#it makes me miss that phase in my life when all i read was james potter & remus lupin fics

[catastrxblues]

thinking of finally putting atyd in my official tbr for 2024

[neteyamyawne]

Heyy, i saw that you make stories with grace

Could you please make grace x daughter reader, their relationship mother daughter going to the forest in the avatar bodies, anything else you want pleasee?!?!

A/n : this is so sweet, i love grace so much, I've been an avatar fan since 2009, and grace is still my absolute role model, i was so hurt when she died 😭 i will never forgive James Cameron for grace and neteyam. They were my favourite out of all others (except neytiri and tuk) 😭😭 anyways...

Ma'ite ♡

Pairing : Grace Augustine x daughter!reader

Summary : a day in the life of being grace Augustine's daughter.

Fluff 🤍

❈ Warning : none, just fluff , mention of needle once

❈ Word count : 1.3k , proof read

❈ Note : this made me go back to my 2009 phase, I miss her so much, she would have been such an amazing mom omg, I'm gonna go and cry in the corner brb 😭

"word" - dialogue

Your tablet was pulled out of your hands and you groaned "mommmm, please just one more hour, c'mon" you swirled in your chair looking at her, she just shook her head "nah uh, you've been saying that from past six hours missy, now get your lazy bum to the cafeteria, you need to eat something" you sighed you knew there was no arguing with your mother and she was right, you were studying that specimen way longer than you should have but in your defense it was so mesmerizing!

You sat down next to your mom and max, leaning onto her not really having the appetite to eat mash potatoes and beef that didn't even resembled the actual thing whatsoever,but she nudged you to eat even though the more you looked at it the more you wanted to vomit, so in the end you had a cup of tea/coffee and a bowl of fruits because it was better than puking your stomach out later, and also your mother demanded something fresh to be sent here once in a while. 

Later that day, you were going for the trip of specimen collection in the lush forests of Pandora, you always went on the collection trips because, first you get to drive your avatar and second, your love to explore pandora never died down,  getting into your avatar was the best part of the day, to be able to feel the nature around you and connect with it, while also to smack some scientists "accidentally" because you didn't see them, which was a lie, you saw them but it was more fun this way.

                       ⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Trudy flew around the trees, the airs rushing past your hair, the braids flowing in the current, the forest Below you happy and thriving, trudy landed carefully in a soft patch of grass, you bounced down glancing around, your tail up straight waving from side to side in curiosity, your ears up to hear each and every beautiful clicks and sounds made by the forest, making it alive, listening to the hoots and squeaks brought so much joy to you, grabbing your tablet and the collection kit, you walked behind your mom, as she led your way, coming to an halt near a giant tree, she crouched down motioning for you to do the same, and so you did, looking down at the thick root, scaning the area with her device that hanged around her neck, the electromagnetic signals were slow, so the tree can conserve energy for the time of distress, she described the specific physical details of the tree and I note them down, moving to the interior structures, she reached for the compound syringe, specially made for the extraction of the specimen, and pierced the root of the tree, you quickly scanned the pierced area with your tablet, the electromagnetic signals of the tree, zooming in bright lines on the screen, your eyes widen, mouth forming into a shocked smile as you showed it to her, this was new, the speed of transport of the message was way faster than the other samples collected, quickly taking the sample of the root and putting it back into the case and noting everything down in your notebook, you both walked further looking some more.

By the time you stopped collecting the sun was setting, you ended up having a piggy back ride on her back, because your legs got tired from all the walking, this was a daily occurrence by now , everytime you visited the forest for anything, it'd end up with her giving you a piggyback ride, and she didn't mind it either, while you walked together to the helicopter, the amount of samples you both collected today will keep you occupied inside the lab for more than 2 weeks minimum and you couldn't wait to start with them, nearing the rotter craft you gave her a kiss on the cheek and she dropped you off so you could climb into your  seat, today drained your energy levels, but in a good way, you grew up  surrounded by scientists 24/7, so knowing almost as good as them but you mostly worked with your favorite scientist in the whole world, exactly, your mom, and she loved to teach you too, giving the bits of knowledge that even the most qualified scientist below her didn't know. On the way back to the lab, your sleepless endeavors of last night's research sessions were taking a toll on you now, and you knew you won't be able to stay up late with your mom to finish the leftovers, but you'd try to push through it as much as you can. 

                        ⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Getting up from your link, you stretched your limbs, yawning as it was almost night and you were up all night yesterday due to the research, walking over to your mom's link you saw her with a cigarette in between her lips, blowing a puff of smoke into the air, you rolled my eyes, here she goes again, the same lecture you repeat to her on a daily basis "mom-" but she cut you short "i know, i know, this is the last one i promise" she signed, you stood beside her looking directly at her you spoke 

"That's what you said yesterday, mama"  you played the "mama" card on her, she always melts when you call her that, rubbing her eyes and the bridge of her nose with the other hand, groaning when she caught onto what you were thinking, finally she blunted the cigarette in the ashtray and threw away the remaining box, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, i won't do it again" you smiled, proud that she was taking such a huge step, you hugged her, after a little victory celebration with gummy bears, both of you walked to your lab where you worked together, you had to get everything set before the new scientists from earth come here tomorrow.

Rolling over to the other side where she worked, you propped your chin on her shoulder "c'mon, mama, I'm tired let's go to sleep" you said pressing your forehead on her shoulder now, she just chuckled "i told you to take rest before and warned this would happen, but ohh do you ever listen to me? No, then why should I listen to you now? Hm?" You huffed, sleep was overpowering you "I'm sorry, i was wrong, i should have slept but now can we please go to our room and sleep while watching a movie? Please please please" giving her the pouty lips and puppy dog eyes, she broke instantly not having it in her heart to say no to you.

                      ⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You rolled over, hugging her side as you both settled down on the bed together, she put on your all time favorite movie and wrapped her arms around you, kissing your forehead she said "this is the last time, I'm letting this slide, I won't do it again for you" and you nodded but you both knew she won't do such thing and she would let it slide because well you're her daughter and only your deadlines get postponed. You snuggled your head in her neck as she ran her hand through your hair, by the time the movie got to the halfway point you were fast asleep, noticing this she turned off the screen, gently lifting the blanket to cover your shoulder, pulling you closer to her chest, she drifted of to sleep herself, with you all snug in her arms.

She wouldn't trade this, even if it meant giving up herself, she'd do it without hesitation, you were her world and the only thing important to her in this universe, she can go to any means to keep you safe and protected. this was the exact reason she brought you with her to this base, the only condition she kept against the RDA for her to start working on the pandora mission two years ago, that you'd come with her, wherever she goes you'll be right by her side and you couldn't be more grateful for it. 

A/n : please request more of her, I love her so damn much 😭 I'll probably add more to this afterwards, if you wanna be tagged in my posts, comment on my taglist post for more info check my pinned post.

Yawne : @fanboyluvr, @callmeoncette, @lu-the-ghost-reader, @brisbriskett, @saltedcoffeescotch, @ducks118, @itscheybaby, @jackiehollanderr, @zoetrope1997, @yeosxxx, @persefolli, @im-in-a-pansexual-panik, @theycallmesia.

© Neteyamyawne 2023 | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[derelictheretic]

Siblings Q&A | 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊𝕀ℕℂ𝕃𝔸𝕀ℝ𝔼 𝕊𝕀𝔹𝕃𝕀ℕ𝔾𝕊

Thank you for the tag @inafieldofdaisies ! I love any excuse to talk about my sibling OC's (plus my own siblings OC lmao)! I might do this for Pip and Cas and the 2nd gen Sinclaire kiddos later because this was super fun! 🤗🩷

Note from OP: This Q&A can be used for any family member/friend who's close to your OC!

1. Who looks the most like dad?

Dean groaned, head dropping and his hand rising. Michael and Remiel both pet his shoulders in sympathy.

"It's really only the nose—and at least yours is the small cute version of it!" Remiel offered with a nervous chuckle.

"Don't lie to me."

2. Who looks the most like mom?

Michael and Dean both point at Remiel, their mouth falling open in offence.

"What the fuck you guys?" They whine, their brothers shrugging in unison.

"It's only the nose, but it's smaller and cute so that's better right?" Dean grins.

"Fuck off, shithead."

"Love you too."

3. Who eats the most?

"Me, don't even say it I know it's me." Remiel turns their head, refusing to look at their grinning brothers.

"Yeah, when you remember to eat." Dean snorts.

"Their stomach is a black hole." Michael mused, Remiel playfully sobbing in response.

4. Who has been in the weirdest situations?

The three paused, looking between one another as they mulled over the question.

"These two," Michael then said, pointing to Remiel and Dean, "they always get themselves into shit somehow." He shook his head. Remiel and Dean both shoot him offended looks and he just rolls his eyes.

"I think we get ourself into the normal amount of shit." Dean mutters.

"Yeah." Remiel agrees with a pout.

5. Who sleeps the most?

"Remiel." Michael and Dean don't miss a beat, Dean wrapping an arm around Remiel's neck in a pseudo headlock. They slap his arm but don't disagree.

6. Mom and dad's favorite?

"Their favourite first baby cigs." Dean joked, making both Michael and Remiel snort in agreement.

7. Most stable romantic life?

"That would be me!" Remiel announced proudly, breaking free of Dean's headlock to lean over and grab James' hand; their partner who had been politely sitting off to the side in silence.

"I would argue Alexys and I are pretty stable." Michael muttered.

"Yeah but Remiel and James are practically already married and they're like.... Both lil rays of sunshine, I don't think they know how to have a fight." Dean gestured vaguely and Michael just hummed unimpressed.

8. Worst habit of each one?

"Sleeping too much." Remiel sighed.

"Fighting as a coping method." Dean coughed.

"Not reading instructions." Michael shrugged.

"His refusal to use a cane or leg brace." Remiel and Dean argued; Michael just shook his head.

9. Who's the most dramatic?

"Remiel." Dean said, Michael and even James nodding in agreement.

"Hey, what the fuck."

"It's true baby, sorry." James pet their hand comfortingly and they just huffed with a small frown.

"It's not my fault you two are emotionally stunted and I can't hide how I feel." They snipped.

"We didn't say it was a negative thing!" Dean laughed.

10. Who had a weird phase?

"Dean." Michael snorts.

"Shut your face hole Mike." Dean snaps, hand shooting up to cover his mouth.

"Are we talking about the angry emo phase or the sad musical phase?" Remiel grinned, Dean spinning around to cover their mouth with his other hand.

"I actually hate both of you, shut up."

11. Best cook of the family?

Dean proudly stuck his hand up and Michael and Remiel gave appreciative nods.

"Michael's the better baker though, I can't bake for shit."

"True."

12. Best memory together?

"The first time we all went to the local pool in our hometown together." Dean decides and Remiel and Michael mull it over before nodding in agreement.

"We were diving for the hairties and coins at the bottom of the deep end and pretending to be mermaids." Remiel reminisced with a fond smile.

"Michael did some cool dives, he wasn't cool enough to be a mermaid though." Dean nods to himself, Michael scoffing.

13. Worst memory together?

"Too many of those." Michael smiled bitterly, Remiel and Dean nodding absently.

14. Dream trip together

"Japan! Just—everywhere in Japan!" Remiel near shouted and Dean and Mcihael both chuckled and nodded.

15. Would you rather not being able to shower for a month or have the same clothes for a month?

"Same clothes for a month." All three agreed.

16. Who's the older one?

"Michael, the ole' bag of bones." Dean grinned, patting Michael's back heartily.

"Okay, infant." He scoffed.

17. Describe each other in three words

"Michael is... Dependable, strong and grounding. Dean is grouchy but thoughtful and caring." Remiel held up their fingers as they listed off the words.

"Remiel is kind, a bit naive and very passionate. Mikey's more of a grouch than me, but yeah super dependable and cool as hell." Dean grinned.

"Dean is reckless, stubborn and loving. Remiel is empathetic, lazy and creative." Michael smiled.

18. Role model?

"Michael!" Remiel and Dean exclaimed, Dean wrapping his arms around his middle while Remiel leant over him to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

19. Who usually has the worst ideas?

"Toss up between these two." Michael nodded his head towards Dean and Remiel who both gasped in denial.

"It's Remiel"

"No, it's you."

"Nah it's not."

"Yeah it is—"

20. A GIANT insect is on the wall, who's taking care of it?

"Me, these two are chicken shits." Michael smirked.

"I don't fuck with anything that has more than four legs." Remiel grimaced, Dean nodding solemnly in agreement.

no pressure tags: @adelaidedrubman @deputyash @simplegenius042 @megraen @clicheantagonist @socially-awkward-skeleton @strangefable @kyberinfinitygems and anyone else who feels like it!!

[chrissyblr]

Writeblr Intro!

Heya, I'm Chrissy and I'm finally making a sideblog to house my writing/reading stuff! Here you can find updates on my current writing projects, book reviews, and general thoughts on writing/books/literature etc.

A little about me: 25. She/her. I have a degree in history with a minor in archaeology. I love knitting, baking, crosswords, long walks, and other such grandma activities. :)

Fave Books: Catch-22 by Joseph Heller, Emma by Jane Austen, The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood, Red Dragon by Thomas Harris, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins, Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry, Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

General Reading Interests: westerns, horror, weird 90s sci-fi, romance, historical fiction, character driven stories

WIPs

The Imposters - sci-fi/romance set in the 90s, third draft, editing

Daphne Floros knows that the truth is out there, she just needs proof. After moving into her grandmother's house in an idyllic neighborhood, alien obsessed writer Daphne knows that this is the place where she can turn her lifelong dream of becoming an author into a reality. But navigating her new home comes with fresh challenges. Nosy neighbors? No problem. A childhood friend turned aerospace engineer that lives down the street? Sounds too good to be true. A possum in the bathroom? Grab the net. But when her nearly finished manuscript goes missing, Daphne discovers that otherworldly forces might have made a home here too. To protect herself and her new neighbors (and finally finish that damn book), she needs to get to the bottom of what exactly is going on next door.

Rabid Rabbit - western, outlined

Felicity James is knocked off her pedestal of privilege and puts her life in the hands of a horse thief to get back to her home in Georgia. But along the way she discovers a freedom that she's never known in life and doesn't want to give it up so easily.

Cerulean - crime/thriller, planning

The town of Cerulean thought that the Salt River Killer retired years ago after his last victim managed to escape with his life, but when a body turns up in the river, residents fear that he might be back to finish what he started. A housewife and a police deputy are tied together by a deadly secret. A hairstylist turned ghost hunter wants to capture proof of spirits. A high school swim team star hatches a risky plan to protect her younger sister. And a fresh faced officer vows to stop the Salt River Killer once and for all. Though not everything is as it seems from the outside.

I also have a ton of projects in the brainstorming phase that aren't fleshed out enough to give a ton of details on.

Come on over to chat about books or writing! You can also follow my main @cutemothman where i post about the x files, my farmers market successes, rdr2, and anything else that strikes my fancy.

[billconrad]

Social Media Eliminated Christmas Cards

Society is rapidly changing every day. Newspapers are no longer delivered; bank tellers are ancient history, and supermarket cashiers are being phased out. Remember typewriters? How about the milkman? Designer jeans?

Most changes are positive, like the astounding things we can do on our phones, but I miss past activities like reading the Sunday comics or going to the toy store. I used to ride my dirt bike everywhere without a helmet. That was completely normal. Now, it is rare to see a pedal dirt bike. They are all electric things, with riders using their phones and not looking at the road. These are noticeable changes, but there is a less obvious trend that I want to discuss.

In the ‘70s, when I was growing up, it was essential for families to send out a Christmas card. In our house, the process started in January with the search for the perfect picture. My mother had us pose at every opportunity, and by December, we had at least six family pictures to choose from. In 1974, we took an old-time Western photograph. I still have it hanging on my wall. In 1977, we took a group family vacation to Lake Mead, and the kids found a massive mud hole. We all got covered, and somebody took our family picture. We were on vacation in Germany in 1983, and my mother made some random man take our picture in front of a giant clock. He thought we were crazy, and my father was afraid he would steal our camera.

Besides the photograph, there had to be a letter. It contained all the events during the year, family status, and other news. My mother tried to make them entertaining and funny. This translated into trivializing my accomplishments, and I still have bad memories.

Around 1995, I became an adult and sent out my Christmas cards, which were generic store-bought things. Picture? Letter? No way. My laziness even made me skip a few years. Then I got married, and we proudly continued the tradition. Costco made this super easy. On their website, you can upload a picture that gets turned into tasteful Christmas cards. Order 20, and put them into the included envelopes. Done!

This year, we decided not to send them out. Why? All our friends are on Facebook. Did something happen? Take an excellent picture? Do you have an opinion? Did you see something online? Post it all to Facebook, and bam! My friends instantly know all about our lives, and we know everything about them.

What is going on? “My friends know about me, and sending out a card is redundant.” Oh well, it was fun while it lasted, plus I am saving the environment. But is this progress? In the good/bad category, canceling the tradition is a tie.

    You’re the best -Bill

    March 06, 2024

    Hey, book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

    Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

    Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

    Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

    Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

    These books are available in softcover on Amazon and in eBook format everywhere.

[poweredbyhisgrace]

Faith, not feelings.

On May 28th, 2023, I re-surrendered my life to Christ.

The first time I found Jesus was almost two decades ago as a college freshman. It has been an on-and-off relationship since then, but what I can tell you this time around is it’s not as ‘explosive’ as the first time. If my memory serves me right, the first time was almost an overnight change. This time though, things are coming to me in phases.

Some transformations are (almost) instant. For example, I dropped porn and daily masturbation right away, and I made it a habit to set aside time every day for Bible reading and devotion. My Sundays are now dedicated to attending church, and I signed up for a D-group because I want to be surrounded by people I can talk to about Jesus on other days of the week.

And then some changes that I thought would happen quickly, did not. Like, praying before mealtimes — it may sound like a small thing, but I get frustrated when I forget.

What trips me up the most is the lack of that ‘overwhelming’ feeling. When I was 16 and a spanking new Christian, the feeling of salvation and new life was so profoundly exciting. I couldn’t wait to tell the world about Jesus! I read the Bible during lunchtime and silently prayed for strangers on the train. It really felt like I was a new person.

This time though, things seemed a little ‘quieter.’ While I know that God said, “ask and ye shall receive” and all that, I wonder sometimes whether I am truly saved because ‘it doesn’t feel like it.’

Anyway. I was reading Hebrews chapter 11 the other night. Seasoned Christians, you know what this chapter is all about: faith. I’m not a huge fan of the King James Version of the Bible, but the way it defined faith is just beautiful:

Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen. -Hebrews 11:1 (KJV)

I read the entire chapter and highlighted several verses, but to be honest, it didn’t hit too deep.

Thankfully we have a God who wants to be intimate with us, and He will make sure that we won’t miss Him. As I was driving to work yesterday listening to YouTube where Lisa Harper was talking about Abraham’s story, the dots connected: Abraham was mentioned in Hebrews 11 as one of the heroes of faith. He answered God’s call to get out of his hometown even when he had absolutely zero idea where God was calling him to. And you know what else was mentioned about Abraham? He did not live to see God’s promise happen.

…these people of faith died not yet having in hand what was promised, but still believing. How did they do it? They saw it way off in the distance… -Hebrews 11:13 (MSG)

That right there is faith in action. Abraham believed that God would do as He said, even as Abraham wasn’t feeling the completion of the promise. In fact, it would take at least 400 years for any of Abraham’s descendants to set foot on the Promised Land.

And that’s how it hit me. Here I am, whining for the past 1.5 months about not feeling saved enough, effectively forgetting the most fundamental component of our life in Christ: FAITH.

Let this be a reminder for me (and you) that God’s Word can still be trusted even when the feelings don’t match what we’re praying for.

Cheers!

(Photo by Carolinie Cavalli on Unsplash)

[j4gm]

TOGETHER AGAIN SPOILERS

A thread of lore, Easter eggs, episode connections, and background details from Adventure Time: Distant Lands: Together Again! Let me know if I missed anything! This is adapted from my original Twitter thread.

Keep reading ⬇️⬇️⬇️

1. I was expecting them to perhaps do a classic style title sequence for this episode, but I wasn't expecting them to straight up use the original title sequence. The only difference is this final screen saying "Distant Lands".

2. The background of the title cards is also the hill from the title sequence.

3. The ice cream having "50 flavours" and having an image of an enlightened soul is an obvious reference to the 50th Dead World as we see it later in the episode.

4. Continuing with the metaphor, the dirt in the ice cream could be a parallel to the fact that Jake's Nirvana actually wasn't perfect, because his inaction was allowing for injustice to perpetuate.

5. This whole scene feels immediately slightly off. Finn has his Scarlet sword and is out on a classic Ice King adventure, but he speaks in his grown voice and all the slang feels much more forced than it did in the real season one. Turns out this was deliberate.

6. The snow golem speaks with a baby voice like it did in the pilot episode, even though in canon it has a deeper voice. This further hints that something is not quite right.

7. The first major break in continuity is these snow golems resembling Uncle Gumbald and Peace Master, who Finn didn't meet until later in his life.

8. LSP sitting on Finn's head like this is reminiscent of Pen Ward's piece for the 2018 Ble crew zine.

9. Finn being given the choice of helping somebody but ending up helping everybody reminds me of "Memories of Boom Boom Mountain". It's the kind of resolution that wouldn't happen so much in the late seasons of the show, which helps make this scene feel even further out of place.

10. Jake is half frozen by Ice King in pretty much the exact same way as he was in "Prisoners of Love", and even has a very similar line.

11. The Snail is seen here. The crew have said that the Snail has been deliberately left out of previous Distant Lands specials, so its placement here is another very deliberate hint that this whole sequence is "trying too hard" to be like the early seasons.

12. The book "Mind Games" appears a couple of times, as seen in several previous episodes of Adventure Time. The first is as Finn is approaching the library in his dream. It also appears as one of the items in Finn's backpack later.

13. Jake is hurt when Finn fist bumps him with his metal arm, revealing that this scene is not real. This is also a callback to the title sequences of "Islands" and "Elements".

14. A whole bunch of familiar skeletons are seen in the bird's nest: Dirt Beer Guy, Abracadaniel, Me-Mow, Lemongrab, Mr. Pig, and the Snail again. This doesn't necessarily mean that all these characters are dead, since this scene is just a hallucination.

15. Old Man Finn! He's still got the chest tattoo of Jake, and this time we know that Jake is dead, so the theory that Jake died before "Obsidian" seems pretty likely. He looks similar to his old man design from "Puhoy", with the same facial hair.

16. There are several cameos of familiar characters who apparently died at the same time as Finn. The first is this duck, who previously appeared in "Ocarina".

17. The second is Donny, from the episode... uh, "Donny".

18. This goblin guy is an unnamed background character from “The Silent King”.

19. This old lady first appeared in "The Enchiridion", way back in season one. Old ladies are a species in the Land of Ooo, so I guess she wasn't actually very old back then, given she just about outlived Finn.

20. This is the cobbler who first appears in "His Hero". Amazing that he lived so long given all the trouble he got into in that episode.

21. Land of the Dead! This place was first seen in season two's "Death in Bloom", and now we are finally learning its actual purpose. It's a sort of gateway and hub to all of the other dead worlds.

22. There are some more minor cameos at the gates: a house person from "Donny", a soft person from "Gut Grinder", and a wood person from "When Wedding Bells Thaw". And, of course, the gate guardian himself from “Death in Bloom”.

23. Finn completely ignores the gate guardian in the same way he did in Death in Bloom. This also has the convenient effect of not having to reveal how Finn died, leaving it up to the audience's imagination.

24. Mr. Fox! We already knew he would die at some point because BMO had his skull in the finale.

25. Finn has his design from the first Distant Lands poster in this scene. Turns out it's young Finn in old Finn's clothes. But they gave him a shirt in the poster so you wouldn't be able to see the tattoo.

26. The clapping that Finn does while he's looking for Jake is a callback to "James Baxter the Horse", when Jake tells Finn to listen for that same rhythm if they are killed and need to find each other in the afterlife.

27. Mr. Fox talks about a "past life quotient", suggesting that there might be some kind of limit to how many times somebody can reincarnate. Finn's reincarnations are also seen in this scene; a callback to "The Vault", and confirmation that reincarnations share the same soul.

28. Boobafina, the goose who Mr. Fox was in love with in his debut episode “Storytelling”, apparently reincarnated into a tugboat. We've already seen that objects can have souls in the episode "Ghost Fly".

29. Finn is initially assigned to the 37th Dead World, which is the same one that Jake went to when he died in "Sons of Mars". We can only guess at what the other numbers on the ticket mean ;)

30. Tiffany! Despite several lucky escapes throughout his life, Tiffany has finally died. I like the use of this imagery to express Finn's conflicted feelings about him.

31. The 50th Dead World has long been established as the "highest" dead world, and the one synonymous with Heaven within Adventure Time's universe. It was first mentioned in "Ghost Princess" back in season three.

32. It's unclear what happens to souls which are destroyed within the dead worlds. It is a similar question to asking what happened to the ghosts that were killed in "Ghost Fly".

33. Death doesn't speak at all in Together Again because his voice actor, Miguel Ferrer, passed away in 2017 long before production began.

34. Finn phases through New Death when he tries to attack him, just like what happened way back in "Death in Bloom".

35. The 30th Dead World contains Tree Trunks as well as many of her love interests; Mr. Pig, her alien husband from "High Strangeness", Danny and Randy who first appeared in "Apple Wedding", and several more who we don't recognise, including at least one who presents as a woman.

36. Literally yelled when these two showed up. Joshua calls Finn a crybaby, which is a callback to "Dad's Dungeon".

37. The wall of weapons in Joshua and Margaret's house includes the iconic Demon Blood Sword, which was broken in "Play Date", as well as Margaret's auto-loading crossbow from "Joshua & Margaret Investigations".

38. Jermaine is sidelined a few times through the episode, in reference to his attitude in "Jermaine" where he feels that Finn and Jake were always their parents' favourites. I would have hoped things would be a bit better by now.

39. Fern gets name dropped while Finn and Jake are reuniting. A shame he doesn't actually show up in the episode.

40. In this scene, Finn says "What time is it?" This is a very subtle reference to the 2010 cartoon "Adventure Time".

41. In a couple of shots during this fight scene it looks like Jake might have a tattoo. It seems like it only becomes visible when he stretches out his arm.

42. New Death's amulet in this scene resembles parts of the Lich's cape, foreshadowing his influence on New Death.

43. There are several more cameos in the 50th Dead World: Booshy from "High Strangeness", one of the Marshmallow Kids from "Scamps", and Ghost Princess and Clarence, who were seen ascending to the 50th Dead World in "Ghost Princess".

44. Finn didn't interact with Booshy in "High Strangeness", but it seems they must have met at some point before they both died because Finn knows his name.

45. It seems like people in the 1st Dead World are slowly melted away until they become part of the landscape. Nasty.

46. Lots more cameos in this scene: a gnome from "Power Animal", a gnome from "The Enchiridion", a Bath Boy from "The Vault", Blagertha from "Love Games", Maja the Sky Witch, a troll from "Dungeon", Chocoberry, Choose Goose, Wyatt, a spiky person from "Gut Grinder", and possibly more.

47. Tiffany's insults are consistently nonsensical and amazing, as they were in the original series.

48. The Candy Kingdom looks extremely different. Peppermint Butler is wearing the crown so he might be in charge now, which is supported by the kingdom's very magical-looking augmentations. It’s not clear whether Finn and Jake were expecting to find Princess Bubblegum or Peppermint Butler, since both have the initials “PB” and both could be going by the title of “Princess”. Perhaps Peps and Bubblegum share the princess duties now that PB is living with Marceline more of the time.

49. Peppermint Butler has a "Boss" mug, although it's not the same colour as the one from "Obsidian".

50. Jake's ghost has the same design as he did when BMO killed him in "Ghost Fly". I also absolutely love Finn's ghost. This scene establishes that ghosts are just visitors to the mortal plane from the dead worlds.

51. Life has only appeared in animated shorts before now. Namely, "The Gift That Reaps Giving" which establishes her relationship with Death, and "Frog Seasons: Winter". This episode gives her a concrete place within Adventure Time's pantheon: she is in charge of reincarnation.

52. A translation of Life’s angry French dialogue by Shado: “After all I did for that boy. After all I did for him. No, it's not possible. It's not possible no, that... that makes me so mad but it's not possible.”

53. We finally have in-universe confirmation that Shoko's tiger is a previous life of Jake. This was previously confirmed by one of the writers, but wasn't canon until now.

54. I feel like Finn pulled off Shoko's look even better than Shoko did. I wonder whether Finn has gained the memories of his past lives now that he’s dead.

55. No Easter egg here, just want to appreciate this image.

56. There is an elemental symbol on the wall here, as seen in "Jelly Beans Have Power".

57. Tiffany's dramatic internal monologue is a recurring gag, as is his habit of nearly dying from falling into holes.

58. The Jake suit makes a cameo in the fight against New Death. It was last seen in the episode "Reboot”.

59. Finn's backpack contains a few familiar items: the t-shirt with the pocket from "It Came from the Nightosphere", Finn's underwear from "Little Dude" and other episodes, and a copy of Mind Games as I've already mentioned.

60. The Lich's Hand is present in the background of Death's... death scene. This is probably the unseen "friend" who New Death keeps talking about.

61. The Lich's menacing monologues often begin with a single command. Previously they have included "Fall" and "Stop". This time, the command is "Burn".

62. Jake uses the word "boingloings", which is a callback all the way to "Hitman" in the third season.

63. Jake's blue shape-shifter form from "Abstract" appears very briefly during his fight with Finn.

64. Finn's lumpy space person form also makes an appearance. This design was last seen all the way back in the second episode of the entire show, "Trouble in Lumpy Space".

65. Jake steps on the Lich's hand in a very similar way to how he stepped on Ash in "Memory of a Memory", which is itself a Monty Python reference.

66. The credits include a dedication to a few AT cast and crew who have passed away. Polly Lou Livingston was the voice of Tree Trunks. Miguel Ferrer was the voice of Death. Michel Lyman and Maureen Mlynarczyk were both sheet timers on the original series. Rest in peace.

67. The message that Finn and Jake write out on the ouija board is "BUTT", which Peppermint Butler takes as a distress signal. This message is also used as a distress signal by the Hot Dog Knights in "The Limit".

68. Peppermint Butler's reversed dialogue from the scene where he makes contact with Finn and Jake is "Kee-Oth Rama Pancake", the spell from “Dad's Dungeon” for banishing demons.

69. That appears to be President Porpoise with all of Tree Trunks’ other lovers.

70. In this scene, Life is humming part of "Lonely Bones", the song which Death tried to record for her in her debut short "The Gift That Reaps Giving". It's hard to notice because it's so brief.

71. Finn and Jake's cover is blown while in the Land of the Dead because Jake loudly farts, which also happened in "Death in Bloom".

72. The place where Mr. Fox explains the perception mechanics of the afterlife is the exact same location as the River of Forgetfulness from "Death in Bloom", which, as it turns out, was imaginary.

These are sort of out of order at the end because I was adding stuff to the Twitter thread as it got discovered. That’s all for now!

[uravichii]

bnha characters as swifties ~

— you convert them into swifties and there's no going back

characters: bakugo katsuki, todoroki shouto, yaoyorozu momo, jirou kyouka

warnings: swearing (bakugo's part)

notes: i don't know what came over me when i decided to write this,, happy 1 year of folklore ig ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

- bakugo katsuki -

katsuki would only know the name 'taylor swift'

he knows she's some famous celebrity, but he has no idea what she's known for : /

when you first introduce him to her discography, you started with her debut album and 'fearless.'

he didn't like it :') he said it was way too cheesy

katsuki also criticized how inaccurate love story was because romeo and juliet didn't end that way : |

he also despised the "shitty country music" pls never play 'our song' when he's nearby, he'll absolutely destroy whatever it is you're playing it from.

you then introduced him to the most successful album, 1989, hoping he'd at least give it a chance

no, he thought it was "hella annoying" 🙄

"YOU'RE TELLING ME 'ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS STAY' AND 'I WISH YOU WOULD' AREN'T THE SAME FUCKING SONG? FUCK OFF."

but you persevere— you introduced more tracks, explained the lyrics to him, and you forced him to watch the reputation stadium tour on netflix.

he won't admit it openly, but he LOVES reputation.

he loves the new sound, the darker theme, and how edgy and angry it is.

his favorite songs are 'i did something bad' and 'don't blame me'

but he also secretly falls asleep to 'new year's day' 🥺

folklore enraged him in a good way,,

"FUCK JAMES, AUGUSTINE DESERVES BETTER."

and for the album red, "FUCK JAKE GYLLENHAAL, TAYLOR DESERVED BETTER."

this man will make a stan twitter account and demand a punk rock era from tswift because katsuki knows the queen is ✨versatile✨ and she can definitely thrive with a new sound like that 😌

- todoroki shouto -

"taylor swift??? what year and class is she in?"

"shouto— "

you need to present this boy a whole powerpoint presentation,, he badly needs it.

at first, he wouldn't mind the lyrics, he pays more attention to how it sounds.

he likes the mellow ones like 'begin again' 'untouchable' and most tracks from both sister albums, 'folklore' and 'evermore'

for some reason, he loved taylor's country music. those were actually the first songs he added to his playlist.

"it's a bop." he says this with a straight face and a monotonous voice 😐

then, you urged him to read and take in the lyrics, and shouto LOVED her as an artist a lot more.

he definitely cried to 'never grow up' :(((( he can't listen to it again though because he's afraid the song will lose its meaning if it was played too much.

he also appreciates 'seven' a lot. 'tolerate it' and 'soon you'll get better' reminded him of his mother :((

also, he always plays 'mad woman' when endeavor's nearby 💀

he turns up the volume when taylor sings, "does she smile... or does she mouth "fuck you forever. ~ "

he'd definitely buy a lot of merch from taylor, and he was very dismayed when the cardigans sold out before he got to buy one :(

he is very excited for red (taylor's version) and even marked november 19th on his calendar >:)

- yaoyorozu momo -

momo listened to taylor swift a lot when she was younger. she loved singing along to the album, 'fearless'

but she eventually phased out from her songs, not for any particular reason though.

she knows the famous singles like 'shake it off' and 'blank space' and she's mostly neutral about it.

so you force her back into the fandom by having her listen to her whole discography >:)

momo LOVES 'folklore' and 'evermore' this woman will break down the lyrics, analyze it, and upload long-ass essays about them.

"the lyrics are just absolutely exquisite! it's amazing how she manages to use a different sound each album and pull it of :)) you have my deepest gratitude, y/n for having me listen to such a beautiful masterpiece!"

she'll never stop gushing over the jamez-betty-augustine drama. she'll definitely be empathetic towards each one, but she does love augustine the most 😔

she understands james too though and loves 'this is me trying' :') she's not sure if she likes the song 'betty' tho 😧

you'd get under a blanket with momo and cry to 'champagne problems' and 'tolerate it' for fun.

"such a heartbreaking story..." she sniffles into a napkin.

momo was also inspired to write poems because of the two sister albums.

i don't think she'd be interested in taylor's dating life, but she does think it's amazing how you're able to witness the artist's growth by just listening to the songs she writes over the years :))

- jirou kyouka -

"of course i know taylor swift..." she looks to the side sheepishly. "i don't really like her."

"😦"

kyouka unfortunately thinks taylor swift is overrated </3

you can't really blame her though because apparently, she only knew her singles 😃 specifically, 'we are never going back together,' 'blank space, 'shake it off,' and 'ME!'

she says they're catchy but she doesn't really understand the hype.

so you make her understand >:)

you start with lover which later became her favorite album along with reputation and red.

she looves 'cruel summer' and she's angry that it wasn't a single in the album, she also loves the song, 'lover' she won't admit it but she thinks it's incredibly sweet and it makes her want to have a lovelife like taylor's.

she also loves 'the man' and she also sings the bridge of 'death by a thousand cuts' EVERYDAY.

kyouka will also make her own covers of taylor's older songs,, she'll make a cover of 'sparks fly' that sounds edgier. it sounds amazing 😌

she'll lie on her bed, and probably cry to 'superstar' thinking how sweet it would be if someone wrote a song about her like that :((

folklore and evermore aren't her favorites, but she adores the writing so much that it influenced hers.

kyouka will write a song for you out of gratitude for making her listen to the queen, miss swift 😌

[sunset-curve-fantom]

Home- Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!

MATURE MATERIAL, 18+, SMUT INCLUDED

FOR @ghostofreggie​ WHO HAS DONE NOTHING BUT SUPPORT AND FEED INTO MY PHASE OF BUCK. YOU ARE AMAZING AND I COULDN’T IMAGINE WRITING THIS WITHOUT YOU. 

Missions far from home were never easy for any of you. But for Bucky they became harder and harder the more he felt for you. You had walked into his world at the right place, and at the time he needed someone the most. When he met you, all he saw was beautiful and all you saw in yourself was the nerd of an assistant for Tony Stark. He knew he could never hurt you, and in doing so he never told you what he was feeling.

The moment you laid eyes on Bucky; your world shifted. He was the only one who caught your undivided attention, whether you were focused on something in the lab or not. He could walk in the room and your whole world would be black except this light that surrounded him. That being said, you guys were far from being anything official. It was just a few one-night stands, and in-depth conversations here and there.

A new mission had come to a head, which included Sam, Sharon, and Bucky attempting to override some of Hydra’s files to unearth any new leads into where or what Hydra wanted. You on the other hand were stuck in the office, attempting to help Tony upgrade his Ironman suit with some new perks, I guess being his assistant is a perk in itself though. But your mind was everywhere but focused on Tony and what he needed. Buck was leaving on this mission tonight, and you had every intention of telling him how you felt before then but didn’t know how.

The doors opened to the lab, the eerie silence was filled with a familiar voice, “Hey we are getting ready to take off….”

The voice was hesitant, but you knew it belonged to Bucky. He was the only one who made your heart skip a beat or cause the eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

You took a deep breath before turning to him, a fake smile plastered on your cheeks, “Oh okay- be careful?”

He shot you his signature smirk before making his way over to your desk, you couldn’t help yourself from chewing on the inside of your cheek- one of your worse nervous ticks.

“I’ll be careful…. I’m always careful.” he said as he stood in front of you, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You couldn’t help but give him a real smile as you stepped towards him, engulfing him in your arms. His beard tickled your cheeks as you hid you face in the crook of his neck, taking in his cologne that made you feel at home.

His grip loosened before he stepped back, placing a swift, soft kiss to your forehead. The gesture only causing a blush to erupt on your cheeks, and a soft smile to remain more than present.

He smiled down at your short stature before turning away from you, your smile slowly turned to a frown… you hated to see him walking away from you, like you were nothing to him.

But the question was…. Do you tell him how you feel? Or do you just let it go, and hope to god that the feelings stop growing…

“Buck?” You said, your eyes widening at your shaky voice. The concerned look he gave you was making your insides turn at what words were about to escape past your lips.

“Yes?” He questioned, as you didn’t say anything more. The words you wanted to say found themselves stuck in your throat, unable to tell this handsome man what you were truly feeling.

You took a deep breath, opening your mouth to spill your undying love for James Buchanan Barnes, when she came in…

There was Sharon, in all her glory. The most beautiful girl in the room, the one who always got any man she wanted, and the one who had all her sights set on Bucky.

“I’m sorry but we have to go” She said, a hint of annoyance in her voice as she watched you push up your oversized glasses, as your twirled you rings around your finger unconsciously. You were nothing to her, and the look on her face only confirmed that.

Bucky looked back at you, the nervousness was apparent on your face, “Go…” you murmured, not being able to spare him another look. You knew that you would never be enough for him, so why even try to fool yourself?

A smirk appeared on Sharon’s face as she turned hot on her heel, Bucky following behind but not before sparing you another look. He will never forget the look of heartbreak that crossed your features when Sharon came in to get him, to take him away from you.

The minute the door to the lab closed, the eerie silence overtook you once again. You turned towards your desk; a deep breath escaped you as your started throwing your work off your desk. Paper flying through the air, pens hitting the floor in a clatter. The noise was so overwhelming that you missed the sliding door opening again, the anger in the room could be cut with a knife.

“Sooooo are you going to clean up your mess?” Tony said from behind you, terror crossed your features as you turned to face him.

“I-I-I-iiii” You tried to find the words, to apologize, to try and make what you had just done better. But Tony cut you off, sending you a soft smile.

“I’m assuming… that uh you didn’t tell Bucky how you are feeling?” He said, taking a seat at the desk next to yours, trying to read your reaction to what he was saying.

“Me and Buck? No-no- “You started, only causing a bout of laughter to fall from Tony’s lips. Your eyes wide as you watched him fall apart in front of you, his laughter cutting through the anger you were radiating.

“Oh don’t even. We both know how you feel, and I know that he feels the same about you” He said, reaching out to grab your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His gesture bringing tears to your tired eyes, it was the first time that you felt that someone understood how you were feeling.

“How I’m feeling is alone. This man is doing things to me that I have never felt, and never thought I would get to feel. I was always the nerd in school, with no friends or anyone to love me. And now- now I have this man who I love, a man I have given my everything to, but I can’t even tell him the words. I can’t even tell him how much I want to spend the rest of my life dealing with his bipolar ass.” The words finally flowing out of you, finally confessing to someone how I felt about Bucky.

You wiped your cheeks, the tears continuing to dampen them. Tony just reached out, taking you into his arms. He knew how you were feeling, you knew that you wanted nothing more than to be loved and not worry about the future.

You couldn’t help the sob that escaped you as you clung to your boss, tears continuing to flow.

“How about you go home? I can text you when they get back…. I think you just need some time to think, you know?” Tony said, placing a soft kiss to the back of your head.

“Thanks Tony… and I’m sorry for the mess….” You said, pulling away from him and shooting him a soft smile.

Carefully you grabbed your things, heading out to your room. The sound of your shoes clicking on the floor, echoing in the silent hallway. The silence only following you once you step into your dark room.

A deep sigh escaped you as you laid back on your bed, your head swarming with scenarios about Buck and if you had told him how you were feeling. To explain the deep love, you felt for him.

Sitting back up, you began to strip yourself of your work clothes. The heavy denim of your jeans hit the floor with a thud, and your thin black tee fell right beside it. Ruffling through your drawers you came across a shirt that belonged to Bucky.

It was from a night, not long ago when he came over late at night for some comforting after a mission. A smile appeared across your cheeks as you shrugged the shirt over your tired body, it barely covered your black panties.

A tired smile appeared on your face once again as you made your way to your empty bed. The coldness of your sheets feeling good against your achy, tired body. Sleep quickly overtook your sense, and your dreams were filled with the what ifs of your life if Bucky was yours.

*BANG, BANG, BANG*

You were drawn from your vivid sleep by several hard knocks at your door. Quickly you rushed over, opening the door swiftly.

There was Bucky…

His lip was split open, a bruise was developing on his cheek but overall, he seemed none too harmed. The light from the hallway showing off his bruised and tattered body.

“I-uh-uh I… I just needed to see you.” he finally choked out, you stepped aside leaving room for him to slip by you in the darkness of your room.

“Okay?” You said, tiredness still clouding your senses.

“I-uh this…. This mission was just really hard, and I know you wanted to tell me something before I left and it was all that I could focus on” he said, you knew that he was embarrassed by what he was saying. He never felt like this before and it was clear by his stuttering.

The Winter Solider was standing in your room, at god only knows what time because he couldn’t stop thinking about something you wanted to tell him.

You ran your hand through your hair, eyeing his figure in the darkness. You stepped towards his, brushing his tattered hair out of his face, making his deep eyes more noticeable.

“You really want to know?” You said, the flirtatious tone flowing out of your mouth, you could see him take a deep breath before nodding at you.

“Well, I was going to tell you that-uh I’m uh in love with you” You stuttered, blush crawling up onto your cheeks. You were nervous about what he was going to say, you knew he never felt that way about anyone.

“You don’t have to say anything” You said quickly, seeing his face change as he processed your words.

You loved him.

Opening your mouth again, wanting to speak more about how you were feeling. The idea that you had ruined your chances with him forever, that he was going to walk away, and you would never see him again.

But your thoughts were hushed when he rushed forward swiftly taking your lips in his. You couldn’t help the shocked moan that fell past your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling at his tangled hair.

He growled as you pulled hard at his hair, carefully he slipped his hands under your thighs before picking you up. Pulling your body close to his, your nipples only hardening against your shirt.

You pulled your lips away from his, carefully pressing small kisses to his neck causing a guttural moan to escape from his throat.

You felt your back fall onto your cold sheets, a moan falling from your lips as Bucky found your sweet spot on your neck that was ever so hidden. You could feel a bruise forming under your jaw from his excessive suckling.

Moans continued to fall from your lips as you reached down to pull at his shirt, pulling the torn material over his head, revealing more bruising and blood dried cuts. Your cold fingers ran across his chest as he watched you carefully.

You caught his eyes, smiling up at him. He was concentrating on your face, the way your face lit up when you saw him.

His thumbs brushed up against your hips, slowly lifting his shirt off your body. The cold air rushing to your hard nipples, sending a chill through your body, which only made Buck chuckle under his breath.

Your shirt went over your head, and almost immediately Bucky took your hard nipple in his mouth, sending a chorus of moans to fall from your lips.

“Buck” you moaned, gently taking his hair in your hand, and pulling slightly.

Rubbing your cunt against his crotch, only causing you to leak more wetness than you already were. Your motions caused a guttural moan to escape from Buck.

He pulled back from your nipples, taking in the moaning mess that you had become under him. He wrapped his fingers around your panties, before ripping them clean off your body.

You gasped at his action, before quickly sitting up and beginning to mess with his pants. You fumbled with the button and zipper before stripping off his pants. His cock was straining against the confines of his boxers, with a stain of precum beginning to appear.

Biting your lip, you lowered his boxers down his legs and letting them pool at him feet.

You took his length in your small hands, but he stopped you. His eyes met yours before he started to speak.

“This is all about you doll.” He spoke in a low tone before pushing you back onto the bed.

You felt his cock at your entrance, brushing against your clit which only sent chills of pleasure through your body.

The feeling of your being stretched as he entered you with his length sent a loud moan to escape from you. Causing your eyes to roll back as you grabbed onto him, bringing him closer.

He waited for a moment, giving you a moment to adjust to him.

You nodded at him, giving him the silent signal to move.

The pleasure began to overtake your senses, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. You could hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he pushed his cock deep inside of you, stretching your walls more and more.

Guttural moans feel past Bucky’s lips, which only sent your over the edge. Your orgasm quickly fell over you as he continued to hit your sensitive spot.

“Oh-uh-ooohhh Buck” You moaned, as your back arched from the overwhelming orgasm.

He threw his head back as your cunt pulsated around his cock, he was on the edge and he knew it.

His speed began to quicken as your cunt still was pulsating from your mind-blowing orgasm, your eyes continued to roll back into your head from the pleasure that was overtaking you.

Your cunt was leaking up a storm as he continued to fuck you hard, before he wrapped a hand around your throat. The action only making your eyes go wide, he never did that.

“Buck” You whimpered to him, as his grip tightened on your throat.

“You’re gonna take it all doll.” He moaned, his metal hand coming into contact with your clit. He quickly began rubbing circles, which drove you into a moaning mess as your cunt began to tighten around him again.

“Buck…. Buck…. I’m gonna-” You began before getting cut off by a moan.

“I’m right behind you” he moaned in your ear as you pulsated around him, scratching at his back with the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

He rutted his hips against yours as he spilled his hot seed into you, causing a small moan to pass your lips as your felt the heat in your core.

“In case you didn’t know- I love you too” He murmured against your ear, causing a huge smile to appear across your features.

In that moment, you knew… Bucky Barnes was yours and only yours….. He was your home.

[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.

[shinygoku]

gordon gordon gordon gordon

Gordon Gordon Gordon Gordon!!

He's been sneaking into these asks by proxy, so it's finally time for his dedicated session, hehe~

First impression

WUAAAGH what's up with this WEIRD LONG NOT-THOMAS and his FACE?!

Impression now

His face is still pretty weird! But you know what else it is? Part of an Absolute Legend ✨

Like, man, Gordon is such a big presence and interesting character, the entire premise leans heavily on him. I'm inclined to go as far as to say that the Blue Boys of 1, 2 and 4 here are the three most important characters for the franchise (not at all to knock everyone else lmao) and they slot nicely into a Triforce of Courage, Wisdom and Power, and Gordon has Power in spades!

Gordon is The Vain One (not James!). He's legit very strong and the fastest on Sodor (which isn't just being a big fish in a small pond because that island has some crazy cool engines!) but unfortunately he lacks humility. His success seems to have been lodged in his head before the series even begins and this Pride is the source of pretty much every single conflict he's involved in.

But when it isn't his self satisfaction in his actions, it's being smug about being such a grand, magnificent Tender Engine and he is snooty as hell about it. He seems to look at smaller engines [pretty much everyone compared to him lol] as a lesser class, particularly if they're small and cheeky and Tank Engines. This may not be the case exactly, but his way of talking to them and some other things he says are very condescending.

However... as much as a gigantic jerk he is at several points, with Gordon I kinda feel like he plain ass doesn't conceive of his words being out of line. That and having to Unlearn things... he's not innately better than everyone else. He sees things in black and white. There are Useful Engines, and those who should be scrapped. There are Noble Tender Engines and Lesser Tank Engines who exist to do the tedious chores on behalf of the Superior ones. Edward doing shunting is seen as Demeaning and contradicts Gordon’s world view that Tender Engines Don't Stunt™, and he doesn't like that one bit! (Also Edward was crossing the picket line but that wasn't Awdry's concern lmao)

Related is Gordon does seem oddly dense at times, like assuming that Tenders are in of themselves a Status Symbol rather than a large lunchbox of sorts lol, or that Tender Engines like him being too heavy for Branch Lines being because something about Branch Lines are degrading. This might be all Elitist Brainwashing influence. But still, that he just takes these as The Truth means I get to affectionately call him an idiot. And there is no other way to explain how he genuinely believes Bill and Ben were going to murder him if he wasn't missing a few brain bolts in there.

Fortunately, he does eventually start to learn the important lessons.... very gradually, but the Early Gordon is a pretty different beast to Later Gordon, and it's wonderful~

Also, I gotta give credit to him for having some moments of utter brilliance and actual grasp of reality and more complex matters, like culture. (Yeah, I'm rolling with his geniune Opera Knowledge from s6 of all things. It's good!) As much as Awdry himself may have disagreed, Gordon was in the right to want a Station Pilot and the Strike was called for (not bullying Edward for it, but myeah) ...but this leads to my next point: He seems to have a mental block when it comes to Emotions.

Certainly, he's as emotional as the others are, it's not just a scale of Snooty, Arrogant, Condescending, Prideful ....well, it is, but ALSO the more mixed and varied feelings: Shame, Sadness, Fear, Ambivilance, Irritation, Anger, Passion, Amused, Delight and so on. However, Gordon is seemingly unaware of how his words may make the others feel, and even at his cruellest it doesn't look like he's aware he's twisting a knife in. To Gordon, he's being honest, but his verbose manner ends up twisting and wriggling away from any valid point like an overgrown vine that somehow links back to how [Other Engine] is disgracing him, Gordon, by association.

Examples include: Being offended by Henry's new shape (??? Gordon dude he nearly died and this is an improvement, a good thing!), saying that Edward's age and difficulty starting a heavy ass packed load of passengers is grounds to be Retired or even Scrapped, other little insulting things like calling the likes of Thomas and James Little insistently (it seems to vary if he's trying to put them down or actually be affectionate), and many more when in the hands of inept writers who have to wheel out the same Gordon Learns A Lesson Plot every other season.

Like I said in the James post, I also think he kinda poisoned the Red guy with his snooty attitude... but I maintain that I think Gordon was unaware of this. He may know he has Influence, and enjoy that, but he really truly doesn't appear to mean to mould James into a smaller, redder version of himself. He's oblivious and from his own point of view, benevolent. Which is in fact a dangerous combo indeed!

It's... a lot o7;;

Again though, if you're looking at the books and s1-s5 of TVS you can see him grow and change. He does take a while to learn the lessons, but as time goes on he moves 2 steps forward and 1 step back, then eventually less steps back entirely. It's great! And so is Gordon. A big dumb meathead with not entirely uncalled for delusions of granduer. A dramatic so-and-so who is the best engine for his job.

I love this sophisticated jock who grows more kindness~ 💙

Favourite moment

Hm! This isn't as easy to decide lol. We all like Gordon Goes Foreign... but you know what sticks in my mind more?

hOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH

Look, I’m not 100% objective, here! But Ringo’s read of this line is fantastic (and keeps making me expect him to finish saying OOOHH SHIT) and it’s also a well deserved bolt of divine retribution for how rude he was being earlier. (As long as my essay already was, he very much needed the knocking down of some pegs here!)

Idea for a story

While both my fics with him thus far have been variations of Pre-Canon, Full-Arrogance and Snobbish Gordon (and both were a lot of fun!) ...but I cannot bear the same expired horse being beaten more when the story is set waaay later but he’s still up his own ass. Please, PLEASE writers, let him hold what growth he’s managed to gain!

I think it’d be good to accept that he’s gonna be outdated sooner or later, so have him help train another High Speed Engine and take them under his wing. The Christopher Awdry books kinda have something similar with Pip and Emma, but I think a better way of having Gordon be involved would be if he was actively doing some mentoring himself, as well as being a neat parallel with Edward, whose type was once Express only but got outclassed by A1s, and so the same can happen to this big A1 -> A3 lad and he can form a healthy relationship with some bright eyed newbie (and maybe have some self awareness and try to stop their head getting too large, lol).

Unpopular opinion

I know I just said him mentoring would be a cool story idea, but in canon? He is NOT a resident Dad type!! He’s a hotshot young man but he’s also a hot mess. He’s physically large but he’s not got the Energy of someone who dispenses sage advice and a shoulder to cry on. At best, he’s a weird uncle! One who means well but you shouldn’t take his life advice to heart because he’s actually just as, if not more clueless than you!

Favourite relationship

I feel inclined to say Thomas here. Emphatically not because Gordon is ‘old’ and Thomas is ‘young’, but because they’re so damn alike and actually make an excellent, albeit unconventional type of Rivalry.

Both are self important with genuine finesse in their respective talents, both are honest to a fault, both have redeeming qualities to offset their initial abrasiveness, and the first TVS episode is centred on the both of them and sets the tone for the series as a whole. There’s more parallels, of course, but I also wanna point out they’re effectively the mascots of North Western Rail in universe too, and I absolutely love this picture:

I also have immense fondness for the Down the Mine paradigm shift! Thomas gives Gordon grief over the ditch incident and later when it emerges the Fat Controller is gonna send for Gordon to pull him out, Thomas is filled with dread. But Gordon isn’t using the chance to lord over Thomas, he’s actually so amused by Thomas’ mishap and it coming at a time where he’s been significantly humbled, they instead become Comrades and I love it. I eat it up! Paint Pots and Queens isn’t anywhere near as good but I adore the little bit where they’re appealing for the other, equals and watching each other’s back~

But yeah, as Friendly Rivals they both feel very authentic and yet, in a daft way, sweet ;3

Favourite headcanon

He still says “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” when pulling the Express. That’s a HC as I think the show phased it out, but I like it lol. I feel like my essay on him contains most of the headcanon stuff, but it’s all based on what’s shown, baybee!

[onlydylanobrien]

Dylan O'Brien - NME Magazine Interview

Dylan O’Brien: “I was in this transitional phase – close to a quarter-life crisis”

From YA heartthrob to legitimate leading man – how the 'Maze Runner' star hit his stride after a whirlwind decade

Definitely!” hoots Dylan O’Brien when NME asks if he still has to audition. “I’m not Tom fucking Hanks, bro.” He’s clearly amused by our question, but forgive us for thinking the 29-year-old actor gets cast on reputation alone. A decade into his career, and he’s making an impressive transition from teen TV star and YA franchise hero to charismatic leading man.

New York-born O’Brien cut his teeth on MTV’s hit Teen Wolf series, before landing the lead in the Maze Runner film trilogy based on James Dashner’s hugely popular novels. Leading a band of bright young things that included ex-Skins tearaway Kaya Scodelario, Game Of Thrones’ Thomas Brodie-Sangster and Will Poulter, he honed his craft while racking up nearly a billion dollars at the box office. “My career is a constant acting class,” says O’Brien. “To be able to do the Maze Runner movies simultaneously with Teen Wolf was amazing in terms of getting in reps and working my [acting] muscle.”

Now for the sometimes tricky bit. Many actors struggle with the post-breakout period, but O’Brien is making it look easy so far. This year’s Netflix hit Love and Monsters proved he can carry an old-school family adventure, and new film Flashback (out next week) reveals an appetite for weirder, more cerebral work. He stars as Fred Fitzell, a young man reluctant to buckle down to life as a nine-to-fiver with a boring corporate job and a long-term girlfriend (Mindhunter‘s Hannah Gross). When he runs into a freaky-looking acquaintance from his teenage years, Fred becomes obsessed with finding an old high-school friend he used to drop a mind-bending experimental drug called Mercury with. It’s difficult to say any more without entering spoiler territory, but Flashback is a wild ride underpinned by the idea that we can exist in several realities at once. Even if you follow every plot twist, you might not fully understand the end. “Oh, it’s definitely a headfuck,” O’Brien agrees. “There’s not totally an answer to figure out. There’s a lot of different things that people can take from it.”

Speaking over Zoom from his LA home, O’Brien is bright, thoughtful and really good fun to talk to, especially when he relaxes into the interview, but he clearly knows where his line between public and private lies. When he first read the Flashback script, written by the film’s director Christopher MacBride, his “mind was blown” by just how much he related to Fred. “I felt like I was in this transitional phase of my life that was, you know, sort of close to a quarter-life crisis type thing,” he says. “For whatever reason, it was like me and this script were meant to be. I remember reading it and thinking: ‘I am this guy right now.'”

“There were a lot of things in my personal life that were neglected for a while”

When we ask why O’Brien felt as though he had reached a “transitional phase”, he gives an answer that’s vague but not exactly evasive. For understandable reasons, he doesn’t mention the incredibly traumatic motorcycle accident he sustained while shooting the final Maze Runner film in March 2016. O’Brien suffered severe trauma to the brain and said in 2017 that he underwent extensive facial reconstructive surgery after the accident “broke most of the right side of my face”. Tellingly, he’s never really revealed what happened on set or how it affected him.

Today, O’Brien dances around the details of the accident and other issues he was dealing with at the time, but doesn’t shy away from discussing his inner conflict. “You know, it was a lot of personal things combined with at-a-point-in-my-career things,” he says after a brief pause. He says he’d have been going through some of this stuff anyway, simply because of his age, but it sounds as though success intensified it all. “It was like this whole fucking storm of shit,” he continues. “I was simultaneously so fulfilled and happy about these, like, otherworldly and surreal things that I had experienced in terms of where my career had brought me. I had all this confidence and fulfilment and beautiful people [in my life] – such amazing things to experience at a young age. But at the same time, there were a lot of things in my personal life that were unchecked and sort of neglected for a while.”

O’Brien says that in time, he realised he had to “stop for a second” and “re-explore how I wanted my life to look going forward”. In fairness, you can see why he needed a breather: his career took off while he was still a teenager. After his family moved from New Jersey to Los Angeles County when he was 12, O’Brien contemplated a career as a sports broadcaster – his Twitter bio still bills him as a “no longer suffering Mets fan” – then began posting YouTube videos as moviekidd826. A funny, slickly edited skit titled ‘How to Prepare for the SAT in 45 seconds’, shared when he was just 17, shows he was a born performer and storyteller. YouTube success led to him getting a manager, but his breakthrough role in Teen Wolf still came out of the blue. At the time, he was treading water at a local community college and taking auditions on the side.

Still, he has since taken a rather fatalistic view of this career-making moment. “It’s totally weird because, when I think about it now, I don’t see how it could have happened any other way. I can’t picture myself doing anything else now,” he told Collider in 2011. “It was really sudden and a little random, and not provoked by anything. It was just out of nowhere. It wasn’t my intentional doing.” Today, O’Brien summarises his skyscraper career trajectory succinctly. “I guess I just graduated high school and started acting,” he says. “And then I felt like I was just flying by the seat of my pants and never got a chance to stop.” Thankfully, straight-out-the-blocks Hollywood success hasn’t taken away his sense of perspective. When I say how easy social media makes it to compare yourself unfavourably to others, O’Brien jumps in: “Yeah, that’s very true. I was watching the Billie Eilish doc the other day, and I was like, I’ve done nothing. I’m not an artist at all!”

“No one thought ‘Love and Monsters’ was going to be good!”

O’Brien is also self-deprecating when he talks about being cast in Flashback, suggesting it happened because he had such an intense connection with Fred. “I was honestly like, ‘Who is watching me right now?’ That is the best way I can describe how I was feeling when I came across this script,” he says. “Chris [MacBride, director] and I had this conversation that went so well in terms of [my] understanding this script that I think he’d sent around a lot and [that] very commonly wasn’t understood. I think Chris has even said that the night before shooting, he suddenly had this thought, like, ‘Wait, do I even think he’s a good actor?'”

Though O’Brien has firmly ring-fenced elements of his private life, he’s actually pretty frank about his acting vehicles. He readily admits he was expecting a snobbish response to Love and Monsters, a CGI-heavy hybrid of post-apocalyptic action and romcom that dropped on Netflix in April and topped the streamer’s daily most-watched list. “It means so much that Love and Monsters has gotten the response that it’s gotten,” O’Brien says. “No one thought this movie was going to be good.” His blunt honesty makes me laugh out loud. “No one did though!” he says in response. “And so, fuck that. You know, most of the people who say something to me about the movie, they’re like: ‘I watched Love and Monsters, and it was… good?’ And honestly, that just cracks me up.” For obvious reasons, we hastily decide not to share our response to the film – namely, that it was a whole lot better than expected.

In Love and Monsters, O’Brien plays Joel, a survivor of a so-called “monsterpocalypse” that has bumped humans to the bottom of the food chain. Though he’s known in his colony as a bit of a coward, Joel sets off on a treacherous 80-mile journey to find his high school sweetheart Aimee (Iron Fist‘s Jessica Henwick), which means evading the hungry clutches of various supersize grizzlies including a giant monster-frog hiding in a suburban pond. It’s a simple but pretty out-there premise that wouldn’t work if O’Brien’s performance was even slightly condescending. Instead, his unselfconscious sincerity really sells a film that has as much in common with the family-oriented Robin Williams movie Night at the Museum as darker fare like The Walking Dead.

His obvious affection for the project really comes across during our interview today. “When I read the script, I just thought it was so sweet and funny and smart and unique, but at the same time reminiscent of all these movies that don’t really get made any more,” he says. That’s a fair point: Love and Monsters is neither a fail-safe superhero movie nor a slice of classy Oscar bait. “And when they were talking about how to market this movie, it was so funny hearing all these conversations like, ‘How do we actually get people to watch it?'” he adds. “But that’s a big part of the reason I wanted to do this movie: because it felt like something I missed seeing.”

“I’m lucky to be surrounded by people who want to make something out of love”

So in a way, Love and Monsters was a risk for an actor seeking to establish himself outside of a bankable movie franchise and a hit TV show. O’Brien has only made four films since his final Maze Runner outing in 2018, and insists he hasn’t been tactical with his choices. “I don’t have anyone saying, ‘We need to get you in an Oscar vehicle’, or any of that kind of shit,” he says. “I’m really lucky to be surrounded by people who think like me: that you should do what you’re drawn to, and make something out of love.”

He’s recently finished shooting a mysterious crime thriller called The Outfit in London with Mark Rylance. Directed and co-written by Graham Moore, who won an Oscar for his screenplay to Alan Turing biopic The Imitation Game, O’Brien calls it “quite possibly one of the most special pieces of writing I’ve ever experienced”. He first read the script on a plane and says he “actually stood up and clapped” when he got to the end. Considering O’Brien probably wasn’t flying Ryanair, this reaction presumably attracted a few baffled glances.

Anyway, it must be pretty intimidating walking onto set with Rylance, a multi-award-winning actor revered by his peers – Al Pacino once said he “speaks Shakespeare as if it was written for him the night before” – but it sounds as though O’Brien took it all in stride. He says he’s confident in his abilities, but admits to having a slight wobble whenever he begins a new project. “I’m always sort of re-questioning everything – like, ‘Can I even act?'” he says. “But I think there’s something very natural about that. I think even Rylance could relate to that feeling. Acting is like starting a new year at school every single time.”

At this point in his career, O’Brien has made peace with the fact that some people will have preconceptions about him based on what he’s known for: Maze Runner and Teen Wolf. “People will put you in a box no matter what,” he says. “There was definitely a time when that would get to me, especially when it felt like somebody had a perspective on me that in my soul, I just felt wasn’t accurate.” Still, there’s no doubt he wants to show us what’s really in his soul with more films like Flashback. “If anything,” he adds bullishly, “it just makes me think: ‘Right, I’m really gonna show them now’.”

‘Flashback’ is out on digital platforms from June 4

[startanewdream]

Hello Mah, forgive me for coming to ask for another prompt, I should control myself more, but I was reading ''Fate'' when I came across with this part ''Harry will have a full plate with these two someday.''

And I thought that if you haven't written that, make Harry complain to James and Sirius or Lily, idk, over the Easter break, about how Hermione and Ron are fighting, and maybe, just if you want, there is no Voldemort? Just to see the Golden Trio even more as teenagers, as they should be. But if you want to put Voldemort to give that dramatic touch of yours, it's okay too, you decide :)

and if you don't want to write that, that's fine too <3

Hiiiiii, Sweet! <3 please send all the asks you want!

I loved this prompt so much that I couldn’t help myself. So please enjoy this family moment between Harry, his parents and Sirius as they discuss Ron and Hermione’s possible relationship, during the Easter Break of Harry’s Fourth Year (for curiosity, in this universe, Ron and Hermione begin dating the start of their Fifth Year - and one day I’ll finish a WIP about Hinny’s relationship in the same universe) 

Oh, and I know you asked for the Golden Trio being teenagers, but, really, here the parents are the teenagers:

Harry looks at the letter Errol just dropped with a heavy sigh that’s muffled by the sound of the owl hitting the glass of the window instead of flying away.

‘Rest before you go back’, Harry says, picking up the owl carefully (Errol blinks in thanks) and taking it downstairs to the tree next to the window of the kitchen that stands as their owlery. His parents are there, with Sirius, finishing their breakfast.

‘Morning’, Harry says distractedly, helping to place Errol in a branch of the tree, next to a sleepy Hedwig.

‘Come take your breakfast, Harry’, his mother tells him. Harry sits, yawning.

‘What’s with the grumpy face?’, Sirius asks, watching him.

‘I woke up early. Hermione sent me a letter - and when I was almost sleeping again, Errol came with another’.

‘Ron and Hermione are already writing?’, James asks, sounding amused. ‘You have been apart for only one day, you know that, right?’

Lily giggles. ‘Look who's talking. When was the last time you spent a day without seeing Sirius?’

‘Hey!’, James complains, while Harry laughs too. ‘If I don’t see him, how will I know he’s been feeding himself?’

‘Maybe trust he is a functional thirty-five-year-old guy?’

‘Hey, I am right here’, Sirius remembers.

‘Yeah, and you are eating breakfast in our place, which just proves my point’, James notes, smirking. He turns to Harry. ‘What’s so important they had to write to you on the first day of the holidays?’

‘Privacy, James?’, Lily says, amused. ‘Or you used to share the contents of your Marauder letters with your parents?’

‘I hope not’, Sirius intervenes. ‘He used to talk a lot about you in those letters - I am not sure Monty and Mia would have enjoyed reading so much about your very nice pair of -’

‘Hey, hey!’, Harry interrupts, raising his hands. ‘Kid alert here!’

‘Very nice pair of eyes, Harry’, Sirius says calmly. ‘Why did you think I would say?’

‘Oh, shut it’, Harry rolls his eyes, ignoring the redness around his neck. ‘And if you want to know, it’s no big deal, they don’t stop talking about it anyway. It’s about Viktor Bloody Krum’.

‘Harry -’

‘Sorry, Mom’, Harry adds hurriedly. ‘It’s just I don’t wanna ever hear about him again, really’.

‘What happened to all that admiration?’, James asks, surprised. ‘I thought you were cheering more for him than for the Hogwarts Champion’.

‘That was because…’, Harry’s voice drifts off, embarrassed. He doesn’t really want to talk about why Cedric Diggory annoys him lately. ‘Well, I don’t have any problem with Krum, but don’t say his name out loud near Ron and Hermione unless you want to hear them bickering’.

‘Oh, they are still in that phase?’, asks Lily, a grin playing on her lips that Harry doesn’t understand.

‘They always bicker, it’s just… I don’t get it, I thought Ron would actually be glad Hermione is friends with Krum, but all he does is complain’.

‘They are friends? Krum and Hermione’, his father asks, raising his eyebrows. Harry supposes that’s really an unlikely pair.

‘Well, friends, I don’t know - wait, I didn’t tell you? Hermione went with Krum to the Yule Ball’.

James and Sirius make a chorus of ‘ohhhh’, raising their eyebrows at the same time, and pull their chairs so they get closer to Harry.

‘You didn’t tell us!’, his father complains.

‘I didn’t think it was important’.

‘You really need to sort out your priorities, Harry’, Sirius says, somber. ‘That’s big news’.

‘Hermione and Krum?’, Harry asks doubtfully, then he grins. ‘Oh, wait until you hear everything then’.

And he tells them how Ron got upset with Hermione’s choice of date, accusing her of fraternizing with the enemy.

‘Wow’.

‘Nice phrasing’, Sirius agrees.

‘I should have used it when I found you snogging Anthony Travers’.

‘He was hot’.

‘He was a Slytherin!’

Lily rolls her eyes. ‘Grow up’, she mumbles, but they don’t seem to hear.

‘And at the end of the Yule Ball’, Harry adds, expecting for their reactions, ‘she told Ron that next time there was a ball, he should ask her before someone else does, and not as a last resort!’.

Sirius and James don’t disappoint him. ‘OOOOOOH’.

‘One point to Hermione!’

‘She definitely hit a nerve there’.

‘And then what happened?’, Sirius asks curiously. ‘The next day? What did they do?’

Harry shrugs. ‘Nothing, actually, they just pretended nothing happened’.

‘I will need to talk to Ron’, James says gravely; he looks at Lily. ‘If you told me something like that, I would be asking you out the very next minute’.

She gives him a loopsided grin that Harry is sure she learned with his father. ‘As if you would ever not ask me for any ball first’.

James grins, raising to kneel in front of her. ‘My dearest Lily, would you give me the pleasure of your company for all balls for the rest of your life?’

‘Oh, get a room you two’, Sirius says, rolling his eyes. ‘I am waiting to hear the rest of the story. Come on, Harry’.

But Harry is looking wistfully at his parents. ‘It must be so nice to ask someone out when you know she is going to accept it’.

James laughs. ‘Well, now it seems easy, but when I asked your mom, trust me, I was nothing but a nerve-wracking mess’.

‘He fainted’, Lily agrees, looking fondly at her husband.

‘It was not a faint! I just closed my eyes for a while -’

‘Harry’, Sirius interrupts out loud. ‘So if everything was ok, why are you receiving letters now?’

‘Oh’, Harry grins. ‘It’s because of the Second Task. The champions had to rescue the things they would miss the most - and for Krum, that was Hermione’.

‘That is so -’

‘Unexpected?’, Lily suggests. ‘Unbelievable exaggerated for someone you just went to a ball together?’

‘Romantic’, Sirius finishes, frowning at her. ‘What did James see in you, Evans?’

‘Potter’, she notes, smirking. ‘And from what you said, he was very fond of my pair of… eyes’.

‘Oh, stop you two’, James says, waving his hand as if they are two misbehaved kids. He glances at Harry. ‘I take Ron didn’t like it very much’.

‘No, he hated it. I mean, he was very worried with Hermione while she was underwater, though I told him Dumbledore wouldn’t really anything happen with any of the hostages… and then when she was safe, he got angry with her!’

‘Of course he did’, James agrees, eyes sparkling with laugh. Harry doesn’t see much humour in this story.

‘Well, now they keep arguing about Krum, about house-elves, about whoever Ron is talking to, about everything, and I am in the middle of it. Letters and all now’.

James exchanges a look with Lily. ‘We were never like that’.

‘No, we went from arguing to bantering and then snogging’.

‘It wasn’t arguing, I was just an arse and you didn’t take it quietly’, James says unabashed. ‘But I meant we never took pleasure in arguing just for the sake of it’.

‘I wish you had’, Sirius notes. ‘At least then I could shut you up with a spell’.

‘We were not that bad’, James says fairly. Sirius gives one of his barking laughs.

‘You two keep looking at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking, both convinced the other didn’t like you back, while you both sighed all over the place, finding some stupid excuses to be near each other - I mean, come on, how many meetings could you have in our final year?’

‘I was Head Boy!’, James remembers.

‘See? The worst excuse ever to get near a girl’.

Harry blinks. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your parents’, Sirius says joyfully. ‘And comparing them with Ron and Hermione’.

‘What they have to do in common?’

‘Oh, Harry’, Sirius looks at him almost pityingly. ‘You see, when a boy likes a girl - or another boy, or when a girl likes a boy or a girl -’

‘You are just complicating everything, Padfoot’, Lily tells him brightly. ‘What he means is that there is something going on between Ron and Hermione’.

‘Yeah’, Harry agrees, his brows furrowed. ‘They are fighting’.

The other three laugh. Harry crosses his arms, annoyed.

‘But why are they fighting, Harry?’, his mother asks gently.

‘Because they are two stubborn people?’

‘But why now, why about Krum?’ When Harry shrugs, without answering, Lily shakes her head. ‘Oh, dear, you are as oblivious as your father’.

‘Hey!’

Lily places a soft kiss on James’ face before turning to Harry.

‘Ron is jealous of Hermione’, she explains patiently. ‘And Hermione wished Ron had asked her to the ball before. You see now?’

‘So Ron and Hermione… will become Ron and Hermione?’

‘I don’t know that’, Lily says. ‘Not every crush turns into something’. 

‘Ours did’, James whispers, smugly.

‘And not every school romance lasts after school either’.

‘Seventeen years together’, James sings. Lily throws him a fond look.

‘And counting’, she agrees, offering her hand for him to take it.

Sirius rolls his eyes.

‘You see what I had to endure with these two? That will be you with Ron and Hermione’.

‘They like each other?’, Harry repeats, thinking, but now that they’ve said it, he supposes he couldn’t really be surprised.

All that bickering had to mean something - and beyond that, they were always close, always gravitating around each other. He supposes he should be glad they would move on that bickering phase, but if they did...

‘But - what if they get together? I will be a third wheel! Worse, what if they get together and then split up? We won’t be friends -’

‘You are overworrying, son’, James assures him. ‘You won’t stop being their friends no matter what happens’.

‘Yeah’, Lily mumbles. ‘Look at Sirius’.

‘What about me?’

‘James dating me and marrying me didn’t affect the relationship between Prongs and Padfoot’, she notes, ignoring Sirius’ wink at her. ‘So you will be fine with them’.

Sirius nods gravely. ‘There is only one rule you need to follow when your best friends are dating, Harry. Remember that and your life will be easier’.

‘What is that?’

Sirius grins. ‘Always knock on their doors before you enter any room they are in or else you will see them in positions you didn’t even know it was possible’.

‘Sirius!’

[fanficimagery]

Surprise! It’s a Girl.

Imagine finding out you're not who you've been led to believe you are. You're not Y/N Y/L/N; you're Y/N Potter. But one particular wizard was against you reuniting with your little brother when you found out just who he was. In the end, you're determined to see him even if it means fighting in a war where a Dark Lord would see your brother dead.

Words: 7.2K Warnings: This is a very brief Marvel/HP crossover and some characters who've died in HP will not be dead in this. I'm a sucker for a few wizards that didn't make it to the see the end of the war. Luckily for me, I can make that happen ;) So with that said, let's just jump right into it. You might be confused, but you'll learn what's happened when Reader explains it to Harry and friends.

Also timelines? What are those? Lol.

Sitting atop the roof of the Sanctum Sanctorum, you're in the middle of meditating when someone clears their throat in order to get your attention. Everyone knows better than to interrupt meditation time unless it's an emergency, so instead of getting angry you crack open an eye to see what's going on.

The Sorcerer Supreme stands before you, his cloak of levitation clasped around his neck and expression carefully guarded as he stares down at you. "I believe it's time."

Those four words are enough to freeze the air in your lungs and bring chaos to your previously emptied mind. On the outside, however, you keep your composure as you slowly stand. "Are you sure?"

"I am." He nods. "I was keeping an eye on things overseas and extremely powerful wards went up not too long ago. However," he adds, "they're in the process of being torn down by the man who wishes the last of your family dead."

You shakily inhale and tersely nod. "I have to go then."

"You do. Go get changed and then meet me back up here. I have a parting gift for you."

Fleeing the rooftop and back inside the Sanctum, you rush towards your room and throw apologies over your shoulders when you accidentally run into people. Then when you get to your room you immediately start to disrobe and pull on the outfit that's been laid out on your bed. The spandex leather pants are easy to maneuver around in, but the red bustier vest that laces up the front is a little off-putting. You are, however, grateful for the red leather coat that goes over it and the fingerless gloves that make you feel less naked. You zip up black knee-high boots and then rush back towards the rooftop where the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth is still awaiting you.

"You'll be going in blind, Miss Potter. You must remember that." You gulp and nod, and mentally urge the Sorcerer Supreme to hurry up and get his warning speech done and over with. "You'll have to be careful when deciding who's friend and who's foe, and be extremely careful that those fighting for your brother don't mistake you for the enemy."

"I know. From what I've read about Deatheaters, they'll most likely be the most deranged looking of the bunch. Also they were dumb enough to let themselves be branded so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out who's who."

"Very well." The Sorcerer Supreme, whose hands had been clasped over his abdomen, puts his right hand forward and then turns it over. "I believe you'll need this. You've earned it." In his palm is what every sorcerer in training calls a Sling Ring- a two finger ring which can open portals to anywhere in the world.

You gasp, but slowly reach forward and grab the bronzed piece of jewelry. Slipping it over your left index and middle fingers, you smile at it before looking back up at the man who had taken you under his wing at the tender age of sixteen. "Thank you, Sorcerer Supreme."

Faintly smiling at you, he says, "I took you in during your rebellious phase and made you into a proper young witch. I believe you can call me Stephen, Miss Potter."

"Then it's Y/N. None of this Miss Potter business anymore." You both chuckle at one another, but then the seriousness of the situation you're about to walk into sinks in. Your smiles both fall and then you're looking towards a spot on the roof where it's empty.

"I got it this time," Stephen says. Raising his left hand and then outstretching his right to trace a circular pattern mid-air, you watch as a portal sparks to life and grows bigger and bigger until it's big enough for a person to fit through. Instead of seeing the New York skyline through the portal, you see a darkened courtyard with various witches and wizards torn between looking at you and looking at something in the sky. "Be safe. Let me know when it's over."

"Yes, sir." You step through the portal, raising your hands when a couple of wands are pointed in your direction. Glancing over your shoulder lets you know the portal has now been closed and you inhale slowly to gather you wits.

"Who are you?" A rather severe looking woman asks, her Scottish accent making you faintly grin. The shorter, redheaded woman at her side narrows her eyes.

"My name is Y/N Potter." And that- that gives them pause and causes their eyes to widen. "My story is a long one- one I'll gladly explain after this war is over. All you need to know right now is that I fight for Harry. I fight for my little brother."

"It's a trick!" The redhead shrilly remarks. "It has to be. We are Harry's only family."

You shake your head. "Lady, I swear upon my magic that I'm telling the truth. I was taken and then forbidden from contacting my brother by Albus Dumbledore when I found out who I was. I was learning to manifest my magic without a wand when I heard of his death, but by the time I tracked down Harry he had gone on the run."

"Albus would never-"

"Molly," the other woman cuts her off, her wand slowly lowering, "she looks like Lily."

Still in denial, Molly shakes her head. "No, Minerva. It can't be."

"We can talk all night, ma'am, but I rather help you defeat this threat. After we win this war, I'll answer anything and everything you have for me. You can take my memories, you can pour Veritaserum down my throat. I am who I say I am. I am the eldest child of Lily and James Potter."

The redhead continues to stare you down before her own wand starts to lower. She huffs. "Very well. But if I see you harm one person from the Light, I will hex you."

Your lips twitch. "Fair enough." The brief reprieve, however, is short lived. There's a thundering explosion, followed by eerie silence, and then what looks like blue ash falling down upon your heads.

Minerva gulps. "The wards have fallen. Prepare for battle."

Rolling your shoulders, you step so your feet are shoulder's width apart. "Ma'am, I've been preparing a while for this." Your hands glow red and both women's eyes widen at the sight.

Thundering footsteps has you turning towards a bridge being protected by what appears to be stone statues, and the appearance of giants rushing ahead of hollering witches and wizards churn your stomach. Some of those witches and wizards seem to jump into the air, their bodies twisting into balls of smoke as they fly overhead. So concentrating on them since they appear to be flying towards the school, you alternately flick your hands upward, aiming red orbs at each deatheater you can to stun them out of the sky.

Then when there appears to be too many to hit at once, you allow your magic to pool in your hands before raising your arms, throwing up a red net of magic and capturing several deatheaters at once before slamming them towards the ground.

"Filius!" Minerva screams.

Looking towards where the distraught witch is staring, you watch as a small wizard tries to outrun a giant swinging around a quidditch loop as a weapon. Eyes widening, you reach out with your glowing left hand and envelop the small wizard with your magic, slowly pulling back your left arm while erecting a shield with your right hand behind the wizard's back to protect him from ricocheting spells and debris.

The wizard yelps as you bring him in a little too quickly, but you manage to carefully set him down. He wobbles on his feet and stares up at you in wonder. "T-Thank you."

You grin down at him. "No problem." Then looking at Minerva, you ask, "Where do you want me?"

But Minerva is looking at you in awe herself, so it's Molly who says, "Inside. Protect the children."

"I'll do my best."

More deatheaters take flight overhead, and when you hear glass shatter and screaming children all bets are off. Your hands glow even redder and you briefly raise your hands before thrusting them downward, projecting your magic towards the ground so it'd propel you into flight. You make your entrance through a shattered window, using your magic to soften your landing before stunning deatheaters left and right. Though the second you see a deatheater cast the killing curse at kids younger than you, you switch up tactics and don't bother feeling any remorse when your spells make precise gashes that leave the deatheaters gasping for breath before collapsing in a pool of their own blood.

Other curses you fling around wrap chains around deatheaters, cause thousands of tiny nicks, or fling them into the nearest hard surface to knock them unconscious. Or worse, but you don't really care at the moment. And if you don't have an enemy of your own to fight, you're erecting shields to protect the students from being cursed themselves.

Majority of the kids, however, seem to know what they're doing so you run around the castle to see where aid is needed.

You come across two wizards who are fighting back to back, the shorter and darker haired wizard laughing and trying to reminisce with the taller and sandy brown haired wizard as the deatheaters start to outnumber them. You don't think before throwing a large red orb at a group of three deatheaters, knocking them unconscious as they're flung a good ten feet away. Then gathering enough magic for another orb, you fling it towards the other group of five deatheaters. When they fall, the two wizards stare at you in surprise.

You meet their gazes head on, something about the man with three scars running diagonally across his face almost familiar to you. But now is not the time to wonder about all that, so you merely grin. "You're welcome. In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on. Try to keep up, yeah?" Then without another word, you take off and leave the two wizards staring after you and wondering why you yourself were so achingly familiar to them.

Dodging curses and flinging random spells of your own at unsuspecting deatheaters, you come upon another set of wizards being outnumbered by deatheaters yet again. Only these two could pass for brothers and one is cracking a joke about the deatheater he's dueling while the other one is hilariously proud of him for finally unknotting his wand.

There's a split second of distraction on their part, but that split second is all one angry deatheater needs.

"BOMBARDA!"

"Watch out!" You manage to throw up a red barrier behind the two laughing wizards' backs just in the nick of time.

You catch the exploding wall from crumbling on them, but at the cost of suddenly putting yourself under a magical strain that has you barely being able to hold the wall of debris at bay. You're struggling, hoping the two wizards collect themselves fast enough to have the smarts to move out of the way, only to end up distracted and take some sort of hex to your right side. The searing heat makes you scream out, your concentration breaking and the wall dropping. Thankfully, the two wizards you had saved jump back into action to dispatch the deatheaters before checking on you.

"That was a bloody close call," the taller redhead muses. "We owe you one, love."

You smile through the pain, your left hand reaching across your stomach to hold the wound on your right side. "Don't mention it."

The second redhead stares curiously at you. "How did you do that? I've never seen magic performed like that without a wand."

"Aw come on, Perce!" The previous redhead chuckles, slinging an arm around this so-called Perce's shoulders. "Turn that brain of yours off for mo'. A pretty bird just saved our arses." You smile sheepishly, mentally cursing yourself for blushing. The talkative redhead wiggles his eyebrows and you huff in amusement at him. "I'm Fred Weasley, by the way. And this is one of my older brothers Percy."

"Y/N. Y/N Potter." Both wizards freeze, their expressions falling and you hesitantly grin. "Yep. I'm exactly one of those Potters that you're thinking about."

Percy blinks first. "Impossible. The Potters only had one child."

"Surprise," you muse. "It's a girl!" When neither wizard reacts, you exhale tiredly. "I only found out I was a Potter when I was sixteen. I tried to get in contact with Harry, but I was prevented from doing so. However, I'm here now and I don't plan to let the same dark wizard who killed my parents and ruin my life now kill my little brother. We have loads to catch up on and I'll be damned if I let some arsehole off Harry before I have the chance to meet him."

Fred appears as if he's going to say something, but an eerie ringing fills your ears. Your hands fly up to hold your ears as if that'll stop the noise, but when you stumble back into a wall and glance up you see that Percy and Fred are affected as well if their grimaces and terrified expressions are anything to go by.

"You have fought valiantly, but in vain." The hissing voice that enters your mind makes gooseflesh break out up and down your arms, your eyes widening in horror when you realize who it is. "I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity." You choke back a sob, not used to having someone violate your mind as such. "Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you." But that- that catches your attention and forces you to pay attention. "On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman, and child who tries to conceal you from me."

When your mind is completely silent once more, you lower your hands and stare at the two wizards before you. "Please tell me Harry isn't dumb enough to confront this psycho." Fred and Percy stay quiet, but they share a nervous glance at one another. You curse. "I need to find him."

"Everyone will be gathering in the Great Hall," Percy says. "We'll take you there and have you looked at."

He gestures to your side and when you glance down you can see a rather sleek looking stain running down your thigh. "Oh."

Your knees seem to give then, but Fred is quick to catch you. "There, there," he chuckles. "I know I'm handsome, but you can't swoon until you've met my twin."

You shakily smile. "You mean there's two of you? How does your mum survive?"

Fred laughs as Percy shakes his head. "By loads of threats and hexes. Now come on, we need to regroup."

Fred and Percy manage to maneuver your arms around the back of their necks as they help you walk now that you're starting to feel the effects of blood loss. There are many dead witches and wizards, and it hurts your heart to see so many young faces among them. The others are bloodied and beaten, but all are doing their best to help their peers.

When you walk into the Great Hall, it's an even worse sight. Bodies are being dragged in and laid out to be checked over, and kids are breaking down over everything that's happened. Fred and Percy continue to lead you towards a specific spot, and it takes you a moment to realize that the wizards are leading you towards a clearly distraught Molly. She's checking over a young redheaded girl before moving onto the next redhead, and it's Fred's nearly identical twin that spots you three first. The relief on his face is heartbreaking and you politely extricate yourself as the family rush over to reunite.

"Hey, mum," Fred says after everyone's been checked over by their fussing mother. "Y/N found us and took a hex while saving our bums. I think she needs a healing spell. Or three."

"A blood replenishing potion would be nice," you mumble before drowsily dropping onto a bench.

Molly rushes over to you while Fred and Percy obviously fill in the others, and the redheaded girl's eyes widen after hearing something they say before she rushes to help her mum. She quickly introduces herself as Ginny and you smile as best as you can while Molly waves her wand up and down you.

"I need your coat and shirt off, dearie."

You grimace and open your jacket so she can see your top underneath. "I'm afraid I'll have to get naked for that, ma'am."

Molly purses her lips before glancing at her daughter. "Ginny, transfigure Y/N a shirt please." She then turns to the men of her family. "Boys, I'm going to need you all to give us some room."

Your heart warms as Molly conjures a privacy curtain and gestures for you to step behind it. You do and then proceed to strip out of your jacket. When you struggle with your top, Ginny vanishes it with a sheepish smile and averts her gaze as she quickly hands you a shirt. You put it on, but then Molly is there at your side to lift it to see the gash on your right side. She tuts.

"I'll be right back. I'll have to go see if Madam Pomfrey has any potions for this."

"Wait," you tell her. "Just a blood replenisher will do. I can take care of this." She opens her mouth to retort, but you let your hand glow in front of her. "Different, remember? I can close the wound myself."

Ginny stares in awe as you hold your shirt up with one hand, your other hand hovering above your wound as your fingers dance in an intricate pattern so your magic closes the gash. Once done, you nod at Molly and she huffs in amusement before turning. Then with a flick of her wand, the privacy curtain vanishes and she scuttles off to go see about that potion. Ginny guides you to a bench, but just as you take a seat there's two wizards stumbling towards you. They're the first set of men you saved, one with shaggy dark hair and the other with sandy brown hair, and they're staring at you in clear disbelief.

"Lily?"

You frown just as all the Weasley's freeze. "I'm sorry?"

The dark haired wizard blinks, shaking his head clear. "I'm sorry, love. You just reminded me of-"

"Cub?"

Your gaze darts to the sandy haired wizard now, his shorter companion shaking his head. "Come on, Moony. I think we hit our heads a little too hard."

Cub. Moony. The nicknames strike a chord within you, but you're not exactly sure why. Your brow furrows as you try to pinpoint a dream- or was it a memory?- and between one blink and the next it hits you. "Paddy." You utter in awe as you eye the dark haired wizard, watching as he gapes at you. Slowly standing, you then look at the other wizard. "Uncle Moony. I- I remember you. I think. Toy broom. Broken vase. Accidental.. fire?"

The one you had called Paddy snorts and Moony exhales in disbelief. "H-how?"

"Dumbledore," you immediately answer. "But.. I dreamt that, didn't I? You- I'd have been too little to remember anything."

"No, Cub. You didn't." Moony steps forward and gently touches your face in awe. "Sirius and James, your dad, thought it was a good idea to get you a toy broom. You flew into a vase, broke it, and let loose some accidental magic when your mum started shrieking at them."

"That was a mighty big fire. Remus almost soiled his trousers."

Sirius and Remus. Yes, that sounded awfully familiar.

The tears come without warning and you fling yourself at them, content to find yourself sandwiched between the two wizards. They're more shocked than anything, so after a moment the Weasley's step forward.

"So she really is Harry's sister?" Fred asks. Sirius and Remus nod. "Blimey. We now have two Potters to keep an eye on."

"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen," an older red headed wizard steps forward, someone you assume to be the Weasley father, "but how did you not know Miss Potter was still alive?"

"Dumbledore," they both say.

"I was obviously thrown into Azkaban," Sirius says. "None of my questions were answered when I asked about the children."

"We didn't even ask to see the bodies," Remus mumbles. "We just took Dumbledore's word for it. And since Harry was too small to remember, we never brought up the memory of Y/N since no one would have known of her." You take turns hugging each wizard, lingering a little longer with Remus. When he pulls out of the big, he smiles down at you. "You look like your mum."

"And you," you reach up to gently trace one of his scars, "got old." Sirius guffaws and when you finally turn around, it feels as if all the wind is sucked out of your lungs.

"You're here." Harry says as stands before you, covered in blood, sweat and dirt.

Everyone seems to hold their breath, taking a step back as you and Harry stare at one another. You blink. "You know who I am?"

He numbly nods. "Only from Snape's memories. He wanted me to know what he knew before he died. He was not happy with Dumbledore's decision after he found out you were alive and sent to America." He pauses just to stare and you sheepishly smile, then the two of you are lunging for one another. Arms wrapped around each other, you bite back a whimper when your side twinges with phantom pains. Seconds tick by and then you hear him ask, "Walk with me?"

You nod, afraid to speak and your voice crack with emotion. Side by side, you follow Harry just outside the Great Hall where a witch and wizard stare in surprise but keep their distance. Your brother quickly informs you that they're his best friends Ron and Hermione.

"It took me a long while, Harry, but I finally caught up with you," you say as he finally stops.

He huffs a quiet laugh. "You did." He then turns so he's standing right in front of you, his hands reaching for yours and holding on gently. "I'm just sorry it has to be so short lived."

Your expression falters at his words. "What?" He lets you go, stepping back with a mumbled apology. "No." Immediately you know what he plans to do and you stumble forward to attempt to catch him. "No, you're not turning yourself over."

"I have to."

"No. I'll- I'll go with you!" You start to cry again, chest aching. You just found your little brother; you can't lose him so soon.

Harry smiles sadly, a lone tear falling down his cheek. "I'm sorry. Ron and Hermione will watch over you until I get back."

"Please don't." Harry backpedals quickly now, giving you his back so he can take his leave. You try to follow, but your vision swims and the room seems to tilt. You collapse, blinking rapidly to clear your vision. "No. No, Harry." You cry some more, reaching out for your brother. "Please don't leave me."

Harry's steps falter but he pushes on and the moment he disappears from view you scream out in anguish. There seems to be a pressure on your chest, but that pressure seems to lessen as you scream. You're barely coherent enough to see a faint wisp of red shoot out from you in every direction, and are conscious long enough to hear someone mutter bloody hell before passing out.

          - - - - - - - - - -

You jolt awake, but you're not sure what's woken you. As you blink up at the ceiling, you realize it's eerily quiet. So letting your head lull to the side, you blink against the brightness of the room and realize you're alone. You're alone with the dead.

Sitting up with a groan, you glance around to see that everyone is gone. But there are voices.. and laughter? Instantly, an uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

Shakily standing, you walk as fast as you can towards the entrance to the Great Hall and swallow down the bile trying to creep it's way up your throat. You stumble out the front enterance, shoving passed the small gathered crowd. Someone's giving a speech and across the courtyard there is a sea of black and- and you're going to be sick. The bald, gray skinned man must be who attempted to end the Potter line so long ago. Voldemort.

"Y/N. Y/N, wait!"

With the sea of deatheaters, just off to the side of them, there seems to be a half giant carrying a body. A body which is wearing suspiciously familiar clothing. Hands catch you by the arms, holding you back when you realize who it is the half giant is carrying, and your knees buckle. You whimper, but the voices on either side of you attempt to soothe you. When you chance a glance at them, you realize it's Fred and George.

Voldemort asks for the Light to pledge their loyalty to him, but only a single wizard stumbles forward. Neville Longbottom, he says his name is, and even as the deatheaters make fun of him the boy manages to give a heartwarming speech about none of their friends or family dying in vain. But as the hurt and sadness ebbs away, rage takes its place.

You can feel a pressure in your chest forming again and the hands on you fall away with hisses of pain. It seems as if you have tunnel vision as you stumble forward, Neville's speech falling on deaf ears. You can hear whispers of awe all around, but you only have eyes for Voldemort as his manic smile slowly starts to fall upon seeing you. Neville pulls free a sword from a crumpled hat, but still you stumble forward.

Your wrists are slowly rotating now and you sneer as Voldemort's followers seem to stare at you with trepidation. "You took everything from me," you grit out.

Voldemort starts to smile upon hearing the pain in your voice. "My dear, I don't even know who you are."

"You will." Debris from the half demolished castle starts to gather all around you as if being pulled by a magnet, forming two large balls of concrete on either side of you. Then with a deep breath, you feel the ground beneath your feet vanish as everyone around you gasps in surprise. "You were always going to die by the hands of a Potter. It's just too bad it couldn't have been my brother who ended you."

"Potter," Voldemort hisses angrily.

"In the flesh."

You slowly raise your hands, the balls of debris rising higher, but before you can catapult them Harry is dropping from the half-giant's arms. You feel your magic waver at the sudden relief that washes over you, but then Harry's firing a spell at a giant snake and Voldemort is firing back at him. There's cheering and then before the deatheaters can start fleeing, you fling the balls of debris at them one after the other.

You fall back to your feet, erecting shields to cover the backs of the witches and wizards rushing back into the castle. Then once back into the school all bets are off and all your hexes turn deadly. But your rage clouds your ability to multitask and you don't see the deatheater creeping up on you in time. Chains wrap around your throat, wrapping tighter and tighter as your fingers claw to pull it off. There's crazed laughter somewhere behind you and you don't even have the opportunity to see who was responsible before the chains loosen and they are being pulled off.

"There, there, cub. You're alright now." As you're pulled to your feet, relief floods you at the sight of Remus. "It's going to be okay." You're quick to hug him, crying softly as the side of your face presses against his chest.

A battle cry pulls your and Remus' attention towards it, and you watch as Neville beheads the large snake you had seen Harry firing spells at earlier. It seems to go quiet inside the castle after that, the deatheaters lowering their wands in shock. A moment later a cheer erupts from outside and the remaining deatheaters inside hiss as they clutch at their inner arms before fleeing altogether. Luckily, some are detained before they can go anywhere.

"Did we- did we just win?"

"Yeah, cub. I think we just did."

"Remus!" The two of you turn towards the joyous shout and you quickly step back when a woman throws herself into his arms. You smile at the reunion, heart aching at the relief and joy in your uncle's features as he hugs the woman tightly before sharing a chaste kiss with her.

Afterwards, he pulls back and turns towards you. The woman follows his gaze and she smiles kindly. "Tonks, I want to introduce you to the Potters eldest child." She gasps. "My goddaughter Y/N. Y/N, this is my wife Tonks."

You smile sheepishly. "Hullo."

"Another Potter," she breathes in awe. "Wicked."

You watch as her mousy brown hair turns a vibrant pink and you laugh as you gesture to it. "I think that's pretty wicked."

"You think so?" She muses. "Our son has the same ability and he's only a day old."

"Your son?" Your now widened eyes dart to Remus. "You have a son and you're still here?! Go!"

"Y/N.."

"No. Don't," you say. "I'm home, Moony. For good. Go to your son while I go find my brother. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay." He steps forward to hug you. "I'll see you soon."

"Yes you will."

After Remus lets go, his wife Tonks steps in and hugs you as well. Surprised, you laugh and return the brief embrace. "See you soon, kid. Can't wait to get to know you."

"You as well," you say.

As the couple takes their leave, all you can do is look around at the demolished school and the witches and wizards as some of them have a meltdown. You spot a couple of the Weasleys celebrating the win as Molly looks on with a smile she's quick to smother when her sons point it out. Then heading for the entrance, your shoulders sag in relief when you spot Sirius coming in.

"Paddy!" Your shout garners his attention and you quickly make a beeline for him. "Have you seen Harry?"

"Yeah, pup. He's out on the bridge."

"Thanks." You quickly lean up and kiss his cheek. "We'll catch up later."

Making your way outside, your heart aches at seeing the ruins of what was clearly a magnificent school. You spot the bridge Sirius spoke of and spy your brother tossing something across the open air, only to fall down and be lost forever. His friends Ron and Hermione spot you first, the two of them offering you smiles as you approach.

Harry turns and smiles upon seeing you- a smile which you return, but then your expression goes lax as you slap at his arms one hit after the other. "If-" Hit. "You-" Hit. "Ever do that again.."

"Blimey, she really is a Potter."

"Ron, shush!"

"Hey. Hey!" Harry is quick to defend himself, catching you by the wrist so you stop hitting him. "I'm okay. It's over."

Your chest is heaving, your breathing stuttering as a sob threatens to break free. Tears silently fall before the fight drains out of you and you throw your arms around your little brother's neck. "I just found you, you dunghole. You're not allowed to die first."

Harry chuckles. "I'll do my best." As he pulls out of the hug, his hands remain on your biceps as he grins. "Did you know your eyes glow when you're angry?"

You frown, but before you can answer his friend Hermione is speaking up. "About that.. how is it your magic manifests like that without a wand? Earlier when Harry left to meet Voldemort, you fell to your knees in grief and there was- well it was like-"

"An explosion," Ron says. "Made me and 'Mione stumble some. We had to carry you back into the Great Hall where Remus and Sirius nearly lost it."

You cringe. "Sorry about that. I, uh, I actually used to have a wand until the MACUSA snapped it."

"They what!?" Harry asks incredulously.

"Yeah. School-aged Americans are quite savage," you huff. When the other three don't crack even the smallest of grins, you sigh and explain. "I got picked on quite a lot, but it was never anything that caused harm. Just some stupid pranks that embarrassed me," you say. "When I was sixteen, the pranks turned harmful. Two students caught me in a duel and when one of their hexes sliced my cheek I thought nothing of it. It wasn't until the sight of my blood made them proud and then duel even harder did my magic lash out when I was failing to protect myself. I.. I killed someone." Hermione gasps, but no one dares to say a word. "It was an accident and the Professors knew it because they'd witnessed countless attacks on me, but the government gives no second chances. So my wand was snapped and I was kicked out of the magical community over there."

"But that's preposterous!" Hermione nearly screeches. "You were a child!"

"I was a witch who killed a fellow witch." You shrug. "Apparently the American government is not very forgiving." Harry reaches for your hand then, squeezing it to show his support in you.

"So what happened?" Ron wonders. "You had to have some form of schooling to be so in control of your magic now."

"I ended up in a muggle orphanage after feigning amnesia. I spent months without casting and well.. my magic had to go somewhere," you tell him. "I had a few outbursts and my outbursts were picked up on by the Sorcerer Supreme."

Hermione seems to perk up at that. "I've never heard of that term before."

"You wouldn't have." Smiling fondly, you continue to tell them about the man who changed your life. "All around the world there are sorcerers, but instead of using a wand they master what they call a Sling Ring." You pause just long enough to flash them the ring before summoning a basic shield on both hands. "There's a hidden community of sorcerers in every country, but only one Sorcerer Supreme. He happened to find me when the outbursts kept happening and showed me a different way to manifest my magic before showing me how to master theirs."

"Wicked," Ron breathes in awe.

"Did you- did you ever look for me?" Harry wonders. His small voice makes your heart ache.

"I did." You smile sadly. "Not at first because of Albus' manipulations, but when I found out I was a Potter and had a baby brother out there, the Sorcerer Supreme tracked you down. Albus refused to reunite us and the Sorcerer Supreme did not want to start a war with the Wizarding community."

"But Dumbledore died some time ago." Ron frowns. "Why didn't you try then?"

"I did," here you huff out a brief laugh, "but some rebellious little shits decided to flee and jumpstart a war." All three blush at your words and you reach up to ruffle Harry's hair. "But what matters most is that I'm here now and no one is keeping the Potter heirs separated any longer."

The following couple of weeks proved to be both mentally and physically draining. Besides all the funerals, you lost count of how many times you told your story and felt sick to your stomach when a few would not take Remus or Sirius' words that you were who you said you were. The main thing some could not understand was why Lily would hide her first pregnancy, but it was your godfather and Sirius who told everyone that it was James' dad who made the decision to hide the pregnancy and then even longer after you were born since you were the first female Potter in quite some time. Apparently you were such a well kept secret that not even Dumbledore knew of your existence until he had sent you off and told those who knew you that you had died that fateful night in Godric's Hollow.

Sadly, it was only after a blood test done by a trusted Healer at St. Mungos did everyone finally believe. It was a relief to not be questioned, but then came the daunting task of fixing up Godric's Hollow so it wasn't such a terrible shrine to the worst night of your and Harry's life, and then reopening Potter Manor. But until the real work began, all you wanted to do was spend time with your brother and thankfully Sirius had room for the two of you to stay with him.

Waking up one morning, you frown when you hear a little bit of a racket. It doesn't appear to be a worrisome sounding racket when you stick your head out the bedroom door, so you take the time to freshen yourself up in the bathroom and make sure you're decent for whatever company is downstairs.

Tiptoeing downstairs, you hold your breath as you pass the covered portrait of Sirius' mum less you wake the old hag up and have her screeching for hours. Then pushing the swinging door open, you smile at the sight of Molly Weasley at the stove and her twin sons chatting back and forth with Sirius.

You spot your brother several seats down from them and enter the kitchen to sit down next to him. He smiles when he sees you and you nudge his arm when you're finally seated. "What's going on?"

"Molly wanted to make us breakfast and to make sure Sirius was taking care of us properly. Your boyfriends tagged along and were being too nosy for her liking."

You huff a laugh. "Not my boyfriends."

"At least not yet."

You roll your eyes, grinning at your brother before nudging him again. The twins had taken a shine to you and it's something everyone found quite hilarious. Their flirtatious behavior was nothing serious, but you were grateful that they accepted you so quickly.

Plates full of scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausages, bacon and grilled tomatoes are floated over, followed by a jar of marmalade and a pitcher of orange juice. Molly then brings over a stack of buttered toast and happily pats you and Harry on the shoulders. "Alright, my dears. Dig in. Boys!" She then calls. "To the floo. Let Sirius, Harry, and Y/N eat in peace."

"But mum-" Fred whines.

"-we haven't seen Y/N in ages," George finishes.

Sirius grins as you scoff. "First off, you boys haven't even said hello to me since I walked into the kitchen. And second it's only been three days."

"And that is a terrible mistake on our part," Fred says as he scoots down the bench you're seated on, slinging his arm around your shoulders and smooching you loudly on the cheek. "Hello, love."

"Fred Weasley!" Molly whacks her son upside the head and Harry snorts out the orange juice he'd been sipping. "You leave Miss Potter alone and get going. You too, George."

Sirius laughs as the boys pout but do as they're told. You wink and blow George a kiss who proceeds to pretend he catches it and then pockets it. Laughing, you shake your head in amusement before looking up at their mum. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, for the delicious looking breakfast. I didn't know how much longer I could pretend that Kreacher's breakfast was good."

Molly beams, but before she could reply Sirius is huffing. "That dreary old bat just needs to be put out of his misery."

"Oh Sirius, be nice. I'm sure he's not all that bad," Molly admonishes him. You, Harry, and Sirius all snort and she tuts at all three of you, but you and Harry are the only two to grin apologetically at her. "Well if that's all, I shall be going. I'll see you three for dinner."

"No, no. This'll be all for today, Molly," Sirius assures her. "The kids are going to start reclaiming what is rightfully theirs today. We'll most likely swing by Tom's tonight."

"Well alright." Molly pats you and Harry on the shoulder one last time. "I wish you two the best."

After Molly whisks her sons back home, the three of you left at the table enjoy the breakfast she had cooked up. Halfway through Remus shows up and plops down on the opposite side of you, stealing food from your plate as he makes small talk with Sirius in between bites.

Once the food is gone and Sirius has summoned Kreacher to clear the table, all the attention is on you and Harry.

"So what's the plan, cub? Are you really going to demolish Godric's Hollow and rebuild?"

"Yes," you answer Remus. "I don't know about everyone else, but I believe it's a disgrace to mum and dad's memory that the home they were murdered in was left as is as some sort of memorial. It's sick," you say. "If they wanted to memorialize it, then a picture should have been taken to be put in a history book or a plaque be put up.

"Do you plan to live there?" Harry asks. "Because I can't see myself making a home where my earliest memory is of mum screaming as Voldemort threatened her."

"Oh Harry." Under the table you reach for your brother's hand, squeezing it in comfort. "I'm sorry you have to live with that. But yes, I'll take Godric's Hollow. Potter Manor is always passed to the male heir anyway, so you don't have to worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't remember anything from that night, and even though I know mum and dad died there I believe in making happy memories where they once lived. I think they'd like that."

He smiles. "Me too."

"Aww! Would you look at that," Sirius coos. "Seeing the two of you together, James and Lily would be proud."

"'Course they would," you muse, releasing Harry's hand and then slinging your arm around the back of his neck to bring him in closer while touching your temple to his. "We're adorable."

"Humble too," Remus huffs, pinching your cheek. He laughs when you swat at him. "So are you two ready? It's going to be quite the tiring day."

You and Harry glance at one another, sobering up some and nodding. "Let's get to it."

[inthewild-flowers]

Hi!! I'm sending an ask!!! So. Two ideas competing for attention in my brain, so you can pick! I can ask you to take a Regency era prompt that explores class differences, including British Empire things (TM) (doesn't have to be a continuation of your fic!! It can be hcs!) OR. Ideas/feelings/notions with trans Remus (transmasc or nb) please?

Sorry these are both extremely broad and difficult 🤠 hope they get creative juices flowing?

thank u for sending an ask!! i’m still planning a continuation of that fic but it needs more thinking and research than i have time for rn so!! transmasc remus

honestly i don’t think that remus would know he was trans super early? he might have if not for the whole werewolf thing, but as it is i think he would have spent most of his childhood more focused on being a werewolf and worrying about that and hiding it and therefore would have pushed any gender and sexuality thoughts to the side

i do think that he would have figured it out at hogwarts. as a kid he was always fairly isolated but also allowed to do more or less what he wanted, but then at hogwarts he would have been very suddenly pushed into all this interaction with other people and also all the very gendered stuff that he was mostly able to avoid before — separate dorms for boys and girls, potentially different uniforms depending on how you think of the hogwarts uniforms (i personally don’t have any concrete ideas about them), teachers calling miss lupin — and at that point he can’t really keep on indefinitely ignoring his discomfort at being lumped in with the girls

he does make friends with the girls in his dorm; dorcas, marlene, mary, and emmeline. not lily. we’ll get there. anyway: they’re all nice and lovely and he loves them to bits and they love him and they’re all the best of friends, they really are. but he also sometimes gets the sense that he’s not quite like them somehow. (and maybe he doesn’t know this, but dorcas feels the same sometimes. nonbinary dorcas is a hill i am willing to die on)

he does have a not like other girls phase. it’s short lived, because his friends tell him he’s being shitty, and then he feels bad so he keeps it to himself. it’s also around then that he starts to think about why, exactly, he’s so determined to be not like other girls. he thinks about it mainly so that he’s able to not be awful to his friends, but it eventually leads to oh shit. wait is that a thing? can i be not a girl?

he spends a lot of time in the library after that, trying to find any evidence of people like him. it’s there that he finds lily, although she’s not lily yet, looking for the same thing, but different. she wants to know if she can be a girl.

it’s exciting for both of them, that moment of im not alone look you’re here too you’re like me!! they still don’t know if they can tell anyone, but they have each other now, and that’s something. they choose their names together. remus tells lily he’s a werewolf. she thinks his choice of name is hilarious. she tells him that she wants to be lily because her parents always wanted to name both their children after flowers, but it’s hard to find boy’s names that are also flowers. remus tells her it’s a beautiful name.

she also introduces him to the boys she shares a dorm with. remus already knows who they are, but he hasn’t talked to them much. he’s been too busy with other things to seek out friends he doesn’t share a room with. they’re lovely though, all of them. james, sirius, peter, frank. frank seems like the odd one out, but lily tells remus that he doesn’t mind. his friends are in other houses. the other three boys like remus immediately. the four of them spend all their time together, they become notorious, and remus loves them just as much as he loves his roommates, and he didn’t know he’d ever have this many friends, and he loves it.

he comes out to them, and to his roommates, after sirius approaches remus one day, looking nervous, and says that they read somewhere about they/them pronouns and that they’d like to use those. they look terrified, and remus hugs them and says he’s proud of them and says i’m sort of like that too, and that’s how he comes out. lily does as well, shortly after. then dorcas. one by one, they find out that nearly everyone in the group is queer. they all think it’s amazing and hilarious and fantastic.

for a few years, remus won’t wear skirts at all, won’t touch makeup unless it’s to help sirius, doesn’t want to risk being seen as a woman at all if he can help it. but then he graduates, moves out from home, moves in with his friends, and the more he is seen as a man, the more comfortable he becomes with the idea of femininity.

he thinks, and he talks to sirius, and he decides that he does like they/them pronouns, and starts using them alongside he/him. they let sirius do their makeup sometimes, he steals some of their clothes, or lily’s. they start to relax in their gender, because they can. because he feels more comfortable now than he ever has in his life, and they don’t really want to have to go to all the trouble of performing a whole gender anyway, when it’s so much easier to just exist. so that’s what he does. he exists

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me

Chapter Two: Paint It Black

Hello Loves! Just to let everyone know, my chapters go from flashbacks to present day! Thank you all for sticking with me and I am sorry this chapter is posted a bit late! 

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Mentions of Gore, violence, swearing

Read Chapter One Here 

He had spent several hours outside your window, trying to figure out the next phase of his plan. But once the Doctor had arrived and swept you into his arms, he had decided to go home. Not back to his apartment, that was the place he resided. His home was a place nobody could know about. 

It was a place for only him and his mentor Drew. 

He walked into the kitchen to find Drew cleaning up his knives. “Hey little brother, out with your girl again?” Drew asked with a mischievous smile. 

Little brother was Drew’s nickname for the boy, they weren’t blood-related, but being 7 years younger than Drew, he had taken the boy under his wing.

“Yeah, until her stupid fucking doctor came.” the boy replied. 

“Don’t worry about the Doctor, your time will come.” Drew reassured. “Come, sit, I just finished up making dinner.” 

The boy sat down, pushing aside Drew’s papers so he had space to eat.

“Ah, ah,ah, you’re going to want to look at those. Those papers contain all the fun things you need to know. I’m not teaching you all of this for nothing huh?” Drew smiles, placing the papers back in front of the boy, alongside a bowl of stew.

“Do you really think this will work?” The boy asked, glancing over Drew’s explicitly written notes.

“Don’t worry little brother, this whole thing is trial and error.” Drew reassured. “Don’t be intimidated I’ve had this whole thing planned for a while and she won’t be the first, she can be our finale-” Drew was interrupted by a scream. He rolled his eyes. “Goddamnit, this bitch just never shuts up. I wanted to surprise you with her, but now she spoiled it.” 

The boy gave Drew a curious look. Drew chuckled. “Come on little brother I will show you.” Drew led the boy down to their basement. “After she’s gone, I’ll soundproof the basement better. I just needed an idea of how loud these whores will scream.”

The color drained from the boy’s face as his gaze fell on the woman. She was tied to Drew’s metal table, she looked like one of the frogs that the Boy had to set up for dissection for Professor Irving’s class, except she was very much alive, and slightly bloodied. 

“Meet trial number one little brother, she looks quite like your girl huh? I think all of em’ should just so you can be prepared for your finale with her.” Drew turned to the Boy. “Surprise.”

“How long has she been missing?” the Boy asked, panicked. How could Drew not warn him? “Relax, like I said she’s trial one. Just a corner whore, no one will even notice she is gone. The next one will be the real challenge, I want to find one exactly like your girl and I already found her, this one we will just pump and dump. Did you get those chemicals from your professor like I asked?” 

The Boy nodded “It all in my backpack.” The Boy couldn’t drag his eyes away from the girl on the table. Yes she had your hair and eye color, but she was a hideous thing compared to you. A mere whore could never compare to you. “If she’s a whore I don’t want to touch her. I’ll try the next one.”

Drew huffed. “Fine, you only have to watch this time virgin boy. But next time, I expect you to be hands on. I’m not doing all this work for nothing.”

The Boy’s face was emotionless the whole time he watched Drew, even when the blood spurted, even when the girl looked at him, pleading for help. Even when she stopped breathing and the chemicals he brought were used to melt her flesh. 

The Boy felt nothing.

________________________________________________________________

There was an extra flounce to your step as you made your way to your favorite cafe. Maybe it was because you had successfully hired a few new employees to help your company flourish, maybe it was because one of them had already settled a new deal in Ohio, or maybe it was because you knew Spencer was coming back from a case today. 

Hell, you had just had a fantastic day and you needed to update Ava and grab your favorite mocha latte to top it off. And maybe it was your 4th coffee of the day, but so what?

Your face lit up even more when you saw Ava. “Hello my darling best friend.” You said causing Ava to grin. 

“Hey there babe, what’s got you so preppy today?” Ava asked. 

“Well, let’s see; I hired 3 new employees who already are fantastic, one of which already booked us a design job in Ohio. Oh and my superhero hot boyfriend is coming home from a case tonight.” You grinned.

Ava rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe you told him I call him that. I wanted to dissolve into the floor and simultaneously kick your ass.” She laughed. “As for the new employees, are any of them hot? Single? Oh and Ohio is good I guess.” 

You giggled. “Well Thomas is incredibly handsome, but I am afraid his soon to be husband might want to have a word with you if you try anything. As for the other two, Aiyla and May, I think you’ll find them stunning and single.” 

Ava wiggled her eyebrows. “Don’t tempt me girl, you know I swing both ways. Anyway, grab a seat, I’ll grab your coffee and bring it out to you. I get off early today so we can actually talk to each other rather than me hopping back and forth between the counter. James gets to hold down the fort with Emma and the newbie Jane today.”

“Well, maybe Jane will help him get out of his shell.” You hoped. Ava shrugged. 

“Maybe, anyway, Ohio?” Ava questioned.

 “Oh! Yes. My new minions are sketching our designs as we speak. The company is called Ohio technological, a very original name yes-” You said as Ava snorted. “But they’re trying to create an office space like Google, however I am going to one up that and add my own spin to it. Also your girl has a fantastic budget from this company and I am being paid bank!” You squealed.

Ava squealed with you, grabbing your hands and squeezing them tight. “(Y/N) that’s fantastic! I am so proud of you girl, you’ve been working so hard on this and I am so glad it’s all working out.” 

“There is one downside though.” You said with a sigh. “I have to get my plans to them by next week and once they approve of them, I have to head to Ohio for three weeks. After that I will just have Thomas overlook the project and tie up any loose ends. Either him or I will have to fly down and check in on the progress every couple weeks until then.”

 “Could be worse though.” Ava shrugged.

“That’s true, but Spencer and I have been dating for almost 3 months and half the time we can’t see each other. I’m worried that the distance will ruin us.” You confessed.

 Ava's face went completely serious and she grabbed your arm gently. “(Y/N, I have never seen a boy more in love with you. You have never seemed happier in your life. You two will make it work I promise. You’re both so in love it makes me sick.” You snorted out a laugh and Ava smirked.

 “Like I said, if he has a brother-” 

“AVA.” You groaned.

 _______________________________________________________________

The boy burst through the door, startling Drew. 

“Yo, what the fuck man?” Drew hissed. 

“She’s leaving. Fuck, fuck, fuck Drew. She’s leaving.” The Boy slammed the door shut, he leaned against it and slid down, hiding his face in his hands. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey little bro, take a breath, what happened?” Drew came over and pushed the boy’s hands away from his face.

“She’s leaving me Drew. For three weeks! She’s going to Ohio for THREE WEEKS. 21 days, almost a month! I won’t see her and when I do she will probably be with that goddamn doctor! What do I do?” The boy cried. 

“That fucking whore, it’s like she knows she’s making you suffer. She’s probably reveling in it. Don’t worry. While she’s gone, we will perfect our craft and get you ready. Then when she comes back you’ll strike.” 

Drew reassured the Boy, pulling him in for a hug.The Boy pulled away, dragging an arm across his tearful eyes. 

“You promise?” 

“I swear it.” Drew growled. 

________________________________________________________________

Present Day

“Garcia what did you find?” Reid asked, pleading that it would be a reliable lead. 

“Something that you won’t really like Reid.” Garcia said seriously, her usually bouncy personality was flat. “Something about your gift irked me, I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but then I remembered; the Curtis case.” 

Spencer’s heart fell into his stomach. The Curtis case had happened a few months after Spencer had started dating you. It had happened right here in Quantico, which terrified Spencer, especially since you fell perfectly under the unsubs victimology; 20-30 year old females with (Y/C/H) and (Y/E/C), successful middle class women who lived alone for one reason or another. You had luckily been out of town for a business trip at the time, working on an office design for a company in Ohio. 

Spencer remembered a phone call he had with you one night during the case. He had called you after finding yet another dead victim, raped and torn to pieces, whore scribbled all over their wall in their blood. It had made him sick, because all he could picture was you in their place.

It was late when he called you, but he had just needed to hear your voice and know you were okay. “Hi baby, are you alright?” Your voice was sleepy, but concerned, you had kept up with the news and had heard about the horrible murders going on while you were gone.

 “Not really, but I just needed to hear your voice. There’s a sick selfish part of me that is so glad that you aren’t here (Y/N). All of these girls look so much like you-” Spencer paused, you could hear the tears in his voice. “I just am so glad you are safe, I don’t think I could focus as well on this case if I knew you could possibly be in danger.”

 “Aw Spencer, I am so sorry baby. You aren’t sick or selfish for wanting me to be safe, everyone focuses on the safety of those they love, it’s only human. I know you are going to catch this guy, you are the most brilliant man and agent I have ever met. Just don’t tell your team I said that, I don’t want a bad reputation before they even meet me.” You teased, trying to lighten his dark mood.

 It had worked slightly as you heard him let out a small laugh followed by a sniffle. “Listen Spence, I can stay here a bit longer if it will help you focus, but when I come home I am taking self-defense classes and such. I want you to have a sane mind knowing that your girlfriend actually can handle herself. I honestly think it will help me keep sane too, after hearing everything about this case.” 

Spencer paused and thought for a second, part of him wanted you as far away as possible, while the other part just wanted you in his arms. “I appreciate you considering me, but I want the ultimate decision to be made by you Princess, I trust your judgement and I don’t want you living your life based on my fear.” 

You breath caught in your throat at the sentiment. “I love you Spencer Reid.” 

“I love you more (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” A true smile beamed across his face, you guys had never said that to one another before and it meant just as much over the phone as it would in person.

Spencer flashed back to the present. “Andrew Curtis is in jail right now with three life sentences, how could this have anything to do with his case?”

 Garcia cringed a bit, “His calling card.” The words hit Spencer like a ton of bricks, how could he have not seen it before?

The gift box, the red bow, the eyes scratched out of the picture, that was exactly what Curtis had sent to his victims before they were attacked by him. Most of the women had thought it was a prank, a way to scare them into submission, they were incredibly wrong.

“So what could it be, a copycat?” Emily asked.

 “That is a possibility, they are using the exact same delivery company Andrew Curtis used, I found this on the security footage.” Garcia pulled up an image of a man wearing a uniform; it was a hideous orange color with the words “Swiftly Delivered” on it, khaki shorts, and white tennis shoes. 

“You think the company would have shut down or at least redesigned their hideous uniform after all the association with Curtis.” Emily mumbled.

“Well, I think in this case it’s lucky they didn’t, that way we could easily find the connection.” JJ said.

 “How could something like that have gotten cleared by security?” Rossi wondered aloud. “You think someone would have possibly recognized it, the case is still pretty fresh.” 

“Well, the box had no threat, no weapons, they must have just scanned it and sent it through. Alyssa was the one who brought it up with the rest of the mail. She said nothing seemed off about it when she brought it up, she just thought it was someone who was sweet on our pretty boy.” Morgan explained.

“Everyone is just so invested in my love life that we miss obvious clues.” Spencer growled frustrated.

“Well, at least we have a lead.” Hotch interrupted. “JJ, Morgan, I need you guys to head over to Swiftly Delivered. Ask them about their past customers and see if they can remember our unsub. Emily, you and Reid head over to (Y/N)’s apartment and see if you can find anything. Rossi and I are going over to talk to Curtis.”

“Hotch, I need to talk to Curtis.” Reid protested. “If he knows anything about (Y/N)-”

“No Reid. You know (Y/N)’s apartment better than anyone. You will notice if anything is wrong.” Hotch explained sternly.

“Hotch-” Reid argued. 

“No. I don’t trust Curtis, he seemed too interested during his original case. If he knows something, I can’t have him getting under your skin. Reid’s head fell in defeat. “But-” Reid’s head shot back up. “If you guys finish before us. Meet us at the prison.” Hotch ordered. 

Hope filled Reid’s eyes.

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