#my last hope that they will play somewhere where i do not need a visa

[mrsfitzgerald]

.

[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.

[gaemkyuu]

Loved.

Warnings: Mentions of an abusive boyfriend (Not Charlie) A/N: This is a personal piece of something I went through. Not all the details disclosed on this piece happened to me, but they have happened to people I love. Something we connected on was that one person came into our lives and became the light that we needed to get out of our situation. Charlie isn’t meant to portray the image of a false hero, but rather a light and a starting point. A second chapter will be made.

If you or someone you love is suffering from abuse, you are not alone. We hear you, we love you and we can help you. Reach out of the dark. Step into your greatness. Stand Tall.

Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Loved.

Kaia paused to take a sip of water. Carrying around boxes and furniture was proving to be difficult with the hot LA sun. She was used to super sunny days with a cool breeze or rainy cloudy days up in Vancouver. Moving countries hadn’t been easy, what with the paperwork and everything, but here she was. Starting a life in LA, the city where people come to make their dreams happen. 

“How you doin’?” the girl jump at the sound of a male voice and turned to see a very good looking guy leaning on her fence. His beautiful eyes and contagious smile caused her to smile back at him. He seemed genuine and something deep inside told her he was good.

“I’m hoping you’re the person that lives beside me, otherwise I may have to call the cops” the male chuckled at her response and shook his head.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood. Me and my roommates live right beside you. Are you new to LA?” Kaia knew she shouldn’t get caught chatting away with the male, but she didn’t want him to get the wrong impression. She knew that bad neighbours could make your life a living hell, plus being new to the country meant that she had no friends. Might as well start somewhere right?

“New to the country actually, I’m from Vancouver” Judging by the way his eyes grew to the size of saucers, she assumed that he might be a fellow Canadian too. It would be nice to have someone who understands the culture shock as a friend. “Parles-tu francais?” she sheepishly asked.

“Oui! J’suis de Dieppe!” Kaia let out a big laugh. She very rarely heard that dialect of french and it felt funny to her ears. She blushed when she realized how hard she was laughing.

“Sorry! I wasn’t laughing at you or anything. I’ve rarely heard an Acadien speak french and it sounds a little funny to me” she scratched her neck in slight embarrassment. The male seemed to bite his lip and she couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in his eyes, confirming that he wasn’t offended. “So what brought you here?”

“I’m an actor. What about you?” 

“I moved down here with my boyfriend, he’s actually a local” she saw a small look of disappointment cross his unusually bright features, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. She could hear her boyfriend’s voice growing louder as he approached the entrance of the house. “Do you live by yourself? Or?”

“I live with my roommates, all of whom are girls with boyfriends” she giggled at his predicament but found it interesting.

“Too much estrogen I take it?” he rolled his eyes in confirmation and she laughed again at his reaction.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. But they’re pretty awesome, so I can’t complain” he opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted at a booming voice. She continued to chat with the man about the neighbourhood and life in LA in general. It felt nice to Kaia that someone was also weirded out by all  the fake grass lawns and garbage on the streets. The conversation was flowing naturally and she was very engaged that she didn’t notice another person in the house growing impatient.

“Kaia!” She quickly turned around to her boyfriend, who was motioning her over. He looked irritated and upset, something she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with. She opened her mouth to explain herself as her new neighbour waved, but he interrupted her. “Let’s go!”

“Sorry, the heat’s making him a little grumpy. Thank you for welcoming us to the neighbourhood. It was really nice chatting with you” she smiled as her boyfriend marched back into the house. “I’m Kaia by the way, but you can call me Kai”

“Charlie. Charlie Gillespie. It was nice to meet you Kai, pass the welcome on to your boyfriend from us. See you around?” she smiled softly and waved goodbye as he made his way over to the front door. When he was out of sight, she took a deep breath preparing herself for the inevitable conversation with her boyfriend.

Who’s that? You’ve been flirting for half an hour. I wasn’t flirting. He’s our neighbour. Don’t lie to me, Kaia. I’m not. Listen, I moved you down here to be with me. Last time I checked, I moved down to start my career. Don’t. Sass. Me. Kaia. I’m sorry. Remember. You’re here because I let you. Don’t forget that.

The next time Kaia saw Charlie was a few weeks later. Her boyfriend and her had a big argument, so she was de-stressing the only way she knew how, making music. She was sure that at some point, someone in the neighbourhood would make a noise complaint, but right now, she could care less. She filled track after tracking, replaying what she had already made and what she had added. Kaia often poured her soul into her music, something she felt was therapeutic.

It had always been Kaia’s dream to move down to LA and pursue a music career. So when she finished her music program in Vancouver, she began working full time around the city doing odd jobs and mixing jobs wherever she could. She had saved up enough money to make the move, when she had met her boyfriend. He was playing a live set at a bar she was bartending for and the two hit it off right away. Soon, the two began to collaborate with music and Kaia found herself producing and mixing his demos.

Sure, their relationship was a little bit of a rollercoaster, but in Kaia’s mind, that wasn’t strange. She had seen her parents experience similar things with one another. He struggled to pay rent along with his tuition fees for his music program, but Kaia didn’t mind paying for it. Being an American citizen in Canada made it difficult at times to find employment and at the beginning he was super grateful. That’s how they fell into a rhythm on Kaia working to support the both of them while doing what she loved.

When her boyfriend’s Visa expired, she knew this was her chance to move down to LA. Her parents weren’t thrilled with the two of them moving in together, but they had already been a couple for 2 years. In Kaia’s mind, it was the next step in their relationship. She also assured her parents that if anything happened, that she had enough money saved up to support herself on her own for a few months.

“Sick beats!” she jumped at the voice, turning around to see Charlie fist bumping into her garage. Immediately, she turned down the music and smiled. “I didn’t know you were into music too! This is really good!”

“Think so? I haven’t made anything from scratch in a long time” Kaia blushed when Charlie’s jaw dropped at her confession. “I’m actually struggling with this track if I’m being honest”

“May I?” she moved over letting Charlie take control and play around with things. The two then began a very in depth conversation about music and finding the sound of the track she was working on. However, Kaia came to learn that as passionate Charlie was about music, he was also very goofy. The two playfully argued as to whether Charlie was correct about incorporating a xylophone or bongos into the track. He was a self proclaimed EDM expert and enthusiast, which caused Kaia to question his instrument choices. They sat there for who knows how long, eventually trading rhythms on different instruments,  Kaia on the piano and Charlie on the guitar. “You’re really good at this Kai”

“I normally produce music that my boyfriend writes” she scratch her neck in embarrassment. “The move had us so busy that I’m a little rusty”

“What? If this is what you’re “rusty” is, then I’m excited to see your polished work!” Kaia smiled and stood there awkwardly, not fully knowing how to accept his compliment. “Kai, you should really give your music a chance”

“I’ll think about it” she smiled. “Say, was there a reason why you bursted into my garage?” It was now Charlie’s turn to blush and Kaia giggled in return.

“Oh yeah, I was going to invite you and your boyfriend for a barbeque tomorrow evening. Think you’d like to come?” he wiggled his eyebrows making Kaia laugh.

“We’ve got plans. Thanks” both were startled at the introduction of a new voice. Kaia’s boyfriend stood at the garage door entrance, arms crossed and unimpressed.

“Ty, this is Charlie, our neighbour. Charlie, this is Tyler, my boyfriend” Kaia quickly made her way to her boyfriend, explaining the situation.

“Nice to meet you man” Charlie smiled and extended his hand, but Tyler just looked at it until Charlie took it back. He muttered a soft ‘okay then’ and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to invite you and Kai over for dinner tomorrow night. My roommates would love to meet you guys”

“It’s Kaia, and thanks but no thanks. Like I said, we have plans” Kaia stood silently beside her boyfriend, fidgeting with her sleeve. She held one arm across her body and was squeezing her other arm, but cleared her throat to break the tension.

“Thanks for the visit. I’ll see you around Charlie” this time Kaia’s smile was a genuine one, but by the look on Charlie’s face, she knew he was growing suspicious. She was grateful that he didn’t push the topic, but she knew that his hesitation wouldn’t go unnoticed by her boyfriend.

What is it with you and this guy? We were just collaborating on mixing. You mix for me Kaia. Don’t let someone take advantage of you. He wasn’t taking advantage of me. He was helping me. Helping? It sounds like shit. You better get your head in the game for my next EP. ... Babe, you know I only want you to be the best right? I know. I love you. ... I love you too.

If another person screamed at her today, Kaia was sure that she would lose it. She felt exhausted and overworked. Living in LA was proving to be pricey and she was the only one who was able to find work between the two of them. Between working two jobs and producing late into the evenings, Kaia felt like she was reaching her limit.

“Good evening! Can I start you guys with something to drink?” Kaia fished for her notepad and pen in her apron, fiddling around for a moment.

“Kai?” she recognized the voice immediately and finally found her things. Charlie sat at the table she was waiting along with two other people. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me Charlie” she joked, smoothing out her hair and uniform. She suddenly felt more aware and conscious of her appearance. 

“Sounds like Charlie” the female interrupted, earning a shove from the male. The blonde across from Charlie stifled a chuckle at the interaction. “I’m Hannah, I live with Charlie”

“And this is Owen” he introduced and Kaia gave a kind smile back. “I didn’t know you worked here! I thought you worked at the Starbucks?” she noticed Owen and Hannah give each other a look about Charlie’s observation.

“Yeah, I work at Starbucks in the morning and here in the evenings” she blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Not all of us make a living off of Netflix contracts” she winked. “What can I get you guys?”

The playful banter continued on through the night and Kaia continued to wait their table, along with the many other tables she had. Kaia got to know Owen and Hannah pretty well that night and genuinely enjoyed their company. Since moving to LA, she had been working so much that she hadn’t even made friends in the three months she had been there. So naturally, after her shift, she sat down with their table and got them free dessert just to hang out. They were having such a good time that she lost track time.

“Hey Kaia! Your boyfriend’s calling” Kaia paled at the closing manager’s announcement and she politely excused herself from the table, telling the manager she’d take the call in the office. As Kaia sat in the office, quiet tears streamed down her face as her boyfriend chastised her over the phone. Her closing manager comforted her quietly, knowing the intricacies of her situation. Once Kaia was sure she was composed, she returned to her table of friends, surprised that they still waited around for her. 

“Thanks for the company tonight! I’ll see you guys around?” The looks they gave each other didn’t go unnoticed by Kaia. However, they didn’t say anything and bid her farewell.

“Hey Kaia?” she paused and turned around, a soft smile on her face, and Charlie standing at the edge of his table. “You know you can talk to me right?” Kaia bit her lip, hesitant for her next move. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress the tears that were surfacing.

“I’m just tired is all” but a tear slipped down her face, which she quickly wiped away. Charlie pulled her in for a hug and Kaia melted into it. She couldn’t remember feeling this warmth for a long time and quite frankly, she felt at peace. The flickering of the car lights in the parking lot pulled her attention from the comfort of Charlie’s arms. “I have to go” she whispered and left, not bearing to look at Charlie and the rest.

I don’t like him. Don’t hang around him anymore. He’s my only friend here. Then make a new one. How? Between working two jobs and mixing your music, I have no time. Don’t pin this on me. Stop whining and figure it out.  ... I’m just protecting you. He’ll take advantage of you.  ... Now who’s my girl? I am. And who’s everything that you’ll ever need. ... Kaia. You are. Don’t forget that.

“That’ll be $4.95”

“I’ll pay. Could you add on a donut too? Thanks”

The next time Kaia saw Charlie was a few weeks after the diner incident. Kaia didn’t actually see Charlie, but rather Charlie saw Kaia and couldn’t pass up the chance to talk to her. Judging by his outfit, she assumed that he was on his usual morning run. She felt nervous about him appearing from nowhere and offering to buy her coffee, especially since the last time they talked it was awkward.

“You didn’t have to do that Charlie.” she smiled and thanked him with her eyes. She fiddled with her zip up collar and hair. 

“It’s nothing. Wanna grab a table? Maybe in a more secluded and private area?” she nodded thinking that his specificity in seating had to do with the recent release of a Netflix show he starred on that was gaining popularity. So she settled for a table tucked away in the corner of the shop. Charlie followed along soon after with her coffee and his donut. 

“Thanks again. How was your run?” Charlie shrugged as he took a bite of his donut.

“Same as always, except this time I get to see you” Kaia blushed at his beautiful smile. He was good looking and from their exchanges, she had gotten to know he was genuinely a good guy. “You like to hike?”

She couldn’t understand what it was, but Charlie had a way of making her feel comfortable and safe. As they chatted about the many hiking places and how often Charlie went, Kaia could see the excitement in his eyes. Their conversation naturally divulged into hobbies and things they had been up to. The two laughed and chatted, both of them wishing that they could stay in each other’s company. It was exactly what she needed.

“I haven’t been hearing you mix lately. The neighbourhood sounds quiet”

“Nothing I’ve come up with sounds good” she stated sheepishly, flushed at the fact that Charlie had noticed.

“Oh come on, I’m sure you’re being hard on yourself. You’re extremely talented, and I’m not saying that just to be nice or anything!” Charlie leaned in as he said this, and Kaia could tell that he truly meant what he was saying.

“No, it’s always garbage when I try to mix on my own” Charlie frowned at this much to Kaia’s dismay, and he sat back in his seat, looking slightly annoyed. Kaia felt her pulse quicken, feeling like she had disappointed him in some way.

“Is that what he tells you?” Kaia was about to drink her coffee, but that comment caught her off guard. She tensed, knowing where this conversation could go and where she didn’t want it to go. “I’m sorry, I just...”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything” she assured him, setting her cup down and a small awkward silence filling the empty space. “I get that you care Charlie, but everything’s fine”.

“You don’t have to lie to me Kai” she avoided his gaze knowing that he would see right through her when she melted under his stare. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but if what I think is happening, is happening, then you need to leave” she bit her lip again, stopping herself from confessing the truth to Charlie.

“Nothing’s happening Charlie. We’ve just been going through a rough patch. I’m fine, really” she hoped to god that she sounded convincing enough for Charlie to drop the topic. Nervous for his response, she glanced down at her phone and noticed the 15 missed calls. To add, they had been sitting in that coffee shop chatting for 2 hours. Kaia always came to Tyler’s defence, as Charlie wasn’t the first one to voice his concerns. Tyler was sweet and loving, but he often got jealous or irritated. However, it was always emphasized that Kaia crossed the lines that triggered Tyler and that he never acted irrationally.

“Thanks for the chat Charlie.” She smiled at him, taking the last sip of the liquid in her cup. “It was nice getting to know you more”. She could see Charlie hesitate, knowing he didn’t want the conversation to end. She secretly wanted the same thing as his, but she felt guilty for feeling this way.

In their various exchanges and in their conversation today, Kaia felt more and more attracted to Charlie. He was so kind and always interested in the person he was talking to. He empathized and expressed compassion in a way that Kaia had never experienced before. If she wasn’t with Tyler, she could see herself with Charlie and that made her feel horrible. She tried over and over again to convince herself that Charlie was nothing but a friend, when really she wanted more. Tyler loved her and only wanted the best for her, yet here she was wishing Charlie was in Tyler’s place instead. 

“You don’t have to be with someone that makes you feel the way you do” Charlie held Kaia’s hand across the table. “I know you might feel like you’re trapped, but you don’t have to be. You have a way out” Kaia quickly wiped away the tear that escaped her eyes, but Charlie wiped away the second one. The two sat in silence as Kaia quietly let a few more tears escape, but it was only a matter of time that Kaia would find herself in Charlie’s arms crying steadily, but still silently, until there was nothing left. When Kaia was sure she was done, Charlie pulled away to give her an encouraging smile and squeezed her arm.

That’s when Kaia kissed him.

In her mind, it all happened so fast. One moment, she was trying to protect Tyler, the next moment she was wishing Tyler was Charlie. That’s what led her to kiss him and Charlie to kiss her back. The two pulled apart, speechless and slightly out of breath, but Kaia didn’t stay long enough to get a response. She quickly grabbed her things and left Charlie to rush out after her. She kept walking despite his calls after her.

That kiss confirmed what Kaia had been trying to deny for a long time now. It confirmed that she didn’t want to be with Tyler anymore. It confirmed that she hadn’t wanted to be with him for a long time. She hasn’t loved him for a long time and it took someone else to help her realize there was love outside of Tyler. However, leaving Tyler wouldn’t be so easy. She tried many times, but there was always a reason as to why she never left. Unfortunately, that reason as of late had been fear. 

“Kai! Kaia! Would you just stop for a second?!” Charlie chased after her, ignoring the various stares that were casted their way. A car pulled up beside her on the street and she paused to get in. Kaia looked back at him regretfully, tears falling from her eyes again, before opening the door and being pulled in. Charlie was left on the side of the street, left wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.

You’re so stupid, why can’t you think? I’m sorry. Yeah, well sorry isn’t good enough! What did I tell you about him?! I’m sorry. Is that all you can say?! Tyler, stop, you’re hurting me. I’m hurting you?! What about what you’re doing to me?! You’re so selfish Kaia. ... This is what I get for everything that I’ve given you?! ...I’m sorry. Just shut up.

Kaia quit her jobs the next day at Tyler’s request. His reasoning was that Kaia couldn’t be trusted outside of the house, so it would be better for her to pick up some work from home jobs. It didn’t help that he had found a printed bank statement with information about how much Kaia had in her savings, something he didn’t hesitate to use against her. 

If she was being honest, she felt absolutely awful and was quietly thankful that she was able to quit her jobs. It meant that she didn’t have to leave home, something that she was hoping for more and more. Kaia was riddled with guilt that deep down, she saw Charlie as more than a friend and that she kissed him, despite being in a relationship with Tyler. She reasoned that she was being unfaithful to Tyler, especially after everything he did for her back in Vancouver. Sure, she handled the financials, but Tyler showed her a whole new world that she never dreamed of getting access to. He introduced her to Canadian producers and artists, got her more involved in the music scene and he loved her. Tyler was her first everything! First kiss, first boyfriend, first time... He loved her. She was sure of it.

Or was she?

“She’ll have a water and a margherita pizza and I’ll have the tuscan with a coke” Kaia felt him squeeze her arm and she did her best not to flinch. He had insisted that he sat beside her whenever they dined out so that he could be closer to her, but his rough advances were uncomfortable, especially with the bruises. She sat there in silence staring off to space as they sat on the outdoor patio. 

He had been lashing out more lately and sometimes Kaia got in the way. He didn’t target her for his aggression, it was rather that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She didn’t dare tell a single soul. Not her friends back home, not her family, no one. That would prompt them to check on her more and more, something that she really didn’t want. She wanted to be left alone. Tyler had grown obsessive of knowing what she was doing at every moment. He held her phone from her and everywhere he went, she came along too. She was rarely left home alone. Had Tyler become toxic? Yes. 

Had he been toxic for a while? Well...

In truth, Kaia wanted to break things off a few months into their dating, but he’d always find a way to convince her otherwise. At some point, Kaia stopped questioning his off behaviour or quips and accepted it as that was who he was. She convinced herself that at his core the Tyler she fell for was still there and that right now he had all the reasons to be the way he was. Life as a musician was stressful, especially when you hadn’t made it into the industry. 

Kaia was pulled out of her thoughts as the waitress placed their orders down in front of them. Immediately, Tyler began portioning out her serving on her plate as she quietly sipped on her water.

“Can you look any more miserable Kaia? Jesus” he scoffed, shoving her serving in front of her. “If you’re going to be this miserable out and about, I might as well leave you at home” she ate her slice in silence, not entertaining his comments, knowing that whatever she said would be used against her anyways. His phone began vibrating and he sighed, seemingly conflicted. “I gotta take this inside because it’s too loud out here. Don’t leave until I come back” Kaia nodded softly continuing to chew on her slice, as he stepped away from the table, out of sight. Her heart began to race when she noticed he left her phone behind.

This is it. This is your chance out Kaia. Don’t think. Just do it.

She snatched the phone and quickly pin dropped her location with the word ‘HELP’, to the one person she knew she could count on. Quickly, she deleted the text and put her phone back, not wanting to be caught near it. She prayed that he would see her text and she prayed that he would be able to help her. As she watched her boyfriend return to the table, she felt her stomach knot and the pizza she consumed rise in her throat.

“Eat your food or people are going to think I’m making you starve or some shit” he scoffed sitting down beside her and continuing to eat. He didn’t notice anything.

“I’m not hungry anymore” she smiled at him, slightly pushing her plate away. He pushed it back to her.

“I don’t care. I don’t want people thinking I’m treating you poorly” she stiffly grabbed her half eaten slice and when she was nearly done, he put another one on her plate. In the distance, she saw the familiar orange subaru parallel park. Her heart rate increased.

“Thank you. Was that phone call good news?” Kaia knew that the number one thing Tyler liked was talking about himself and his accomplishment. She turned to face him more and tried her best to look really engaged in the conversation, despite her sweaty palms and pounding heart. She was grateful that his back was facing the inside of the restaurant and he turned to face her too, telling her about the exec who was interested in meeting him and listening to his work. She nodded and replied appropriately, but she couldn’t tell you what more he said. Kaia was too focused on the scene in the restaurant unfolding. She watched as Charlie walked in and explained the situation to the hostess who then called over what looked like the manager. The three of them stood in discussion as a police officer entered the restaurant as well, pointing to their table. Her stomach sank as she watched the officer and Charlie leave, but she did her best to keep her eyes focused, only looking at the background when he went for a bite or a drink.

The waitress made her way over and asked how their meal was or if there was anything that she could get for them. Kaia shook her head no and Tyler did as well, but she dropped off napkins, tapping them lightly and looking at Kaia directly. She took it as a sign that the napkins had something important, so she intentionally took a messy bite of pizza, to wipe her face. Too bad Tyler got to the napkin first. Wiping his mouth, he noticed a smudge mark of ink on the napkin and Kaia immediately knew she was done for. His face changed in an instant and he glared at her, throwing cash onto the table.

“Get up.”

“But I’m not done-”

“I said, Get. Up.” Kaia did as she was told and Tyler grabbed her arm, not caring at who was staring. She started to walk, but it wasn’t good enough for Tyler as he forced her to his side. “You think you’re so smart? Tipping off the waitress like you’re some prisoner”

“I didn’t-”

“Shut up. You little liar. I’m not hurting you. I’m not forcing you to be here. You can leave, but you don’t because you know that you’re nothing without me” he hissed into her ear as they made their way to the entrance, but the officer stopped them midway. “Can I help you, officer?”

“I just need to ask you some questions outside. Ma’am I’m going to have to ask you to wait inside with the manager” the officer was stern and surely Tyler would comply, but he proved different.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving my girlfriend by herself,” he added, pulling her close.

“Tyler, just do as he says” she winced at the grip he had on her arm, glaring at her. 

“Sir, you need to come with me. Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step away from him” Kaia complied but Tyler didn’t, and soon she began to fight him off, struggling for her freedom all the while the police officer was trying to deescalate the situation. She finally slapped him across the face and he splashed a glass of water that was sitting on a table in her face, then throwing the glass at her. The police officer restrained him immediately and dragged him outside, while Kaia was left in the restaurant wet and a bruise starting to form on her cheek bone.

Was this it? Was it over?

She felt a soft warm cloth envelop her shoulders and she was handed a dish rag to try to dry off, but she was still in shock. She was moved to a less populated area of the restaurant, away from any clients and was sat down at a table. That’s when Charlie came running back in. As he rushed over to where she was sitting, she felt her own legs start to move quickly towards him, falling into his embrace. Charlie held her close, comforting her by whispering soothing words into her ears. He moved them to the table she was originally at and sat beside her, holding her while her tears fell and even after. He held her while another police officer approached them to update them on Tyler. He held her as they took down her statement and gave her directions as to what she would do next.

“Here is the address to the temporary apartment we will have you stay in. Do you have a vehicle or need transportation” Kaia read the address on the paper, but before she could speak up, Charlie did.

“Kai, I can drive you if you want. I can even help you get things that you need from your place” he smiled gently at her and cautiously, knowing that she was still in shock and overwhelmed.

“You’ll have a police escort on the premise if you would like to return home to grab a few things” Kaia looked at Charlie searching his eyes for some sort of sign that he was as hurtful as Tyler.

“I’ll let him drive me back and forth, thank you.” her voice sounded slightly croaky, probably from her crying. The officer notified them that she could give them 10 minutes before they had to leave. They would follow Charlie’s car to her house and escort her around to grab what she needed. From there, she would be followed to her temporary residence, until the courts could come to a conclusion about her situation. As the officer stepped away, Kaia took a deep breath and let out a big sigh.

“Thank you Charlie”

“I should be thanking you. What you did was hard, but it was the right thing to do. I’m always here for you, however you need me” He kissed her hand that he held and pulled her in for another hug. For the first time, in a long time, Kaia felt something she didn’t know she was missing.

Loved.

A/N: Look out for part 2!

[kerwritesthings]

Orange Blossom At The Bottom Of A Shot Glass

Summary: Salty is followed by sour, which should always be followed by sweet. 

Word Count: almost 3.7k

Warning: little cursing, little sexual tension, a bunch of sweet and fluff

Author Notes: ::taps on mic:: Soooo it’s been a GOOD while. The muse has been a little bit of a fickle bitch. Or a lot of one, actually. Also didn’t help that the last piece I wrote totally went a hard boom splat - gee thanks tall idiot Canadian one for that :P

HOWEVER, the muse decided to let go with some of the hockey boys and me play with some words for J’s Winter Writing Challenge. I’m just one day off deadline, though I still want to fill the other 1-2 I was thinking of. Thank you J for pulling this all together, you’re a peach. 

This one, is the first attempt at writing Tyler, so please be kind to a girl. It was fun to play in this little part of my hockeysphere/hockeyblr. 

I’m also maybe possibly most likely making this into a verse/series. Cause y’all should know that’s how I roll. 

The prompt from the challenge was:  “Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“From the cute one in the three piece purple suit at the end of the bar, said to get you another of whatever you’re drinking,” Misty says, sliding the half-sugar rimmed martini glass across the copper bar top. “Wouldn’t even entertain doing this if I didn’t know most of them.”

“Thanks Mis,” you smile, pushing your empty glass towards her.

You peek down slyly towards the right. A gaggle of tall, well dressed men circle the far end. You think some look familiar. Then you see who Misty meant when he turns towards the front of the bar and towards where you’re sitting. You know straightaway who he is, know the reputation, the rumblings. It’s hard not to, as big as Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex is, it’s not at the same time. It also helps that you’ve been a hockey fan since birth, paying attention to the boys in green since you moved to Dallas a handful of years ago.

“Misty are you fucking kidding me?” you snap when she wanders back towards you.

“Nope,” she grins like the cat who got the canary. “You should go over and say thank you. Promise you, you may think you know, but he’s a good guy. The lot of them are.”

You shake your head no, downing half your drink in one sip before wiping your finger against the glass to lick at some of the sanding sugar. Misty’s blood orange martinis are your favorite, and a weakness you cannot kick when she’s got the good stuff in stock.

“Give me a blank tabcard and a pen,” you ask. “How many of them are down there? Do a round of shots on my bill, but lemme think of what to send while I write this.”

Misty places one of her pens, a card and your Visa to the right of your cocktail. You carefully fold the card in half, tearing it in two. On one half you cleanly script out your name and cell number while on the second half, you write a cheeky little note:

If you can figure out what the shot is, Misty has something for you. Thanks for the martini, the second always hits better especially when you lick the sugar rim.

“Mis, do you know how to make a reckless slut?” you snicker, capping the pen.

“Red-headed slut, but with whiskey instead of Jaeger yeah?” she questions, looking underneath the bar for a bigger, clean cocktail shaker.

“Honey whiskey if you’ve got it,” you respond, polishing off the rest of your martini before gathering your things. “Then it’s just a touch lighter on the peach. If he can guess it right, then you give him the second half of the note.”

“You got it, I’ll see you,” she waves, off to the middle of the bar to find more ingredients.

You carefully glance down towards the opposite end, noticing the boys all wrapped up so you carefully slip out to make your exit, smiling and shaking your head.

“I’m absolutely insane,” you say out loud to yourself as you head towards your car.

“Segs, my girl left this for you and a round on her for the rest of the motley crew,” Misty explains, slipping him the first card before handing out the shot glasses.

“What she say?” Jamie nudges.

“Other than I missed her licking the rim of her glass?” he chides. “I need to guess what this is and then Misty has something for me, supposedly.”

“I do,” Misty replies, handing the rest of the shots out. “She picked a bit of a good one to leave for you too. Cheers boys, bellow if you need anything.”

He lifts the glass, sniffing it at first, not having any clue.

“J, Rads you guys have any idea?” Tyler asks, they both shake their head.

“Bottoms up,” Jamie adds before they all tip the shots back.

“Anybody?” Tyler pushes again, glasses clicking on the copper.

“I know,” a voice chimes in from the back, dropping the empty shot glass onto the bar.

“Come on then Dicky,” Tyler urges.

He looks at Tyler, trying to hold back a laugh but it doesn’t work.

“It’s a reckless slut,” he manages out between his laughter. “It’s something else dark in place of Jägermeister. Slightly fitting, eh?”

The group busts out in hoops, hollers and their own peals of laughter while Tyler shoves at the one closest to him, this time it’s Alex.

“Whiskey, honey whiskey actually, so nice one there Jason. Winner gets this,” Misty trills happily, wiggling a card in front of the group.

“Hey, wait a second,” Tyler snaps, trying to lean over to snatch the card from the bartender.

“That’s the rules she set,” she says, flicking the card over to his teammate. “Take it up with him, he got it right.”

“What’s it worth?” Jason grins, fist bumping with Misty before turning more towards Tyler.

“Not whatever you’re scheming in that brain of yours,” he takes a pull off his beer.

“I was just gonna say take care of dinner tonight, but if it’s not worth that,” Jason trails off.

“Damnit Dicky,” he sighs, hand flexing around the bottle.

“Let’s go boys, they’re ready for us,” Joe interjects from the outskirts of the group, nodding to the back dining room. “And we like it here so no bloodshed, ok?”

You’re just about to slip the key into your front door lock when your phone buzzes in quick repeated blips. You juggle everything in, snag a bottle of water from the fridge before plopping down on the couch to see what has your phone trilling.

So, Tyler didn’t win the challenge, I did and Misty followed the rules passing it to the winner! Hi, I’m Jason.

::selfie of Jason with the boys scattered about behind him at the bar::

I’m refusing for a bit to give him your number. Want to spare and maybe prepare you before I do. Plus, it’s fun to watch him squirm for a bit when it comes to shit like this.

The reckless slut shot was a nice touch, so I’m hopeful in assuming when you spotted us, him really, you kind of knew who was all down at that end of the bar. Probably have heard some things about his adventures and antics, cause who hasn’t.

I can tell you most of it is blown out of proportion, don’t get me wrong he has his fun, but he’s not an asshole.

Maybe we can all do lunch after practice? I’m happy to play buffer if you don’t want to deal with him solo. We’ll go somewhere solid and make him pick it up :)

You cannot help but smile when flipping through the messages, making sure to save both Jason’s number and ridiculous selfie to your contacts list. You fire off a quick thanks text to Misty before you settle in to figure out the best reply to Jason.

You’re a good teammate and a better friend. I would also make him squirm for a bit too, little shit deserves a bit of discomfort.

I appreciate that, Jason – thank you. I know better than to judge a book by its cover, but it’s hard when the Cliffs Notes versions are face up all over the place. Plus, a lady can never be too careful.

Want to try lunch next week, the three of us? I can’t remember what your upcoming game sitch is like, sorry. Maybe PS214? Something good that’s not too fussy, but chill. Plus, they should have enough options for whatever your nutritionist wants you boys to try to stick to or options to totally cheat out on.

I’ve got some flex in my schedule for lunches, my later afternoons get to be what’s stickier.

You know they were having a team dinner, so you don’t expect a response right away, so you pull yourself together to wash up and get to bed. You wake up to a flurry of more texts the next morning, plans for lunch Monday their practice and a video clip of the two of them, which was utterly ridiculous and adorable at the same time. It eased your tensions just a touch, but lunch would be the kicker.

“There’s my favorite foodie,” Phil the manager says, hugging you immediately. “I was so happy to see your name on the reservations. Is this a work thing or a pleasure thing?”

“Little of both, I’ve got two possibly three of Dallas’ favorite hockey team joining me which is why I asked about the back-corner alcove,” you explain. “But I also want to taste some of the new things you’ve been floating both at the bar and on the menu. Nothing formal yet, but I’m thinking of trying to pull together something around new happy hour approaches.”

“I think one of your lunch companions just walked in,” Phil responds, as you catch someone walking towards the two of you from the corner of your eye. “I know him and his wife, they’ve been in a few times. Hey Jason, nice to see you.”

“Hey Phil, wasn’t sure if you’d be here, good to see you. You’ve met one half of my lunch date already?” he shakes Phil’s hand before reaching for yours.

“She and I run in the same circles, mutual friends, some projects that have crossed paths,” Phil adds. “We’re waiting on one more, yes?”

His phone trills, “It’s Segs, he’s parking now and apologized for being late. He had to let the pups out because his dog sitter couldn’t get there early today.”

“I was early, force of habit, so no worries,” you reply. “He’s going to be pretty much on time in the grand scheme. Plus, I got some actual work done talking to Phil before you got here, so it’s all good.”

“Jason, you best not be trying to steal her from me already,” Tyler claps his shoulder before setting his eyes on you. “You’ve got someone waiting for you at home.”

You can’t help but half roll your eyes and half chuckle, “Nice to officially meet you, Tyler.”

He reaches out, his hand easily dwarfs yours, “You too, Clementine.”

“If you are all ready, we’ve got the table you asked for set,” Phil nods to the right, into the dining room.

“You were mentioning your work when I came in?” Tyler questions as you all sit down.

“I guess you could say I’m a lifestyle writer, mostly food and drink but I’ve dabbled in some travel,” you say. “I started out with my own blog back when I was in college trying to figure out what I wanted to do with life and it kind of got a following from there. I refuse to say influencer, cause no I’m not. Not my schtick. Actual writing pays the bills, not sponsored Instagram or blog posts. I refused to let my baby No Fork become something tainted like that, I think why it became so successful.”

“Wait, wait. You’re A Girl With No Fork? Seriously, my wife is obsessed with your insta page and the blog,” Jason exclaims. “She’s going to lose her ish that I’m having lunch with you.”

“Still blogging but keeping that a little more separate now a days. There’s more bylines with Infatuation, Food and Wine, a good deal with some the local papers. I may have a piece end up with Bon Appetite if this pitch I’m working on comes to fruition,” you explain, taking a sip of what Phil just placed in front of you. “Trying to keep a little of that anonymity left to keep Fork as respected as it is. Your wife and I need to brunch at some point then.”

Phil comes by to ask about any allergies or dietary restrictions, the rest is up to him and the chef, and you know you’re all in good hands.

“So, a pretty girl with a unique name,” Tyler leads. “Feels like there’s probably a good story there.”

“I was a surprisingly early baby, literally my Mom went into labor at 35 weeks and in an orange grove. That was her craving when she was pregnant with me, a ton of citrus. Hence the name,” you smile. “It’s rare I hear anyone other than her use my full name anymore. Even my pen name for my byline on pieces uses my initials. Friends mostly call me C or Em.”

“No Emmy?” Tyler questions.

You shake your head, cheeks flushing. You’ve never allowed that by anyone; not that anyone has ever tried that out for size. It always felt to too special to you, wanting to hold on to that for the right person.

“Let me see these puppies that made you late,” you divert.

“Once you get him started on the three stooges, you cannot go back,” Jason rolls his eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you smile, making grabby hands for his phone. “Come on I know you’ve got a ton of photos and videos on there.”

“They’re definitely a handful, and not so much puppies anymore. Though Gerry would fight me on that, he’s the baby,” Tyler grins wide before pulling up a video of three dogs running around like crazy in what looks to be his backyard pool.

Lunch was more of the same, good food, good conversation and a bunch of joking around. Smart play by Jason to recommend it this way, he’s as much of a sweetheart as his texts made him out to be and helps ease some of the worries you had about Tyler. And Tyler, you found yourself gravitating to him a lot more than you thought you would. You all didn’t realize it until the shift change was happening how long you actually spent in the back booth. As you’re saying goodbye, hugs are passed around between the group of you this time.

“We’re keeping you around by the way,” Tyler whispers in your ear. “Welcome to the crew.”

You fall into a quirky but easy friendship with Tyler and Jason after that, eventually Jamie too once the boys drag him to one of your tasting outings. It evolves quickly from random texting to grabbing meals and drinks, hanging out after games, even meeting Tyler at the dog park to finally meet his trio of crazy pups during one of your crazy timed breaks in your schedule that matched up before he needed to get into his pre-game routine.

Gerry is running amok hopping around with a German Sheppard while Cash just wants Tyler to throw a stick for him to fetch repeatedly. Marshall, however, has taken residence with his head in your lap.

“I know your younger brothers are insane,” you coo, rubbing the chocolate lab’s ear as he nuzzles into your thigh. “I’m sorry I have to leave you with them in a few.”

“So soon?” Tyler asks, tossing Cash’s favorite stick a little father. “You like just got here. He also just doesn’t cuddle like that with anyone. Feel special, so you shouldn’t leave him either.”

“Only a quick break today. Deadlines looming and a bourbon tasting that need to get done if I’m meeting you guys later after the game,” you explain, fingers digging into Marshall’s fur again.

“At some point you do need to come to a game,” he sasses as Cash comes barreling into his legs, Gerry not far behind. “I know you’re a hockey fan, you can’t hide that Em.”

“Perhaps maybe,” you tease, rolling your eyes sticking your tongue out at him. “Ok Marsh, I’m sorry buddy but I gotta go.”

Marshall just slides his head further into your lap, while now Cash head butts your free hand as Gerry crashes into your legs.

“I’m so sorry boys, we’ll have another playdate soon I promise,” you call to them as you pet all their heads.

“Where’s my goodbye pets and love?” he cheekily leans his head towards you.

“Oh Ty,” rolling your eyes as you get up.

You lean in as you were going to kiss his cheek, but you just tweak his nose and flip his snapback off, “See you tonight superstar.”

Misty is thankfully behind the bar again tonight at Oak and Cork, except this time you’re in the middle of the crazy group instead of the far end of the bar.

“You hitting that yet?” Alex grins wiggling his eyebrows and nodding to where you’re leaning against the bar talking to Misty while she makes your drink.

Tyler shoves his teammate, “Dude.”

“First off, don’t be crass. Em is in the damn room. And that’s a no by the way,” Jason rolls his eyes at Alex after handing off glasses to the two of them. “He most definitely wants to; I think that she does too. They just won’t actually talk about it.”

“She sent you reckless slut shots, I think you can talk to her about fucking,” Alex replies, taking a pull from his drink.

“Emmy. She’s not just some random girl to dick and dump, Rads. Fucks sake,” he sighs, hand threading through his hair as he looks over in your direction where you’re talking with Jamie, Joe and his wife.

“Emmy, eh? That speaks volumes. Just ask her already,” Jason interjects. “We’re all tired of your crank ass. I’m going to find my better half.”

“He’s right,” Alex taps his glass against Tyler’s. “Go to her. Ask her. Kiss her. Less cranky, more goals, more fucking.”

Tyler shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink in one go. He snags a bottle of beer from one of the buckets left out on the bar for the group before he looks for somewhere to take a breather. You catch him stalking off to the patio, amber glass clenched in his hand with his brows knitted together.

“He ok?” you ask Jamie, pointing towards the door where Tyler’s walking through.

“That’s not a good Tyler face,” he sighs. “I should…”

“No, stay. I’ll go check,” you interrupt, polishing off your martini to head outside.

“Hard to have congratulatory drinks when the first star of the game is hiding out on the patio,” you call out.

He shrugs, not turning around at first but you can see the tension across his shoulders even through his dress shirt. You take a couple steps out towards him.

“Hey, come on. Can’t be that bad. Right? Nothing’s wrong with the pups? Your family?” you tread carefully not knowing what could have happened between the dog park and that moment.

He turns around slowly, not looking up at first.

“Tyler, what’s going on?” your concern lacing through your voice clearly.

“I still think about that night here, you know?” he starts, placing his bottle on the railing next to him before leaning back against it. “I was intrigued, girl at a bar alone on a Friday night. Gorgeous one at that. She kind of saw right through me but dished it back unexpectedly and pretty well. Then, then that damn chaperoned lunch. Kind of just rolled from there.”

“Ty, what are you saying?” you need to make sure where he’s going with this.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, it’s exhilarating and unnerving,” he fights out, coming off the railing. “I still think about kissing you, wanting that, all the damn time.”

“Tyler,” you begin, trying to move closer.

“Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Tyler fights out, hands flexing at his side but looking you straight in the eye.

You can see the clench of his jaw clearly from there, the fire he’s holding back in his eyes. Your breath catches, your heart skips and your stomach flips.

“What if I’m ok with that?” you whisper, slipping an inch closer.

“I need you to be sure, Clementine,” he looks at you carefully, pupils flicking wider.

“Clementine? Really Tyler?” you try to tease to lighten the thick air around the two of you.

“Emmy,” he exhales deeply. “Don’t. Please, not tonight. Not now.”

You nod once he opens his eyes, stepping closer.

“Use your words, Emmy,” he murmurs, one hand grasping your hip while the other comes to cup your cheek, thumb trailing across your skin. “I need to hear you say it, babygirl.”

You’re distracted for a moment, having him that close. His words swirl around your head, your senses are slightly overwhelmed by him. His cologne lingers in your nose and makes your eyes flutter.

“You don’t need to placate me though, I’m a big boy,” he says softly. “Friends is better than nothing.”

“I wouldn’t,” you jump in carefully. “It’s why I waited, why I’m saying yes now to you Ty.”

Tyler pulls you forward and claims your mouth. His tongue wicked, swiping at yours. Your hands slip up behind his neck with fingers tangling in his hair at the nape. You lose sense of time, all you can do is sink further into the kiss, and into him, until you’re out of breath.

“You taste like those damn orange martinis you love. I like it,” he sighs, knuckle trailing against your cheek. “I’ve never felt possessive, but fuck. The thought of anyone else sipping your sugar after that makes me see red, Emmy.”

“Is that the ass backwards Tyler way of asking me out?” you tease, popping up on your toes to nip at his bottom lip.

He surges forward and knocks the breath out of you with another bruising kiss.

“Come to my game tomorrow, wear my jersey. Let me show you off properly, let me take you home after, breakfast with the dogs on the patio in the morning,” he asks, this time his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “And the game after that and the next one after that, the next weeks and months ahead. Let me show you that I’m not that reckless slut you may think I am. You make me not want to be.”

You smile, nodding and pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

High Strung AU Part 2

As they work on the competition piece, Kara and Lena grow closer. They kiss over a brainstorming session, when Kara dances out an idea, and Lena looks at her like she could drink her in for ages. That night, Lena confesses that the reason she couldn’t go to the police about her violin is because her visa has long expired, and drawing any attention to herself could end in her deportation to a country she doesn’t feel is home anymore. 

“If we win the competition, you could enroll in NCCA,” Kara murmurs with swollen lips. “You would qualify for a student visa. You could stay.”

“With you? I’m counting on it.”

Kara stays over the night she walks in on Lena playing a song that sounds like an ocean put to music. It’s deep, and old, and speaks to something in Kara that she can’t name. That night, lying in bed with their legs tangled together, Lena confesses that she doesn’t want to play anyone else’s song for the competition. She wants to play her own. A song for Kara.

Lena accepts the loaner violin, and together she and Kara start to work on their program. Kara takes on the choreography, even charming Lena’s street-dancing upstairs neighbors into joining their cast. But the music-- the music is all Lena. Lena pours herself into it, and Kara feels the love in every note, each beat a smile, a kiss, a heart. 

She falls deep, but she falls wholeheartedly, knowing that Lena is falling right alongside her. 

The day of the competition, Lena is on her way to the theater when she notices a dark sedan following her. She ducks into an alley, and for a moment she thinks she’s lost them but just as she exits on the other side a car with sirens screeches to a stop in front of her.

“You Lena Luthor?” a man with a badge asks. “We need to have a chat.”

At the precinct, they immediately hone in on her immigration status, but all Lena can think about is the minutes ticking by as the competition’s go-time inches closer and closer. Meanwhile Kara and the other dancers are all sweating in the dressing room, wondering where the fuck Lena could be. Their performance hinges entirely on Lena-- without her, they have to withdraw-- but all Kara can think about is that something awful must have happened. Lena would never leave them hanging like this, something must have happened....

“Look, Lena,” the gentleman across the desk from Lena says, leaning forward intently. “I’m not interested in your status today.”

“Then why am I here? I kind of have somewhere to be, so--”

“We need information. About your father, Lionel.”

Lena’s face lifts with surprise, then falls in resignation. Mirroring her interrogator’s posture, Lena leans forward as well.

“I will tell you absolutely anything you want to know, tomorrow. Tonight, there’s somewhere I have to be.”

Backstage, Kara and the dancers are all at places, giving Lena until the very last moment. When the stage manager signals their cue and still no Lena, Kara’s heart falls. But then a flicker of motion at the edge of her vision makes her freeze. There she is: Lena-- sweating and breathing hard, Lena is here. Kara launches into her arms with a quiet laugh, and Lena nearly crushes her in the hug that follows. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I’m late, I’ll explain everything later--”

“Here,” Kara says, placing a familiar shape into Lena’s hands. 

Lena stares at it in confusion, then in shock. “My mother’s violin.” Her throat locks up with emotion. “How did you...”

“The pawn shop called. Someone brought it in, and I picked it up on the way here. I thought-- no, I knew you shouldn’t be playing with anything else tonight.”

Lena’s eyes fill with tears. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Truly.”

Kara nods with a smile, giving her one last kiss. “Let’s do this.”

Their performance is choreographed to be a story-- their story. The story of peace, a home lost, then regained in the form of new family. Kara dances her heart out to Lena’s music, and as she moves she feels her body unlike she ever has before. She feels every movement more keenly, every step as powerful as the storm Lena’s music creates. Integrating her ballet with the street dancers’ contemporary style, the fusion meshes with the techno beat of Lena’s composition seamlessly, embodying it’s swirling energy with grace and style. 

And as she dances, Kara remains aware of Lena, catching glimpses of her when she passes. Glimpses of Lena, standing in the spotlight with her mother’s violin, hair and body swaying with the force of her playing, eyes closed as her fingers find the notes with unerring precision. She’s never been more beautiful, never more magnetic, than in this moment, and Kara feels a tug low in her stomach. 

It takes all of her restraint to keep from kissing Lena right there on the stage, even as they’re taking their bows after the music ends. It’s all she can do to wait until they’re in the wings, pressed in among the sweaty bodies of the other giddy dancers, before she loops her arms around Lena’s neck and kisses her soundly.

“That was... amazing.”

Lena nods, still stunned from the thunderous applause and the high of performing. “Yeah. Kinda different from my subway platform, huh?”

In that moment, Kara hopes that, even if they don’t win, the dean of admissions had seen Lena’s performance, and realized that Lena belonged with them. 

“All groups to the stage, please!”

Kara and Lena funnel out onto the stage with the others, hand in hand, to stand alongside Mike and his own dance group. Kara had heard the music through the loudspeakers back stage while waiting and worrying for Lena, and while it had been technically flawless, it had been stiff as well. Without heart. 

If nothing else, Kara knows their own group has heart.

“And tonight’s winner is... Lena Luthor, and her dance partner, Kara Danvers!”

The stage and the audience erupts into cheers. Kara turns to Lena, laughing gleefully, to find her girlfriend staring, stunned. “We won!” Kara throws her arms around Lena. “We won!”

The embrace shakes Lena from her shock, lifting her arms to wrap around Kara’s waist. 

“We did it.”

We.

Kara pulls back, beaming. “Yeah. We did.”

Then she kisses Lena, and the rest of the world falls away.

The following year, NCCA’s brightest dancing star returns to school hand in hand with its newest leather-wearing violinist rockstar.

[unstoppableforcce]

dark side

—CHAPTER ONE: trust

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

prologue | next part | masterlist

a/n: I’m kinda in love with where I have this heading, I knocked this part out in like two hours and surprised myself so I hope y’all enjoy!! thanks for the incredible feedback!!

It was just a handshake, right? It was nothing he hadn’t done a thousand times before but...

But all he could think about was how your hands felt cradled in a desperate grip around his neck as he thrusted up into you no less than seven hours before. And as he took your hand as professionally as he could, all he could feel were the callouses that lined your skin which he had been so quick to ignore last night.

The palm of your hand was curved to the hilt of a pistol, not unlike his. The tips hardened against the back of his hand, just as he was sure his were rough against the back of his own. And it was just a handshake but his mind was nowhere near where it needed to be for something as simple as a handshake.

He could see it in your eyes too, but both of you kept your mouths shut as a Stechner lingered alongside you, and when you released his hand, Stechner laid a protective arm over your shoulders.

The same shoulders he buried his face into as he lost himself in your body—

“She’s one of my new transfers, in just after Escobar was killed.” Stechner continued to introduce, as if there was nothing between the two of you. He gave your name as if Javi hadn’t read it off your badge just hours ago, standing nearly naked in your kitchen.

Stechner was building off a clean slate and the two of you just kept your mouths shut as to why he couldn’t be more wrong.

No, he wasn’t going to do that. Instead, he played along. “Right, welcome to Colombia.”

“Thanks.” The English sounded wrong on your tongue when he had only heard you speak Spanish in the bar. It had sounded like such a natural accent, he didn’t even second guess it...

Spy. You were a spy, or at the very least, a CIA agent. He had to keep reminding himself otherwise he swore he was verging on losing himself in you the same way he did last night.

Thankfully, Stechner had other ideas.

“Do you know what this meeting is about?” He asked, gesturing to the closed door to the Ambassador’s office over his shoulder but Peña shook his head.

“My office just told me it was urgent.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw something shift in Stechner’s disposition. It was smugness rising back to his features, a look only a man such as himself could muster so casually. “Do you?”

He let out a hearty chuckle which did little to comfort Javi where he stood across from him, “yeah.”

Before he could ask what the hell that meant, the secretary off to the side stood and grabbed the door to gesture them in, and he was left to follow behind you and your perfect figure hidden beneath a professional pantsuit, mind filled with things that were far from professional yet again.

“Take a seat, Agents,” the Ambassador began with and Javi followed right behind you, taking a seat in the chair beside you as Stechner stood over your shoulder still. “Thank you for coming in so early.”

Javi passed on a half-hearted nod, glancing to the side to find you offering something similar, but his gut told him something was wrong.

Stechner was naturally smug, sure, but this was different.

The position of DEA attaché was certainly new to him still, but meeting with the CIA station chief, the agent he happened to have slept with the night before, and the ambassador? Something was going on. He had trusted his gut for this long, he let it save his life out on the streets, he couldn’t ignore it now.

But he also wasn’t sure there was anything else he could do to stop what he was sure was coming.

All he could do was sit up straight and wait for it to hit him square in the face. And when Stechner opened his mouth again, he was sure it was coming quick.

“The Ambassador and I have been talking about ways to improve interagency cooperation...” he began, stalking around the chair you sat in to rest himself against the front side of the lavish desk the Ambassador was sat behind. “And we have a pretty simple solution to ensure things go differently this time around down here.”

Javi glanced to you then back to the two men in front of him, still waiting for the final blow.

“We’re going to place a CIA agent on your team, Peña.” The ambassador quickly filled in the silence Stechner left in his hesitation.

“This one,” Stechner laughed slightly, gesturing to you and practically forcing his stare back your way.

“Excuse me?” The two of you said in unison, your voice layered in equal levels of shock to his.

“We feel it will smooth things out around here. The DEA and the CIA are going to have to work together this time around, Cali needs to be done differently.”

Differently? Javi understood different better than anyone in this room did, but this was different, this was putting a security camera on his team and calling it cooperation. If it was cooperation, it wouldn’t be forced onto him. If it was cooperation, you wouldn’t be a spy...

You wouldn’t be you...

He had to swallow a breath, keep himself from shouting out the first exclamation to come to mind and form a real response, “I don’t need CIA assistance.”

“You sure about that?” Stechner pulled the newspaper from his folder.

Two of his agents in Cali, being called out so plainly on the front page of the paper. There was no way there wouldn’t be consequences for that... Stechner really meant it when he saw his operation last night was going to amount to nothing.

This was all his doing.

The look on the ambassador’s face was all he needed to know he had no chance to argue his way out of it, yet Stechner still felt the need to voice his side of the story, “she is uniquely trained in surveillance and intelligence gathering, I’m sure you’ll find her a valuable asset to your team.”

He opened his mouth to shoot back a quick response, but you were faster.

“I have active assignments—“ clearly this was as much of a shock and disappointment to you. He didn’t know why he took solace in that, he just knew that he did.

“We’ll work all that out.”

“I’m not a liaison—“

“We’re not saying you are... we just would like to use your talents in a different area.” There wasn’t a single word out of Stechner’s mouth that didn’t sound slimy...

“I—“ Javi tried this time, but it was the Ambassador who cut him off.

“This is already decided. And it’ll be for the best.”

For the best? Javi could think of about a thousands ways that this benefited the CIA and their absurd agenda over actual crime fighting... this ‘deal’ of Stechner’s was going to let The Godfather’s of Cali walk away free, with all the money in the world. This wasn’t the best, this wasn’t even justice. This was sticking a spy on his team and using you to further their agenda.

Why was he still surprised by this kind of thing? He’d been in the game long enough, and he still hated when the true colors of the system burned through.

He was no saint, far from it, but he knew better than to let shit like this slide.

He also knew the last place to have a fit of anger was in the office of the Ambassador.

“Right.” He nodded, getting to his feet and giving a final nod to the room before leaving. Unfortunately, you and Stechner were right on his heels.

“Peña.” You called you get him to stop halfway down the hall and clench his eyes shut before turning back towards you. It was the first time you had even said his name...

He wanted to shout, at you, in general... but in the middle of the embassy? In front of Stechner? He bit his tongue and turned back to face you. “Yeah?”

He saw Stechner whisper something to you before peeling off and suddenly it was just the two of you left in the hall, and that was an audience he could work with.

“Did you know?”

Your face fell to your feet with some emotion coursing through you. He initially figured it was shame, or guilt, like you knew the whole time what this was coming to, but as your stare lifted back up, he saw it was anger. The same anger he felt coursing through his veins.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific...”

“Did you know when I fucked you last night that you were going to be spying on me today?” He switched to Spanish as the words flowed from his lips and he didn’t even know why, he just couldn’t help himself. Speaking to you in English still felt weird and yet, by now, he had spoken to you more in this building than he had in the whole of last night.

“No.”

“Did you know who I was?” Was this what being used felt like? What the hell was this anger bubbling within him?

“You think I’m an idiot?” That was a yes. And it felt terrible. “What? Just because you left when you found out who I was—“

He wasn’t going to have this fight with you in the hall of the embassy, he had to draw the line somewhere. He didn’t even let you finish, he just turned his back and kept walking back to his office. Leaving you stood in the hall with your hands propped on your hips and a familiar sentiment falling from your lips, “fuck.”

The worst part was how impressive you were.

Stechner had been kind enough to leave your personnel file in his office by the time he stormed back to his desk, and while he watched a desk in his bullpen be cleared out for you, he read all he could through the bars of redaction. And you were impressive.

If you weren’t CIA, he might’ve actually wanted you on his team. (If you weren’t CIA, maybe he’d admit he had some of the best sex of his life last night)

He really hadn’t ever been played like this. At least when he was being played by dirty cops or the higher ups, he knew it was coming, this was new since he had gotten back, being played so out in the open.

He had to send two good agents back, the Colombians pulled their visas. And he got you in their place. All for this goddamn surrender—

“Can I come in?”

Slamming your file shut, he glanced up to find you leaned so gently against his doorframe. But he couldn’t give you a verbal answer just yet, all he could manage was a brief nod.

“I’m as displeased with this assignment as you are, trust me.” You said so casually as you entered and settled into the seat across from him, but the majority of your sentence went over his head.

Trust you? Yeah right—

“I’m supposed to be doing real work here, and instead I’m assigned you? I get to play babysitter so Stechner can get what he wants?” At least you were honest. “No offense but you’re not what I want to be doing here.”

His mind was nowhere near professional territory as the words flowed to his ears.

“Last night—“

“I wasn’t there for you, I didn’t know about any of this, and I’m sorry.” Was it that easy? Was he just supposed to believe that.

Scanning your face up and down once, he was afraid that he actually did.

“So, What do we do?” He sighed, itching at his brow and aching for a cigarette.

“Let me make it right?

You were definitely new to Colombia. That just wasn’t something that happened here. For an agent with a record as substantial as what he read, he just didn’t understand your offer and his face clearly cemented itself in that confusion.

“I can only tell Stechner what I hear, so don’t let me hear anything you don’t want me to.” You followed up quickly, “you want me to leave a room, just tell me...”

“You would do that, you’d disobey your boss and order from the ambassador for me?”

You scoffed at that, quickly putting him back in his place. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, “so why?”

“Like I said, you aren’t why I was transferred here.” It seemed so simple coming from your lips, he imagined you could explain rocket science like that and he’d understand just by following the plush of your lips. The lips that he couldn’t breathe without last night... “I have real assignments and maybe once Stechner realizes this isn’t working, I can get back to it.”

“Real assignments?” You gave a plain nod. “If not Cali, then what?”

Another scoff tore through you, “there’s more to Colombia than drugs and communists.”

And he believed you. But he couldn’t escape the feeling that that was the beginning and end of everything.

Most of your file was classified, redacted beyond readable and he believed you.

As he shook your hand one last time and watched you leave his office for the new desk they had cleared out for you, he couldn’t help but mutter a final, “fuck.”

There was no way this was that simple. There was no way you were that simple.

—

->tags: (let me know if I missed you or you want to be tagged!)

@the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @ms-dont-care @leo-moon

[thejosh1980]

I was lookin' back to see if she was lookin' back...

Yesterday Alex, Mum and I celebrated...

It's been one year since Alex and I arrived at Mum's place in Ocean Shores, NSW Australia.

If you've read my earlier blogs in 2020, you'll know that we had a lot of trouble getting home. Between the government and airlines, at one point it looked like we'd never get here; we were stranded. I was living in constant worry, stress and hopelessness - in fact, we all were: Alex's family in Germany and Mum's family down under.

Our July 2020 flights were cancelled or rescheduled many times, and eventually we decided to buy new, more expensive flights, on another airline through an agency, which gave us some assurances we'd be on the flight. Our new flights booked and confirmed for early September.

We flew Frankfurt to Adelaide, which was not our original plan. Adelaide had no COVID, and the chance of getting on a flight and getting into the country was higher than say, Brisbane, or Sydney. We could quarantine in Adelaide for 2 weeks and then fly on to Brisbane, which is closer to Ocean Shores.

That was like.... so last year...

This area where we now live is known as the Northern Rivers of New South Wales, and when we arrived at Mum's there was no COVID in the area. We are only about 35 minutes south of the Queensland border, about 8 hours north of the big smoke, Sydney.

Now, a year on, COVID has arrived here.

It's been biting at the heals of tourists and essential workers travelling north since Sydney went into lockdown a couple of months ago.

It's not our idea of a good time.

Right now it's school holidays, which is meant to be 2 weeks of families holidaying in caravan parks and hotels, an essential part of this tourist attraction mecca. Byron Bay, Brunswick Heads, and surrounds are usually very popular places; so popular that most locals complain about how busy it gets here during the holidays. You just can't get a parking sport anywhere!

The Northern Rivers was locked down for about 6 weeks through August into September because cases from Sydney were getting into regional NSW. These regional areas affected by COVID weren't near here, but they made a blanket rule for everywhere outside of Sydney, just to be on the safe side.

Honestly, I don't blame them for the rule, regional outback Australia can't cope with COVID, there's few hospitals, beds, or COVID experience in the scrub and farm land.

Anyhow, I digress...

After those 6 weeks or so in lockdown, they lifted the restrictions here in the northern rivers (and other areas of NSW).

And now, after 2 weeks, lockdown is back on...

There are a couple of cases in the area. Snap lockdowns are the government's preferred method of containing outbreaks. Lockdown areas wherever cases pop up for a week or two (or longer) to limit exposure.

It reminds me constantly that life can change quickly at any time. I have decided I will not waste time once this current lockdown has ended (who knows when that will be). I will visit friends, family, and musicians who live close by. I want to see as many folks as quickly as possible, before another lockdown kicks in.

Besides the boring, never ending tale of COVID, there have been a few things happening this past year...

Alex has been working consistently in the real estate industry since her temporary visa kicked in late last year.

Her first job was a few more miles away than any of us locals would consider driving, and the position wasn't as enjoyable or rewarding as she had first hoped. She really dived in the deep end, and while she didn't drown, she probably needed a few swimming lessons before the attempt. It was a life lesson, one she took on board, and when a new job came up closer to home, she nailed the interview (as she always does), and hasn't looked back.

The 2nd job is less than half the distance away, strictly 9 to 5 and in a company which she enjoys. There's a strong company structure, good work ethic, and entertaining colleagues. Her supervisors, colleagues, and managers are all very supportive; I think she'll be sitting tight on this one for a while.

Alex has also found her creative side again, scrap book journalling, instant camera photography, and some kind of couples diary/journal/photo book too. It's become an almost nightly affair of focusing, creating, and having something to show for it fairly quickly. She's very proud of her work, and it's something she does just for herself. I don't expect you'll get a chance to see a photo of what she's done, and she likes it like that.

I had a bit of work late in 2020 and early 2021, nothing special really, but wait until the premier!! It's interesting to think that some day soon I'll be able to go to the cinema and see my ugly mug on the big screen (even if it will most likely be out of focus). I'll be on Netflix too.

Having the opportunity to be an extra on film and TV was a real boost for my confidence after being off stage for so long. I felt creative, met some great people, made some friends, and had a few bucks in my pocket. Happy days.

By jumping into an industry I hadn't been in before right after arriving here, it reminded me that Australia has a lot to offer. I found myself comparing Germany and Australia, and Australia often feels like it comes up short. This was a chance to prove to myself that there are adventures awaiting here down under.

So, I decided to go back to school.

The last time I was in a class room was in 1998!! I am studying a Diploma of Counselling, and am currently half way through my studies. I've found it very challenging, but have passed every assessment so far, and gained some handy skills too. I have a good connection with my teachers, and I really enjoy the company of my classmates; some of which I can even call friends.

I chose counselling for a few reasons, but the first step was really just a process of elimination. Besides being a freelance professional musician for several years in Germany, I had worked in offices, shops, warehouses, kindergartens and various other jobs. While I could go back into IT or something similar, I wanted to use this opportunity to try something new.

I had my fair share of mental health issues in the past (and present). I thought maybe those experiences could help me connect with folks who need support as well. When looking at course options, the counselling course stood out. So now I'm making a mid life crisis gamble that I'll pass the course, and feel confident and knowledgeable enough to take on the role that many others have taken on for me over the years.

The course has helped me find a routine too, one that I didn't know I needed, until it happened. When you're jobless and unfocused, the mind wanders, the days pass. Now my mind is focused on study, and I feel better for it.

Up until the lockdown hit, we were in class 3 days a week and then I'd study from home 1 to 3 days a week. When lockdown hit, we had to go online. However, being on the computer so much has worn me out, and I really start to enjoy those rare days where I am not looking at a screen!

To be honest, it's been challenging every step of the way, and I even thought about quitting several times in the past few months. However, my confidence has steadily risen to each challenge and I felt better for it.

That's the kind of vicious circle I enjoy.

In July I had my first live show in 13 months! In fact, to date I've only had 3 since the pandemic started! Fingers crossed I can cross the border next month and add a 4th.

I was approached by Cherry Divine to play guitar for her. It's a relatively easy gig for me. The songs are fun rockabilly tunes, Cherry sings great, and she already has a band and gigs. I'm helping her write a few songs too, for her next album. I can't thank her enough for sparkin' the fire in me to keep music alive in my life; for a while there I thought it was all a thing of the past.

With the spark has come the possibility of “The Josh” solo band coming together. While the band isn't moving at any great speed (the recent 2nd lockdown kicked in right as I was about to arrange a rehearsal), I'm finally eager to get a band together. I miss playing live, and I miss having musicians in my life. I miss the spontaneity of a show, life on the road, and crowd reactions.

I've even started to write some new material, and get those ideas on “tape”, well, on the computer. Slow and steady, between studying, family, pets and surfing, music is coming back into my life, and it feels good.

Our family unit here is doing well. Alex and I have been under mum's roof and mum's care for a year now. There are some ups and downs, but mostly I'd say they're ups... The house is big enough to give all of us space, all of us get time outside of the house (except during lockdown, I was mostly stuck at home, but that's OK for me)...

Last night we couldn't go out for dinner, but we did have take away from the local Indian which was really good, and a special treat for us, we don't eat out often.

Alex and I plan to get away every 5-6 months for a visit to somewhere we haven't been. In March we were on the “Sunshine Coast” and checked out Australia Zoo, and in June we went south to the mid north coast to pick up BB Junior.

It's nice to get out and explore. A bit hard to do at the moment, with the restrictions, but we've agreed another trip away (before Christmas if possible) is in order. Those trips are part of the reason why I came home, to see some of Australia, and I'm lucky I get to make those experiences with Alex.

It's also nice to get away from it all. I know we live in a beautiful spot near the ocean, but here, at home, there's the computers, the life and routine, and getting away keeps us fresh and focused on each other. It's definitely something I look forward to!

Speaking of BB Junior, he's almost 7 months old now, and a real character. While he's not the easiest cat to train, I've been getting a few tricks out of him, and he enjoys his time outside, with his harness and long lead. He visits his cousin each week for play time, Charlie, who is another ragdoll of a family friend who loves to play chase all day long with Junior. Alex adores Junior, and Junior adores Alex; they can't wait to cuddle when she comes home from work. He's very vocal too, so even when everyone is at work, I have someone to talk to!

Losing our little boy Mijo was a real difficult experience. I know I've written about him before, but he deserves a mention here, as he was a big part of our first year here. He was full of character and strength, he and I bonded very quickly and not a day goes by I don't think of him. He also brought Alex and I closer together. When she chose him for me, and when he passed, and all points in between, he brought us closer.

I've been focused on sport a fair bit since getting back and settling in. I bought a RowErg, also known as a rowing machine, and I row about twice a week, in addition to riding my bicycle about twice a week. I try to surf every chance I get, which unfortunately ends up being only a few times a month. It's my goal to do something sporty to get my heart rate up every day, and of late, usually I get there too. I don't really do it for any other reason than I love to snack and I can't snack if I don't do sport!

A benefit of my sport/snack workout routine is it helps me stay calm and focused and connected with those I ride and surf with.

I haven't asked Mum how she's feeling about having her middle aged son and his wife living with her recently. Maybe I should, but do I really wanna know the answer? Well, I think she's OK with it. After all, we drive her wherever she wishes! I suspect it goes a little deeper than that, and in all honesty, we enjoy each other's company.

Since Alex and I have been here, I'd like to think Mum has been living a little bit fuller life. I don't think her eyesight has deteriorated much in the past year, but we've been able to provide her with support, eyes to read the small print, driving and help with google, or something around the house. When Mum was diagnosed with celiac disease earlier this year, Alex took her shopping to check over the ingredients of Mum's favourite food, and when needed, found alternatives. It definitely made the transition to gluten free a little easier on Mum and it was a load off my mind that we were around to help her through that phase.

Winter 2021 was over before it even started. I forgot how warm this part of the world is, and I don't know why I own so many jackets! Returning from Europe, where I was wearing a jacket daily for about 9 months of the year, here it feels like, if it's really needed, and I mean if you're desperate, you might need one for 9 weeks of the year. I think the heater was on a handful of times, and the sun was shining just about every day.

I tell ya, it's some kind of paradise here.

It's been a bit difficult keeping up with our European friends and family. I sometimes find it hard to find the time to be proactive to contact the 20, 30 or more friends I'd like to keep in touch with regularly. I know our lives keep on keepin' on, but time passes by so quickly too, and next thing you know it's been 4 months since I last contacted you!

Sorry about that!

Don't take it personally, and I'll get back to you, eventually!

My overall mental health has improved over the year, I'd say it's become quite stable since I started the course. I mean, can't you tell? I write less and less in this blog, because I have less and less to process. I'm not sure if it's the fact there's a lot of self reflection that is inherently a part of doing that kind of mental health course, or if it's the routine of being a student or the new friends I've made and classmates I study with.

It could be that it's taken a year to come to terms with being back here, cause when I first arrived I felt uncomfortable, depressed and worn out... There were a lot of questions; is this a mid life crisis? What am I doing here? Will I ever feel good again? Is my music career over? What am I going to do now? Is Alex OK? Is Mum OK?

My journalling, blogging, and support from friends and family has helped a lot too this past year. Processing my thoughts in words, by clarifying and reflecting, has helped a lot. I've been trying to care for myself a bit more now and then too, I think people call it self care, sometimes I call it sport! Alex has helped me to recognise my achievements, however big or small, and focus less on what I haven't done.

I'm not perfect, but definitely improving.

I was hoping that Alex and I would be in a position to start looking at buying our own house around this time, a year in, but unfortunately, with one of us being a student and the ever rising cost of housing, we have to sit tight on that idea for a while longer. Sorry Mum, you're stuck with us.

There's been many smaller things happen during our first year here. Lots of moments of gratitude, love and support. There's some stuff we've forgotten, or that has been overtaken by something bigger. All in all, I'd say it's been a real rollercoaster home coming!

We're still here, a year on, still going strong, making motions, taking chances, being in love, talking shit, laughing, smiling, misbehaving and focusing... What more could we ask for?

Thank you for reading, for your support and love. I love you too.

Josh

[nalgenewhore]

Too Late To Turn Back Now - One

Elide Lochan has been living and working in Doranelle for years. Unknowingly, she let her visa expire and now must leave the country for a year - including losing her position as Crown Counsel. Without thinking, she ropes her associate, Lorcan Salvaterre, into her scheme to let her stay in Doranelle and announces that they are to be wed. As they fumble their way through their new relationship dynamics while visiting Lorcan’s family deep in Doranelle’s northern isles, they must keep up pretenses while their intentions change, all under the watchful eye of the immigration bureau. 

masterlist - ao3 - next chapter 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan did not recognize the room he woke up in, his head buried in a frilly pillow. Without moving his head, he quickly scanned the room around him, eyes widening at the amount of stuff the girl had on her dresser and desk.

The bed shifted and he lifted himself up, looking down as the girl next to him rolled onto her back and stretched, the duvet falling from her chest. Heat sparked in his veins and she smiled lazily, reaching up to tug his face down to hers, kissing him slowly. “Morning, baby,” she whispered, running a hand through his hair. “Wow. Your hair’s longer than mine. You should cut it.”

Lorcan shook his head, “Already told you that I can’t.”

“Not even for me?” she pouted and he wished he cared enough to remember her name. Actually, he did not really care. Sighing through his nose, he kissed her one more before glancing at the clock, trying to see if he had enough time this morning to have a little fun.

“Oh, fuck,” he cursed, jumping out of bed, and rooting around the room for his slacks and shirt. His boss was going to kill him.

“Where you going,” the girl whined as he tucked his slightly wrinkled shirt into his pants and buckled his belt.

“I gotta go to work, baby.”

“Well, when am I going to see you again?”

He slowly pulled his hair into a messy bun and rubbed his fingers over his stubbled jaw, “Listen. I don’t really do that type of stuff, you know?” She crossed her arms and drummed her fingers on her upper arm, tilting her head to the side. “Last night was great, but it was kind of more of a one-time thing.”

“Oh.”

“You’re beautiful and fun, but I’m just not in that place right now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. Call me when you are?”

“100%.”

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

There were already two coffee cups waiting at the counter when Lorcan ran into the coffee shop. The barista smiled as he grabbed them, “You’re the best, what do I owe you?”

“Look at the side of your cup and it’s on the house,” she said, winking as she turned to the next customer and he glanced down, seeing her number and name – Chloe – scrawled on the side.

Lorcan smiled and nodded a goodbye as he pushed his way through the door and broke into a near sprint, dreading his boss’ wrath.

Fifteen minutes later, Lorcan calmed his fast-beating heart as he pushed open the pristine glass doors to the offices of the national Prosecution Service. He glanced at his watch and sped up, hoping his boss had missed her alarm and was not in yet.

It seemed as though one of the gods took pity on him and had graced him with extra time this morning. He half-jogged into her corner office and put a coffee on her desk, speeding out to his desk just as his phone buzzed. Lorcan cursed in his mother tongue as he fished out his phone, a text lighting up the screen.

Boss Lady: Cairn’s in five minutes

He internally groaned and texted the office group chat, just two words.

LS: She’s here

The mood dropped as everyone hurried to do what they were supposed to be doing and the doors opened. Elide Lochan walked in, her heels clicking against the floor.

She was dressed in her firing outfit – a black sheath dress that was square at the top, exposing her delicate collarbones and smooth neck, her dark hair pulled up into a sleek ponytail. She wore red-bottomed heels that matched perfectly with the dark blood-red shade of her lipstick, and her purse hung from her elbow.

Everyone scattered as her gaze cut across the cubicles. There was a limp, but after years of physical therapy and the best orthopods money could buy, it was hardly noticeable save for the scar marring the otherwise perfect alabaster skin of her leg.

“Lorcan.”

He handed her her briefing folder and followed her into her office, shutting the door behind him as she dropped her bag in one of the chairs in front of her glass desk and perched herself on the edge of said desk. “The firing dress?” he asked mildly, knowing she would appreciate the remark.

After two years of working for her as her associate, Lorcan knew her better than she knew herself, which is why he knew what type of smile would grace her round lips before they graced Cairn with her presence. True to his word, she grinned a wicked grin, “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to sack his ass? Losing the Baldor case gives me the perfect opportunity.”

Lorcan cracked a smile as well. He hated Cairn and would be glad to see him go. Losing their biggest case just before the biannual board review was a slip up no one would let go unnoticed. “When do we go?”

Snapping the folder shut, her red acrylics flashing, Elide said, “Now.” Any trace of joking familiarity she revealed when it was just the two of them left her face as she stood up straight and she walked to the door, just a tad of swagger in the way her hips swung with every step.

Elide rapped on Cairn’s door, a false sympathetic tilt to her head. The man looked up, a smarmy grin on his lips he thought she couldn’t tell was a complete farce. Lorcan would’ve pitied him if he didn’t loathe the man. “Well, if it isn’t our fierce leader and her lap dog.”

Chuckling, Elide strolled into his office, stopping before the small window, more than a little smug that she had the corner office, not him. “I’m letting you go, Cairn, darling.”

“You’re what?”

Lorcan watched, highly entertained as he sipped from his coffee, as Elide slowly turned around and spoke to Cairn as though he were a small child, “You’re fired.”

Cairn shot up, his fists planted on his desk. He seethed, near foaming from the mouth, “You can’t fire me.”

“Oh, but I can. You see,” she said, walking in measured steps over to him where she planted her own fists on the desk and leaned over, “losing the Baldor case was just the tip of the iceberg, darling.” Lorcan bristled as Cairn’s eyes dropped down to her cleavage, lingering much too long before he dragged them back up to her eyes, no doubt glittering with that icy rage of hers. “Now, I’m going to be nice and not report you for sexual harassment and give you two months to find a new job. You must think you’re so slick, staring at every twenty-year old law student who walks in here, calling them sweetheart, thinking I can’t feel it when you stare at my tits and my ass. Get a nice long look, because it’s the last time I’ll allow it before I rip your beady little eyes from your skull.”

Without another word, she stood up straight and spun neatly on her toes, walking out of his office with Lorcan on her tail. “What’s he doing,” she whispered, her back straight and head held high.

Lorcan subtly glanced over his shoulder, eyes on the raging man. “Pissed and ready to go. T-Minus five, milady.”

“Oh, Cairn, honey, don’t do it.”

Elide turned to Lorcan, that sadistic smile playing at her mouth before she neutralized her face and waited, almost bored as Cairn came storming out, a finger pointed at her, “You cold-hearted crippled bitch. You can’t fire me!”

The office went dead silent and Elide just surveyed her nails, appraising the deep burgundy colour and sleek coffin shape, “Why are you doing this, Cairn? I gave you a civilized way out of this.”

“You fired me because you’re threatened!”

Lorcan choked on his laugh, way too invested in the scene unfolding. Elide sighed again and smiled icily, “Oh, Cairn. You foolish, foolish man. Nothing about you threatens me. I fired you because you’re entitled and incompetent, not to mention you prey on every girl that comes through these doors. Care to remind the office how much you’ve lost in sexual harassment settlements and how many law clerks you’ve gone through in the past year?” He went beet red up to the roots of his brown hair and she continued, “Hm. That’s what I thought. So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get your ass out of this office before Lorcan here forcibly removes you. You have a choice to make here.”

Cairn’s watery blue eyes promised her a painful death but he slowly nodded and Elide clapped, “Oh, goodie. Now, carry on.”

Everyone else suddenly found somewhere else to work as Elide and Lorcan continued back to her office. Once the door was closed, Elide flung herself across the low couch and laughed, “I haven’t had fun like that in ages.”

Lorcan huffed a laugh and read her her schedule, “Your immigration lawyer sent over some things for you to sign and you have a deposition with Lucy at one.”

She sighed, “Push the deposition to three and we need to push for an appeal. I’ll need you here this weekend.”

“I can’t.”

Elide slowly sat up, a brow raised. “And why not?”

“I’m going home for the weekend. It’s my sisters’ birthday.”

“I gave you time off?”

“I can just cancel, it’s fine,” he said, silently cursing her and everything she stood for. First weekend home in two years and she makes me cancel?

“You do that, and push Lucy to three.” She stood and waved her hand, effectively dismissing him. Lorcan nodded and took his leave, sitting down heavily as he punched out his mother’s number.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan knocked on her door and entered after she called him in. She looked distracted as she spun in her chair, her head resting on her fist. Lorcan slowly closed the door and carefully approached her, “Elide?”

“Did you speak to your mother?”

“Yes.” And she told him to quit, once again. “It’s all sorted.” He was supposed to be going up for his twin sisters, Aneha and Sadirah’s sixteenth birthday. He hadn’t been home in the two years he’d been working for Elide and hadn’t seen his family for seven months.

“There’s been a change of plans, Lorcan.”

“And that is…”

Elide breathed out and stood up, beckoning him over to the low-lying couch and matching armchairs that overlooked Doranelle’s magnificent rivers. “I’m in danger of being deported back to Terrasen. My visa expired and I won’t be able to reapply for a year, which I’ll have to spend in Terrasen.”

Lorcan’s eyes widened and he nodded, “Ok, well, you can always work remotely and-“

“I can’t do that, I won’t be able to work for any Doranellian companies so…” she trailed off and bit her thumbnail, refusing to meet his gaze. 

“So?” he prompted, leaning forward, and resting his elbows on his knees.

“I told my boss that we’re getting married.”

“Who?”

“You and me.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: so i hit six hundred followers today (which is kinda wack but go off i guess) and decided to share this lil thing with yall! lemme know if you wanna be tagged 🥺💛

@mythicaitt​ @schmlip-scribble​ @tinywolfofeyllwe​ @the-regal-warrior​ @westofmoon​ @empire-of-wildfire​ @rhysands-highlady​ @city-of-fae​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tangledraysofsunshine​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​ @flora-and-fae​ @thesirenwashere​ @queenofxhearts​ 

[proxylynn]

Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #27

Chapter 27: Burden

WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^

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

[A quick recap]

My melancholy blinds me to my current surroundings. I only come out of it once a spotlight hits me.

"The hell...?"

Things look funny. No doubt it's a setup by Mettaton. But I'm unsure what this act is. I mean, it looks like a receptionist's waiting room. A desk and some random chairs.

"GOOD EVENING, LADIES AND GENTS...!"

Mettaton zips in wearing a red suit and shoves me in a chair as he takes center stage.

"FIRST AND FOREMOST, WE HERE AT MTTTV WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE LACK OF ME OVER THE COURSE OF THE PROGRAM. DUE TO THE LACK PREP WORK WITH MY COSTAR HERE, WE SADLY HAD TO FORGO A THRILLING ACT BACK IN LEVEL TWO INVOLVING HUNDREDS OF EXPLOSIVES!!"

I so freaking called it. I should let him have his moment...Nah!

"I thought you said that act was shit anyway?"

He extends an arm to cover my mouth.

"FORGIVE HER. SHE'S LOST A LOT OF BLOOD AND NOT ALL THERE MENTALLY."

I leer at him flatly.

"BUT...DARLING HERE IS GOING TO MAKE AMENDS WITH US ALL RIGHT NOW. IT'S TIME TO ANSWER SOME BURNING QUESTIONS."

I'm so confused as he lets go and leaps onto the desk, posing dramatically.

"IT'S TIME FOR..."

A large neon sign shaped like him drops from the ceiling.

"BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL WITH A KILLER ROBOT! THE LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOSTED BY YOURS TRULY."

Huh. Not a bad title.

"I thought you were working on a courtroom trial program?"

He scoots to now sit behind the desk.

"UNFORTUNATELY, WHILE I DO HAVE THE FUNDS, I DON'T HAVE AVAILABLE WORKERS TO MAKE SUCH A SET. SO...WE'RE DOING THIS INSTEAD."

"Heh...Must be hard to meet your expectations."

"DARLING, YOU HAVE NO IDEA."

A tense dramatic score plays.

"SO, DARLING...ARE YOU READY TO TELL ME EVERYTHING?"

Ah. I see now. Fine, Metta, have it your way. Just be careful what you wish for. You may not like it. Now don't get me wrong. I know my limits. I'm not about to tell him EVERYTHING. I'm not that stupid. But if he wants truth, he's going to get a version that's missing some characters and other junk.

"As you wish. You wanna know the truth? You want to scar the entire Underground? Sure. Why not. What else do I have to lose at this point since you exposed me? So congratulations! I hope you like the prize you've been longing to get. Because I sure as hell don't."

Let the show commence.

[Now our featured presentation]

"RIIIIGHT...ANYWAY...WHY NOT INTRODUCE YOURSELF. LET THE UNDERGROUND KNOW JUST A BIT ABOUT YOU."

I wave with a stupid grin to where I think a camera is.

"Howdy, monsters of the Underground. My name is Lynsie. Last I checked, I'm 5'8'', twenty eights years old, born November 7th, am a Scorpio, blood type A+, and enjoy long naps by the beach."

Am I introducing myself or recording a dumb dating profile video?

Mettaton whips out some cards from his desk.

"REALLY? YOU'RE THAT OLD? HUH."

"Yeah. Why?"

"YOU LOOK OLDER THAN THAT."

I sneer.

"It's the raccoon eyes. Insomnia is a hell of a slap to the face."

"THAT ASIDE...HOW ARE YOU FEELING? YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT SINCE THIS PROGRAM STARTED."

"I'm grateful to have this reprieve. It's nice to not be flung into fight after fight for a moment. I don't like fighting. I'd much rather avoid any conflict if able."

"SUCH A KIND GIRL. ARE ALL HUMANS THESE DAYS LIKE YOU?"

I eye him funny.

"WHAT?"

"Do mean 'kind' or 'stupid'? Because every monster has called me a fool for being nice."

"STUPID IS A STRONG WORD. NAIVE IS MORE LIKE IT."

I rumble lowly in my seat.

"But...To answer you properly, no. Not all humans are like me. Or...I'm not like most humans."

"OOOOH~, SUCH AN AMBIGUOUS ANSWER. FINE THEN, IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE LIKE THAT, I'LL HAVE TO BE MORE BLUNT IN MY QUESTIONS. LET'S SEE..."

He flips through some of his cards.

"OH! HERE'S ONE...HOW DID YOU COME TO FIND YOURSELF IN THE UNDERGROUND?"

Blunt? I'll give you blunt.

"Easy. I tried to kill myself."

[SNOWDIN: Skeleton House in present time]

The mood in the room sours as the human continues.

"Yep. You see, Mt. Ebott has a reputation, a legend dating back lord knows how long, that those who climb the mountain never return. This has made it a popular place to die. Not as bad as the literal 'Suicide Forest' of Japan, but it does the job okay."

Mettaton's screen blacks out.

"Don't give me that look. You wanted this. You wanted the truth. So take it. Take the blunt no holds bar truth of the matter. And you know what else? It wasn't the first time either. I can think of at least five other attempts. Each more pathetic than the last. But, if memory serves me right, I do believe my very first try was when I was still so very small. Somewhere around age six to eight. I had learned that apple seeds contain cyanide, a very toxic poison. Of course, there's not a heck of a lot in a single seed, but if you ingest a lot...well...Kid me didn't know how many were needed. Just that it was deadly. As you can see, I didn't have enough and I didn't try that form of suicide again. I don't try the same kind twice. I'm too fearful of messing things up the second time. What if it only partly works and I end up surviving? Heh...Trying to end it all only to live but in even worse condition? The irony would be such a hilarious joke. Then again, that's my life in a nutshell. One big cruel unrelenting joke."

Toriel's eyes water. She knew her child had her demons, but she knew not just how far back they spawned. Mettaton's screen relights.

"I...I WASN'T EXPECTING..."

"Yeah, no one does. No one expects me to be so dark. But what can I say? I do a damn good job hiding it."

"BUT...WHY THOUGH? WHAT WOULD MAKE A CHILD THAT BENT ON KILLING THEMSELVES?"

She takes a deep breath and lounges back in her chair.

"You ever feel guilty for something? Something you have no idea why you should feel that way for but you just do?"

She runs her hands over her face.

"I don't remember why I asked her that question. Maybe I was just morbidly curious. I knew my siblings were unexpected pregnancies. The eldest never came to be, so whether it was a boy or girl is forever unknown. My brother came about in the randomness of my mom hooking up with my dad. She married my dad because, well, she did like him but also so that he wouldn't be deported once his school visa ran out. He and his family escaped their homeland to start a new life...but did so illegally. Even on the surface, there's no true freedom. Four years into the marriage, I was born. Things only seemed to spiral from there. Dad would stay out drinking. Mom would be pissed. Bro and I would hide in my room and try to keep the fighting out. Mom gave up on him, someone else charmed her heart and would later be the father of my sister. Eight years into this world and they divorce and months later sis is born. She was unknown and with how old mom was at the time, she now suffers from spontaneous seizures."

The girl looks up in thought.

"So a few years ago, I asked mom...Was I unplanned like they were? Was I another surprise baby?"

She looks back down, her face holding a more cold expression.

"No, she told me. You were the only planned one. ...I should've stopped there. *sigh* I then asked...Why? She answered..."

Emotion leaves her.

"We had you in the hopes that you'd fix our marriage."

Silence. Dead silence.

"So much pressure. And to put that on a babe? How was I supposed to solve your problems? How is it my fault you couldn't stand each other when things got rough?! How is a kid supposed to make sure you don't start taking drugs and acquire sixteen felonies?! How is it my job to make sure you don't regret loving someone else?! How is that fair?! Why not take some fucking responsibility for once in your god damn life?!"

She becomes irate, grabbing one of the chairs and beating it into another one till both are useless before ending with a guttural roar that pains the throat in its harshness.

Toriel recalls similar words from her not long after they became close and she found her.

"Child? You're trembling. Is everything all right? Child, please. Just speak to me. Tell me what's wrong."

"I hate you! I hate all of you! You fucking pieces of shit! Why?! Why is it so hard for any of you to care?! I've been missing for days or weeks and none of you care! *sobs* Did you ever love me?! Why did you even bother having me if you don't even care that I'm gone?! *bawling* Why? Why? Someone tell me why...please..."

"I know this isn't the most pleasant of times to ask...But since we've come to know more about each other, I have been curious about something. The humans that fall down here...They tend to not fall down for the happiest of reasons. If it is not too painful...Can you share with me your reason? What made you come to a cursed mountain where none ever return from?"

"*hard sniffling* They used to care. I used to know what it was like to know others cared. I can't remember when they started to pull away. When I became invisible. I just want to know why. Was it something I did? Did I do something wrong? Did I not make them proud? I thought I did everything right. I was a good girl. *voice cracking* I'm a good girl. Aren't I?"

Even Grillby had memories of such talk pop into his head.

"You are an amazing person. You live in his cold place and open this bar to every sad face willing to cast aside their mean spirits for spirits of another kind. You put up with a lot of nonsense, a good bit came from me today, and I'm sorry about that."

"Where is all this coming from?"

"I'm not done. You have been nothing but nice to me. And doing that isn't easy in this world we live in. Since meeting you, you've shown me more kindness than I got from my own family, and this is only our second meeting. Heh, how pathetic is that? I fell into the Underground trying to die, only to end up wanting to live because of the few that showed me any decency. And for that, I give you my thanks."

"Pussycat?"

"I don't know if it was the punch or I'm just in a weird mood. I'm probably making things awkward. No one wants to hear someone ramble about lame junk when at a bar. This is a place people go to forget things. I know I've got a lot I want to forget. Like the three or four times I ran away from home but never had a plan and always had the cops take me back. Or the time I cussed out my grandma because I thought she lost my dog when it turned out my mom had dumped the pup at a shelter and told me it escaped. Or the suicide attempts..."

"Attempts?"

"Oh yeah, there was more than one. Hard to believe, but I'm a very sad person. No, that's being too nice. Depressed is more accurate. 90% of the smiles you see me do are fake. Just part of the mask I wear to hide how truly miserable I really am."

"God, I hate myself. I'm a sad pathetic mess."

Sans now gets a clearer picture of the baggage weighing on her.

"oh! and don't forget, you're making dinner. pap only let that slide because you were practically dead. so don't get any ideas thinking you can get out of it."

"Did you just really say that?!"

"the hell is your problem?"

"Did you really just insinuate she'd harm herself?"

"i dunno...maybe?"

"You can't say that kind of stuff to her!"

"why not?"

"You...You don't know how she came to the Underground, do you?"

"she told me that she fell."

"I'm not comfortable telling you this, seeing as she hasn't and I don't think it's my place, but I can't let you say idiotic things like that."

"okay, weed, you have intrigued me. if she didn't fall, then how did she get here?"

"Well...Falling is how she came to the Underground. But...She didn't fall from an accident."

"you're telling me she..."

"She fell on purpose. She...was trying to die. I don't know about her life on the surface. She doesn't tell anyone about that stuff, not even Mom. But I have been with her since the start and I can tell...Under all that toughness and pass the goofy dork innards...She's very sad deep down."

And that moment that recently happened at Grilbby's.

"enough with the act! you act all calm, with your little quips and remarks. making you look so well put together. but i know better. i know you're just as messed up as the rest of us. so why don't you get off your high horse and get out of my life!"

"You're right. This is an act. Every day, I wake up and I pretend to be this way. To play this role of the girl that never gives in and can smile through it all. I put on my mask and face this world as best that I can. But inside I'm dying. I'm being crushed by insecurities, doubt, depression, and so much negativity that I let myself fall into a pit hoping for the sweet embrace of death. I have attempted to end my life a good handful of times. Each more pathetic than the last. Even now, I'm just a few triggers shy of crumbling into a blubbering mass of tears. Yet there are few things that keep me from doing those bad things now that I'm here. And if putting on this act keeps me in, relative, ease...Then yeah. I'm gonna pretend my ass off that all is fine with me. Because I'm a fucking moron that is too afraid to open up to those closest to me and ask for help!"

Papyrus, of course, takes all this in as vital information he could use against the human. Her emotional and mental instability can be used to manipulate her. Grooming her to be more obedient to his will.

"I'm sorry."

"DAMN RIGHT YOU'RE SORRY."

"No...I mean, I'm sorry for earlier. It was wrong for me to hit you. You just...*sigh* How do I say this without sound like a dweeb?"

"JUST...SAY WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY. DON'T ALTER YOUR WORDS. THEY LOSE IMPACT THAT WAY."

"If that's true, then don't make a big deal out of this."

"W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"I am an emotional wreck and going through so much internal bullshit that it ain't funny. So know that the stupid things I'm about to say are true because this is making me feel very vulnerable and uncomfortable which I think you feel too."

By now the human was breathing heavily over the shattered remains of once recognizable objects, slowly regaining her composure. She stares at the mess for some time. Mettaton doesn't even try to do anything that could get her attention while in such a state. Eventually, she drops the bits in her hands and takes a seat in the chair she spared. Slumping in remorse and holding her face.

"I'm sorry. That...That was shameful. I'll pay you back for the damage."

"DO YOU NEED A MOMENT?"

She rubs her eyes of faint moisture.

"N-No...No. I'm fine. That...That was just a moment of venting weakness. I normally cry this crap out of my system. But...I'm so sick of crying. Yet...That felt good though. So much pent-up bullshit I don't or can't let out was just dropped like weights off my back. ...Does this count as therapy? Because this feels better than that child physiologist mom sent me to after I ran away...the first time."

"SOUND LIKE YOU DON'T CARE FOR YOUR PARENTS."

"You'd think that, but no. Don't get me wrong. I love my parents. They could've been far worse even with the flaws I've mentioned. Dad never missed work and made sure bills could be paid. Mom always made sure we could eat even if it meant she didn't and often broke the law to do so."

Her head lolls back as she lounges.

"It's easier to dwell in the negatives than the positives growing up. It can make for a bitter soul. This is just the tip of a massive iceberg, there is so much more crap hidden below. But now is neither the time nor place to dive deeper into those murky waters. I'll drown if I stay under too long. *sigh* I don't hate them for the life they brought me into. I'm just...disappointed. Disappointed by the choices they made and things they expected to get from them. Disappointed in myself for allowing all that to have so much of a hold on me. Disappointed...So very disappointed...*long drawn out groan* Could we please leave the personal questions for now?"

"VERY WELL."

He flips through the cards.

"YOU'VE BEEN IN THE UNDERGROUND FOR SOME TIME NOW. HOW HAS THAT BEEN? WHAT IS IT LIKE TO BE A HUMAN AMONG MONSTERS?"

This gets their attention. The human knows better than to tell all. But she's so far been extremely open. They hoped she was of sound mind enough to remember to keep some secrets.

"Even after all the attempted murder...I prefer monsters to humans. Because at least once the fighting is over, things can be somewhat normal. It's like 'hey, I know I just tried to kill you, but do you wanna maybe hang out for a bit?' and then that happens. It blows my mind how there's no animosity or spite afterward. After Humans fight with each other there's no calm, no peace of it being over, hell, a war might break out if it was bad enough. You never know how bad someone feels after and if the grudge they carry will make them go to extreme measures to make them feel better. Well...Except for the Irish. Those lads can tussle and then be all chummy after like it was a bonding experience. Nice folk. Always fancied them. Heh...Kinda like Monsters. A tough outside but nice inside. Maybe that's one of the reasons they were persecuted too. ...God, my kind is trash. All it knows is hate. We even hate ourselves. And one day...That hate will be the end of us."

She moves some hair from her face. A small smile coming to her.

"Moments like this...It's nice. Brief pauses of reflection and repose. Typically I end up doing this kind of thing in my head or I talk to myself. Funny how that works, the mind I mean. It is a self-aware entity in itself that can be both you and not you at the same time yet won't confuse itself by doing so. Probably why the imagination is such vital part of it. *pause* Heh...My bad. Lost myself for a moment. Back on point...Sure, this all began with you nearly killing me and it's probably just leading up to something else. Something good or bad. Yet till that happens...This is nice."

"SPEAKING OF NICE...YOUR LV HASN'T GONE UP FROM ITS BASE LEVEL. WE'VE SEEN YOU GO INTO FIGHTS, SO IT'S NOT THAT YOU'VE AVOIDED THEM COMPLETELY."

"As I've said...I don't like fighting."

"YOU MUST BE AWARE THAT PACIFISUM IS NOT A RECOMMENDED OR AN EASY THING TO DO IN THE UNDERGROUND. IS IT HARD BEING NICE FOR YOU DOWN HERE?"

"Is it hard for a fish to swim or bird to fly? Nice is my default. I don't have it in me to be genuinely mean. I can be rude or even a bitch, but that's only if that was how I was treated first. The real hard part about it is getting others to understand this niceness is real. Some pick it up with no trouble. But others are difficult. Going so far as to think I'm trying to lull them into a false sense of safety as part of an evil human trap. Can you believe that?"

Sans eyes Papyrus who rolls his sockets at his brother, both knowing damn well she meant him.

"EVEN SO, HAS THERE BEEN A TIME WHERE YOU WANTED TO FIGHT BACK? SURELY EVEN I PROBABLY INCURRED SOME IRE FROM YOU?"

She looks at the mechanical machination with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"Ire is a strong word. True, I'm not happy about this situation. Exposing me for ratings. One of your goons bashing me over the head. The creepy stalking behavior by watching me through cameras. The needless puzzles and fighting. All of it wasn't necessary."

"I DISAGREE. EVERY BIT WAS COMPLETELY NECESSARY."

"Bull crap."

"NOW NOW, LET ME EXPLAIN. REGARDLESS OF YOUR INTENTIONS, YOU HAVE TO AGREE THAT YOU BEING HUMAN DOES CALL FOR CERTAIN MEASURES TO BE TAKEN. HUMANS DEAL PHYSICAL DAMAGE AND MONSTERS ARE WEAK TO SUCH ATTACKS."

"I know that. Get to your point, Metta."

"MY POINT? VERY WELL. MY DATABASE CONTAINS THE COLLECTED INFORMATION WE'VE GATHERED FROM THE PREVIOUS HUMANS THAT CAME BEFORE YOU. EACH WEAKER AND WEAKER AS TIME PASSED. YOU, ON THE OTHER HAND, HAVE BEEN DISPLAYING STRANGE ABILITIES..."

A monitor comes down, displaying the human in her earlier distress and giving off that strange energy.

"NOT TO MENTION YOUR SOUL HAS BEEN CHANGING IT'S COLOR WITHOUT MAGIC INFLUENCE."

The monitor shows the many different colors her soul was throughout the show.

"SO, DARLING, AS YOU CAN SEE EVERYTHING HAS BEEN COMPLETELY NECESSARY. EVERY LITTLE OBSTACLE ALLOWED FOR MORE OF YOUR UNKNOWNS TO BE REVEALED. HOWEVER..."

The monitor goes back up.

"I GET THE FEELING YOU'RE STILL HIDING SOMETHING."

She glares at the robot.

"I repeat, this wasn't necessary. All you needed to do was ask."

She sits up straight and focuses. Her soul emerges...it is a deep dull blue.

"I don't know everything. Seeing as this whole 'soul' thing isn't known on the surface anymore. To use now, the soul is an intangible thing. It leaves when we die and does whatever since no one truly knows what happens after death. But...I do know my soul isn't normal. Not normal from what I've learned here anyway. I possess ten traits for which my soul can become."

Shock smacks them. Even Mettaton spits oil from some port.

"T-TEN?!"

She nods.

"Ten traits. Ten colors. Nine of which are completely fine."

Her breathing falters as she concentrates harder, forcing the soul to change color to her will.

"Blue, integrity. Cyan, patience. Green, kindness. Pink, passion. Purple, perseverance. Orange, bravery. Red, determination. Yellow, justice. White, hope. ...These are my main traits. The nine that make up my core personality. Yet...There is one, the last one, that I will not show you. No matter what."

A question mark appears on Mettaton's screen. Toriel and Sans know full well which one she means.

"WON'T SHOW? HOW COME?"

"That soul is too dangerous. One that I can't control. The black soul of relentlessness."

Papyrus sockets widen. Sans wasn't making it up after all.

"IF YOU TRULY EXPECT ME TO BUY INTO THIS BLACK SOUL NONSENSE THAN YOU BETTER FIND A WAY TO PROVE TO ME THAT IT'S REAL!"

"and how do you expect me to do that? have it triggered and let her kill half the town?"

"OF COURSE NOT! SHE'D NEVER GET THAT FAR INTO SUCH A SPREE ONCE I SLAY HER."

"YOU DON'T THINK I CAN KILL HER?"

"her? sure, you'd kill her no problem. she'd probably let you do it if things got really bad. but the black soul? that's a different story all together."

"YOU TALK AS THOUGH YOU'VE SEEN THIS 'BLACK SOUL' IN ACTION."

"..."

"YOU HAVE, HAVEN'T YOU?"

"that thing isn't something you want to mess with. don't go after something you can't handle."

"YOU DARE THINK THAT PITIFUL CREATURE CAN HARM ME?!"

"no! i don't think it would harm you! i know it would kill you!"

"I have no will over that trait. It consumes me utterly. Coldly targeting anything and everything as a threat, then calculatingly eliminating victims brutally with no remorse by any means. Pain doesn't phase it. It has no fear. But I do. I fear this soul. I fear becoming that...that thing. That beast."

The robot's screen blips.

"YOU MAKE IT SOUND TERRIBLE. IF IT'S AS BAD AS YOU SAY, HOW HASN'T YOUR LV INCREASED? SURELY A MURDEROUS SOUL LIKE THAT WOULD HAVE A BODY COUNT ATTACHED TO IT?"

"I have thankfully been taken out of that state when it happens. My brother down here, the flower you may have seen me with, he's the one that saves me. I don't know how he does it as I only barely register what happens when the Black Soul is in control. But it's one of the reasons why we stay together. He doesn't want to die and I don't want to hurt anyone, so it's a good deal for us both."

"AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT TRIGGERS SUCH A STATE TO HAPPEN?"

"I'm not 100% sure but I have a theory. The worst of times. Moments when I lose all hope or can't take the pain. Mentally and/or physically. It takes over when I can't deal with things. And I guess it tries to 'solve' the problem...by getting rid of it."

Her demeanor is becoming more unsettled as she continues.

"I...I normally am unwilling to share this information. I don't like being personal with strangers. But since this is a live broadcast, and I've basically torn open a can of worms full of my emo baggage, I want this to be known. I need others to understand the danger. Because you all seem to view me as an easy kill. The dumb nice human that doesn't fight back. It'll be easy to get her soul. Hell, if it weren't for the black trait, I'd have given this thing to you guys ages ago. But it's not worth it. There's no point going to the surface, otherwise I'd be more inclined to leave and be subjected to the crap I deal with. And trust me...You don't want to know what I deal with."

Her eyes get dark and her expression serious to the point it's unnerving.

"The death that can possibly happen if the black soul activates and isn't stopped could be limitless. As the bearer of this curse, I remain here. Not because I see less harm if it triggers around monster, hell no. I trust my death to you because I have faith in monster kind being able to handle it. It's because I don't want to risk it being weaponized by humanity. Magic...REAL magic like this is gone from the surface. If it were to be discovered now...Magic will be coveted like any other valuable resource. Blood and dust will be spilled over ownership. The experiments to find a better means of harvesting it, the torture, the suffering, the endless cycle of hate feeding upon the lack of morality. I have no doubt monsters wouldn't even be seen as people. We've done it to different creeds of humanity throughout history, hell we still do it. I...I don't want that for Monsters. Part of me is saying I'm overthinking it, but I can't that optimistic side of me knowing all the fucked up shit Humans do. I don't want you guys to suffer. I don't want to cause harm. I don't want to see any more death! Please!!"

Her eyes are watering and her body trembling.

"I...I-I hate this feeling. This h-helplessness. I'm caged. I'm useless. I'm nothing on the surface. I'm a danger underground. I'm my own worst enemy and I don't know how to fight. *struggling* Why? Why didn't the fall kill me? Why can't I just die? Why am I so weak? I can't even bleed to death!"

She's a mess, weeping into her gloved hands. But Mettaton dismisses this display and keeps going.

"WEAK? YOU SELL YOURSELF SHORT. CLAWING INTO YOUR OWN BODY ISN'T A VERY WEAK THING AT ALL. COME TO THINK OF IT...IN YOUR ENCOUNTER WITH MUFFET, YOU TOLD HER WHY YOU DID IT. CARE TO EXPLAIN WHAT YOU MEANT?"

A recording is played.

["I have just spent an ungodly amount of time trapped in that elevator over there having my soul violated by people that don't even exist anymore on this plane of reality. I have clawed my skin off to stop feeling their hands on me."]

Her face has the look of someone biting their tongue fairly hard to stay in control.

"What's to explain? I meant what I said and said what I meant."

"YOU'RE AVOIDING THE QUESTION, DARLING."

"No. You're refusing the answer."

"YOU SAID YOU'D TELL THE TRUTH!"

"I am!"

Agitation mounts.

"BULLSHIT! HOW THE HELL CAN ANYONE BELIEVE THAT?"

"I don't give a crap if you believe me or not! You weren't the one there!"

"JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!"

"It doesn't matter! You can't do anything about it! No one can! You can't stop people that break the laws of reality!"

Sans didn't like what he was hearing. And none of them liked that her still exposed soul was sparking with that strange energy.

"THERE ARE NO PEOPLE LIKE THAT!"

"How would you know?!"

"IF EVEN A FLY FARTS ANYWHERE IN THE UNDERGROUND, I KNOW ABOUT IT. IF ANYONE WITH ABILITIES LIKE THAT WERE HERE, THEY WOULDN'T BE UNKNOWN FOR VERY LONG."

"Did you not hear my words? They don't even exist anymore on this plane of reality! You can't find people that are outside time and space, you fucking idiot!"

"I'M THE IDIOT?! DO YOU NOT HEAR YOURSELF?! OUTSIDE TIME AND SPACE?! YOU CAN'T EVEN MAKE A CONVINCING LIE!"

"I'm not lying, you insufferable ego-maniacal narcissistic jackass!"

"TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!!"

"I did! Accept the fact there is shit in life you can't fathom or comprehend yet is true! Like Bigfoot, life on other planets, or stigmata! Unexplained phenomenons are the backbones of reality! Deal with it!"

"THAT'S NOT AN UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENON! THAT'S A PURE IMPROBABLE IMMPOSSIBLITY!"

"By who's rule?! Are you God?! Do you know every infallible law the universe runs on?! No! You know nothing! No one does! So stop digging for shit that isn't there before something bad happens!"

"THEN GIVE ME A REAL ANSWER!"

"Stop...Please stop!"

"DARLING..."

"I s̷ái͟d͝ s̷t̢̛o̧͘p̀͟!̵̕͜!̧"

A surge of energy bursts from her soul, the flash whites out the screen and hurts the eyes. While blinded they all can hear the garbled sounds of pain and the sudden thud of weight hitting the floor. Their sight comes back to see the human writhing on the ground and gripping her soul, teeth bared in restrained growling.

"DARLING?"

She struggles to make her body move. Just slightly getting her head off the floor.

"Th͜i͞s͠...͜T́h̴i̵s̸ ̛įs ̕y̕our ̛f́aul͝t͏..̢.̴I͜ ͟a͡ske͝d ͠y̕o͏u t̷o͜ ͜s̛top..̢.̵"

The energy courses from her soul over her form, a brighter than normal light emanates from her clutched soul. She weakly pulls herself up to be supported by her free arm and the reason for the light is made clear, a crack has marred her soul. But that is far from the worst part. Sans spots it before Toriel but she's the one that points it out.

"Oh no!"

"What's wrong?"

"The darkness!"

Indeed. Black began to appear in the human's heart. The darkness corrupting the white light and faintly leaking out of the crack. The girl feels this. Panic flashes in her eyes but she's in no condition to handle so much on top of what has already happened.

"Wh̸en̢ wil̡l҉ ̛yo͡u̶ le͘ar͜n.͞..̡Y͘ou ̴fuc̀kín͜g id̴iot.̸..W͢hén wil̡l yoų ́a̶l̢l͜ léar͘n that͏ ̵y͘our act̵i҉o͞ns ͏ha͡v̛e ͘co͡n̴seq͘uenc͘e̶s͘?͘!"

The distortion. The off tone. The malice that seeped out. Perhaps it was enough proof for the automaton to believe her earlier words. For Mettaton seems to be distracted one second and then takes it all seriously the next. One of his hands snakes under his desk and the next thing to happen is the floor beneath the human opens up, dropping her into the unknown. Glitched roaring echoes as she plummets. A sickening crash leads into dead silence.

"WELL...THAT WAS INTERESTING."

His nonchalance about the whole thing is upsetting.

"SADLY, MY CO-STAR SEEMS TO BE HAVING A BIT OF TROUBLE. NOT EVERYONE CAN HANDLE THE STRESS OF BEING IN THE SPOTLIGHT, LIKE MOI."

His flamboyance is rubbing them the wrong way.

"HOWEVER, DESPITE HER TEMPER TANTRUM AND LACK OF COOPERATION, I WILL ASSURE YOU ALL SHE IS NOT DEAD. I MERELY GAVE HER THE SMALL BREAK THAT SHE CLEARLY NEEDED."

It's likely that the break involved her bones or some body part.

"BUT...I CAN GIVE YOU ALL SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO...THIS WAS THE LAST PRELEWD ACT. THE NEXT TIME YOU SEE US TOGETHER, IT WILL BE FOR THE MAIN EVENT. THE FINAL BATTLE APPROACHES, MY ENCOURAGABLE VIEWERS. DO NOT MISS OUT ON THIS HISTORICAL MAKE OR BREAK MOMENT."

The show shifts into a commercial break.

Toriel begins shaking. She can't deal with this much longer. Grillby does what he can to give her support, but he too has much on his mind. His pussycat unloaded a TON of things and a lot of it was incredibly concerning. Papyrus ushers his brother away from the other two as not to be overheard.

"SO...HOW LONG?"

Sans looks at him funny.

"uh...what?"

"HOW LONG WERE THE BOTH OF YOU GOING TO HIDE THIS PART OF THE SECRET FROM ME?"

"um...which part?"

"THAT POWER. SHE HAS TEN TRAITS, SANS. JUST HOW STRONG IS THAT GIRL?"

Sans scratches his skull.

"i honestly don't know, pap. i didn't even know she had that many. my main worry was always the black trait, so i never asked about others."

Papyrus folds his arms and shuts his eyes in thought.

"i swear, i ain't lying to ya."

"I KNOW YOU'RE NOT."

"then...what's wrong?"

"*HUFF* I DON'T LIKE THIS. I DON'T LIKE THE IDEA OF THAT WEAKLING BEING POWERFUL."

His eyes open but look at nothing.

"I SHOULD'VE KNOWN SOMETHING WAS OFF THAT NIGHT...THAT PUNCH...SHE WAS HOLDING BACK SO MUCH..."

Papyrus clenches his fists into tight balls of rage.

"THAT BITCH."

"ya know she didn't want to hurt ya."

"THAT'S THE THING. SHE THOUGHT SHE COULD HURT ME. HOW WEAK DOES SHE THINK I AM? THAT'S WHAT'S PISSING ME OFF MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW."

Sans sighs. One day his brother will taste humble pie and not like it.

[HOTLAND: LAB]

Undyne finishes off her sixth bowel of ramen and looks at Alphys.

"Well...That wasn't how I thought it was going to end. Was it really necessary to tell him to drop her?"

Alphys takes a few more notes and ponders.

"Would you rather there be no main event? Besides..."

She adjusts her glasses.

"If what the human said is true, then the Black Soul being triggered in an open area would result in mass casualties. The zone in which the ending will be shot in is, for the most part, closed and under my remote control. So even in the event of something going wrong, which the odds of such are highly unlikely, then any and all threats can be dealt with in an optimum manner."

Undyne nods.

"I guess that makes sense. Still...I don't what I saw. There was real fear in the human's eyes."

"Good. She should be afraid. She should be very afraid of what's to come."

"And what's that?"

"That would be spoilers."

"Damn it. *sigh* A human soul with ten traits...Sounds tough. I wanna fight it!"

"It does raise a lot of questions. One, in particular, is on my mind."

"What's that?"

"If a human soul, deprived of magic, possesses ten traits and begins gaining magic...What will happen when it attains 100% magic?"

A cold chill runs through the captain.

[HOTLAND: SOMEWHERE ON LEVEL 3]

I am getting so sick of this crap. Why can't I just die at this point?

"*muffled* Lynsie?"

The voice and light jostling is bringing me back to consciousness. Damn it. Here I go again.

My eyes weakly open to the sight of dirt and rock. Just an inch away from losing the ability to see. Like I need a handicap in all this.

"Lynsie? Are you okay?"

Ah, Flowey. It's about time we met back up.

"*groan* H-Hey, bro. I missed you."

He smiles sadly.

"Are you okay? Can you move?"

I roll over on my back and check myself.

[HP ██████████ 10/40]

[HEARTBREAK level ONE in effect]

I figured that's what happened. No wonder the Black Soul was triggering. Thank goodness for the fall knocking my ass out or things would've gone bad fast.

"I think I'll be okay. Sore, but okay. I'm sadly getting used to falling and possible brain damage."

My answer has him pout.

"What's with the face, bro? You know I'm a tough cookie. I'll be fine."

His face gets full of concern.

"I...I heard what you told Mettaton."

Yeah, you and the rest of the Underground.

"I...I understand now why you didn't talk about your past. Why you kept to yourself. I'm sorry."

God, he's too sweet for this place. I reach over and gently stroke his petals.

"I love you, bro. You have no idea how much it means to me that you care. But don't pity me. I do that enough on my own."

I wearily sit up, shaking my head of all that baggage I brought up for the show.

"I wasn't pitying you. It's just..."

He fiddles with his leaves in a shy way but I cut his words off.

"Bro, I get it. I do. It's the same feeling like when you told me your history. Yet, let's be honest here, you're more mentally mature than me and I'm still not completely okay after getting all that off my chest. We can talk more about it later after this ordeal is over. Maybe over mom's cheesecake? Deal?"

"...You mean it?"

"Yeah. I promise."

He smiles brightly.

"Okay. I'd like that."

I pick myself up and stretch, taking a look around at where we are.

"Don't tell me he dropped me back at the start."

"Nope. This is still Level Three. In fact...I do believe MTT Resort is just past this place."

"...For real? Is it a safe space?"

"Yep. There are shops and rooms to rest."

I hear a heavenly choir sing in my head.

"Finally! The universe throws me a decent bone!"

I regret saying that the moment it leaves my mouth. Flowey looks at me funny.

"Don't take that out of context, you know what I meant."

"I don't know. You and Smiley Trashbag are eerily close."

My eye twitches. Things I wish Gaster didn't show me try to pop into my head.

"Are you okay? You look like you're about to puke."

"Never insinuate something like that ever again."

He shakes his head at me. I try to change the subject before I have a heart attack on camera.

"So...Are you able to follow me to the resort? I'm sick of being separated."

"There's ground outside of it and parts I can reach beyond it, but the resort itself I can't get in without some sort of aid like a pot. Cement and tile flooring is a pain to break into."

"Damn, bro, you hella strong."

There's a deactivated reversed conveyor belt that's attached to the artificial platforms.

"Is it safe to cross? It's kinda giving me 'trap' vibes."

"You should be fine. This is normally the part where the colored tiles would be used again, but you know, stuff changed. It's probably off."

"Ah. Gotcha. I guess...See ya soon?"

"You bet."

He ducks into the ground so I take it as my time to leave this pit. The entire time I feel on edge. With my luck, the trap will turn on and I get screwed. Thankfully nothing happens apart from some jets of flame randomly going off in the distance and making me jump like a wuss. At least it got me to the stairs quicker.

After a quite the climb, I reach the top perturbed yet undaunted as a four-way crossroads greets me, though the two paths on the sides are blocked. More Royal Guards, a cat to the left and some kind of insect on the right, both in that imposing armor.

"Well if it isn't my best customer..."

The Ice Scream rabbit pops up from behind the cart I wasn't paying attention to.

"Fancy seeing you again."

As odd as seeing him here is, he's a familiar face that is a sight for my sore eyes. I approach.

"Hey, guy, what's up? Haven't been seeing you much in Snowdin Forest for a bit."

He leans on the cart like a cool guy.

"Yeah...Been moving around seeing if I can make mad gold somewhere where the weather isn't the same temp as my product."

"Any luck?"

"Waterfall wasn't so bad. Even started a new program with rewards cards. Turn in a card with ten punches and get a free doubling of your next order. Speaking of which..."

He reaches into his pants pocket and hands me a punch card. Some holes have already been made.

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have had the funds to get this far. So...Instead of starting your card full, I may have added your previous buys. Can't say I haven't gotten better at my wonderful salesmanship."

I can't help but smile. He's come a long way. I'm proud of him.

"Well then, wonderful salesman, I'd like to add some more holes please."

"Heh...sure. But I'm warning you, prices have gone up. 25G. Got to charge more here 'cause of the heat."

"Understood, my dude. Um...Just curious...Got fudge pops? Kinda have this hankering for something chocolate."

He shakes his head.

"Sold out. The Royal Guards bought those like crazy."

"Damn. Oh well. One blue, orange, grape, and blood. All bisicles."

He fills my order and I pay the 100G.

"Here you go. All five ready to enjoy."

I look at him funny.

"Five?"

"Yep. Five. I definitely didn't toss in a strawberry one because of customer loyalty. Nope. Didn't do it."

Must...resist...the urge...to HUG!!

"...Thank you. That...That means a lot."

He gives me a wink and I practically skip away up another set of stairs. I place the treats in my inventory for now. I know not what crap will happen from here, so healing items are a big help.

I am met by a large complex. Redbrick that's been tagged with graffiti, yellow-tinted windows with some broken, a gold MTT sign with two Mettaton images with devil horns, a black & white checkered awning over the door, two large plant potters that have dry withered flower remnants, and a blood-red or just stained that way rug embroidered with gold MTTs.

"Classy."

I'm about to head inside when something hits my leg. A paper airplane? I inspect it to find it's a note.

[Hey! Go up the creepy alleyway on the right for some great deals!]

"...I'm gonna get mugged, aren't I?"

It's against my better judgment, but this is a neutral zone, so I should be okay. I wearily creep around, following spray-painted arrows, to end up finding two girls gossiping among garbage. They notice me and straighten up.

"Hey! Check it out!"

"Yeah! Check it out!"

"So, like, what's up? I'm Bratty, and this is my best friend, Catty."

"I'm Catty, and this is my best friend, Bratty."

Oh no...More valley speak!?! Why is that a thing down here?!

Bratty is a tall, green alligator or crocodile monster that wears a primarily black shawl with yellow and red details on the sides. She has yellow hair that flows into curls and red lipstick.

Catty is a plump purple cat creature who wears a set of black overalls with yellow buttons and tufts of red fur with yellow highlighted tips coming out from under it on either side. She has black hair with a red streak in it and a yellow earring on her left ear.

"Uh...Hi? So...This is a shop?"

"Like, the best shop!"

"You should buy ALL our stuff!"

Catty gets this blanket out and opens it out to show me their items. They don't have much, just four things, but I can't turn away from these items.

[25G - Junk Food - Has a big bite out of it]

[350G - Rusty Revolver - Bullets NOT included]

[350G - Tattered Western Hat - ATTACK up when worn]

[600G - Mystery Key - Probably to someone's house LOL]

A gun...How the fuck is that here?

"Oooh! I know that look!"

"That's the look of some wanting something!"

"Bratty! We're gonna be rich!"

"Where did you find this stuff?"

"I mean, like, where does anyone get guns, or food, or..."

"We found it in the garbage!"

I so called it.

"It's GOOD garbage."

"It's like, really good garbage."

"Where do you get the garbage?"

"Like, the garbage store, duh!!! ...Waterfall mostly."

"I found a gun in a dumpster!"

I check my gold...I don't have anywhere close to 1,300G for their garbage.

"Um...Maybe we could work out some sort of arrangement?"

They glare.

"That's poor talk."

"You need WAY more money."

What I need is to get that stuff away from them. That stuff is bad enough with humans, I don't want monsters messing with crap like guns.

"Ladies, I'm sure there's something we can do. Shops run on trade. This is just a trade of a different kind. I can't give you the gold, but I can get you other things. There's gotta something you'd both want that I can fetch for you in exchange?"

They mull it over.

"Thanks, but we, like, don't really need anything."

"Oh my god, can you go get us some Dazzleburgers?"

"We don't. Really need. Anything."

"Wait! I'll pay you 1000G if you get Mettaton to autograph my butt!"

Catty seems to be the easier one here. Maybe I can work with this.

"While I do know the guy, I'm not sure I can get Metta to sign your butt."

"Damn."

"Wait...You know Mettaton?!"

Their eyes sparkle.

"...Yes?"

They squeal with fanatical glee.

"Oh my God. Mettaton."

"Oh my GOD, METTATON."

"He's like...My robot husband."

"Actually he's like...MY robot husband."

"I think we're like...both going to marry him."

"We're both like, ALREADY married to him. He just, like, doesn't know it yet."

They're insane.

"Okay...Can I ask what's a Razzburger? I could try to get that."

Their eyes widen in shock.

"You don't know what a Dazzleburger is?"

"Do you, like, live under a rock?"

Don't we all do since this is a mountain?

"Dazzleburgers are epic!"

"They're only sold in the resort."

Interesting.

"Inside huh? Let me guess...Very pricey."

Bratty nods.

"The stuff inside, is like..."

"TOTALLY wicked expensive."

"But, like, this stuff we found is like..."

"TOTALLY wicked cheap."

"You should..."

"Like..."

"TOTALLY wicked buy all of it?"

"Cheap? You're selling a random key for 600G!"

They giggle at me and I sigh. Bitches, man...bitches.

"So where inside am I gettin' them?"

"The MTT-Brand Burger Emporium."

"You have to get them from Bugerpants."

That name...That name brings back memories...as well as sore spots. Douche-cat...

"Burgerpants."

"Yeah, that guy from the store. Yuck, what a creep."

"Yeah! He's a creep! But he's kind of cute, too..."

"C'mon Catty, don't you have ANY standards?"

"Nope!!!"

...You need standers, Catty.

"Yeah, I met him. Not so much a creep but he is a massive prick."

"OK, like, the annoying thing is..."

"He'd be OK if he just treated us with some respect."

"But he just acts..."

"Really weird."

"And then acts like it's OUR fault he acts that way!"

"Like, when we asked him to get those Dazzleburgers..."

"He dropped them and ran away before we could even say anything!"

"We were, like, going to share them."

"Really? I wasn't."

"Catty!"

This zone is full of awful people.

"One last thing...How many you want?"

Catty waves her paws.

"So many! Enough to fill a dumpster!"

"The mega value pack should cover us."

I give Bratty a thumbs up and leave their shady establishment. Now I enter the main building and this time I'm greeted by someone for once. It's either very diamond-like or very origami-like, but above all, it's a tiny monster.

"Welcome to MTT Resort - Hotland's biggest apartment-building-turned-hotel! Whether you're here for a night or still live here, MTT Resort prides itself on a great stay! Just passing through...? Nice! MTT Resort prides itself on being passed through!"

"Interesting business model. Does it work?"

"Oh, indeed it does, human."

"You know what I am?"

"Oh yes! The staff has been informed of your coming and instructed on how to handle you upon arrival."

Oh god, what now?

"Over on your left, we have a dine-in restaurant complete with a stage which hosts a wide cast of live acts. Either comedy done by locals or Mettaton entertains when he isn't too busy."

"Neat."

"If you're feeling like you hate yourself, behind me is the MTT-Brand Burger Emporium, home of the Dazzleburger!"

Well, they know how fast food works.

"All further questions can be taken to my coworker behind the desk."

I scratch my head and shrug.

"Thanks."

I walk away and head for the other receptionist. It's not a bad-looking lobby at least. Red & yellow checkered tiles and the rug from outside continues forward into parts unknown. The obnoxious fountain of Mettaton is gaudy though. I reach the desk and the monster behind it is a weird one. It's blue and its head is a hand with very well manicured red nails.

"Yes, we know. The elevator music volume is super loud and the song is stuck on a three-second loop. We are working on it. Because of this incident, rooms are running at a special rate! 200G a room. Interested?"

Someone sounds grumpy.

"No thank you. I was told to come to you. I'm the human if that helps."

Their head fingers extend in alert.

"Oh! Sorry. I was instructed to inform you on where to go next."

"That would be helpful, yes."

It motions to where the rug is heading.

"If you follow the rug there, you'll be lead out back to the entrance of the CORE. Mettaton will be waiting for you at the top."

"Could I use the elevator instead? All this travel is exhausting."

"No can do. The elevator leads to the Capital and main residence of our people. You're not allowed to go there."

"Oh...That's fine. I didn't want to go there. Just trying to take shortcuts if able."

"*ahem* If you require a small rest, might I suggest renting a room?"

"I don't the gold, sorry."

"That's fine. Mettaton has pre-paid a room for you. One time only."

I'm stunned. Damn him! Why does he confuse me so much?! I want to like and hate him at the same time!

"Um...In that case, sure. Where are rooms?"

They motion again.

"Down the hall to the right."

I wait for them to give me a key or card but nothing is there except awkwardness.

"Is there a problem?"

"No...not really. But...uh...Isn't this the part you give me a room key?"

"What? Room...Key? No, we don't do that. If you leave your room, you'll have to pay again."

So if I enter I can't leave or else I'll have to pay? That's insane!

"On second thought, maybe later."

"Shame. Do let us know if you change your mind. Have a sparkular day!"

I'm getting the feeling they're being nice because they were told to be. Otherwise, I doubt I'd be given such a warm welcome. Oh well. Time to pay a certain someone a visit.

I stroll up to the emporium and find myself paused. I can go about this in many ways. The different choices and outcomes play out in my head super fast. After a few, I settle on something...something that'll leave an impression. I push the doors open. A digital bell sounds. I look at what appears to be a sadder version of McDonald's. And like a mindless corporate drone, he speaks while moping the floor before seeing "who" just walked in.

"Welcome to MTT-Brand Burger Emporium, home of the Dazzleburger. Sparkle up your day (TM)."

He begins to turn around.

"What can I do to..."

His eyes widen seeing me, grinning sadistically at him like a lunatic.

"Uh...help?"

This hurts my throat to do, but it really sells this whole thing. I deepen my voice to imitate Dr. Claw from Inspector Gadget and just laugh. He is unnerved to say the least.

"*menacing* No one will help you."

"H-Hey now...Don't think of doing anything funny."

I walk up to him and he backs away slowly before leaping behind the counter.

"Stay back! You can't hurt anyone in shops!"

I keep the deep voice.

"*menacing* Hurt you? Foolish boy...Why would I do that? It's not like you put a cigarette out on my wrist and bashed my head with a bat!"

That last part was done a bit too harsh and I end coughing. All seriousness leaves.

"*coughs* Nah, man...*normal* I ain't gonna do anything. For reals. I was just messing with ya."

He eyes me funny.

"Riiiiiight...What do you want then?"

"Preferably, my phone."

He flinches, his eyes looking quickly down then darting back up.

"I..."

"Metta doesn't have to know."

"What do you mean he won't know?! He knows everything that goes on here!"

"Look, you either give me my phone, or I'm gonna go back there and take it."

"You're not seri..."

My dead stare shuts him up. He seems to freeze up now. I sneer and put my hand out. He looks at my hand and then starts sweating. I'm beginning to lose my patience.

"You have five seconds."

His fur stands on end and he suddenly slams his face on the countertop, giving himself a bloody nose.

"Sorry, (Ha ha) it's against the rules to talk to customers who haven't bought anything. And talking with you this long has put me in serious shit. If you want this 'exchange' to continue, you're going to make a purchase."

I'm not happy.

"...What do you have?"

[60G - Sorebet - Very popular food.]

[120G - Dazzleburger - Very popular food.]

[300G - Mythical Villain - Anti-Hero Sandwich. ATTACK UP in battle.]

[500G - Biltong Slab designed to look like Mettaton - Don't ask. Please.]

I huff through my nose and shell out the 60G.

"That Sorebet better come with my phone."

"Yeah yeah. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"Fuck you. I wear boxers."

He eyes me with a blush before heading into the back. Might as well chat him up while I can.

"So...Do you know the chicks behind the building?"

"Huh? Oh...Them. Yeah, I know them. What of it?"

"They were talking about you."

"The girls were...Talking about me...?"

Hooked him.

"They mentioned you threw burgers at them and ran."

"Bullshit! That is not what happened."

He comes back to the counter with a glass of frozen dessert and my phone.

"Care to enlighten me?"

He sighs and lights a cigarette. I wonder if he can do that while on shift?

"Never interact with attractive people. Unless you're 'one of them', they're just gonna take advantage of you. Those two chicks asked me to sneak them some Dazzleburgers. And I, the naive teenager that I was, said yes to them. Bad idea."

"What happened?"

He takes a dag and lifts the collar of his uniform shirt open, blowing the smoke in there.

"Does that really keep the smoke from spreading?"

"It's worked so far. *puff* So I went out to the alley to see those two ladies, and uh...you know, see what'd happen next."

"Like...Naughty stuff?"

"...Maybe."

"Nice."

He blushes.

"Anyway...Then my boss comes out of nowhere, sees me, and demands to know what I was doing. I was so startled, the hamburgers in my pockets tumbled out onto the ground. Not wanting to lose face to the girls, I scrambled to pick them up! But, as I was bending down, the weight of the remaining hamburgers...*puff*...caused my pants to fall down."

He expected me to mock him. But I can't feel anything more than pity for the guy. This surprises him and he continues his story.

"Then the girls laughed at me. Everyone calls me Burgerpants now. It's gotten to the point I can't remember my name half of the time. It's even on my name tag for fuck's sake!"

Poor douche cat.

"I think you're the first to not laugh at me or that story."

"Why would I laugh? That's...That's messed up, man."

He takes another drag.

"You know something...I misjudged you, human. I know it ain't much, but, I'm sorry for being an ass."

I rub the back of my head.

"I'll be honest, guy...Since the bar thing, I've seen you only as a prick. The idea of you having hard times and lashing out didn't cross my mind at all. That's my bad right there. Sorry on my part for being a bitch."

He smirks.

"So...You're really not going to tell Mettaton about this?"

He hands me my phone.

"Dude, this stays between us. Besides, he's kinda been pissing me off lately."

"Yeah, he does that."

He takes a deep drag before putting the cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe.

"Can I give you some advice? I'm getting on in years, so take it from me...You've still got time. Don't live like me. I'm 19 years old and I've already wasted my entire life. I'll probably be trapped at this stupid job forever. But wait! There's one thing that keeps me going! If ASGORE gets just one more SOUL, we'll finally get to go to the surface! It'll be a brand new world! There's gotta be a second chance out there for me! For everyone!"

"Maybe. So, what did you want to do before this?"

"Oh...I wanted to be an ACTOR."

"Neat."

"When I first came to Hotland, it was my dream to work with Mettaton. Well, be careful what you wish for! God, look what that idiot has done here. This place is a labyrinth of bad choices. And every time we try to change something for the better, he vetoes it and says that's not how they do it on the surface. Oh! Right! Humans are always eating hamburgers made of RHINESTONES AND GLITTER."

"...I can assure you we don't eat that. Eating that would be very bad for our health. Maybe even fatal. Monsters don't really eat that...Do they?"

His eyes shift and I facepalm.

"And you guys think I'm gonna hurt ya?"

"You should probably get going. The boss will get his gears in a bunch if you take too long getting to the CORE."

"Fine."

I put the Sorebet in my inventory and remember my awkward side-quest.

"Oh! Before I bounce, can you help me with something?"

He tilts his head.

"What?"

"The chicks, Bratty and Catty, they have items I want but don't have the crazy amount of gold. They say they'll trade for a mega value pack. Any way you might be able to help make this trade happen?"

He sighs.

"Really? Do you know how much that is?"

"1300G close? Because that's how much I need."

"...What kind of shit are they selling that's worth that much?!"

I goofily shrug. He groans and rubs his face.

"I can't just give you that much for free."

"Catty thinks your cute."

"...For real?"

I nod. He fidgets, fingers tip-tapping and pitter-pattering.

"Okay, I'll tell you what...You score me a hook up with her and I'll give you the burgers."

Damn you rule of three in side-quests!

"Argh...I guess I can try. It won't be the weirdest thing I do today but it is on the list though."

His eyes light up with excitement. I can't mess this up now. How often does he actually smile like this?

"Thank you! *ahem* I mean...Cool."

I slink out of the emporium and head for the exit.

"Um, excuse me, human...The CORE is the other way."

I groan.

"I know. I'll be back."

Exit building, go into the creepy alley, and meet the girls again.

"Look who's back."

"Do you have the Dazzleburgers?"

I show my empty hands.

"Ha! I knew she'd blow it."

"Sucks to be you!"

"Hold up. He'll give me the goods. But..."

"But...?"

"Catty...Do you really think he's cute? 'Cause he thinks you're hot."

Catty's face flushes. Bratty rolls her eyes.

"For reals? He wants a date?"

"A date? A hangout? A simple meeting while he's working? I don't know. For all I know she can walk in, say hi, and that's it. All I need is confirmation and you get all those shiny burgers."

"Yes!"

"Catty...?"

"What a deal! A cute guy and free food! It's the score of a lifetime!"

"Catty, he's a loser. You hang out with him once, then he wants to hang out... All. The. Time."

"But don't you feel bad for him, Bratty? Poor Burgerpants...Think about how cool we are compared to him!!! We'd be saving his LIFE with our awesomeness!! His LIFE, Bratty!!"

"Uh, so?"

"Think of all the Dazzleburgers he could get for us!!"

And just like that, I feel like shit for doing this.

"...So is he free after work?"

"*huff* I'll be back...again."

Leave the alley, enter the building, meet up with Burgerpants.

"I don't like the look you have there. Did she say no?"

I can't lie to this guy.

"Dude, I'm really uncomfortable with this."

"What's wrong?"

"She said yes. But..."

"She said YES?!"

"I mean, she agreed, but please listen..."

"Ha! Ahahaha!! Yes!!! You've brought a tear to the eye of this old man."

I feel so bad.

"Dude, please...I'm, like, 100% sure she's gonna use you for free food and maybe gold."

"...So?"

I'm taken back.

"Look, you don't think I didn't think of that? I know she's probably going to use me. Everyone does. If it's for the food, I don't care. That's just another way I can stick it to my boss. Speaking of..."

He plops this cardboard case down on the counter.

"A deal's a deal. The mega value pack for the girl."

...Okay, they're made for each other. Everyone here is trash!

"So, uh, what time did she say she wanted to hang out?"

I hate everything about this!!

"I'll be back again."

Take food, leave, exit, alley. At this point, I nearly shove the shit at them.

"Oh my God!"

"Is that the mega value pack Dazzleburgers?"

"OH MY GOD!!! GIMME!!!"

"God, Catty. Try to have some self-control."

"Sorry..."

"'Cause they OBVIOUSLY brought the Dazzleburgers for ME."

"NO WAYYY!!!!!"

I point to the items.

"Trade. Now."

Bratty puts the key and gun into the hat before handing it over to me.

"Thank you."

I put the key in my inventory and equip the other two.

[You equipped the Tattered Western Hat]

[You gain 12 Defense and 5 Attack]

[This battle-worn hat makes you want to crew on straw for some reason. It also raises attack by 5.]

[You equipped the Rusty Revolver]

[You gain 12 Attack]

[An super old gun. It has no ammo. Must be used precisely, or damage will be low. Duh.]

[HP: 40 ATK: 62 DEF: 50]

I am becoming OP!!

"Oh! Give burger-boy this!"

Catty hands me a scrap of paper with her number.

"Fine. I'm just glad this is done."

Back to Burgerpants. I slap the paper down.

"Here's her number. I hope you don't regret this."

His face contorts in a weird way...Is he...Happy?

Sweet! I need to pick a spicy outfit for my little shindig later. Though, now that I think about it, I had to throw away all of my clothes to make room for the outfits Mettaton gave me."

"...What?"

"Don't take it the wrong way. They're just all these...Weird getups. 'Promotional' costumes. For 'holidays'. Or 'specials'. Or 'because he felt like it'. The thing IS though! Most of the time I'm the only employee who has to wear this stuff! Sometimes he even calls me into his office just to...Make me put something on...Then he laughs and lets me go back to work as normal."

My pity meter is breaking.

"Anyways, I won't sweat it. I'll take it casual. NEVER let hot people think you care. That's how they GET you."

And the pity meter dropped dead.

"Good luck with that."

I leave on that note. Fuck this resort. Fuck this quest plot. Fuck this whole damn thing!

Wanting this shit show to be over and done with, I do as instructed by following the rug's path out some doors that have a giant sign above that says "CORE". Lazy-ass designers, I swear.

Weirdly this leads to a balcony. A balcony that has been opened and a walkway built that connects to the massive facility. The light from the resort barely shows half of the path as the CORE itself surprisingly gives off the faintest glow. The CORE is an entirely mechanical complex that is largely black and yellow with red accents. The blah colors aside, what gets my attention are the two monsters that were minding the entrance that slip inside when I show up. I don't like this.

"Flowey, you better be able to get here. I have a bad feeling about this."

Approaching shows more of this crazy thing. The CORE appears to be the most industrial and modern region of the Underground. Ozone, a byproduct of electrical power, is omnipresent below the floor level of the CORE. This could mean the CORE might be made of stainless steel, titanium, or platinum; as ozone is highly corrosive to most organic materials. If this is the case, they could use this stuff. The CORE could be a source of ozonated water, which cleans clothes, sanitizes food, and purifies drinking water. This also implies this might be the greatest source of oxygen in the Underground as ozone simply decomposes into oxygen at high concentrations and temperatures. The only hazard I can think of is that oxygen is a shitty thing to breathe. Breathing pure oxygen at high pressures can cause nausea, dizziness, muscle twitching, vision loss, convulsions, and loss of consciousness. Breathing pure oxygen for a long time can irritate the lungs causing coughing and/or shortness of breath. Higher exposure may cause a build-up of fluid in the lungs and subsequent death. Guess how much more O2 is needed to do this to a person? 20% more. God, Humans are so freaking weak. I'll need to be careful here.

The lobby of the CORE has an elevator to the north and two paths to the left and right. Not a bad looking place, very lavishly decorated, the floors are engraved with intricate patterns and multicolored neon tubes serve as wall ornaments and embellishments. I check the elevator, which is disabled, I'm not shocked at this point. Not much else to do, I go to the path on the right, which turns out to be a small room with a square platform overlooking a pit of fire. Not bad. I do enjoy looking at fire. It's pretty. Moving on! Going through the left path leads to a rectangular stretch of wall-less hallway with a doorway at the end.

"Hmmm...My bullshit senses are tingling. I'm willing to bet a random encounter/ambush is about to happen."

As if cued by my words, something cracks the back of my head and then hits my gut as I turn.

"*wheeze* Called it..."

My attacker appears and my dull cracked purple soul is forced out to play.

[Madjick pops out of its hat!]

Madjick has a typical appearance of a wizard. It wears a curved wizard hat, a pair of boots, and two rotating orbs emitting cross-shaped particles. Madjick has a sly smile on its face, but a pair of bright eyes are hidden just under its hat.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

I wonder if SPELL will work on this thing? ...N-No. No. Can't chance it. Stick to normal tactics.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[TALK]

[STARE]

[CLEAR MIND]

...The fuck kind of options are these?!

[CHECK selected.]

[MADJICK – HP: 190 ATK: 29 DEF: 24 – This enemy can only speak in magic words.]

Finally! My states aren't shit compared to my attacker. Also, only speaks in magic words is the most fucking adorable thing I've ever heard.

"Abra cadabra."

An orb spawns off to my left and rapid-fires crosses at me. I dodge and the orb tries to cut me off by going where I'm headed. It fires about eight times and moving around is not so great.

[HP ████████████████ 16/40]

Thank goodness my defense got increased during all this crap. I could've been really messed up.

[Madjick flaunts its orbs in a menacing manner.]

It snickers.

"A smug one. I like that."

[TALK selected.]

"You know...I can do magic too."

It looks at me intrigued.

"Yep. I can make your smile disappear."

It pauses before sneering at me.

"See? I made it vanish before your very eyes!"

It didn't seem to like my humor.

"Hocus pocus."

[Madjick begins chattering to itself. Its gibberish dizzies you...Your DEFENSE drops by 1.]

My head feels fuzzy. Did it just jinx me? Are there more types of magic than what I've been told?

One of the orbs begins to chase me while deploying harmful but immobile crosses. Yet due to the jinx, my sense of direction is ass-backward. Left is right and right is left. Up is down and down is up. However...much to Madjick's dismay...I'm used to being incredibly dizzy. My childhood was filled with countless hours of boredom appeased by spinning around till I couldn't see straight.

[HP ████████████████████ 20/40]

Ha ha...Suck on those magic balls, wizard-boy!

"*slur* Is that what you call magic? Boo! Disappointed!"

[Madjick whispers arcane swear words.]

"*slur* Oh...Someone needs to put some gold in the swear jar. I'm gonna tattle!"

It growls.

"Eh eh eh. It's not your turn."

I slap my face a few times.

[CLEAR MIND selected.]

"I wonder where Flowey is?"

[You think of pollen and sunshine. Your confusion abates. Your DEFENSE increased by 2.]

"...What?"

"Alakazam!!"

It tries to surprise me with that following orb trick. But now that I know that move it's not so bad.

[HP ██████████████████████████ 26/40]

Huh? Am I auto-healing faster? Sweet! Surely that only means good things for me.

[Madjick peers at you with strange eyes.]

"What? You scared? My sick moves and auto-healing too much for you? No worries, wizard-dude, we cool. I got you."

The hell did I just say? Am I magic high? Fuck it.

[MERCY selected.]

[New options available.]

[FLEE]

[SPARE]

[SPARE selected.]

It looks at me funny. Then it looks at my HP.

[HP ████████████████████████████████ 32/40]

It flinches.

"Please and thank you."

Madjick accepts my act of mercy.

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 120 gold.]

The fight ends, my soul returns to my body and I give my opponent claps of approval.

"Good show, buddy. Keep up the good work."

It seems confused but nods, hovering away behind me towards the exit.

"Well...That was weird."

My head still feels odd. Nothing a few brain sloshing shakes of the old noggin won't fix. Anyway, no time to question strange feelings or whatever. I gotta get through this so I can get back to Toriel. Onwards I go.

Continuing forward, I enter a room with a bridge that is cut off by a tesla coil. Wow. Hadn't seen that in a long ass time. How much do I wanna bet there's a convenient off switch nearby. Oh, look! A super obvious switch right there on the wall. Who could've ever had guessed! I flip the switch and lasers fire at me! First blue, then blue again, and orange. Thankfully they're slow, so once I triggered the first blue laser I easily hit the deck to avoid the others that pass by.

"Setting booby traps on top of other traps now. Geez, Metta, I'm starting to think you don't like me very much. Well, that's fine. I don't like me either! So come at me already and quit this pussy bullshit!"

Calm down. No need to get riled up. Get through this and go home. Then I can just stuff my face with Nanny's awesome cheesecake and pass out happy. I march on, doing my best not to look down or notice how some of the walls and floors are chipped away. Now I'm paranoid about if any other laser that turns up is functional or decorative.

The path leads into a crossroads with a path to my left and a path straight ahead. My bullshit sense is tingling when I look at the left path. Straight ahead it is.

This room contains a bridge with many blue and orange lasers followed by a massive wall of blue lasers.

"Nope. Just nope. Screw the rules! I have plot armor importance and common sense!"

Fuck this outfit. Fuck this shit! I have lost all my fucks! I get down on the floor and combat crawl the long as fuck cold metal catwalk.

"*muttering* Stupid bullshit. Why do I have to be nice? If I wasn't nice, I wouldn't have to put up with shit like this. Bitches don't end up in laser catwalk traps. But no...I have to be a decent person. *getting louder* I have to be a good girl. I have to not give in to the overwhelming urge to punch assholes for being assholes because that's wrong for dumb reasons! *shouting* Why am I pissing myself off?! This is extremely counterproductive given my current situation! Fuck!!"

I blame all this on Mettaton. That's a healthy way to look at it. Probably not. But I'm not a mental health doctor! The fuck do I know?! After crossing the bridge, I storm grumpily along another walkway only to reach something called "Core Branch".

Turns out the "Core Branch" is a four-way intersection. Fan-fucking-tastic. Man, my mood is fucking sour. Maybe the digital sign can be useful and give me directions.

[North, the warrior's path. West, the sage's path. Any path leads to The End.]

"*growling* This is so...FUCKING STUPID!!"

Nope. Not falling for anymore of this. I choose neither side and go straight. This middle path of the "Core Branch" has me entering a vertical room with a right path leading to the eastern portion of the "Core Branch". There's nothing to my left. It just drops into the ozone, so it's certain death. I'm so sure this place followed all safety measures. There is a sign on the wall that is telling me to "Get lost...And stay that way".

"Wha...Why have signs telling me to leave when you told me to come here?! Stupid metal moron giving me dumb mixed messages."

I hate everything. No monster better encounter me while I'm in this mood. I take out a gold piece and flip it. Heads for straight and tails for the right. It lands on tails so right I go. This has to be the stupidest designed building ever! What the hell was Gaster thinking?! Was he on the drugs? Because this seems like he was on the drugs! 'Cause now I'm at another four-way crossroads. Only now I have two digital signs.

[To the East! This is The End.]

[I cannot fight. I cannot think. But, with patience, I will make my way through.]

A third, and hopefully final, tesla coil blocks what has been established as the exit. This means there's a switch somewhere. F that shit. Know what? You know what'll piss everyone off? I'm gonna do what that sign said. I'm going to be patient. Because if I know Mettaton, and I know massive egos very well, he won't want boring content to be televised and eventually spice things up. I plop my edgy tush under the sign and...wait. Using this time to chill. Let this negativity go and...

*Clank-clank-clank*

Oh hell no!

A large monster ominously approaches. Knight Knight is a monster that wields a great staff with a sun symbol in her right hand. She wears a suit of black armor and what resembles a horned helmet with a crescent moon emblazoned on her forehead. The helmet's eyepiece occasionally widens and un-widens as if it is her mouth. Her torso is dominated by a dragon face whose beak occasionally opens and closes, revealing a small eye. It is unclear whether which face is the true face.

"Let me guess...You're here to make me move?"

"Yes."

"No."

She's confused.

"...No?"

"Did I stutter? I'm not moving."

She readies her spear.

"Then prepare for..."

"Let me stop you right there. I get that you're doing your job and following the law, and blah blah blee bloo, whatever. I have been through one of THE worst days in my life. My mind, soul, and charitable goodwill have been pushed to limits that are very VERY thin now. I am in no mood to deal with any more crap. So I'm going to say this once because I ain't fighting you or moving from this spot till this electrical blockaded is gone...Turn around and go home."

She doesn't take me seriously and laughs.

"Heh heh...You have no power to give me orders, human."

She takes a step closer and I snap.

"I͏͟ ̧̀̕W͝IL͘͡L̴ ̶Ŗ͟͜I͝҉P͘ ̵O͜F̧F̛͞ ̸̀Y̧͡O̡͢U̡͠R ͠H̸EA̶͏D͏͢ ̸̕A͜N͢D S̢̛͜Ḩ̶Į͢T̵̕ ͝D̶̀OW͞N̷̴͠ ҉͞Ý̸̢O̡͡U̡͢R ̸ŅE̴͝CḰ̡̧!͞͞!̧͢"

She stumbles back in shock. The strange energy sparks off me. I regret everything.

"I̵'͘͟͏ḿ͢͞ ̧̕͞so̧̨͡r̴̢ŗ̷͜y̧.̵̛.̢͞.̛p̢l͝ea̷se͢.͟.́͢.leave me. I'm so sorry."

I seem to have disturbed her. She slowly steps back and turns around when she's convinced I'm not going to move.

"Adieu...Human."

She leaves me and I let out a shaky exhale. It's getting worse. I'm losing control. I can't do this for much longer. I haven't been given any proper time to deal with this shit. My internal bottle has been shaken too much! It's going to explode! I...I...

"What the heck was that?!"

Flowey pops up beside me and I'm too freaked out to be startled.

"Sis? What's wrong?"

I hold myself in an attempt to squeeze into a tiny ball of self-loathing. This only worries him more.

"Lynsie?"

I...I can't...I need a break. If only I had my music. I could drown out all this. Lose myself in the lyrics.

"B-Bro..."

"Yes? Talk to me. I can help. Tell me what you need."

"...H-How fast can you get to Snowdin?"

He frowns.

"You want me to get 'him', don't you?"

All I can do is nod.

"I...I can help too. You don't have to turn to him."

My eyes dart to the blocked path. He puts things together. He is a smart boy after all.

"True. Mettaton is that way and the room his encounter takes place in is an elevating platform. I can stretch from my roots pretty far but not THAT far."

He pouts.

"*huff* I guess there's no other option. He does have experience helping you out when things get bad. And he can teleport."

I feel bad that I'm making him do this...again. Like in the dead timeline.

"I...I'm sorry."

"Wha...N-No! Don't apologize. I understand. You're worried. It's okay. We'll get through this. Family helps family. What kind of big brother would I be if I didn't do everything to help? Even if that means getting others to help when I can't."

"...I need a hug...please?"

It pains me to see him hesitate. But vines come out to wrap around me for a bit.

"Thank you."

The vines retract and he extends to nuzzle my cheek.

"It won't be like last time. I promise. You won't kill anyone. No one's going to die."

"H-How do you know?"

"Because you're strong. You just have to believe in yourself. I know I do."

...I needed that. I give him a smile.

"There we go. There's my sis. Now keep that smile. I'll get Smiley Trashbag and we'll be back home with mom in no time."

He really is too sweet for this world. He sinks into the floor and I forgot to ask how he was able to get through this floor. I mean, I guess he said he can get through cement so metal can't be too far of a long shot. Asriel sure is a super strong boy even as a flower.

*BUZZ*

The power to the coil suddenly is shut off remotely like I so knew it could be. Damn it. I was hoping to have more time. How impatient is Mettaton for this? Reluctantly, I get up and walk down this new road. Halfway along this bridge, I am blocked by three vaguely familiar monsters that look like tougher versions of monsters I see in the Ruins.

Final Froggit has spike-like protrusions on its head and eyelids, accompanied by a crown-like muff on top of its head. Its lips are marked with lines, as though wrinkled from age. Its "shoulders" are decorated with sharp excrescents, while the silhouette between its legs forms a face with a triangular smile and cross eyes.

Whimsalot has a more human-like appearance than Whimsun. Also, its antennae are thicker, and there is a muff on their head that branches in two. Whimsalot's appearance is also accompanied by a double-bladed spear and a knight mask. Its ghost-like torso is skinnier and shorter.

Astigmatism's body consists of a large ball and four spiked limbs. The ball is accompanied by two "horns" on each side. When idle, a large eye can be seen on the ball also with three eyelashes. However, it changes from this face to another where the eye hollow is changed with a smile. When having its eye closed, the two side eyelashes become Astigmatism's eyes, while the middle one simply becomes a marking.

I don't know what I must look like to them. Probably dreadful. Because they move aside with not a word being side. I nod in thanks, proceeding to the end which for all I know might be the most tragic moment of my life second to Grillby dying. No! Stop it! Do as Flowey said. Smile. Stay chipper. Think of something silly. Like how dumb this place is. Honestly, was Gaster high making this place? I'll have to ask him later. Nah...I'll ask Sans. Less hassle.

The bridge comes to an end, leading to a shadowy doorway and an elevator that probably would've been super handy but was out of order to pad out the length of this bullshit subplot. Augh...It's so much easier to think my life is a fictional story or internet abridge series. It's the only way my brain allows most of this crap to make any sense.

"So this is it, huh? The epic conclusion of this grand show. Heh...I want to feel accomplished for making it this far. Almost. But all I do feel is..."

I can't finish my sentence. The weight I thought I got off my back earlier begins pressing on me again.

"Nothing...I feel nothing. *sniffling* Damn it...Don't fucking cry!"

With a breakdown seconds away from happening, I enter the doorway to the room of darkness and a door shuts behind me then locks. There is no going back now.

Please...I made a promise...Please...Don't make me have to RESET...Please...I'm begging...Please...

[ih8paris]

i hate paris

Do people still use tumblr? I’m so old. And I never used it. I don’t keep up with the times. I don’t give a shit. You know what? It all passes. Except facebook. They made a deal with the devil and really, was it worth it? I use facebook. I live in Paris and there are these groups for women, expats, cheap people like me that want free yoga. That’s what I use it for. And news. BBC CNN ABC NBC MSNBC, you get it and the posts. They report what the people supposedly want, but then we can see what the people are actually saying. Donald Trump won’t win? Look at voices talking? Look at the little people. It looked like he was going to win. What do you know, he did. But what if he had lost. What if Hilary didn’t get a handle on COVID and then Donald won in 2020? We would all be so fucked right now. Maybe we already are. Anyway, I’m not here to talk politics. I’m here to process my life choices and see if there were signs that I was making HUGE mistake. 

So here’s the thing. I’m a bit untraditional. Growing up was shit. Chuck left and made sure to shit all over everything before he did. And the whole get married in your 20′s have babies get divorced get remarried have more kids bc hey you’re not old at 30 and this is the guy you actually wanted to have kids with. I rant but you get it. Traditional not for me. Also not traditional, i have some money. This money has paid for college, pastry school and yes this wonderful covid filled experience in paris: the city that hates me. I’m fortunate. I don’t live lavishly. It’s not that much money. I grew up poor, I pinch pennies. Then i do exciting things. Or maybe challenging things? I am fortunate and grateful. And guilt filled. I am given this gift and shit it away, trying make something out of this paris experience. It’s like a bad relationship where i keep begging to give it one more change. It will get better. I’m a fucking idiot. So here I am, you know third times the charm, right? Back in paris. Vaccinated. I’ve made connections with people. I feel confident that this will not be a waste. It will be fun. It will be educational. I will network. Gain experiences. Omg learn so much. Be able to travel. OH the hopes and delusions i had. But maybe we should start from the beginning. 

Omg, which beginning. Paris, i guess, we can go back further when the moment calls. So 30 is approaching. I’ve moved back home. That’s story for another time. Remember my life is not traditional. So I’m home to help out and idk try to figure out what the fuck i want to do with my life. See the big mistake i made in my 20s was listening to people i don’t admire. i graduate with an art degree. my college exit interview said i am qualified to work at a bank or Kraft foods. no connects, recommendations. No direct. And my family keeps talking about getting a job, benefits, 401k. At one point a little later on, my grandpa was pushing for me to go into service. Sorry gramps, they don’t want me. My education was good. I learned a lot. They had good resources and a lot. But then nothings. So i worked at a bakery. I worked hard at this bakery. For more than a few months i worked 7 days a week. I didn’t have a life. i had money. Money i made. And apparently that was the most important thing, from the talks i keep getting from my family. And of course i wasn’t earning enough, so needed to work harder and climb the ladder. There is no ladder in a bakery. Whatever, I rant again. We’ll come back to this. 

So 30. It’s looming. I’ve thought about grad school. The money I mentioned earlier. It’s had time to grow. The GRE expires after 5 years, not that i took it but 7 years after I graduated, i wasn’t taking it. So Europe. Europe is artsy. I would like to make good money, enjoy the work okay, but mostly make good money with the least amount of actual work. So teaching. My mom teaches. Computer programing. She’s the head of the department. She fucking hates it. The dude that was suppose to get that job, he died. It was sad. But they also didn’t replace him so when the other guy retired, it became her job. It was an unpleasant 10ish years. But again, I digress. So teaching. Work hard and play hard. And it’s always changing - ish. I guess as much as you want, or don’t. New students every 15 weeks. breaks at all the holidays. Summers off. And when you’re just about to get bored, you’re back at work. Maybe because this is the only lifestyle i know, but it doesn’t sound bad. I worked in an office of women in high school. That i for sure knew i never wanted. But teaching. College. Okay. I need a masters. Learn about MA and MFA. Start looking for jobs in Cali because life’s too short to fucking deal with the snow and mosquitos. Idk everyone doesn’t live in Cali. So now the plan is MFA. They are much more rare and more in demand at universities. More money - but this time i think chasing the money necessary bc Calif = expensive. Now back to looking in Europe. I love Italy. I would love to live in in Italy for more that just a semester but actually live Italian or close to it. The language makes sense. The people make sense. The art makes sense. And it’s omg gorgeous. Alas, no American accredited MFA programs I could qualify for in Italy. I don’t know if there were none but if there were, they would have been in textiles, or digital/graphic design. Which I don’t know anything about. I’m old school, metal work, drawing, printmaking - although so far we haven’t gotten along, another thing i going to try to make work before i leave this city that hates me, for good - painting, ceramics, you get it. I hate computers. I appreciate technology but my mom teaches computers therefore there was never a working computer in my house so we (my brothers and me) don’t do computers. So i find this school - in english and in Paris. Paris, so glamorous. Home of famous artists and their art. The Louvre and Eiffel Tower and Fashion. So okay, i check out their programs. One i have no fucking clue what it is. Still don’t. Another is Photography - pass. Graphics - no. List continues. Then i see Drawing. That’s interesting. I can draw, i draw well. This is a program i could probably get into. SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: you can get into any program. No program is ever full. It’s bull shit. Masters program. Undergrad = everyone is applying at the same time. Masters = ages range and much fewer people go. So don’t fall for that shit - EVER. 

They have a one year and two year program. The second year is less than half the first year so makes sense to go the second year and get the MFA vs MA. So that works out. I’m reading and checking it out. Not sure what I’m looking for but in hindsight, i knew something was missing. Talk it over with my mom and her peers who are also teachers. Consensus - don’t be part of the first group. So i have an interview to get it - what a joke. It is also a time for me to learn more about the program. So i ask, is this new? How long has it been around. Answer: Oh no, it’s been working several years. Very confident. I didn’t have a follow-up, just said I don’t want to be in the first group. I said those words. Her response: Oh no no don’t worry. I was so naive. And yes this continued through the whole program. People’s personalities are what they are. So she lied to get me into the program and just kept lying. No respect for the insane about of money i was paying for this ‘experience’. No respect for the education i could have gotten somewhere else. Because this program had NO educational value. I’m not being bitter or dramatic. It was a complete waste of time and money. Then covid happened. Might have been a blessing in disguise. I can go into detail of the program later. This is just an overview of the beginning. 

So, I get accepted. What a surprise. I’m now officially 30 and this - i feel- is my last hoorah. After this i will be an adult who can get an adult job and become an adult. But first i need housing. And a visa. Which is very confusing. So the French and Italians - Italians I am familiar  with, tell you about it later. So they’re similar in that lazy, lack of thoroughness, that’s their thing. Difference being Italians own it, French hardcore deny. So I’m reading this paperwork and it says thing like you need to have all your documents before your visa appointment including plane ticket. Well I can’t go without the visa so why would i get a plane ticket? Cart before the horse shit - it’s very french, wait until you hear about banks.  

[barnesandco]

Nikah: August

Story Masterlist

Nikah: noun, Arabic, meaning the contract of marriage.

Bucky marries Peter’s former tutor because her student visa’s about to expire and the government isn’t granting her a green card. Can she find a way to permanent residence by marriage, and if so, will it be at the cost of their hearts?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, angst, panic attack. Excessive metaphor usage. 

A/N: Written under the Arranged/Accidental Marriage trope for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s writing challenge. Guys, I had to Google the English word for coriander lmao. I literally had to search: dhanya vegetable english. How. Pathetic. Also, whew. This was hard to write, but I’m pleased with it, so I hope you will be, too!

In the climax of a week-long mission, everything changes. The world flips on its axis, the universe inverted such that those flaming stars he was admiring in that planetarium nary a month ago are now inside of him. Burning, searing, wicked torture, his body is bursting from the seams with pain. Exploding, the half-a-dozen poisoned bullets being pried out of his system by the field medic. How anyone managed to land not just one, but six round on him, none of them know. His teammates are still in the thick of it, several thousand feet down while he gets flown off.

The young man, green-faced but resolute, is doing the best he can as the poison takes hold. Soon - somewhere over Mexico, now miles away from the battlefield - the convulsions start, and so do the hallucinations. All of a sudden, it’s 1942, and Buck is buried in the Austrian snow, a hole where his arm should have been. The medic removing his last bullet becomes Zola’s cruel face, and Bucky roars. Lunges up as the death pill is extracted. Clint has to put the jet on auto-pilot for the landing, grappling with his teammate, the slick blood making it near-impossible to get a grip.

The latch hisses open and a medical squad is on him in seconds, tranquilizing him like an enraged animal. His mind goes numb, weightless, Hydra’s cellars and the infirmary of the Compound wrestle for the right to be what he sees now, on his way to salvation. 

Empty hallways, surgery, and the regeneration cradle are all stepping stones in the path to the bed he lays in now. The states of consciousness, unconsciousness, and subconsciousness dance devilishly in his mind. Fever dreams flirt with hallucinations until he is positive he can see his wife standing in the doorway.

Bucky jolts when she moves closer, because her shape is so vivid, although she is a dream. Must be, for how can she be real? Clad in shalwaar kameez from Friday prayers, the floral motifs blooming on the garden of her body. The personification of Eden, although part of him worries she is actually the angel of death. Most of him knows she is nothing but a fantasy, even when she speaks.

“Hey, Bucky. God, I was so worried.” Her brows furrow and even though he knows he should, he does not feel like a wild animal. The rabid dog waiting to be released behind his teeth. Until her hand covers his and the disorientation, the wheel of misfortune, comes to a screeching halt, reality the prize of the doomed game his mind was playing. 

Bucky nearly falls off the bed in his haste to get away, throwing off the sheets. A few of his stitches stretch to a point of discomfort, but he isn’t concerned about that. 

“Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay?” She asks approaching him slowly, and he backs himself into a corner, scrambling away.

“Stay away,” He says, chest heaving, and she looks at him, petrified. Something in his brain registers that the fear is not of him but for him, but he is in no state to acknowledge this perception.

“Bucky, it’s me. It’s just me,” She doesn’t come any closer now, de-escalation sounding desperate and frantic in both their ears. Bucky’s ring with misery, screaming, her screaming, and the notions of all the ways he could cause that cement his resolve to stay put.

“I’m dangerous. Can’t be trusted. You’ll get hurt. Leave.” His voice cracks at the last command, the reservoir of pain swelling.

“Bucky, you’re hurt. Please, let me help.”

“No. No. You- you’ll get hurt,” He reiterates brokenly. “I- I’m dangerous. You shouldn’t be here.” His breathing is coming in short pants now, staccato beat disturbing the oxygen supply in his blood. “I- you- we- oh God.” Bucky crumples like a house of cards, the dam bursting under the tsunami of agony it cannot hold, and she’s there. On her knees next to his paper ball body, creased with the hell of the past several hours, lungs starting to buckle like his legs just did.

“Hey, woah. Breathe, Bucky, come on,” She says, her hands - still painted in mehndi from last week’s Eid celebrations - rising to cup his face. Her eyes are bloodshot, like she hasn’t slept for a week, and his windpipe constricts. “Okay, you’re having a panic attack,” She mutters to herself. “Bucky. Bucky,” She calls again. 

“Buck, baby, look at me.” He does. “You cook, right? You’re good at it, you do it all the time. Focus on cooking. Think about your favorite recipe. Imagine making it. Go through the process, think about what you have to do.” 

In the muted haze of his subconscious, the distraction technique rings a bell, but his conscious is busy following her instructions. Food. He swallows the bile, chest still straining to breathe, and flips through the paperwork tornado of his mind to find: pakoray. The word is stammered from his chapped, dry lips, and if she’s surprised, he can’t tell. Isn’t in much of a condition to.

“Okay, Buck. Pakoray. We’ve made those a shitload of times,” She answers, urging him on, so he does.

“You need to cut the potato slices thinner,” She says, peering over at his work from the tomatoes she’s assigned herself. 

“Thinner than this,” Bucky asks incredulously, the ultra-thin French fry shapes in a small pile in a bowl on the counter. She laughs, reaching for his knife.

“Here,” She says, demonstrating the appropriating cut quickly, returning the knife to him.

“What else goes in these things?”

“These things are called pakoray, Bucky. And we have to add onions, coriander, pomegranate seeds, salt and red chilli. My mom adds a little spinach too, but I prefer not to,” She answers, finishing up the tomatoes and reaching for the onions.

“Let me do those, sweetheart,” Bucky says, trying to stop her.

“They’re onions, Buck, it’s okay. It’ll be over in a second,” She laughs, starting to peel them. “Besides, a wise man once said: tears are words the heart can’t express.”

“Are you quoting Bob Goff to me? About onions?” He asks, hurrying to finish the potatoes so he can help her. Her nose scrunches as she spills what she seems to think are very funny beans.

“Gerard Way.” Is her only answer, aside from the laugh she lets out after.

“Who’s that?” Bucky expect her to clutch imaginary pearls on behalf of another classical author he isn’t familiar with, in spite of his increasing education, but the response is anticlimactic. 

“Lead vocalist of a rock band.” She shrugs, and Bucky realizes he has so much to learn about this woman. 

The panic attack fades as he is reliving the scent of the deep-fried dish, heavenly, the fizzing of the oil in his ears, and she is so close he can breathe her air. The tension in his shoulders is released, but hers stiffen further, like she has taken on the load herself. Like his burden has become hers to bear, but she will do it with a pained smile and a bruised soul. Her forehead tilts forward to meet his, eyes closing for the first time in days as she lets the weight of his trauma settle, and he thinks: he hopes it’s over soon; he hopes she flies away on her angel wings.

Taglist: @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart​ @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78​ @corneliabarnes​ @readerandcinephileingeneral​ @stevieboyharrington​ @notsomellowmushroom​ @veganfangirl5​ @mood-pancakes​ @lbuck121​ @starnight-charmer​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @geeksareunique​ @samingtonwilson​ @alyxkbrl​

[ziamhaze]

Hi, I hope you're well! I just want to start off by thanking you for all the wonderful fics you have blessed me with!

I just finished Red vs. Black and was hoping you wouldn't mind answering some questions I have. As someone who risks his own life to save others, how does Liam justify being with someone he knows has killed innocent people? It'd be one thing if Zayn had only killed those directly involved with what happened to his family, but he's killed innocent civilians over minor inconveniences (such as the teenagers in the convertible). Does Zayn still think he is justified in doing so? Does he ever feel guilty about it? If not, how would Liam and Zayn be compatible if their moral compasses are so different?

Also, did Zayn's father ever make his way to the UK? Or was that just a lie he told Zayn to comfort him? Does Zayn ever find his family, especially his younger sister?

I know it's a lot, but I'd really love to hear your answers if you want to give them! Again thank you for all of your wonderful works!

So sorry it’s taken me this long to reply, but I didn’t forget!

To start I’d like to thank you for clicking, and finishing, Red vs. Black.  It isn’t the shortest of fics, nor is it the most delicate - to put it lightly.  For the latter alone, thank you.

These are such poignant, important questions.  Ones that are nearly word for word what I asked myself while planning the ending.

                         SPOILERS FOR ALL OF RED VS. BLACK

1)  How does Liam stay with Zayn after learning of all his senseless killings?

Honestly, I questioned this the most when feeling out the concept.  As a fic writer it’s expected of me to write not only a romance, but also a happy ending.  Of course fics exist that do neither, but they’re very rare and not exactly well-loved.  And truthfully, a massive point that I wanted to get across - and which in effect answers this question - is that despite people’s pasts, they cannot overcome them without being given the opportunity.  100%.  No ands, ifs, or buts.  For a prisoner to assimilate back into society and not go back to their old ways, they need to be trusted with a job.  With a salary (no matter how small), they need to trust themselves to be able to not buy anything that may contribute to poor habits: drugs, alcohol, weapons, gambling, a means of transport that will give them the ability to visit bad influences (more of a psychological thing, but still).  A lot of prisoners are never given this opportunity (especially in the United States), and therefore fall back into their old ways, which are more often than not coping mechanisms to deal with the fact that they can’t fit into society as easily as privileged people to begin with; it’s a terrible cycle.  However, there are plenty of success stories of those that truly wish to change and are lucky enough to stumble upon an employer or mentor or sponsor of some sort that hands them an inkling of hope/trust that they use to fight their way back up.  The fic is fantasy, and while Zayn’s story is rooted in real world PTSD, I think the prisoner analogy is easy for us to envision and therefore, understand why Liam acts the way he does.  I also made it a point in the last scene when they’re talking things out to have Liam voice his contingency: if Zayn so much as spits at anyone, he’s done for.  That’s to say, he’s not wiping his slate clean just yet.

2)  Does Zayn still feel his useless killings were justified?

I’m going to answer assuming that you’re referring to the time after the fic ends.

Looking back at his actions is something that would be inevitable when he starts therapy, and this is a perfect example of one of the questions his therapist would ask.  You may not like my answer, but as an author I find it imperative that I speak of my characters realistically and to keep them true, not how I want them to act.  That said, yes, Zayn would still find justification in why he’s done what he’s done.

There are a few instances in the story where this is actually explained.  Take the scene in the bar with fancy mixologists.  Zayn begins to get aggravated over the people in the room simply because they’re ignorant to the feeling of significant pain.  There’s also the scene where he’s back home in Cheshire and Harry straight out tells him, he may be furious at the unfairness of the world, but he needs to learn how to come to terms with it.  It’s not going to change.  This right here is what a therapist would work with him to do, and also why I had Harry be the one to bring this up in the story - he is one.

I know it sounds incredibly foreign to the average person, but trust me when I say that people struggling with anger problems founded in (un)fairness, exist.  I’ve spoken with professionals about it.  Add on crippling childhood PTSD and a villain like Zayn can definitely be born.  It’s why treatment is needed, and why the answer is ‘yes’ in the beginning of Zayn’s journey to peace.  When his answer switches over to ‘no’, that’s when it’ll be outwardly apparent that he’s beating his ailment.  Unfortunately, for many, the inner battle with mental health is lifelong; the answer ‘no’ will never turn solid.

3)  Does Zayn feel guilty about the above?

Again, there are a couple times when I write Zayn to literally mention how he feels zero guilt.  However, if you really really pay attention you’ll notice that these instances aren’t villain related.

For example, meeting Liam’s parents:

After handing his father and Zayn each their tea, Liam looks between them suspiciously. "Leaving the two of you in a room together was a bad idea."

"Don't know what you're on about," Geoff replies innocently. "We were just talking about cars, weren't we Zayn?" Even with all eyes on him, the pressure of lying doesn't get to Zayn. It never does.

"Yeah," he agrees, bringing his drink up to his lips carefully, "cars."

Or, after Zayn walks out from the comedy club:

"It takes a lot of courage to get up there and do something like that, don't you think?"

"Not really."

Liam looks to the side, hoping that he can interpret more from Zayn's answers by seeing the expressions that go with their frankness. "So if I signed you up, you would do it?"

"Why would I want to make a room full of strangers laugh?" Zayn retorts, his right eye scrunching up in distaste, like it's a mannerism of his provoked by moronic questions. "I don't have a superiority complex." Liam thinks he might, but. "I know I'm better than those people, no mediocracy to cover up here."

So we’ve got those, but then we’ve also got this massive character point:

Right as the last of the snake's body emerges, Zayn snaps his fingers, triggering heavy hip-hop music to flow through his headphones and drown out the man's blood curdling cry.

If he could permanently damage people who deserved it, not always because they did something to Zayn, but because he liked to play god and throw them a massive curveball like life had done to him, then why shouldn't he? So long as he pulls his soundproof headphones off the little robot on the inside of his right arm to avoid listening to the pain his choice brutality caused, there's no valid reason he shouldn't take advantage of the gift he was given.

From where he's sitting, he probably won't be able to hear anything, but he fastens the equipment over his ears just in case.

All at once, the atmospheric sounds of central London, mixed with the terrified screams of those in the burning building beneath them, hit Zayn at full force. The sensory overload alone would normally be enough to piss him off, but tack on his protection from audible trauma being taken and being spoken to while in villain mode, and he's seeing red as deep as the pits of hell he knows he's destined for.

I wrote Zayn’s headphone usage as a way to alert that the reader that he does, in fact, feel villain-related guilt.  He can’t act on his anger without them on.  He’ll have his victims screams stuck in his head, and he’d never be able to handle that a.k.a. there’s zero satisfaction from their literal pain.  Think about that and it’ll answer your follow-up question.

4)  What happened to Zayn’s family?

Zayn’s father meant what he said - he’d do whatever he needed to reunite his family.  That wasn’t a falsity at all.  The problem is money.  And politics, but let’s start with the issue of money.  It took Yaser nine years to save up the amount he paid to have Zayn and Waliyha smuggled across the border.  The whole concept of smuggling is that it’s a cheaper option than the legal one.  So if we look at this, you can see how long it would take him to save for three adult visa fees, three adult plane tickets, and enough to stay afloat for a month or so when they get to England.  Now add in the politics of the early 2000s and the Afghanistan/Pakistan region.  We know that Yaser fixed air conditioners for a living.  No person with that average of a background is going to have an easy time immigrating anywhere.  Even so, would it really take him over 18 years?  While it’s plausible, perhaps a man with such determination would find another way.  Or...was that unnecessary because he was fed lies?

Think about it.  After several weeks and no word from his children, don’t you think he’d cause a riot?  He’s the type to drive over to Badar’s house and demand his relatives get in contact with him to find out what’s going on.  But, given the flashback Zayn has, it’s obvious that Badar never planned on accompanying any of the children to the UK, and if that’s the case, he clearly couldn’t return to Quetta.  I imagine a fully rehearsed story was told to all of the children’s parents about how they were killed somewhere along the way.

As for Waliyha, her whereabouts were told to my gang over on Patreon a while ago.  In short, yes, she’s still alive and I plan on pitching the book’s sequel to publishers as a graphic novel series revolved around her location.  Louis’ dark web bot finally found a hint as to where that might be, so Zayn and Liam go on a journey across Europe to find her.  Each issue would (probably) take place in a new city and involve both fighting a single bad guy.

Just a quick reminder to anyone who reads this, Red vs. Black and all involved characters are my intellectual property and cannot be replicated, manipulated, or stolen.

Again, thank you for your question and time!  I know my fics aren’t short and take a huge time commitment to finish.  If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to send them my way!  I’m super busy writing the next story and doing critical work, but I promise I’ll get around to it.

[heavenbarnes]

i don’t love him but he’s here and you aren’t

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Bruce Banner

Warnings/Contains: drug use (marijuana, so please don’t read if this makes you uncomfortable), age gap, unprotected sex, if you squint it’s cheating, mentions of death,

Word Count: 2,350

Request:  Okay.... weird request..... but like,,, smoking then getting freaky aka lazy high sex with Bruce. Normal, or Endgame!Bruce, anything works. Please, I'm dying over here

so i decided to take this request and make it bucky x reader also, but it’s post!snap. this completely disregards most of what happened in endgame, and i essentially re-wrote the film. i just decided to make a ridiculously dramatic piece and borderline nonsensical piece, cause it’s quite wordy x

Think of what your city would sound like if you removed half of it’s inhabitants. She could confirm for you, it sounds like a graveyard. Those left behind unable to find the strength to make a sound.

The ones that do make noise, it’s like a haunted cry for those they lost. Building after home, after school, after car left empty. Like a dog awaiting it’s owner to return home.

She sat on the fire-escape, looking over the city. The lights still shone, half the cars still rumbled. Her solemn gaze cast its way from building to building. This spot, all the way up here, felt like the only place she could escape.

She couldn’t leave the tower any longer, without being hounded by questions and cries. “Where is my son?” or “Why aren’t you doing more?” or “Do you know what it was like?”

That one stung like nothing other. Did she know what it was like? Did she know what it was like? Dig deeper, keep asking, keep wounding. What they should’ve asked, it’s right there.

“Do you know what it’s like to lose someone to the snap?” Can you imagine how that feels?

She kept her head down when the question was asked, she shut her mouth and pushed through the people. She ignored the sound of unanswered questions, the sound of accusations spat at her.

She didn’t dare answer, answering meant accepting. Accepting that, yes, she did know how it felt.  

She knew exactly how it felt to hear her name leave his lips, like a cry for help. She knew how it felt to turn as quick as she could, in time to see him fall to his knees. She knew how it felt to watch the only person she ever loved turn to dust. She remembers it like it was last night.

“Steve! (Y/N)!” She heard it like a bullet whistling past her ear.

She’d never moved so fast in her life, scrambling to turn towards the source of the noise. She saw him there, gun tumbling towards the earth. Knees following suit.

She opened her mouth to scream, but he was gone before she knew it. She watched the body she’d mapped with hands and mouth, break away like clusters of stars.

How can someone be there one minute and gone the next? 

By the time Steve made it to her, she was a heap of what used to be, only cradled by the ashes of the man she loved.

Her eyes found their way to her Captain’s, silently asking for help? For forgiveness? If you can’t save the one you love, can you save anyone else?

If you can’t save the one you love, can you save anyone else? 

That’s what it felt like those people were asking. There wasn’t sympathy for the Avengers. No, “we’re sorry you lost your loved ones, too.” Only, “if you can’t keep your own safe, how can we trust you with ours?”

So she hides on the fire-escape, this way she is able to watch the city but she can’t be touched by it. She feels safe so high, she only feels safe when she’s high.

The lighter sparks and for a moment it blends in with the other lights, makes her feel less alone. The water bubbles in the confines of the glass, before the smoke makes it’s way deep into her lungs. As she exhales, it looks as if the city rests in the clouds.

If she could’ve picked up her city and hidden it deep within the clouds, she would’ve. She would’ve kept it safe, she would’ve protected the people that looked to her for safety.

Mother’s wouldn’t be without children. Husband’s would be with their husbands, wives with their wives and visa versa. Best friends would see each other again. She could pick the people up, like petals in a storm drain, and set them aside to safety.

She knew at the end of days she’d ask “have I done enough”, and for a while she thought she could answer with a solid confirmation. Now, the lines are muddy and she can only ask “have I done anything at all?”

“Please tell me you aren’t playing the blame game?” A tired voice came from behind her.

She turned her head to the right, resting her chin on her shoulder. She didn’t attempt to keep turning, she knew who it was. Turning back to her front, she brought her lips back to the glass. 

Bruce took silent invitation to join her perch outside. He was never a fan of heights, but he felt safe in her presence. He felt her arm at his side, offering him the glass vessel that was sure to set their minds at ease.

Bruce felt it too, the shame and regret from that day deep in the jungle of Wakanda. All of what they could’ve done better, who they could’ve saved. When Bruce joined the Avengers, he always hoped the pain they suffered wouldn’t translate to the innocent people on the streets.

He looked at her profile, watched her glossy eyes dart to every corner of the large space in front of them. He was taken back to that day, the sounds of her cries, when what was Bucky ran through her fingers like sand. He was taken back to the pain, he didn’t have anyone to feel that way about him, he shouldn’t be here.

The feeling of the smoke taking over his senses helped to loosen his muscles, helped to put him on a different plane. One where he could do something, anything. He could make things better. His physical form was, unfortunately, still existing on a plane where he hadn’t done enough.

Bucky Barnes has a beautiful girl who spends every waking moment reliving the moment he was taken from her.

Bruce Banner has a cold side to his bed and his own right hand.

Don’t tell him that everything happens for a reason. He shouldn’t be here.

“Do you think they’ll ever forgive us for everything we didn’t do?” She asked quietly, taking the glass back into her hands.

“If we can find a way to do it, then I suppose they will.”

“Do you think we’ll find a way to do it?”

“One where we all come out the other side? It’s slim but not impossible.”

“I know I joined this team with guaranteed martyrdom.”

Bruce let her words sink in as they passed the smoke back and fourth. She isn’t supposed to know how bad things get, yet. She is supposed to dream of weddings, white pickets, backyard barbecues. 

Instead she dreams of dying, for a good cause, to see him again. She knows better than anyone, how bad it gets, how bad it hurts. She knows that if she gets any salvation, if she catches any break, it’ll only be from the sweet release of-

“Death isn’t an option, nobody dies and we bring the dusted back.” The herb in his hands made him feel superhuman, more than he already was.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

She looked at him, for the first time since he came out here, she looked into his eyes. They looked like her own, a little red, just a bit watered. 

“I admire your optimism.”

“And I admire your durability.”

She took in a deep breath, one that wasn’t to inhale smoke this time. They’d passed it back and fourth so many times, it was getting to the end of the tether.

“What do I have left if not an inch of strength?”

“Half a team that needs you more than you give yourself credit for.”

She continued to gaze into him, past his eyes and into him. She saw a different pain in him. She’d been analyzing her own so long, she forgot what to look for in the others. She felt the heaviness in her own eyelids, and then she felt the need to move.

To move different, to roll about someone else’s sadness, growing tired of her own. She was so accustomed to her own sadness, she was crawling in her skin. She wanted nothing more than to put on someone else’s, live different for a moment.

So when she had Bruce’s hands in her own, on the plush of her carpet, she felt different. She felt as if she’d stepped out of her own bones, to jump his. She felt at home in his arms, just a home she hadn’t been to for a while.

Like opening your front door when you’ve been somewhere else for a while. It was going to take some time for this to start feeling normal. And how much time did she have? Was she willing to give?

With the pull of her eyelids, she felt the pull towards him. The angels telling her to rest her laurels with him. To step out of the ashes belonging to another, to rise as the phoenix here and with this man.

This man, with the olive skin that bares lines of success and failure. The man, with the rough hands from solving the worlds mysteries. The man, who smells like knowing your worth and knowing your horror.

The man who knows too much.

The devil lies in knowing the color that kills, the color he know all too well how to turn. Lies in the 7 PHDs, that each teach him what to be afraid of. Lies in knowing the outcome of impending actions, but not running from them.

He brought her down to the ground with them, forgoing the bed, back to floor to lay with the dogs. He knew how to run with the wolves, and he knew what they’d do to him if he stayed too long.

Thankfully the smoke in his brain was able to wrap his thoughts in a warm towel, bundle them up and deliver them to the back corner of his brain for the time being. He had company, and she smelt like flowers and freshly washed clothes. She was real and she needed attention.

So joining their two bodies at the waist wasn’t in need of debate. It seemed the most righteous thing they could do at the time. She sat a top him, and from the angle, the light above her head was nothing more than a golden halo. 

Did that mean she was finally glorious, and without sin? Or did the universe know more about martyrdom than Bruce had realized.

He had to find himself deep within her, she held the secrets and he couldn’t get deep enough. His arms wrapped around her back, bringing her chest flush to his. He thrust his hips up, finding any chance to become one with her.

She was the fountain in which you got penance, the vessel to drain all unjust actions from our world. Bruce was able to bathe in her tide, was he as grateful as he could be?

No, which was why he turned their bodies, laying her back gently against the carpet. Her eyes slowly opened, reaching out for the man above her. Bruce brought a hand to her soft skin, rolled it about in his palm. Would he always remember how delicate she felt?

She looked pure again, like a girl who didn’t know how it felt to have her joy snatched straight from her. She looked blissfully unaware of life’s cruelties. Bruce got off on the idea that she might’ve been whole again.

But she wasn’t, which was why she was full of him. With each rock of his hips into hers, every spark that ignited from the friction between them, she was having a real void filled with false hope.

At least the cries from her mouth were real. The way she said his name was undoubtedly real as it coiled up inside his stomach. Her fingers sliding up his chest, nestling in the thick hair, that was about the most reality Bruce had experienced in a while.

He watched his mind wander away from him, escorted on the purest white cloud. His consciousness went right after it, eager as anything to see where the smoke of the night could take him.

To Bucky, he was loudest that night. He was louder than her moans. Louder than Bruce’s deep breaths with each thrust. He was louder than the blood rushing in their eyes.

How did Bucky hold her when they made love? Cause that was what they did, they made love and it wasn’t on the floor only after she’d had enough smoke to sedate upstate New York.

How did Bucky fuck her? Did he lift her hips to ensure it was the most pleasure she could receive? Did he run his hands the length of her body to remember what she felt like? 

How did Bucky speak to her? He must’ve known the exact things to say, when to speak, how to speak. He would’ve made more of an impression than Bruce is.

But it seems to be doing the trick, the way she brings her arms to his back. Her half-crescent nails sinking into the tight muscle of his shoulders. Her lips next to his ear, as she whines his name.

And he feels the ultimate tide washing over him. It came in the form of her orgasm finally reaching the entirety of her, cascading onto him. He caught the bug, feeling the heat draining from him as he lurched forward.

Like the ghost moving through him, in the moment he had become Bucky. He knew how it felt to take the blessing on the floor of a dimly lit bedroom. 

As they lay together, coming to their own conclusions, they chose to forfeit thinking. It was better to stay in a mindless state, rather than accept what they’d come to realize.

She was the type to remember forever, she might get by, but she’ll be there when you get back.

He was the type to help you get back, so you can slot right back in where he longed to belong.

[janetbrown711]

"One ticket to Paris please," Webby smiled at the old and tired looking man within the ticket booth at the station.

"Exit visa?" He asked.

"Exit visa..?" She questioned.

"Oh? 'Exit Visa'?" He mocked. "No exit visa, no ticket to Paris," he slammed his booths shutters closed.

"Well darn. How am I supposed to get an exist visa?" She harumphed to the small dog hidden in her pocket.

"Psst," an old woman beckoned. Webby looked around to see if she was talking to anyone else. The woman shook her head, grabbed her coat and bent her down so she could whisper.

"See Louie. He can help," she winked.

"Ooh. Where can I find him?" She asked.

"At the old palace. But you didn't hear it from me," she winked again.

"Oooh! Thank you!" She smiled and nodded graciously.

"Now shoo! Go!" The woman sneered. Webby took the hint and went on her way.

"Louie huh? Must be a nice guy. Hope he doesn't ask for any money," she chuckled, stroking the dog's head, "because goodness knows I don't have that either." With that, she went on her way.

.o0o.

"Ah ha... yes... very- uh.. very nice," Louie gave a fake smile, scribbling out a name on a long list of young women who came from all over this side of the country to audition for the role of the Princess Webbigail. Donald chuckled and shook his head beside him.

"Yes, thank you. Next!" Donald ignored the girl on stage's plea and the next one came up. She had dark red hair, which wasn't a good sign, a giant brown fur coat and held a long cigar. She took a deep breath in as preparation, and upon relasing, she revealed a small sailor girl outfit which baffled both Louie and Donald.

"Grandma... it's me... Webbigail."

"You've got to be kidding me," Louie put his hands over his face.

"Hey, this is one of the better ones we've seen today," Donald teased. Louie gave him a look, and then crossed out the name.

"Thank you for your time- uh... Gosalyn. Next!" He shouted.

"Louie, there aren't any more," donald said. Louie huffed.

"Guess we'll have to think about it on our way back," he got up, put on his coat and headed outside, his uncle following not far behind.

"You're still determined to keep this up? You and I both know none of those girl could even possibly pass as her," Donald said.

"We'll find her Uncle Donald. I know we will. She's here somewhere, right under our noses. I know it," Louie kept his determination. "Don't forget. One look at the music box is all the Empress needs to think its her, and we'll be off with our fortune before she catches on!" Louie assured as he headed on into the palace.

"Again, for your sake, I hope you're right," Donald sighed.

"You always say that," Louie rolled his eyes.

"And I always worry."

.o0o.

As Webby made her way to the palace, she felt a vague sense of... of something pulling her into it. It was... like a distant memory. But that'd be crazy. She was a street orphan. Either way, the entryways were boarded up so she couldn't get in but Lena (she named the dog Lena) successfully squeezed her way in.

"Lena! Lena where are you," Webby looked through, pulling on the wood until they all cane crashing down and she was able to enter.

The palace was clearly covered in at least five inches of dust (Lena even kicked up a good amount as she ran through), and there were signs of decay everywhere, but then again, what did she except from an abandoned palace?

"Hello?" She called out, her voice echoing against the marble floor and high ceilings. She made her way into what must've been an old ballroom, and just gazed at it. It was so familiar, calling and beckoning her. Like a memory from a dream. It was filled with things she almost remembered.

She looked upon the paintings and saw regal eyes gaze upon her. It sent chills down her spine but she couldn't help but feel like she had dreamed of them too, dancing gracefully to a tune she had made up when she was a kid.

She could see it too. The gowns, the parties, the laughter and regallity of it all. Heck, she could imagine herself too. Dancing back and forth with various partners. Her dress being giant and golden, with pink bows and ribbons for decoration.

But it was a dream, and she snapped out just as quickly.

"Hey! What're you doing here?!" A man pointed at her. Webby gasped and began to run with all her might across the room, Lena running ahead, but the man chased, followed by a much slower and a much older man behind.

"Hey! Stop! Stop! Stop!" He called. Webby ran out of breath (not realizing she had actually been dancing) and stopped by a wall with the largest painting of all.

"Wait a minute- just how did you get in he-...here...?" He stared at her at her, quickly losing his tongue. Lena sniffed his feet and growled, but Webby picked her up.

"Excuse me Child, but-" The older gentleman finally caught up.

"Uncle donald- look," he pointed at her and then the painting. Donald blinked.

"I don't- wait..." he gasped, "yes! Yes i see it!"

The poor, dirty, scruffed up girl they were seeing looked almost exactly alike the young princess in the painting.

"Are you the Louie everyone talks about?" Webby was getting tired of the way they were staring at her.

"Well that depends entirely on who's asking," Louie smirked, stepping closer to Webby, but Lena snapped, forcing him to take a step back.

"My name is Webby, i need travel papers," she explained. "They say you're the man to see, although i can't tell who you told me that."

"Uh huh..." Louie was only half listening, doing a full body scan around her.

"Uhm- hey-?! What are you circling me for?" She git impatient again.

"Oh- i am so terribly sorry there- uh... webby, was it?" He 'apologized'. "It's just- well... you look an awful lot like..." he gestured vaguely. Webby tried to see what he was pointing to, but he quickly put his arms down.

"Never mind. Now, you said something about travel papers?" He asked.

"Uh... yes. I'd like to go to Paris," she explained.

"You'd like to go to Paris?" Louie actually almost couldn't believe the coincidence.

"Now let me ask you something, Webby," he got closer, Lena growled, so Webby handed her to Donald, whom she appreciated a lot more. Louie rolled his eyes and continued.

"Is there a last name that goes with that?" He asked.

"Well.. actually- this is gonna sound crazy- but I don't have one. I was found wandering around when I was about eight years old," she admitted.

"And before that?" Louie was nodding along.

"Look- i know it's strange, but it's all i got, okay? I don't have many memories of my past," Webby played with her necklace.

"Hmm... that's very interesting," Louie observed.

"Well I do have one clue, and that's Paris. So... can you two help me, or not?" she explained.

"Paris? Well uh- sure would like to!" Louie smiled cheekily. Donald blinked, confused, but Louie elbowed him and he smiled too.

"In fact, we too are also going to paris!" He pulled out tickets from his vest pocket.

"And i have three tickets here," he teased and dangled it in front of Webby's face but when she reached for it, he pulled it away.

"But the third ticket is reserved for her- the Princess Webbigail," he pointed at the painting.

"We are going to reunite the Grand Duchess Webbigail with her grandmother," Donald explained, as they all began to walk up the stairs.

"And you do resemble her," Louie said.

"The same blue eyes," Donald said.

"The Vanderquack eyes!" Louie added.

"Nicholas' smile!"

"Alexandra's chin!"

"Oh! And you even have her grandmother's hands," Donald examined them. Webby jerked them away.

"Now hold on here-"

"You're the same age, physical type-"

"Wait, are you seriously trying to tell me you think that I am royalty?" Webby laughed as they stopped at a painting of just the princess.

"All that I'm trying to tell you is that I've seen thousands of girls all over the country, and none of them resemble her highness as closely as you do," he pointed to the painting.

"I knew you were crazy from the beginning! But now i think you're both mad!" She turned and began to walk away.

"Why?" Louie ran in front of her. "You don't know what happened to you."

"No one knows what happened to her," Donald added.

"You're looking for family in Paris,"

"And her only family is in Paris!"

"You ever thought about the possibility?" Louie slowly guided her back.

"That I could be royalty? Well- i dunno! It's kinda hard to really imagine yourself as a duchess when you sleep on a damp floor," she gave them both funny looks, "but sure. I guess every little girl imagines herself as a princess," she blushed a little, admitting a little what just happened in the ballroom.

"And somewhere, one little girl is," Donald winked, carefully handing her back the dog at the same time.

"Rreeeaalllly wish we could help, but like we said, the third ticket is reserved for Webbigail, so..." he took his Uncle's shoulders and they walked away. Webby sighed, eyes still fixated on the painting.

"Why didn't you tell her about our brilliant plan?" Donald whispered.

"All she wants to do is go to Paris. Why give away a third of the loot?" He whispered back.

"I'm telling you we're walking away too soon," Donald shook his head. Louie rolled his eyes and counted with his fingers.

Three...

Two...

One...

"Louie!" Webby called. Louie grinned at his uncle.

"Louie wait!" The girl ran after him.

"Oh? Did you call me?" He blinked innocently.

"If I don't remember who I was, then who's to say I'm not the grand- whatever, right?" She reasoned, mostly with herself.

"Mhmmm. Go on..." he pretended to be invested in her line of thought.

"Yeah! And if im not, then the Empress will know right away and it will all just be an honest mistake!" Webby said.

"Sounds plausible!" Louie agreed.

"But, if you are the princess, then you'll finally know who you are and finally have your family back too!" Donald encouraged.

"He's right. Either way gets you to Paris," he nodded.

"Right!" Webby shook his hand, "it's a deal then."

"May I present, the Grand Duchess, Webbigail," he bowed. Webby snorted.

"Nice," she looked around a second. "Lena," she called, picking up the dog once more, "we are going to Paris!"

"Uh- the dog stays," Louie stated flatly.

"Uhm, no. The dog goes with me. And that's final," she huffed and moved along.

But in one of the corners of the high palace, beyond where any of them could see, was a crow with an all too familiar purple gem.

"Webbigail? Yeah, just one problem there fella. Webbigail is dead," he laugh-cawed (crows are weird), but suddenly the purple stone began to glow, and spirits began to leak out.

"Uh oh... if that thing woke up after all these years then- Webbigail is alive???!! And that's her!" He looked at the huffy girl in front of the two con men. At a glance it seemed impossible, but upon further inspection she was the spitting image of the royal family.

"I have to tell Magica," he cawed, grabbing the staff, but it soon turned into a necklace, which clasped his foot, and took him under the river, and took him deep, deep, deep down. Farther than any mortal had ever gone.

"Who dares interrupt my solitude- oh! It's you Poe! What a pleasant suprise," she grinned.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

[damnthoseyes]

Felices Los Cuatro

A/N: This is long af so..buckle up kids. This is a very on time submission to @cieloxcnco ‘s 1000 followers writing contest. Hope it was worth the wait. Spoiler: it isn’t. As always, please do let me know what you think.

Warnings: drinking (lots of), swearing, smut. You’ll live.

Words: 5k+

Si conmigo te quedas o con otro tu te vas, no me importa un carajo porque se que volveras

Four months, two weeks and two days.

Not that I’m counting.

Four months, two weeks and two days since I stood in the airport and watched the man of my dreams get on a plane. Without me. I begged and pleaded for more time but he had to go. He’d been in this country for years but visa regulations required him to go back home to reapply so he could stay.

I loved him. At least I think I did. But if I had, I would’ve gone with him, right? I should’ve dropped everything to be with him. But I couldn’t.

When he sat me down and told me what was going on, my heart broke. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. But when he asked me to go with him, for however long it would take, everything in me said no. So that’s what I told him. My family is here, my friends are here, my job is here; I couldn’t just leave.

By the time the day came around, I was ready to get on that plane with nothing. As much as I loved him and wanted him around, we came to the conclusion that we had to break up. Long distance just doesn’t work. If he decided to come back to me and our feelings were still there, we’d see what happens. Until then we were better off apart.

After a month, he had decided to stay back home and wasn’t coming back.

I felt like a shell of a human. I was upset, angry, regretful; one of everything in the negative column. So I did what everyone does. A couple of weeks of partying, sleeping with random guys and drinking myself to sleep got me nowhere (as expected), so I threw myself into work. Early mornings, late nights and migraines are just the distraction I need.

After one particularly ruthless day consisting of four pointless meeting, a never-ending inbox and the to-do list that just kept on giving, I got a message from a friend of mine telling me he was extremely bored at work and that if I wanted a drink I should come by. Said he could use the company. At that point I deserved one. Or twelve.

I walked into the restaurant, took off my jacket, threw it over a stool and slumped over the bar.

“How was work?”

I groaned loudly into my arms, keeping my head down.

“How bad was it?”

“Bad.”

“You poor thing.” The sarcasm in his voice was palpable. “The usual, babe?”

“Yes.”

He rubbed my head and shuffled some bottle around.

“Rough day at the office?”

My eyes widened when I heard this new, accented voice. I lifted my head and moved the hair out of my face, locking eyes with the man beside me waiting for an answer.

“You have no idea.” I glanced over at my friend pouring vodka into a shot glass and tipping it into a larger tumbler.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His eyebrows were raised and his accent was making me weak. They always did.

I put my elbows on the bar and leaned forward. “If I start, I’ll end up complaining for three years. I think I’ll spare you.”

He smiled and looked down at his hands. “I feel that.”

“Didn’t have a great day either?”

“Not exactly.” He patted the stool in between us and I lifted myself into it, turning to face him.

“Wanna drink it away?”

He smiled and looked down as a tall glass on a coaster was placed in front of me. I mouthed a thank you and turned my attention back him, lifting the glass and taking a sip. He smirked, turned away and asked for a Jack and coke. “I’m Chris by the way.”

I extended my hand and introduced myself. He shook it and raised the glass that had just been put in front of him. We clinked and just started talking. I told him about my day, trying not to unload too much on a complete stranger. He told me he had just moved here and was meant to be having dinner with some friends but preferred the conversation he was having here. Less pretentious.

One drink turned into three, which turned into five and Chris wasn’t holding up so well. A friend of his came to the bar, telling him they were leaving and asked if he wanted a ride. He told them he’d be alright and wished them a good night. I have to admit, it felt kind of nice.

By drink number seven, it was obvious to both me and my friend that Chris had had enough. His speech was slurring, he was giggling at every little thing and what was coming out of his mouth could only be defined as complete nonsense.

“Time to take our little friend home I think.” The bar was closing and there were only a couple of people left in the restaurant so we would have to leave soon anyway.

I put my jacket on and helped Chris into his, said goodnight to my friend and stumbled out into the cold street. I asked him where he lived but he refused to give me an answer, saying he didn’t want to go back, that the night was young and so was he.

“You’re drunk, dumbass. I think the night is over.”

He waved a hand in the air and started clicking his fingers. “What’s that phrase? It’s not over until… the fat lady sings?” He smiled triumphantly, thrusting a fist into the air.

I raised an eyebrow and sang a note. “There, night’s over. Gotta go home now.”

He held my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “You’re not fat, it doesn’t count! Let’s find another bar!” He bit his bottom lip and stumbled as he tried to turn away. I barely caught him, stopping him from landing on the hard concrete.

I swore under my breath and got him upright, told him I knew a place and that he should follow me. We walked for 15 minutes to my apartment on the other side of the city. The cold air had sobered him up a fraction and his sentences were slightly more coherent.

“This is not a bar.” He whined when we stopped in front of my building.

“No, but I have booze. Come on.”

I unlocked my door and turned some lights on, ushering him in and locking it again behind him.

“Nice place,” he looked around, his mouth slightly agape. Small trinkets from my travels littered every flat surface that wasn’t a dining table or a bench. His eyes skated over photos of landscapes on the walls, snow globes by the TV, and the mini eiffel tower by the window, but the elephants on the coffee table caught his attention. “Who are these bad boys?”

I shot him a quizzical look and giggled. “Dante and Aristotle.”

He stopped playing with the figures and met my eyes. “Are you serious?” I nodded and he smiled, turning his attention back to the metal figures. “Where’d you get these?” His ringed fingers glided over the detailed indents, down the trunk and over one of the ears.

“India.” I hung my jacket by the door and went behind the bench, looking for some glasses.

He perked up. “What’s India like?”

“Amazing. Dirty. Colourful. Slightly dangerous. Beautiful.”

He stood up and tilted his head. “A mixed review?”

I shrugged. “I loved it there but it wasn’t exactly how it’s depicted in Bollywood movies.” I handed him a glass of water while he nodded knowingly. He smelt the top and pursed his lips, meeting my eyes. “Come on, you have to have something better than this.”

I shook my head slowly. “Chris, it’s super late and I have to work in a few hours. You won’t tell me where you’re staying and I’m not gonna leave you out in the street in the state you’re in. I’d like to get a tiny bit of sleep instead of babysit the drunk.”

He checked the time on his phone and his eyes widened. “Shit, how is it 1.30 already!”

“Magic. Come on, you can have my room.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked at me. I raised my finger and shook my head. “Not a chance.” I turned away and walked down the hall, turned on the light in my room and went over to the desk to get my pyjamas.

He walked past me, placed his glass on the bedside table and sat on the bed, bouncing a couple of times.

“Make yourself comfortable, love.”

He fell backwards and stretched his arms out. “It’s nice here.”

“Yeah, I like it.” I walked to the bathroom, removed my makeup and changed before walking back into the room to drop off my clothes.

Chris quickly got up and took my arm while I was tossing my outfit into the laundry hamper. “This isn’t right. You should stay here, I’ll sleep on the couch.” His accent got heavier as he spoke, the drowsiness evident. His hair fell into his face and he shook his head to the side forcefully.

“It’s fine. My couch is not the most comfortable place in the world, not appropriate for a guest. Trust me. Goodnight, Chris. Sleep well.”

He raised a hand and held my cheek, running his thumb along my cheekbone. “Goodnight, preciosa.” He kissed my cheek and I smiled slightly before closing the door behind me.

By the time I woke up again and got ready for work, he was still asleep. I left a post it note on the mirror in the bathroom saying “Coffee is in the pantry. Pain killers are in the first drawer on the left. Let me know if you can’t find anything” and left my number.

When I came home later that evening, my immediate instinct was to eat. Nothing like dealing with idiots to work up an appetite. My phone rang while I was making dinner, interrupting my musically induced daze. Throwing a tea towel over my shoulder, I went to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Chris!”

“Chris?”

“...from the bar last night?” His voice trailed off.

I paused enough to tease, trying to conceal my laugh at the desperation in his voice. “Oh right! Super tall, blonde, Swedish cutie, right?”

“Ha ha.”

I let out a giggle and ran my fingers through my hair. “Hi Chris.”

“Having fun there? I thought I called the wrong number.”

“Mehh, a little bit.” I couldn’t help but smile when I heard him laugh into the phone.

“What are you doing?”

I moved back over to the stove and stirred. “Making dinner. What are you doing?”

“Looking for somewhere to eat. And I think I just found a KFC.” He sounded so amazed.

“KFC? No! There are hundreds of amazing restaurants in the city and you’re gonna go to KFC?”

“It’s good though!”

I groaned as loudly as I could into the microphone. “No, Jersey! Find something else!”

He laughed so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “Ok, ok, listen, I found this bar, not too far from your place. Wanna meet me there in about an hour? I’ll buy you a drink, thank you for last night?”

I sighed and shrugged. “Why not?”

He texted me an address, I ate, got ready and headed out.

The bar was well lit with dark wooden tables and just crowded enough not to be annoying. Most patrons were focused on the football game on every screen spread throughout the room. The smell of beer was prominent. I was able to grab a table as a couple of people were leaving while Chris tried to get some drinks.

Just as he was getting closer to me, the room burst into angry screaming. Grown men shouting “that was a dirty tackle” and “that's gotta be a penalty” filled my ears and scared Chris half to death.

“You guys take football pretty seriously around here huh?” He placed my glass in front of me and sat down.

“Wait til finals season. This is nothing!”

He shook his head and smiled. We watched for a little while but the game was nearly over and it wasn't be long before most of the bar filed out and we could actually hear each other. He told me about his travels and I told him about the places I had been and where I wanted to go.

After about an hour, Chris suggested we go somewhere else.

“Where do you wanna go?” I asked when we got out onto the street.

He turned on his heel to face me. “I don't know. Know any places around here that play decent music?”

I looked around and got my bearings. “Depends. Do you define rock as decent?”

His grin was enough of an answer so I told him to follow me.

We could hear the sound of guitars flood the street as we rounded the corner. This place was dark, most of the light in the room illuminating the bar towards the back. The dance floor was packed with people headbanging and dancing to noughties rock. I looked at Chris who was smiling like he just found paradise.

“You cool with this?” I shouted into his ear.

“Fuck yeah!”

We pushed through the crowd to the bar and I leaned forward to shake hands with the bartender and kiss his cheek before asking for our drinks.

Chris stood behind me and leaned close to my ear. “Come here often?”

I nodded and tilted my head to reach his ear. “Here and there. It's a great place.”

He agreed and we made our way back through the crowd with our glasses. We drank, we danced, we tried to talk and before I knew it, it was 1am. I showed an inebriated Chris my phone and pointed to the door. He gave me a puppy dog face but shrugged and took my hand as we made our way out.

“Ok I love that place!” he near shouted apparently oblivious to the fact that the sound barrier was now gone.

I laughed and readjusted my purse. “It's a great place.”

He grabbed my shoulders and made me focus my attention back on him. “But the night's not over yet, nena.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm hungry. Wanna get something to eat?”

I dropped my shoulders. Tomorrow was gonna suck.

He smiled and took my hand, near dragging me down the street. We found a sushi bar that was still open, got a few rolls and walked to the city square. Sitting in the light of the street lamps surrounding us, we laughed as we tried to feed each other, soy sauce dripping down our hands. I took a sip of my coke in an attempt to calm myself down. My cheeks were starting to hurt and my breathing was out of control.

Our eyes met briefly while I screwed the lid back on. He sighed, dropped his head and focused his attention on the street in front of us. “You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that, nena.”

My eyebrows knit together while I examined his profile. “Like what?”

His long eyelashes fluttered. His perfect lips slightly apart while he tried to find the words. “With those amazing eyes in this light; and those beautiful lips…” He trailed off and sighed again, resting his hand on the side of my neck and running his thumb over my jaw. He leaned in closer, eyes focused on mine, darting to my lips and closing them before our lips met.

He kissed me slowly and lightly, pecking at my lips before pulling away and meeting my eyes. I looked for any signs of regret and found none. He smiled and leaned in again, covering my mouth with his. I took his bottom lip between mine and tilted my head slightly. His tongue found mine, working in complete synchronisation while his hand slid into my hair, holding me in place. My hands came up around his neck as I tried to push my body closer to his.

We pulled away from each other, completely breathless but still desperately pecking each other’s lips. He pressed his forehead to mine. “We should get out of here.”

I nodded hastily and he helped me up, disposing of what was left of our food and stumbling down the street, stopping every few steps and reattaching our lips.

We crashed through the door, slamming it into the wall. I tried to reach for it while I kissed Chris, finally finding it and throwing it closed before he pushed me backwards, my back colliding with the hardwood. He pulled off his jacket and threw it to the ground. His hands gripped into my hair, sliding down my neck to my sides as his lips moved down my jaw and collarbone, feverishly covering my skin in hot, open-mouthed kisses.

My hands gripped the hem of his shirt and pushed it up his torso. He pulled himself away from my chest and lifted his arms, letting me lift the material over his head and tossing it to the side. My fingers dug into his hair and pulled his head to the side as I desperately kissed his neck.

His fingers slipped under my jacket, over my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His hands slid up my upper arms, forcing them into the air. He crumpled my shirt at my hips, untucking it from my jeans and pulled it off. His fingers clamped into the tops of my breasts, grazing over my skin and down my back until he reached the clasp of my bra, undoing it expertly. His eyes widened as he watched the black fabric slowly drag down my skin and land on the floor. He smiled and met my eyes before kissing me again.

His strong hands curved around my ass and lifted one of my legs around his waist, pushing his crotch in between my legs. His breathy moans spurred me on. He still tasted like whisky. His other hand gripped into my other leg and lifted me onto him, crossing my ankles around his back. He pushed against the door and turned us around. My nails crawled down his shoulders and back while I started another assault on his neck as he walked down the hall to my room.

The moonlight shone through the large window as he threw me onto the bed, watching my chest bounce on impact. He bit into his lip and placed a knee in between my legs, a hand coming up near my head as he lowered himself onto me, gently moving my hair away from his face before covering my mouth with is perfect lips.

My fingers worked to undo his belt and jeans, pushing them and his boxers down to wrap my hand around his cock. It felt thicker than I had imagined. As my hand slid down his length, my eyes widened. I broke the kiss and looked down, threw my head back into the mattress and knew I was in trouble.

He smirked down at me and held my cheek. “See something you like?” His accent was so thick, I could feel myself get wetter with every word. I nodded weakly and pulled on the back of his neck to bring his face back down to mine, my hand continuing to slide up and down his amazing shaft.

His hand gently worked its way down my torso to the top of my jeans and unbuttoned them, pulled down the zipper. He lifted himself back up and I kicked my shoes off before he pulled the denim down my legs. Leaning down, he kissed the fabric of my underwear and gripped the sides, sliding them off and kissing my inner thighs.

He kissed his way back up my chest and around my clavicle while his fingers slipped in between my folds. “Carajo, so wet mami.” I sighed loudly and let my fingers dig into his hair again. My grip tightened when he pushed two fingers into my aching core until I felt the cool metal of his ring on my entrance. He pumped and curled them slowly a few times before adding another finger.

I heard him swear under his breath against my skin before his tongue started to swirl around my nipple. My breathing was getting heavier by the second and I needed more. He pulled his fingers out of my entrance and sat up, licking my essence and maintaining eye contact. The sight alone was intoxicating.

I pulled my eyes away to turn onto my stomach, crawling on the bed until I got to the bedside table and found a condom. I threw it at him and he tore it open, sliding it on before positioning himself in front of me, pulling my legs apart. He aligned his now hard cock at my entrance and hovered over me, pecking at my cheek and jaw while he pushed himself into me.

My vision blurred slightly until he was fully inside and I held onto his shoulders for support. He pulled out almost completely and plunged into me again, a moan escaping my lips. He started a steady pace and thrusted into me, creating a good rhythm of the headboard banging into my bathroom wall.

I could feel my nails marking his skin. My walls suffocated his length as his grip on my leg tightened. My heels dug into his back as he continued to pound into me, groaning and murmuring my name right into my ear. The curve of his cock reached new places and as his pace picked up, I heard myself moan louder.

He pushed himself up and pulled out of me, his dick damn near glistening in what little light there was in the room. He lifted my legs onto his shoulders and aligned himself again. “Let me hear you, baby.” He growled.

I screamed his name repeatedly as he resumed his pace. His hands came around and squeezed my breasts, playing with them and focusing on my nipples every now and then.

“Cariño, I’m so close.” he grunted. “Are you?”

“Not yet, I need more.”

He spread my legs and started circling my clit with his thumb. I gasped loudly and gripped into the sheets. “Yes! Yes! Like that!” My hips started moving on their own volition, meeting his thrusts as I started to shudder. His other hand held my hip in place as he continued to plunge into me.

I held onto his forearm and told him I was gonna come, panting and shaking underneath him. He shook and moaned as he came seconds before I did. My walls clenched around him amazingly tightly. The room filled with profanities and each other’s names. Hot breath on each other’s skin. Evidence of my climax dripping down my leg as he pulled out, rolled onto his side and removed the condom.

“Well, that was-”

“Yeah,” he panted, cutting me off as he looked at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. He turned his head towards me and lifted his arm over my head as I rested my head on his chest. His arm came down and rubbed my arm while I traced the diamond tattoo on his chest.

*****

The next couple of weeks were the most enjoyable I had had in awhile. I showed him around the city, taking in skyscraper views, walks by the river and hidden places only the locals know about. Chris was sweet and caring. He was willing to try new things and kept me in giggles. After work, he was there to take the edge off. Satisfying me in ways I hadn’t know since I’d lost the love of my life.

He had two speeds, he was either out and about or in bed. Spending the night in was a foreign concept.

I almost felt like a fog had cleared and everything seemed lighter but going days without seeing him didn't eat me alive. We both led busy lives. He was just fun to be around from time to time.

I yawned as I got into the lift and pressed the button for my floor. I undid my bun and shook my hair out, ready to re-tie it when the doors opened again. I rummaged around in my bag for my keys and looped them around my finger while I walked to my door.

The lights were on and a very tall man stood in the kitchen area, taking in a painting on the wall.

He turned as I closed the door. “I like what you've done with the place.”

I put my bag on the dining table and threw my keys aside. My mouth slightly opened while my brain tried to process what was going on.

His hands stayed in his pockets as he moved away from the bench, standing a maximum of five paces away.

“What are you doing here?” was all I could mutter.

“I still have the key. I'm surprised you didn't change the locks to be honest.” He smiled and I tried to keep myself from melting.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “No, what are you doing here?”

He raised his shoulders. “I'm moving back.”

I shook my head, still not able to get my head around it all. “What changed your mind?”

He took a step forward and sighed. “I don't belong at home anymore. It took me a while to get it but I belong wherever you are.”

My pulse was racing. I fought the urge to run into his arms. To touch him again. To kiss him. To go back to that familiar feeling.

He tilted his head to the side and looked me up and down before meeting my eyes. “Didn’t you miss me?”

I nodded slowly. “Like crazy.”

His lips curved into a smile and he took his hands out of his pockets. “Come here, baby girl.”

I dropped my arms and walked into his, my hands wrapping around his neck as he held me tightly. He smelt like sweet cologne and coffee. I exhaled slowly and reveled in the feeling. He pulled away, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and kissed me slowly. His lips grazed against mine before pulling away. I couldn’t help but smile as I leaned in and kissed him again.

He pulled me flush against him while his tongue delved into my mouth, exploring every nook and cranny, our eagerness growing by the second. My hands dug into his hair and I started turning us around, walking backwards down the hall. He broke the kiss and bent down, lifting me into his arms, bridal style.

I giggled and threw my head back before reattaching my lips to his. He lay me down gently on the sheets and stood up straight.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he murmured.

I sat up and clutched the front of his shirt, bringing his lips down to mine. We slowly fell backwards, hungrily running our hands all over each other.

*****

A few days later, I got a message from Christopher, asking me to come over after work.

I bit my lip in anticipation, forgetting for a second the situation I was in.

My heart thundered in my chest as I walked to his apartment. I knocked on his door and thought about turning around for the hundredth time. I was about to turn around when the door opened, revealing a very shirtless Chris.

He smiled and leaned against the doorframe. “Hola, preciosa.”

I shook my head slowly. “Fuckin thirst trap.”

He laughed and extended a hand, pulling me in and closing the door behind us.

“Can I get you anything?” He kissed the back of my hand and let it go, making his way to the kitchen. “Coke? Water? Vodka?”

I picked at my cuticles, keeping my head down. “Nah, it’s ok, I can’t stay long.”

“Quicky, huh?” I glared at him while he smirked. He shook his hair out and gave me a face I could only describe as one of the sexiest things I had ever seen. He stalked towards me and held my face, tilting it towards his. “Something wrong?”

I licked my lips. “We need to talk.”

“Uh oh.”

I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Listen, my ex came back the other day.”

His face fell and he swallowed. “Ok..”

“We-we can’t do this anymore.”

He held my cheek, his eyes focused on mine.

“I don’t wanna hurt you but...I love him.”

He exhaled and dropped his hand. “No me importa carajo.”

My brow creased as I squinted at him.

“You want me, baby, I know you do. You’ll be back.”

I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head. “Does it hurt, carrying that ego around all day?”

He laughed and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “What? It’s true though.”

I shook my head, trying to conceal the smile forming.

“Well, in the spirit of being honest, there’s something I should tell you.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and nodded. “Ok, tell me.”

“Umm,” he rubbed the back of his neck and looked at me. “I have a girlfriend.”

The shock hit me right in the face.

“Wow, ok.” I looked around the room, anywhere but at him.

“Yeah…” he trailed off. “But she’s not you.”

I finally met his eyes. The big brown orbs looked as ernest as I had ever seen them.

“Look, whatever this is,” he waved his hand in between us, “I don’t want it to end; and I don’t think you do either.”

I pursed my lips. He was right. As much as I loved the man, Chris was...irresistible. And amazing. And insatiable. And massive.

He stepped around me and circled me. “Listen, he doesn’t have to know about me, she doesn’t have to know about you. It doesn’t have to end.” He stopped behind me and slowly rubbed my arms, kissing the back of my head.

“But-”

“Don’t worry, nena. It’ll be fine.” His hands slid down my sides achingly slowly until they came to the hem of my shirt. “Everyone will be happy.” His fingers started lifting the hem. “All four of us.” He lips grazed the shell of my ear. “Felices los cuatro, baby.”

I sighed and turned in his arms, crashing my lips onto his passionately.

[sarakuper]

Cali; the salsa capital

Stop #10, February 11-17

We landed in Cali late Tuesday night and got to our hostel, The Pelican Larry. Our “private bedroom” was awkwardly filled with one queen bed and two sets of bunk beds… and a bunch of skeeters!

Wednesday we walked around, ate a delish vegetarian lunch, and attempted to go to the river to cool down. After traveling about 45 minutes by bus, we waited for next one we needed to take, but it never showed. There’s a chance this bus only ran on Saturday’s but honestly we weren’t too sure. It was already 4pm by the time we decided to turn around, since we were warned to leave the river by 5 for safety. Even though our plans for the day totally failed, I still thought the bus system here is actually pretty impressive. 

Back at the hostel other travelers, including 3 German girls traveling on their gap year, invited us to visit Cristo Rey to watch the sunset. We ended up being a group of 8, taking two cabs to get there. We enjoyed the views and the sunset, then Sean, myself and two others went for a vegan dinner in town that was cheap and yummy. 

That night several of us played games at the hostel around a big table and eventually got ready to go out for salsa. We went to La Topa Tolondra, a famous salsa club. I thought I knew some salsa from when I traveled in Peru but Cali salsa is so different!!! I knew almost nothing of the dance moves. Cali is known for salsa and their nightlife so even though Sean and I are early birds, I did my best to embrace this. Sean wasn’t thrilled to go out, especially for salsa, but he came for me. 

The next day we slept in late missing the free (and basic) breakfast by the hostel. I spent all day working on some applications for jobs while Sean did Duolingo for hours. I didn’t know it until later but he was very determined to exceed my XP. Only duolingo-ers will understand that reference (Sue gets it)! The rest of the day was spent working on extending our travel visa and participating in an interview to volunteer at the spanish school we went to when we first arrived in Colombia. In the evening I joined the free intro to Cali Salsa dance class offered by the hostel. It was actually pretty fun, and a nice way to meet other travels too. And after learning all the basic steps, of course I wanted to go ahead and practice what I learned! 

Later that night many of us went out again, and since I felt safe to go with this group of people Sean stayed back since it was not interesting to him. The salsa bar we went to this night was called Tintindeo and was so much fun! I enjoyed it much more than the other salsa club because it felt more like a bar you could hang out in and also dance salsa with a lot less intimidation. The salsa club from the previous night was slightly awkward in that you were either dancing salsa or awkwardly watching along the side lines. Tintindeo has fun lights, and all of the salsa teachers were there (probably to encourage people to purchase private salsa lessons with them) and they were amazing to dance with! Of course they know you are learning, but some are better than others in leading and two of the teachers in particular made me feel like I knew what the hell I was doing!! By the end of the night I was super sweaty; I knew I had tried my best! 

Around 1 am the bar came to a close and the group I was with wanted to head to a raggaeton club nearby. Since it was considerably early I went along, but when I got there I felt like it was sketchy and the best of the night was behind us. I’ve learned that usually “the next place” is never as good as the first when the first one was a blast. So why stay out? I decided to leave, and so a friend put me in a cab to assure I’d get back safe. During the ride I followed the blue dot on my phone on google maps to ensure the driver was taking me to the right place. All was good, and even though Sean locked me out of the room on accident, the 24 hour host was able to let me in. 

There had been a lot of talk about ELN, a guerrilla group still remaining in Colombia, engaging in a violent protest from Friday - Sunday, February 14-16. Talk was that the cities were safe, but the small towns outside the city were not. We heard of tourists being told not to take busses between cities for their own safety. Afraid of this threat, we decided to extend our initial 3 day visit to Cali into a 6 day visit. We changed hostels on Friday and stayed until Monday morning, when it was reportedly safe to travel again.

This next hostel, Green House, was very quiet and relaxed. There were only 3 other tourists staying, 2 of them being Israeli’s on their gap year after the army. I love meeting Israeli’s because I feel like I have so much to talk about with them; being jewish, my family in Israel, and having visited the country many times. Usually when I travel to Central or South AmericaI meet many Israeli’s, but being there for 2 months at this point, these two were the first ones we met! 

After attempting to cook some version of the delicious lentil patties we’ve been eating (total fail btw) we got ready to go out to experience another club, this time not for Salsa. After reading a lot about Cali I understand now that their nightlife really is the main attraction of visiting Cali, and so this would be my 3rd night in a row going out! Sean was being a trooper and coming along with me. I had hoped the lack of salsa would make it more interesting for him. 

I had a few drinks with the Israeli’s while we talked a bunch. Sean didn’t feel like joining the conversation even though I tried to include him time and time again, as did the two Israeli’s, he didn’t budge. Sometimes it’s hard because I absolutely love socializing (when I actually like the people), and traveling as a couple makes it slightly harder to socialize than when I had traveled alone in the past. Anyway, Sean and I eventually went out to La Pergola which had a $20.000 cover (about $6). Even though this is quite expensive, we weren’t buying drinks there and were really going for the experience. As we approached the club in our cab we could hear the music from down the street. There was a long line to get in that moved surprisingly quickly. The club was huge and completely open having great views of the surrounding city. There were 3 floors playing different types of music, and really was a sight to see. It was especially fun when a very popular latin song came on and everyone in the club sang it together. We stayed until 1am before hopping into a cab back to the hostel.

The rest of the weekend, we spent our time just hanging out trying to avoid the serious heat of this place. By 1pm it gets so hot, all you can think about is swimming. By 2pm we left for a cab to Acuaparque de la Cana to spend the late afternoon in a children/family water park. We felt like teenagers having fun on all the watersides, walking around in our swim suits, eagerly checking out the next fun thing to do. One of Sean’s favorite was the zip line where you hung (together) on a bar that zip lines above a pool. You have to let go before it reaches the end plopping you right into the water! We did this one several times throughout the day. 

We did other rides as well including a high and long waterslide. Sean and I went on a slide, side by side, and my slide gave me a huge wedgie just before it shot me into the pool. Sean loved that one too, but I could not handle that level of discomfort again and so I chose to pass on repeating it. Another fun one was the toilet bowl (or at least that’s what we called it when we visited waterparks at camp)! We rented a two person tube that shot us through a tube spitting you out into a “bowl” that you flung around and around until you made it to the bottom. That one was super fun :) The last ride of the day for us was the wave pool, since it was 5pm and everything else was closing. It was fun and enjoyable until Sean realized how dirty the pool was and how much hair was in the water (LOL). 

Our last day in Cali we waited for the heat to pass before heading out for a bite and some walking around. We walked through the [very strange] cat statues, as well as a lovely park for people watching. Our time in Cali was fun, but now it’s time to leave (hopefully to somewhere less hot)!

Thanks for reading fam, love you all.