle his shoulders down to rest somewhat comfortably against the shorter man.

Leo would never get over the height difference.

“I’m taking a nap when we get home. This is so stressful, oh my god.” Finn sighed, making Leo smile.

Home.

That was still somewhat new for the three of them. After a few days back in their separate apartments in Gryffindor, they’d realized how incredibly codependent they’d become during their mission. Leo would find himself staring up at the ceiling most nights, worrying about the other two, until he’d get a phone call from one of them and they’d end up driving to each other and collapsing in bed together, squished together just like those hotel rooms they’d shared. And it had gotten to the point where there wasn’t any point living in different apartments when they ended up together most nights anyways, so Leo and Logan had packed up their things and moved in with Finn. He had the largest bed, anyways.

So yeah. They lived together now. And Leo was ridiculously pleased about it.

They were taking that vacation in a few weeks, too – the one Finn had first brought up in the back of a getaway car, tears in his eyes and blood on his hands. Somewhere warm, just like he’d promised. He’d get to watch Logan tan and Finn turn red like a lobster, only to go straight back to pale. They’d get some time to relax and not stress about work – just themselves and the vast expanse of beach and water in front of them.

Leo couldn’t wait.

“We’ll take that nap together.” Logan answered Finn quietly, turning his head to meet Leo’s eyes as he pressed an affectionate kiss to Finn’s head. Leo smiled at him, the sense of one chapter ending and the next beginning washing over him.

Whatever came their way, they’d be ok. They’d proven that already.

The crowd hushed as the judge sat back down, face impassive.

“We have reviewed the evidence and testaments brought forward in defense of Sirius and Regulus Black.” He started, looking down at the two in question critically as everyone in the courtroom seemed to hold their breath.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that they committed crimes while with the organization,” the judge stated firmly, then continued, “Regulus and Sirius Black are hereby sentenced to one year in prison.”

The gavel slammed.

Remus sat there in quiet disbelief.

They’d done… everything. They’d worked so hard for the past month in attempts to let Sirius and Regulus’ sentences reduced – and that was technically a reduced sentence – but it was still more than any of them had been expecting.

A year.

They hadn’t done enough.

Remus almost missed all the movement around him, too busy staring at the back of the seat directly in his line of vision, but his gaze snapped up when an achingly familiar voice called his name.

Sirius slowed to a stop as he passed Remus on his way out, eyes wide and frantic. Desperate. It broke Remus’ heart, more than it already was. “Wait for me?” He asked intently, like his sole focus was on Remus and his answer. He shoved his open palms out, revealing what he’d been fidgeting with during the entire trial. Remus looked down to find an origami flower, conveying all of Sirius’ hopes for the future within the delicate folds.

Remus wished more than anything that he could reach for him; to pull him in tight, hold him close, and refuse to let the guards take him away. He also had the half-formed plans of a jail break already in mind, even though he knew Sirius would never agree to it. It was then that his eyes locked with the gray ones he’d come to know better than his own and he knew – he knew that he’d wait, however long it took.

Remus loved him.

It wasn’t a grand revelation, it wasn’t sudden. In all honesty Remus had probably felt that way for a long time now, the truth prodding at the back of his head, nagging at his subconscious. He loved Sirius, plain and simple. Simple except for the fact that one of them was going to jail for a year. And yet, no matter how complicated it got, no matter how much time went by, it was the easiest decision Remus had ever made.

Well. If love made people crazy, Remus was certifiably insane.

He smiled a little tearfully at Sirius and nodded fiercely, picking up the paper flower delicately.

 “You know I will.”

[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.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

My Silver Screen, My Misery, My Love, My Defeat

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something with Billie Dean for so long but didn’t know where to start. This lady intimidates me. I don’t know what this fic is worth, and I’m so nervous about posting it - I know it’s not particularly nice, but it’s the most personal fic I ever wrote so please be kind. 

Title is from “Pacific Coast Highway In The Movies” by AWOLNATION. This song haunts me. x

Word count: ~ 3 000

“Dear me when will my life begin?” you sighed dramatically as you gathered your things.

“Bitch, I never want to see you again,” your boss growled, pointing an angry finger at you.

“Goodbye, asshole!” you called over your shoulder as you walked out of the room.

You had never cared about that job. You didn’t seem to be able to care about anything at all. You were so bored.

Real life lacked passion and colours. You were constantly hungry for a sense of wonderment. No emotion was worth feeling if it wasn’t extreme. You wanted to know how it felt to love so deeply you would faint in the dining room like the heroines of old, drive your car off a cliff, smash the heads of your lover’s suitors. When had the world and love become so boring?

You had come to believe you would never be able to fall in love with anyone. Fiction had ruined your life. You wanted beauty, you wanted glamour, you wanted passion and murder, tears shed under the stars, diamonds on the bed. You wanted a lover who would come down the stairs in a white silk gown with lace as the music and the lighting made love to her. Cherry pink lips and wavy hair, glitter in her eyes. How could anyone settle for less?

You walked into the bright sunlight and let the flow of pedestrians sweep you away.

**

You scanned the press room and sighed. Bored, you were so bored. Luckily the couches were comfortable, and the tea was good.

You worked for the local newspaper – nothing serious, nothing you were passionate about, but you had been struggling to make ends meet. You and another journalist were covering an annual festival celebrating “everything mystical and magical!” Bollocks, as far as you were concerned. But you loved festivals, you always had. There was something almost surreal about them, how time seemed to slow down, and space to narrow. A bubble would form, a dome, a world only a few were let in. Real life would stop for a while, and you loved that, because real life was boring.

The press secretary – Leo? Theo? who cared; he was uninteresting and badly dressed – waved at you from across the room. “She’s here,” he mouthed, meaning the medium you were to interview. You gave him a thumbs-up and sighed as soon as he turned his back to you. Notebook, pen, Dictaphone. Cup of tea - empty. Another sigh. You signaled to the old lady behind the counter at the far end of the room for another cup. She pretended not to see you.  

“Asshole,” you muttered between gritted teeth. Someone on the couch next to yours – Steve? Pete? he had introduced himself the day before, he worked for a national TV channel, you couldn’t remember which one – laughed loudly at something someone else had said.

Your attention was suddenly drawn to the door. The press secretary was ushering a group of people in: a young man wearing jeans, a girl clutching files to her chest, a woman who walked in as if she owned the place, high-heels clicking, smile flashing.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Pete (Steve?) point at her. “Man, that’s Billie Dean Howard,” he said in a breath.

“Who?” asked his companion.

“Oi, Miss Howard!” someone called – a photographer, jumping to his feet with his camera in his hands.

She glanced at him, offered him a polite smile; tilted her head on one side as she took a pose.

You gazed at her.

“Make sure the lighting is good,” she told the photographer.

The young man in jeans was buzzing around her, almost shoving a notebook into her face, muttering something about a timetable and how they were running out of time. She leaned away from him, holding out a perfectly manicured hand – pale pink acrylics, thin silver rings – to bat the notebook away. You saw her mouth twist in an annoyed kind of way, and then the press secretary nodded at you, and she turned, and her eyes met yours.

Her brow pushed up as a smug smile crept up her lips – plump, glittery beige lipstick. “Are you here for me, babydoll?” she called.

And just like that you were done for. For the stars were singing, and your heart was finally. Admiring. Entranced. Alive.

Oh thank all the freaking Gods, she had finally come.

**

You turned on the Dictaphone and grabbed your pen. Your hands were sweating.

“Ur,” you said. Billie Dean crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knee, smiling.

You had prepared for this interview, vaguely, but she had stolen all the words from you. Kidnap me, was what you wished to tell her. Ravish me. Take me away with you from this grey world and fill my mind and heart with wonderment. Make me your co-star.

“So, what do you think of the city so far?” was what came out of your mouth. You could have died of embarrassment.

Fortunately for you, Billie Dean loved to talk about herself, so you didn’t have to rack your brain for interesting questions.

You told her you had waited for her your whole life. You told her you meant it. She looked genuinely surprised, but then she smiled, a smile that seemed to suggest she had already forgiven you for that mistake. You realized that, probably, your passionate childishness was very funny to her, as were all those who had succumbed to it before you.

“The scariest spirit I’ve ever met?” She leant back on the couch, eyes staring up at the ceiling, lips curling into a smile. “I don’t get scared easily,” she quipped, and her smile turned into a smirk.

“Are you planning on staying here long?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Depends if I can find a cozy bed to sleep in and a pretty girl to smooch.”

Damn her, damn her – you were about to lean in and kiss that smug smile off her lips when the press secretary – damn him, damn him – appeared out of nowhere as in an uninspired script, squeaking “Time’s up!” as if time mattered, as if time hadn’t stopped the minute you had met Billie Dean’s eyes.

The young man in jeans pressed a cup of coffee into Billie’s hands. “Cathy’s waiting for you in the VIP room,” he said nervously. He glanced at you over the rim of his glasses. “You’re done here?”

“I – “You cleared your throat. Billie Dean was standing up, rearranging her hair, ready to leave, ready to forget already –

“You’ll have us read that article before you publish it, alright?” the young man was saying.

“Oh whatever happened to the freedom of the press,” Billie retorted. Her eyes flicked to you. “Don’t mind him.”

“I have a very cozy bed,” you heard yourself say.

For a second or two, you could have heard a pin drop.

**

Billie held your face between her hands as if you were made of porcelain, the first time she kissed you. You gazed into her eyes as if you were dreaming. “Who are you?” you whispered.

She laughed indulgently. “Don’t forget to breathe, darling.”

A breath in. She smelt of cigarette smoke and sage and something else, something like… you didn’t know. There was no word for it. She smelt like Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars.

**

Billie Dean raised a toast to you and to the sun and said she couldn’t possibly live without either of you. You scoffed, rolled your eyes at her as if that wasn’t the kindest thing anyone had ever said to you. She noticed your reddening cheeks, and let out a chuckle.

“What? It’s a sunburn,” you lied, fighting a smile.  

The midday summer sun was beating down on the Mediterranean, a soft breeze blowing and carrying the scent of the sea. You were spending the week in Monaco, a gift from Billie for your first anniversary. You closed your eyes, breathed in happily. The waiter brought your order, a bistro salad with warm goat cheese on toast for you, a slice of salmon and French fries for Billie. She flashed a smile at him, and his eyes sparkled.

“He’s in love,” you teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“With me?” Billie assumed an innocent expression. “Why, I could not possibly believe that.”

You scoffed again. She smiled, pinched a thick slice of lemon between her thumb and index.

“We should come here every summer,” she said in a singsong, drizzling lemon juice over the salmon. “I love it here.”

“Ghost-free?”

She laughed. “I wish. But you look so beautiful with that sunburn.”Her eyes glanced up at you mischievously; you cleared your throat. She smirked, put the slice of lemon on the side of her plate, dried her fingers with her napkin.

“You and I, lost in a foreign country,” she said.

“Luckily for you, I took French lessons in college.”

“Oh is that so?” Under the table, Billie rubbed her bare foot up and down your leg. “And how do you say ‘kiss me’ in French?”

You leaned towards her, beaming. Your gaze flicked to her lips. “Embrasse-moi.”

“Atta girl.”

She took your breath away, every day. You bent over the table, meeting her lips halfway, smiling into the kiss.

**

“I love you,” she whispered. Her eyes smiled. “Forever.”

You pressed the pad of your thumb against her brow. “Um, you can’t know that.”

“Know that I love you?”

“Know that it’ll last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

She pouted, shifted slightly on the bed. Your thumb slid on her skin. The light streaming through the windows splashed the walls of the hotel room yellow.

“Don’t be so mean at 8 in the morning,” she whined.

You rolled your eyes at her, planted a kiss on her lips. Her skin was hot and clammy. You nuzzled your nose in her neck, blew some air to tickle her. She raised one hand to fan herself – coral acrylics, no rings.

“Call room service,” she said, stretching lazily. “I want some ice cream.”

You snorted.“Ice cream for breakfast?”

“It’s too hot.”

You reached out for the telephone and sat up, making sure your bare breasts were exposed. “Lemon?” you asked Billie. She nodded, gaze on your chest. You made a face. “I don’t understand how you can stand the taste of lemon, it’s so sour – oh, hello. Yes, could we get some lemon ice cream, please? Ice cream, yes. Room 108. And you know what, a bottle of champagne as well. Yes.” You grinned at Billie, who, face half buried in her pillow, was laughing happily. “Thank you. Muchas gracias. Yes. Bye!”

**

“Miss Howard, please.”

“Oh babe, call me Billie.”

“A little further to the left, please Billie.”

“Who’s that with you, miss Billie?”

“Be a doll and fetch me my shawl, will you darling?”

The girl – Lucy? Lily? – nodded in awe and hurried off.

“A little further to the left, Billie.”

Someone turned on a projector. You squinted, gave Billie’s hand a squeeze.

“Miss Billie, who’s that charming young woman with you? Is she your date? Miss Billie, who’s –“

Camera flashes, everywhere. You felt Billie’s lips, feather-light, brush your ear. “Relax,” she whispered. “You look beautiful.”

All around you, you could make out dark shapes, nondescript, unimportant. Spectators of the show. Come to see her, come to see you.

“Miss Billie who’s that charming –“

“Paws off!” Billie laughed. She pulled you closer, hip bumping yours. “She’s all mine, gentlemen.”

You beamed at her, brighter than the projector. Camera flashes, everywhere. To capture the moment when Billie nipped your ear lobe and you threw back your head to laugh, one hand on her arm, in love, so in love.

**

“So what are we doing this weekend?”

You glanced up at her. “Aren’t you busy this weekend?”

Billie flashed you a smile as she sat down on the couch beside you. She laid one hand on your bare thigh, nails gently grazing. “Production’s delayed. I’m all yours.”

With a wince you removed her hand from your thigh. “I’m sweating,” you whined.

Her smile faltered, just a bit. “Aren’t you happy?”she asked. And then she relaxed and shook her head. “Oh, I’m stupid. You made other plans.”

“I’ve nothing to do at all.” You stretched and winced again. “I don’t know. I’m so bored.”

**

It happened again. And again.

You caught yourself looking at other faces in the crowd. No one held a candle to Billie Dean, you knew that. But still. You scanned the crowd.

You pretended not to notice when Billie held out a hand for you to hold.

**

The glamour was fading. The twinkle of the stars was being swallowed up by the morning light.

You had once visited a house. The wallpaper was peeling off, leaving ugly streaks of dirty grey or brown. The landlady’s nail polish was chipped.  

**

Billie’s eyes were wide and rimmed red. You had never seen her look so sad.

“Wait,” she pleaded, her fingers – pale pink acrylics, vintage ring with a red stone – closing around your wrist to hold you back. “Surely we can talk – “She tried to smile, but it looked too broken, too scared.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Billie,” you said, avoiding her gaze. You hesitated. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Her face fell. “But surely – “

“Are you here for me, babydoll?”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip and a tear rolled down her cheek, but you didn’t wipe it as you usually would. For this was how things always went. People left each other. Staying alive meant getting bored of the people you once loved. The credits roll. The movie ends.

You planted one last kiss on her lips as a sob pushed out of your throat. “Gosh but I loved you so much,” you cried. “I hadn’t been alive before you came. You taught me how to love and now I’ve died again and I’m lost without you. I’m forever lost without my love for you.”

You kept one of her scarves. It still smelt of cigarette smoke and sage and that something else – Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars.

**

Colours faded to grey. You sank back into routine. Monotonous. Soporific. Boring. So very boring.

A year ago you would have expected the world to stop turning the minute you walked out of Billie Dean’s life. It didn’t. Days followed days, a succession of yesterdays and todays and tomorrows. Life went on, mocking you.

**

The smell of salmon filled the kitchen as you dropped the thick slices onto the burning pan. You smiled as Julie – a one-night stand that somehow had become more – made an appreciative noise. She was sprawled on the sofa, watching TV lazily, muttering “Boring” every time she changed the channel.

“Boring,” – another channel, “Boring,” – another channel, “Bo – oh hello there! Y/N, look, I spot a milf!”

You looked up as the anchorman’s face twisted into a fawning smile. “I’ve got Muriel here on the phone, from Portland, Oregon. Muriel sounds pretty worried. She wants to know if ghosts stay forever as ghosts or if they ever get to find peace.”

The camera cut to his guest – coral acrylics, no rings. The salmon’s grease sizzled on the pan.

“Nice pair of legs,” Julie was saying. “Come on, cameraman, don’t be shy, show us more!”

You shushed her.

“… some of them have been dead for a very long time, I’m afraid,” Billie Dean answered with an affected nod of her head.

Your eyes were wide.

“And what about love?” the anchorman asked.

Billie quirked an eyebrow. “Love?”

“Do you think it’s eternal?”

**

“I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow!” your friend Henry moaned drunkenly. He tapped his foot on the pavement like a pouting child. “Couldn’t we buy a house on one of those hills and live here? I wanna live here. I don’t wanna live anywhere else.”

“I know,” you giggled, pulling on his arm. The night was full of lights. You hadn’t expected less from Los Angeles. You hadn’t quite been able to find the angels in the sky, though. You kept an eye out for them.

“The world isn’t fair because we’re poor.”Henry walked up to the nearest streetlight and hugged it. “I’m staying here. I’m not leaving.”

You giggled again, stretching your arms as if you were about to break into dance. The air was warm. For the past few days your heart hadn’t been quite so sad.

A car honked nearby, making you jump, and just as you were about to curse a woman shot out of the hotel on your left in a flurry of yellow and blue and nearly smashed into you – “Shit, look where you’re go – “ – brown eyes, gaze terrified, shoes in her hands, cheeks pink and – “Billie?”

She slammed back into your life like the female protagonist of a Hitchcock movie, running from danger in the moonlight with her hair disheveled and her dress billowing in the wind.

“Billie?”

You caught hold of her wrist and tried to meet her gaze. “Are you alright? What – what happened to you? Did somebody hurt you? Are you alright?” You poured questions onto her as if you couldn’t stop. Her eyes focused on you, and she ran a hand through her hair, and let out a nervous laugh.  

And just like that you were done for. For the stars were singing, and your heart was once again. Admiring. Entranced. Alive.

**

“Never again,” Billie groaned into your mouth. She was holding your head firmly between her hands, devouring you, shivering, panting. “Don’t you dare leave me ever again.”

“I love you,” you moaned. You pushed her down on the bed, eyes flashing hungry and predatory as you took in the sight of her, all flushed and ready for you. “Forever.”

And as you dived in you could almost forget the taste of that one lie.

**

“What about love?” the anchorman asked. “Do you think it’s eternal?”

Billie’s smile faltered. “I’m not sure,” she answered slowly.

“Aw, poor chick got her heart broken,” Julie mocked.

“Lemon?” you asked her.

“Uh?”

“Should I put some lemon juice on the salmon?”

“I hope so,” Billie’s voice said. “I’m not sure – but I hope so.”

[ducknotinarow]

[Rosalina 2k3 Raph - not the first time a turtle got into space :'D]

"Mh?"

Rosalina stared, quiet, nothing different there, observing this new Turtle that had found their way onto her Observatory. This wasn't the first time she had a sudden visitor, but this isn't one she had recognised from her hundreds years of travel. The Worlds always reset every hundred years, even if not the same, but this is quite different. Feet gliding above the floor, she approached the red masked stranger cautiously,

"...Welcome..." Rosalina speaks delicately, "I am Princess Rosalina, and this is my Comet Observatory..." A simple explanation, surely there will be no questions, "May I ask how you got here...?"

| Muse interaction

Shell pressed up against a wall as he was peering around the side it seemed clear good. Moving to the next hidden space, he could find quick and fast on feet as he took cover once more. Looking around once again as vision was scanning his surroundings if it weren't for the fact he had no idea how he got here in tje first place, he might take a moment to admire it. It was like je was resting among the stars themselves after all. A wide, unending, vast sea of stars nearly all over the place. If it weren't for the fact he was lost, separated from his brothers, and slightly worried because of those two facts alone. Far as he could tell, he was here by himself. Least if Leo was here, he had a better plan on where to go. Heck, maybe Donnie would be able to tell what happened or give some theory? It would be easier to focus if even Mikey was here to be the one scared and worried or distracted by pointing out the situation.

Raph just growls to himself as he looks around again. This place seemed empty? It mostly was just this tall tower in the center full of...star people? Were they people or like animals? Alien's? Watching one simply just floating in the air. They could be graud or something? That might be a bit too suspicious, a thought even for Raphael.

Sure, him being cautious was a good thing for once but he wasn't getting anywhere like this he needed to figure out where he was and fast so he can get back home! Maybe this was like the time before? So what he just waits till someone brings him back like Splinter had? This was all making him feel restless at best. Not having a single lick of information to work with her le was just getting annoying. He looks back to the star creature he saw before, he'd see a few they didn't seem hostile?

"If I get killed cause of 'his Casey gonna laugh at my grave." He groans but moves from his hiding spot at last. Waiting and being patient wasn't exactly a strong suite for him, after all. As he strolls over towards the nearest star creature. Sizing them up a moment he doesn't grab for a sai, but he keeps his arms at his sides just in case. "Hey you! I wanna talk to ...star thing?" He wasn't trying to be intimidating but he can't help the harsh tone in his voice. "Uh look im lost I guess I jus' need ta know ..where this is I guess for starters?"

He starts to ask, but it's clear from the odd sound the star makes he might not be getting answers here. He already feels defeated but tries to keep talking to this thing. It's his only lead after all till he throws his arms in the air. "Don' any one here talk normal!"

"Mh?"

Raph turns on his heels at the sound of a voice, another voice that is. A bit surpised when hos eyes land on the sight of a floating women? "I think I hit my head." The star creatures of platform in space were one thing but now flying people? Well guess he should be greatful for a maybe human? She looked humanish at least? As she floating over to him seeming more curious about him. Where Raphael was a but more suspicious of her taking a step back so the space between them was greater.

"...Welcome..."

He voice is soft, controlled even her gaze seems simply curious as well. Raph just keeps to where he is none the less. Offering a slight nod of his head. Well if she was up to anything he guessed she would be approaching like this right? Still though he can't lower his graud just in case.

"I am Princess Rosalina, and this is my Comet Observatory..."

"Observatory?" He parrots back now looking away from her to the lonely tower here. Didn't look loke the ones on his home but that must means it had a telescope right? Like thise fancy ones Don talks about?

"May I ask how you got here...?"

"Err...princess, I don't know?" Raphael states as he finally eases how he stands, rubbing at the back of his neck as he figures well she can at least talk normal so he doesn't have many other options here. So he kind of has to trust her though in truth she seemed like he could? Maybe he just has a thing for blue eyes but well she didn't seem to hold any malice in her gaze when she looked at him. He sighs and andnproperly stands up. " 'm Raphael, but 'hing is 'm not positive. I 'hink I got beamed here? Or somethin' 'ike that? Kind of iffy on the how's?" He offers to her before looking around "definitely ain' my home that's all I know Princess Rosalina." He offers to her "you called this an Observatory though? Dose 'hat mean you got a telescope? Or somethin' 'ike one?" Be his luck telescopes weren't a thing for whatever she was. "Maybe I can look at it to figure out where I am?" And how far he was from home though surrounded by stars already made him prettt sure he was to far away from home as is. He pauses a moment "Uh not ta be rude sorry jus'...I gotta get back there's people I need to return is all." His brothers and Casey. What did they think? He hopes none of them were in a situation like he was though. "Soon as I figure 'hat out I'll be outta ya hair princess."

[marichat-verse]

Mist Memories

Leo Valdez x reader for his birthday ahhhh (even though it's angsty) with a platonic/developing jason x reader cameo at the end (lmao im sorry i couldn't help myself 😭)

Based on this picture I found in pinterest + also [kinda] based on traitor by olivia rodrigo and omg i really recommend u guys listen to this edit because it reminds me so much of this fic that's been stuck in my head for MONTHS also kind of a run away with me prologue lol

Your POV

I nervously made my way across the forest until I reached a limestone cliff. I knocked on the iron door, not really expecting to get an answer.

My boyfriend has been shutting himself in Bunker 9 for the past few weeks. I stood there counting up to seven before knocking again. I knocked again two more times, until he answered in the middle of my last knock.

He removed his goggles and winced as sunlight hit his eyes. He'd grown thinner and paler, making the dark circles in his eyes more pronounced.

"Oh, Leo..." I reached out to brush a few strands of hair away from his face, but he moved away.

"What are you doing here?" He said in a monotone voice.

I moved to walk inside the Bunker, brushing off his hesitation to let me in. "I'm your partner, remember? And I'm really concerned because you're shutting yourself out lately. You know everyone's starting to worry about you. Percy asked me to check on you because you missed pegasus riding with him. Oh, and I'm pretty sure Jason's coming back from Camp Jupiter soon. I was hoping you and Annabeth could be with Piper while Percy and I hung out with Jason because it's been a little awkward since their breakup. Plus Piper wanted to tell you something—"

"Please," he said forcefully causing me to stop and look at him. "Just... Get out."

Normally, he'd shut himself from the world for a few days to work on an important project or because he was feeling really sad and he needed space. But this was getting out of hand. He had never locked me out of his life when I offered to help him. He was never this mean when he asked for space. I was not having this attitude of his.

"Okay, Leo. I tried to play nice. What is so important that you blow off all your friends for nearly a month that you can't even tell your partner, or maybe say hi to your best friend who's coming back from the other side of the country?"

He didn't say anything. He pursed his lips and avoided eye contact. I scanned he room for any signs.

It was messier than usual with all the crumpled paper scattered on the floor, especially on his desk. He could have been drawing up new plans. Something in my gut told me that something wasn't right. There were no new unfinished projects, indicating that he wasn't starting a new invention. Harley's helicopter lay on his bench in the same state it was weeks ago. Huh, not even his siblings could enter the Bunker.

I turned and Leo was already changing Festus' oil. I took this moment of distraction to pick up a few pieces of crumpled paper on the floor and on his desk. I had to process the words a bit longer—too long that Leo took notice. Damn dyslexia.

I heard footsteps speed up behind me, but it was too late. I read enough and got the gist of what he had been trying to do these past few weeks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled at me. Small embers started to erupt between his curls.

I laughed dryly. "So this is what you've been up to?"

His fists tightened, further crumpling the paper in his hands. His eyes flashed with anger, despair and confusion.

I sighed and focused my eyes on his desk, not daring to look at him any longer. Under some pieces of paper were old photographs of him and Piper from Wilderness School. Yup, those definitely were the mist memories she had with Jason. I read the latest draft he'd been writing:

Dear Piper,

Remember the mist memories from boarding school with Jason? They were real, but they were with me.

I miss you. I miss when it was just us. I miss the night on the roof.

Yours truly,

Leo Valdez

I tried to keep my voice from cracking. "How long?"

I heard him sigh. "Three weeks."

I balled my fists. Tears started to fall and smudge the ink. I wiped them away as fast as they came.

"How?"

"In a dream," his tone softened now. "Hera came to me in a dream and told me to check an old drawer in Bunker 9. I found the photos and the memories came rushing back."

"How long were you dating back then?"

"Two weeks."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Silence; then a deep breath.

"No."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because I knew you'd get upset like—"

"I meant why would you throw away months of our relationship for a couple of weeks of your relationship with her? And without even bothering to tell me? Gods damn it, Leo. We've been together since you've first arrived at camp. And what about those promises you made when we were sailing to Greece? You've been keeping these feelings away from me and you've been lying to me, making me believe that there's still something between us and—"

"Oh, calm down," he said with an annoyed expression and tone, which only infuriated me more, "it's not like I did anything were her yet! I didn't kiss her or tell her how I truly felt for her! She just got out of a relationship with Jason around the same time I had that dream. I had to figure out how to talk to her about it. I've been alone in this Bunker for three. Fucking. Weeks. I didn't cheat on you."

"Oh, and that makes everything better?" I countered. "Being in a relationship isn't about not cheating, Leo. It's about being honest and communicating with each other."

"Oh, like you've been communicating with me? After the war, you take go back to Manhattan for school, and you take a job. I haven't seen you much during the holidays because work has been keeping you in the city. And you won't tell me what you even do for a living!"

I took in a deep breath. "I told you I needed to have a life outside of camp! I needed to know first that I could handle myself in the mortal world as a normal human being. I needed this demigod part of my life to be separate as much as possible! I've been in two wars, Leo. I needed time to myself, too. And I was about to tell you guys in a few more days. But I guess now, I'm glad I've kept you out of that part of my life. At least I have an escape from all of this. And now, especially from you."

I took another deep breath and walked to the door, about to let myself out. I turned back again, both our tear-stained eyes meeting each other.

"If it makes you feel any better," I said softly, "I would've hated the idea of us breaking up. But if you really love her, if you really feel like you have this special connection to her and she makes you happy, then I won't get in your way. You could at least have had the decency to talk to me so we could have left on a good note."

He looked at me with wide eyes, clearly regretting his actions. I sighed and looked around the Bunker, possibly for the last time. Lots of memories were definitely created in this room; all just as grand and meaningful as the inventions they made here. But just like some of Hephaestus' contraptions, some of them were flawed and dumped in his scrapyard, no matter how much potential it could have had.

"Goodbye, Leo."

I sat on a rock on the beach that gave me a beautiful view of Long Island Sound. To my left, the sun started to set, casting an orange filter on everything. My heart broke, remembering how everything glowed orange in the Bunker. Leo always left the fires burning when he was working. The sunlight twinkling against the sea reminded me of how small bits of flame peaked through his hair earlier. I remembered how mad he was at me. Or maybe he was mostly mad at himself.

"Hey."

I jumped when someone sat—or rather, landed—beside me. I turned and smiled, seeing one of my good friends back at camp.

"Hey, you're back," I said weakly. "How long have you been here?"

He smiled at me, although he could maybe sense that something was wrong. "Half an hour, maybe? I saw Annabeth making plans to expand camp to have a city. She made me do an aerial inspection and I told her I'll get back to her tonight. That's when I saw you."

"Mhmm," I mumbled, not really knowing what to say. It was silent for a few minutes before I spoke up again, knowing he was just waiting for me to open up.

"I broke up with Leo."

His head quickly turned to me. I guess he wasn't expecting it to be that bad. "What?"

"Oh yeah," I laughed dryly. "Turns out the mist memories Piper had in Wilderness School with you? They were real. But not with you."

His eyes widened. "Oh... With Leo."

"He locked himself in the Bunker for weeks trying to write a letter. It was heartbreaking. Like, truly heartbreaking. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her and how much he missed them. Then he said how much he missed that night with her under the stars and... It hurt. Like hell."

"Oh," he said. "I guess Piper didn't tell me everything then."

"She knew all along?"

He shook his head. "Maybe not everything, but she told me she's been confused about her feelings lately and she'd been having visions or dreams of possible old memories that were messing with her head."

"I'm sorry about you and Piper," I said.

"Don't be," he said. "I understand her. It did hurt, though. But I think I can get over it some day. We're still awkward around each other, but at least we left on a good note."

I scoffed. "Leo couldn't even give me a good ending to our relationship."

"Hey," he said as he put a hand on my shoulder. "You're a great person, y/n. You've done so much, especially for him. It's his loss that he was stupid enough to let go of you."

"I know that."

"Do you really?"

"I do!" I said. "I'm a great person and I know that. But that doesn't mean what he did doesn't hurt me."

"I know," he said. "You'll find someone who'll treat you like the queen that you are. You're a great person, and I'm not just saying this to cheer you up. I truly think you're amazing."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Jason. And you'll find someone great, too. Maybe not as great as me but, then again, who is?"

We both let out a laugh. The conch sounded in the distance, signaling dinner. I moved to stand up before hearing Jason speak up again.

"Hey, do you maybe want to just grab a couple of plates and eat out here?"

I smiled. "Yeah. That sounds good. I don't really want everyone else hounding me about the breakup right now."

I don't know how long it was going to take me to get over Leo. We really did gave something special. It was cruel how the universe gave me something so good, to make me have hope that something was finally going right, then have it yanked away from my arms just as suddenly as it came.

He never cheated on me, but that didn't mean he didn't betray every promise we made to each other. I should have known it was too good to be true. Life has always played cruel jokes on me.

Then again, who's to say that things won't turn out for the better, right?

•••

Tagging: @drvrslcense @bubblybubbubs @dreamerball @quteez @aesthetxcimagines @chasingpj @beingleft @wadewilsonsgreatestfriend