#she's had the same green eyes for *seven years* and changing that feels almost painful

[justfranzz]

A Ledge and the Sun

Ledge Gorman wasn't special.

Everyone knew that, most of all him.

His name wasn't really Ledge - it was Shawn. When he was sixteen years old, feeling insane with anonymity, he climbed out the window of his high school science class and walked along the concrete lip that jutted out of the wall.

His science teacher yelled at him to come in. His classmates, who didn't know his name (no one ever remembered his name), just watched.

Gray Meder smiled, punching another student in the arm and taking the two twenty dollar bills that were reluctantly offered. "Told ya the pushover would do it."

Shawn reached the edge of the lip. His fingers dug into the cracks in the brick wall, blood leaking from his fingertips where the skin scraped off.

His science teacher was still yelling, sounding almost in hysterics; he threatened to call Shawn's parents, call the cops, fail Shawn in the class, something.

Shawn gazed down at the ground below. He was only on the second floor, and the sports equipment shed was right below where he perched. It was only about a seven foot drop. He'd survive for sure, just might break a bone or two if he landed wrong.

Logic didn't make him any less terrified.

He glanced back one more time. He saw Gray's cocksure grin, the way the boy casually flicked his hand as if to say, Go on. Do it.

Shawn took one deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and jumped.

For a moment, he felt like he was flying, like the wind had swept under his armpits and lifted him into the sky. For a moment, he was a leaf, swirling and dipping and rising with the breeze, making the world his plaything.

Then he was falling.

Too late, much too late, Shawn realized that he had jumped too far. He was going to miss the shed entirely.

His foot just grazed the tin roof of the shed, jerking his ankle to the side at an odd angle.

Hot asphalt raced up to meet him.

Sharp, lancing pain as his arms shot out to brace his fall.

Hello, the asphalt said. So nice of you to join us. Won't you stay a while?

His head slammed into the black tar, and he was out.

When he woke up in the hospital, they told him he had broken his right wrist and three of his fingers, fractured his radius in two places, twisted his ankle, and gotten a mild concussion to boot. Everything hurt. For the first time, at sixteen years old, Shawn thought, I want to die.

His father picked him up. They didn't speak the whole car ride home.

When they arrived, his father spoke, his voice a harsh whisper. "Don't ever do something so foolish again," he said, eyes firmly locked on the front door, unable to look at his son.

His stupid, un-special failure of a son.

They didn't speak of it after that.

Three days later, when he returned to school, Gray slid a five dollar bill across the desk to Shawn. He stared at it for a moment, flexing his unbroken fingers, trying to ignore the aching pain that had wrapped itself around him like an old friend.

"You said twenty."

"Oh, did I? Must've changed my mind." Gray leered at him, greasy hair plastered to his forehead. "You didn't jump far enough, Ledge Boy."

No one remembered his name after that, either. He became Ledge, the crazy kid who had jumped from the second story for a measly five bucks.

They were right, he thought, staring out the window. He was a ledge. He wasn't a person. He was a decoration, just another brick in the wall, held together by glue and mortar.

He felt some kinship for the ledge he had jumped from. We're the same, you and I. See your cracks, there - look, we match. And he thought of the x-rays they had shown him in the hospital, the splinters and cobweb cracks in his bones. He was just another old, forgotten piece of concrete, forever fading into the background, never to be noticed.

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Two years later, at eighteen, Ledge was rejected for the first time. Her name was Mary Crosh. She had short dark hair, striking green eyes, and freckles like a constellation across her skin. Mary loved history, and she had a mind like a whipcord, quick and always ready to strike.

She did it gently, kindly - she had always kind of seen him as a brother - it wasn't him, she just didn't have time for a boyfriend right now - they could still be friends if he wanted? - he seemed sweet but she just didn't feel the same - it just wasn't the right time - maybe after they graduated…

Ledge wished she had been cruel. He wished she had taken the heart he offered and thrown it to the ground, spit on it, crushed it beneath her heel. Then, at least, he could hate her, could resent her; then he could say, "I dodged a bullet on that one! She wasn't worth liking at all."

Lying curled under his blankets at three a.m. that night, dried tear tracks heavy on his skin, Ledge thought for the second time in his life:

I want to die.

Two weeks later, when he walked in on her making out with the quarterback of the football team, Ledge lost a little piece of himself, a piece he would never get back.

But he knew, he had always known, that she would reject him. That she would end up kissing some football player.

Because he was Ledge. The kid who nobody remembered except for jumping out of a window, and even that was forgotten eventually. The kid who was as un-special, as anonymous, as generic and forgettable as anyone can be.

He was as lovable as the concrete ledge just outside the window, and every bit as cracked and broken.

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Mary wanted to go to Southern New Hampshire University. They had a good history program, she said. She wanted to be a history teacher.

Ledge would be a teacher too, he decided. He would go to SNHU, and maybe he would have classes with Mary, and maybe then the time would be right. Maybe then she would love him.

There was lots of history in architecture, after all, and he was the oldest piece of walking concrete he knew.

She wouldn't love him. Not now, not after he got a degree, not ever. He knew that. But he didn't know where else to go. Bricks of concrete don't have dreams. Support beams don't make goals, cornerstones don't join clubs, wooden floors don't have career plans.

He didn't care much for kids, didn't know the first thing about teaching, but he could learn. He had to learn. He had nowhere else to go.

So he would follow Mary, and he would become someone who was more than architecture, and if she never noticed him that was fine, at least he would have a clear path. At least he would have a goal. At least he would have a degree and a job.

He looked up guides for writing college applications, pretended he knew what he was doing, that he was a normal high school kid applying for a normal school with normal hopes and dreams.

With an anticlimactic click of his mouse, the application was sent in. He let out a quiet breath, slumped back in his chair, stared at the little box that said "submitted."

He was a ledge, he was a shitty college application, he was a pile of dirty clothes in the corner of his room, he was a forgotten, half-drained can of soda.

Ledge turned off his computer monitor and went to bed.

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A week before his nineteenth birthday, Ledge got a letter in the mail from SNHU. He opened it with trembling hands, the scars from his once-broken fingers itching with adrenaline.

Dear Mr. Gorman… Thank you for applying to Southern New Hampshire… we regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you… this year's selection has been competitive… cannot accept every applicant… honored that you considered us as one of your choices… respectfully…

Ledge didn't cry. He just tossed the letter in the garbage, all of his hopes and dreams going with it. He packed a duffel bag with his clothes and some of his favorite books, grabbed his phone charger, and left.

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At nineteen, he got his first job.

Working as a convenience store cashier all night - the graveyard shift paid better - no one else was willing to work it - reading whatever books he could get his hands on by day - cleaning his uniform at the laundromat - sleeping in his car because he couldn't drag himself up the stairs to his apartment - he dreamed of a shed he had missed once - maybe he could have fallen in love with it instead - green eyes and freckles haunted him - then he was waking up, putting on his uniform, going to guard the pretzels and the Coke Products and the shitty cheap sandwiches.

After three months, they hired a new guy, one who was willing to work the night shift. They didn't talk much at first, but there's not much to do for eight hours straight while the rest of the world is busy courting their dreams.

His name was Ben, and he was twenty-three, and he always smelled like cigarette smoke. They quickly found out that they were nothing alike. Ben was someone special - he played in a band, not a big one but they made some money from shows, not enough though, that's why he worked here, he had a girlfriend he wanted to propose to, but he didn't have the money for a ring or a wedding, that's why he got the second job.

Ben talked a lot. "Momma says I came outta the womb talkin'," he would say in lieu of an apology. "Jus' up n' babblin', right from the start. Ain't never been able to shut me up since."

After a few days, he finally asked.

"What's up with your name, kid? Didja get 'Ledge' from your momma, or did it find you?"

Ledge didn't answer. Ben waited in silence for a few minutes before a wordless agreement passed between them. The older man jumped into a story - something about a duck and a can of spray paint - seamlessly, as if the silence had never happened.

Ben didn't ask any more personal questions after that.

They spent their nights like that - Ben talking all night, Ledge just listening. 

It saved him, in a way, all of the words. At first they were just that - words. But slowly, over months, they built up a little hearth in his chest, warming him from the inside. Ben was like the Sun, giving and giving and giving every day and never taking anything in return. He never expected anything back, didn't even expect Ledge to listen most days, and his carefree warmth restored something in Ledge that he had lost when he was sixteen years old.

For just a few hours every day, stuck in that cold, unforgiving convenience store, Ledge relaxed. He was no longer an impersonal slab of concrete, a pothole on the side of the road, a decrepit stop sign on an upaved back road.

For exactly eight hours, Ledge was a person. He was a boy, he was a book nerd, he liked the color red, he missed his father, he wanted to be loved, he wished he had gone to college, he wanted to play sports and be a jock and have sex and get married to a woman with a whipcord brain.

For the first time since he jumped, Ledge thought, I don't want to die.

The first time Ledge laughed, Ben froze, just for a split second. He jumped right back into his story as if he'd never stopped, but he didn't even try to hold back the huge grin that stretched across his face.

They became sort of friends, after that. They hung out after work - Ben would smoke a cigarette or five and talk about his girl, Delilah, and Ledge would just sit and listen, imagining short dark hair and green eyes.

"You can't even get it, until you've seen 'er," Ben would say. "She's somethin' else. Taller n' Mount Everest - six-foot-three - legs that go on forever, I mean forever, you could look at 'er for ten years and never get to the bottom - kisses like lightnin' man, lightnin' - don't even get me started on the sex - I'm gonna put a ring on her finger n' love her forever - I'd give 'er every star in the sky if she asked…"

Then, a month and a half later, they broke up.

"I was gonna propose, but she said she wanted to talk before I could. I thought, 'It's okay, I'll tell her after. S'prolly somethin' about the vacation we were plannin'.'" He paused, sniffled weakly.

"She wanted me to leave the band," he whispered, seeming dim for the first time since they had met. "She said she needs me to stay in one place. Wants t' settle down, for good. Says she can't handle me bein' on tour all the time, always bein' away from 'er… she even thought I was cheatin', man."

For the first time in the six months they had known each other, Ledge saw him cry. Not nice, pretty, quiet tears; ugly, sobbing cries that wrenched right from his heart and out his chest.

"I loved 'er," he gasped, face twisted like he was in unbearable physical pain. "I still love her. I wanted t' build my life on her, man. I wanted to give her everythin'. But… she… she asked for the one thing I can't give. I can't leave the band. Those guys are my family, man, they're my whole world. She asked me to choose between my heart n' my lungs, and I just couldn't do it."

They sat in the back for another hour like that, Ben crumpled in on himself like a withering flower, Ledge just sitting next to him in silence.

Finally, Ben grew silent, too exhausted to cry any more. He gazed dully at the polished floor beneath them, fingers running over the ring he wore, the one he had almost given to his heart.

"Thank you," he murmured into the space between them, red eyes meeting Ledge's. He nodded, opened his mouth, closed it. He didn't know what to say.

"My name is Shawn," he finally said. Ben sat up a little, and Ledge bit his lip, trying not to look at him out of the corner of his eye. If he thought too hard, or moved, or looked at the man next to him, he would lose his courage.

Ben waited.

"I jumped out of a window. Second story. I was in tenth grade."

Ben blinked, fingers stilling on the ring. "You- what? Why?"

Ledge pressed his lips together, reminding himself that it was okay, this was Ben.

"I… was desperate." He sighed harshly, and suddenly the words were bubbling out of him, and he couldn't stop. "My dad doesn't love me. He never has. Or, maybe he did when I was little, but he doesn't now. I wanted to be noticed. I wanted someone to remember me.

"This kid, he was stupid, it was stupid, he bet me twenty bucks I wouldn't jump out of the window. I… I thought my father would talk to me, if I did. I thought he would punish me, at least. So… I climbed out on the ledge outside the window and I jumped. That's- that's why they called me Ledge. It… stuck, I guess. Maybe with me most of all."

He told Ben about flying, and about Mary, and about how he was a ledge and a pothole and everything else, and about Southern New Hampshire University, and about not being able to cry, and about everything else he could think to say. By the time he was done, he felt full, like somehow instead of leaving his mouth the words had tunneled backwards down his throat into his chest.

Ben was quiet for a bit, before he offered a small, genuine smile. "I don't think you're a ledge, man. For what it's worth. I think you're a person."

For the first time in three years, Ledge cried. Ben cried again too, this time for his friend, wet sobs that sounded almost painful.

Ledge silently thanked whatever god may or may not be out there for giving him the Sun, for giving him this bright, warm friend who didn't care that he wasn't special.

As they cleaned up at the end of their shift, Ben sighed. "I'm gonna quit here," he said, staring down at the mop in his hands. "I was only here for Delilah… jus' to save up for the ring n' the wedding. I stayed here longer than I was plannin' cuz, well. You're here."

And he offered up another smile, the barest glimmer of his usual radiance shining in it.

"But now, I mean… I just don't got any reason to stay longer."

Ledge was silent for a few minutes, just taking this in. He had always known Ben would leave eventually. He was going to leave from the start. It was like he had said - he was only there to save for the ring.

Ledge sighed. Why was he still there? He had enough saved up to move to a better part of town, get a better job. But… he didn't want that. Not really. There was nothing waiting for him there but more work, more sleepless nights, more of being a ledge.

But still, maybe it would be better than staying here for the rest of his miserable life, rotting in one place like an old, forgotten tomato.

"I'll probably quit too," he murmured aloud. Ben stilled, looking very thoughtful for a moment. He continued to mop, slower now, every stroke full of intent.

"How would you feel about joining my band?" He offered it casually, like it didn't matter, like he didn't care what the answer was. The set of his shoulders gave him away, poorly concealed tension revealing what he wished the answer would be.

Ledge blinked. "I- me? Join a band? I can't play a kazoo to save my life."

"You wouldn't have to play! You could be like a sort of… manager. Our last one jus' quit recently, n' we've been lookin' for a new one. Are you any good with numbers?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Then you'll do fine! You'll jus' be manager in name, we'll do all the heavy liftin'. You can live in the studio with us - little building we bought last month, a bit cramped but it's home - and we'll give you a cut of every cent we make, can't always promise consistent payments but by god we'll pay you when we can - you can work a second job, all of us do - if you want you can help us get new gigs, you look like a good persuader - you can stay with us as long as you want - I don't have no one else but you now that Delilah's gone… please, Shawn-"

The sound of his old name, so foreign to him now after so many years, struck Shawn somewhere deep inside him, in a place he didn't even know existed anymore. He stood in silence for only a moment more, weighing the pros and cons, seriously considering the offer.

"Alright," he finally said, watching Ben's face light up like a light bulb. "Okay. I'll join. Where do I sign?"

Ben jumped into the air, pumping a fist with a loud "WHOOO!" The mop clattered to the floor unnoticed, forgotten in the excitement.

Shawn found the man's enthusiasm contagious, and soon they were grinning at each other madly, already making plans to pack and move Shawn's stuff to the studio.

"We're gonna make it big, man," Ben said, shining like the Sun in mid August. "I promise you, we're gonna make it. We're gonna live like kings, man. And everybody's gonna know our names."

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When he was twenty-one years old, they got their first major gig. They had survived so far on playing at small bars and open mics, taking tips where they could, even busking on the street when things got really thin.

Shawn found that he rather liked being  the band's manager. Organizing the schedule was soothing for him; he had control over something for the first time in his life. Working out the financial side was easy too. The numbers never lied, even when they were depressing, and math had never been a struggle for him.

After two years of raising awareness - passing out flyers, creating a social media page, and taking whatever openings they could - Where We Were finally, slowly but surely, began to pick up more followers.

In May, Shawn opened the email he had created for the band. He made it a habit to check it at least once a day. Usually the page was depressingly empty, but today, there was an email from an address he didn't recognize - "bhrofficial." Curious, Shawn clicked on the message.

As he read through, he felt his heartbeat quicken. It couldn't be real. It couldn't. They only had two thousand followers on their Instagram and Twitter accounts, less than that on Spotify. There was no way it was real.

Please be real.

A few minutes and a quick google search later, he was rocking back and forth in his chair, unable to stop the smile that split across his face.

"Benny," he called urgently, shooting up from his chair. "Benny, you gotta come look at this. Ben!"

The older man ducked into the room, holding some old equipment. "Hey man, what's up-?"

Wordlessly, Shawn moved aside and pointed at the computer screen, practically vibrating with nervous excitement. Ben carefully set down the equipment, then bent over the table to read.

His jaw dropped open just slightly as he scanned over the email. He looked to Shawn, eyes wide, disbelief etched across his face. Shawn just nodded excitedly, lost for words.

"Is it real?" Ben whispered, as if afraid speaking too loud would make the email magically disappear.

"Yeah, I checked the website and that's their official email. It's real. We have a real gig."

They just grinned at each other for a moment, filled with excitement that had nowhere to go. Then, Ben was hugging him, and he was hugging back, and then they were spinning around the room in a crazed dance, laughing wildly.

"We got a gig!" Ben shouted. "Oh my god, we got a- I don't even-"

He took Shawn's face in his hands, kissing him soundly on the lips. Shawn could only grin up at him in response, and then they were dragging each other out of the room, racing to the kitchen, yelling for the other members.

Over the time they had lived together in the studio, things had changed between them. It had happened slowly but surely, the space between them shifting from friendship to brotherhood to… something else. They hadn't put a label on it, hadn't talked about it, but they both knew it was there. This wasn't the first time they had kissed - Ben would get excited, overwhelmed with emotion, and it would just kind of… happen.

The first time, Ben had immediately frozen, looked guilty and a bit afraid. But Shawn had laughed, and leaned in to give him a tentative peck in return, and Ben knew it was okay, that they were okay.

For the second time in his life, Ledge had thought, I don't want to die.

Ever since then, it was almost routine. Shawn found that he looked forward to it every time, found himself hoping for it.

He expected to have a crisis over his sexuality, but it never came. He liked Ben. Loved him, even, maybe. That was all that mattered. He didn't care what it meant or didn't mean about him, because it was Ben, and he was the Sun, and he was warm and soft and kind and messy, and Shawn was just grateful that he got to love him.

The rest of the band knew about it; it was hard to keep something like that secret when you've lived together in close quarters for almost two years. They'd never officially announced it, never put it into words, but somehow Shawn just… knew. A well timed pat to his shoulder told him he was accepted, a fist bump and a slap to his back said that he was a part of the band, no matter what, always and forever.

"We got a gig at the Blue Hill Resort," Ben said excitedly, hands constantly moving from his hips to the air in front of him to Shawn's shoulders, unable to stay still. His energy was contagious; soon they were all laughing, slapping each other on the back, cheering.

"How soon?" Jane, the drummer, asked. She was a thin slip of a woman, but she could knock a grown man flat on his back in ten seconds. Shawn had quickly learned to both respect and fear her.

"Three weeks."

Abu whistled, long and low. "That's a bit tight. We'll have to rehearse every day… but we should be able to make it."

Abu was tall, built like an ox, with broad shoulders and big hands. He played the bass with surprising precision and tenderness, rarely ever missing a note.

Abu was the oldest of the group at thirty-five. Once, when he was nearly passed out drunk, he told Shawn that he didn't have anything left except for the band. All of his dreams were spent, too far out of his reach, left behind with his twenties. This group, this family, was all that was left for him.

"We've got it in the bag," Mark jumped in, flexing his fingers in anticipation. He could draw sounds from a keyboard that Shawn never knew existed - odd, discordant notes somehow blended together into eerily beautiful harmony. "We're gonna blow this out of the park!"

"We'll have to decide what songs to play." That was Drea - best rhythm guitarist in New Hampshire, Ben would always say. She was always the most focused of them all. She kept them on track - without her, they probably would have fallen apart ages ago.

"I, uh. I actually wrote a song… if- well, I was thinking maybe we could have it on the roster?"

All eyes turned to Shawn, surprise written on most of their faces. Only Ben was unaffected, having known about the secret project for a while.

"S'good," he commented, slinging an arm around Shawn's shoulder. "I give it my vote."

Abu grinned. "It's settled then. Show us this new song of yours, kid."

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Shawn took a deep breath in, let it out slowly. This was it. This was the day. They had practiced like mad, twice a day for the last week straight, but he didn't feel the slightest bit prepared. He wasn't even the one going up onstage, but he could feel knots forming in his stomach like balls of lead, heavy and cold.

Ben clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a confident smile. "We're gonna knock them offa their fuckin' asses, man. Jus' you wait."

Shawn didn't feel even a bit less anxious, but he smiled anyway, leaning up to kiss Ben softly on the cheek. Ben froze, flushed - Shawn had never initiated before.

"For good luck," Shawn whispered, unable to hold back a smile.

Ben rubbed the back of his neck, flustered, then rewarded the kiss with a blindingly bright smile. "Yeah."

"C'mon, lovebirds, we gotta get set up," Jane drawled, leaning against the wall with a teasing smile. The two sprang apart, and she laughed heartily.

"You go on ahead n' sit in the audience," Ben said, giving him a look that said everything they didn't have time to put into words, probably couldn't even if they did have time. "We'll take care of everythin' back here."

Shawn nodded, hoping Ben could see the response in his own face. The older man smiled softly, and he knew the message had gotten across.

He found his seat in the front row and prayed to whatever was or wasn't out there that they would do well.

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It was a huge fucking success.

When the band finished their song roster, the crowd cheered wildly, calling for not one but two encores.

Finally, Ben had to take the mic, waving a hand for the crowd to quiet down. "S'been a pleasure playin' for you all, but I'm afraid our time's up-" the crowd booed loudly- "I know, I know, I wish we could stay too! But we gotta go. Thank you, we've been Where We Were. Have a great night and stay rockin', everyone!"

The roar of the crowd was deafening, noise that felt like it shook the room all the way up to its rafters. Shawn cheered along with them, winding through the surging crowd to the backstage area, meeting the band there.

Ben kissed him on the lips, right in front of everyone, and Shawn kissed him back. He didn't even care if the backstage techs caught them. He didn't care about much of anything but Ben, at that moment.

They stumbled to the dressing room, the rest of the band still putting away the equipment and rolling their eyes at the two, and then they were pressed against each other, kissing, and it wasn't like before, it wasn't a quick stolen peck in the studio, it was hard and hungry and real. It said we fucking did it, it said I love you for forever, it said a million other things they couldn't put into words.

Shawn smiled, he couldn't help it; and then they were both grinning, far too wide to keep kissing. Shawn laughed, feeling light and free and alive.

"We got lucky, huh?" He said, curling his hand around the back of Ben's neck. At the questioning look sent his way, he continued, "that your previous manager quit when they did. Otherwise, I never would have joined the band, and we never would have ended up here."

Ben smiled, the mischievous kind of smile you give when you have a secret.

"What?" Ben just kissed him again, and Shawn laughed, pulling back. "Benny, spit it out, what is it?"

"We never had a manager." He had the conscience to look at least a little sheepish, but mostly he just looked proud.

"You- what? But you said-"

"I needed you to join the band, man, I didn't know how else to get you to say yes. And it wasn't entirely a lie! We had talked about hiring someone for the position before, we had just... Never found the right person. Not until you."

Shawn lightly punched Ben's shoulder, giving him a faux look of disapproval. It only lasted for a moment, though, before they were both bursting out laughing, too high off of their victory to stay serious for long.

Then they were pressed against the counter, and Ben was tugging on his shirt and kissing his jawline and murmuring, "is this okay?" and Shawn was nodding, because it was Ben, of course it was, and he'd been waiting for this for so, so long without even realizing it.

Shawn's shirt was halfway off, Ben's lips on his neck, when there was a knock on the door, and Abu called in, "All decent in there, kids?"

"Finish this at home?" Ben asked, and Shawn wanted to say you are my home, but he knew what Ben meant, so he just nodded and touched the older man's face gently instead.

And Ben laughed, and said yes, get the fuck in here, Abu, and he pulled Shawn out with him past the ox who played the bass, and out of the dressing room and through the halls and out the front door, all the way to his car.

They got in, Ben laughing and Shawn crying a little because they had made it, god damnit they had made it, and in the agreement with the Blue Hill Resort they were promised seven thousand dollars, and Shawn had a future, and he knew where he wanted to go and who he wanted to go there with.

They were still laughing, and flirting, and celebrating when they pulled out of the parking lot. Shawn decided to be brave, decided that Ben was worth it, so he put his hand tentatively on the older man's thigh.

Ben looked surprised for a moment, and then he was smiling, and he was looking at Shawn like he was the only thing in the world, and he didn't see the semi barreling towards them, the tired driver who didn't process that he was drifting into cross traffic until just a few seconds too late.

Ben was smiling, and then he was lurching to the side as the semi hit just behind his door, and then the windows were shattering and his head was hitting the dashboard and then they were rolling, and Shawn's vision was blurring, and he was hitting the pavement all over again, black asphalt coming up to say it missed him, and where had he been, and why had he waited so long to jump again?

And suddenly he was sixteen again, with a broken wrist and broken fingers and a fractured arm and a concussion and a sprained ankle, and he was back on the ledge, and he had never really left, he had been there ever since the moment he climbed out of that window, and Mary was telling him the timing wasn't right, and SNHU was sending him a cold, impersonal rejection letter, and then he was lying in a ditch in a mangled car, his seatbelt digging painfully into his ribs.

Ledge forced his eyes open. Everything hurt. Something smelled like it was burning, but he couldn't think, couldn't tell what.

He managed to tilt his head sideways just a little, earning himself a sharp jolt of pain.

Ben lay sprawled over the steering wheel, a large shard of glass from the shattered windshield punched through his right eye and out the back of his head. Blood dribbled down his face and onto the dashboard. He wasn't smiling anymore.

It looked like some weird cartoon, it was such an odd angle, and Ledge was laughing, and then he was sobbing, and then he was throwing up, and then he saw the fire, and it was on the hood of the car, and it was moving steadily towards him, and he couldn't move, he couldn't move, he couldn't move.

For the third time in his life, Ledge thought, I don't want to die.

But the fire inched closer still, and his heavy limbs refused to move, and then it was in the cab of the car, and then it was catching his pant leg, and then it was on him, and he was screaming, agony grating through his veins, and then it was going dark, and he couldn't force his eyes to stay open any longer.

As his consciousness faded away and his mind blanked out into white noise, a thought occurred to Ledge.

Surrounded by fire, breathing out his last, he thought that he had always been a ledge. It hadn't started when he was sixteen. It had started much, much earlier. He couldn't say when.

He thought what cruel irony it was that he was born a ledge, and now after everything he would die as one. Or maybe… he had never stopped being one, even in the in between moments. He was doomed to be un-special forever. He had always known that, from the very start.

He knew, deep inside, that no one would remember him. The news would cover the crash briefly, and then life would move on. The band would find a new manager. The world would continue to march on without him.

Everything faded to silence.

#written by me #my work #do not repost #give cred if used #writeblr #writing #original story #short story #original work #5798 words #tw depression #tw suicidal thoughts #tw mild gore #franz writes

[rowanaelinn]

Slipped away - chapter one

prompt - single parent @rowaelinscourt

“It’s cold,” Fenrys complained, sitting on Rowan’s new couch.

“We are in the north, you dumbass.” Lorcan snapped. “Of course it’s colder than what you’re used to.”

“Doranelle is in the North too.”

Lorcan took a deep breath, apparently, he wasn’t feeling very patient today. “I don’t know, Fenrys, it might be because we are on a whole other continent, maybe?”

Rowan snorted at his friends, Fenrys was playing dumb just to annoy Lorcan and as always, it worked. They were enjoying their last day of rest before their first day of work tomorrow. It wasn't a new job, not really. The company they worked for had just moved from Doranelle to Orynth, and of course, Rowan and the other employees had to move too.

Rowan knew that with the opening of the new Valg Industries headquarters the next few months would not be smooth sailing, but he believed in himself. Maeve was so confident that she even promoted him. It was a new beginning for Rowan and he was happy about it, his life in Doranelle was the perfect definition of dull. Not that he hated it, he was just glad to be away from his cousins. He didn’t hate them, they were just so… meddlesome.

Rowan walked into his kitchen and opened his fridge, empty. He cursed under his breath. The few bottles of beer he had last night ran out very quickly, they didn’t even have leftovers of the pizza they ordered yesterday. Which was a problem because Rowan was starving and there was no way he would order food for the second night in a row, it had already bothered him to do so yesterday.

He checked his watch, six in the afternoon. He was pretty sure the grocery store didn’t close before seven, he had little time if he wanted to go there. He needed to be quick. “Going shopping, be gone when I come back,” Rowan told his friends as he picked his car key. He needed some time alone but he knew they would probably still be there when he came back, his friends weren’t ones to listen.

He slammed the front door behind him and got into his car. It still smelled new, the leather still a little too stiff under Rowan's body. He had gotten the car yesterday, he had decided that if he was going to change his life, he would do it all the way. Nothing in his life in Doranelle set foot in Terrasen except his friends and his job.

Rowan lived in an upscale residence in downtown Orynth. Between his family's money and the money he was making even before he was promoted, he could afford it. He didn't want to live in the apartments that the company offered to its employees, he needed some peace and quiet.

So Rowan took a house that was too big for him, in a suburb full of family, as if he wasn't almost thirty and wasn't still alone. He had never felt so out of place, but he would get used to it.

He had chosen the opposite of the life he had until then, wanting space. He had left to forget.

When he pulled into the grocery store parking lot, Rowan could have sworn he saw a familiar face. He blinked and it was gone, he shook his head. How could he recognize anyone if he had never been to Terassen? He needed to sleep.

He got out of his car and shivered slightly. Maybe Fenrys was right, it wasn't cold but it was definitely colder than Doranelle at this time of year.

He walked into the store, it was large. Everything in Terassen looked big. The houses, the buildings, the stores... Rowan could get used to it.

He took a basket from the entrance and went straight to the vegetables. The store was almost empty considering the time of day, he could hear a couple of kids laughing in the background but otherwise, everything was quiet. It felt good to be away from the world.

He selected enough vegetables for three days, preferring to shop for short periods rather than a whole week. It made less mess and allowed him to control what he ate. That's one of the things he needed, control.

"Gotcha!" He heard a woman's voice laugh rather loudly.

"Noooo!" A little girl said and Rowan heard her laugh and ran. Gods, children were loud.

A few seconds later, something hit Rowan's legs. He looked down to find a little girl. She was a brunette with blue eyes. She laughed and stood up. "Sorry," she said before running off again to lose whoever was trying to catch her, but it was too late. A tall blonde lady came running up and threw herself on top of the little girl, grabbing her under the arms and throwing her over her shoulder. The little girl screamed with laughter and tried to struggle as the adult spun around. "Stop!" the child screamed but continued to laugh.

Rowan felt like he was intruding but he couldn't stop the tip of his lips from rising slightly. The adult stopped spinning but did not let go of the child, the little one wrapped her arms around the woman's neck and hid her head. "Hey, little monster, did you apologize?" She asked, her eyes still on the little one. Rowan couldn't see her face with the hair hiding it. "Huh?" She shook the little girl slightly but she refused to look at her.

"She did," Rowan said, not wanting the little girl to get into trouble. When the woman looked at him, his heart stopped beating and his whole body froze. It was impossible.

Did the gods hate him that much? What had he done to them for them to punish him like that?

Her eyes widened and he noticed her body going still, her hold around the girl tightening. Her mouth opened and then closed.

As he had been years before, he was struck by the intensity of Aelin Galathynius’s gaze. These blue and gold eyes were mesmerizing, had always been and always will.

His only thought was that she looked older, but since he had last seen her when she was nineteen it wasn’t surprising. She looked like a woman now, and womanhood suited her. She was wearing a white shirt and black skirt, a simple outfit for a working woman, and yet Rowan couldn’t help but stare longer than necessary at her body. If she had been beautiful seven years ago, she was magnificent now.

He wanted to punch himself in the face, so much work to forget about everything that happened, so much work to ignore the guilt and pain just to be ruined by a meeting in a grocery store.

“Rowan,” she breathed.

“Hi, Aelin.”

The little girl looked at him and he noticed everything she had in common with Aelin. Her eyes first, and the same nose and lips. They looked so similar.

Suddenly he was struck by the truth standing in front of him. While it had taken everything in him to try to forget about her, Aelin had moved on. And she had a daughter. Aelin had a life and if the laugh she let out a minute before was any indication, she was happy.

“What are you doing here?” He blurted.

A snort. “What am I doing in a grocery store?”

“In Orynth.”

“This is my hometown.” She said, her voice so tight he couldn’t guess what she might be feeling. It had always been so damn hard to read her. Orynth was her hometown? How come he never knew that? He knew she was from Terassen, her accent betraying her, but didn’t know exactly where. He knew so much about her but at the same time so little. That little truth hurt. “What are you doing here?”

“I moved. For work.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Fuck, that was awkward. “How old is your daughter?” He asked, nodding toward the small girl playing with Aelin’s hair. Aelin looked at her and her expression softened a little.

“Oh, no. She isn’t my…” She took a deep breath. “She’s Aedion and Lysandra’s daughter. I’m just babysitting for the night.” Right, Aedion. That’s why the small girl looks so much like Aelin. “Remember Aedion?”

Of course, he did, last time he saw the man Rowan got his nose broken and a black eye. He wouldn’t forget his old friend so soon. But Rowan didn’t care about that, right now he only cared that Aelin, in fact, didn’t have a daughter. It was easier to breathe suddenly. “Yeah.”

“But she’s four,” Aelin said and he knew it was only so she had something to say. Talking was awkward but the silence was worse.

Before he could say anything else, someone interrupted them by hitting Aelin’s legs, hugging them. This girl was blonde, Ashryver blonde. Gods, how many children did Lysandra and Aedion have?

The youngest paused on the ground and did not waste time before leaving from where she came. Aelin seemed to forget Rowan's entire existence as she knelt down to face the child, though she looked even tenser than a few minutes before.

"Hey, pumpkin, what's going on?" She asked softly, delicately taking the girl's grip to force her to look at her. "Tell me."

"Asper pulled my hair!" The girl cried and Aelin smiled.

"Did you try to tickle his neck?" She asked, making Rowan choke. Aelin didn’t spare him a glance. He wanted to ask her why she wasn’t punishing this Asper for pulling hair but he guessed Aelin would beat him up if he questioned how Aedion chose to raise his children. “You know how sensitive he is.” She smiled at the child. The girl sniffed heavily and Aelin used her sleeve to dry her tears. "Go back over there, I'll be there in two minutes." The child nodded briskly and before she left, she turned her head to Rowan.

His blood ran cold as green eyes fixed on him.

She looked like Aelin on the little one before, of course, but not only that. Did she... No. Lysandra had green eyes too. Rowan could have sworn that Lysandra's eyes were much lighter, but he hadn't seen her in seven years. He was wrong. He had to be wrong.

"Hi!" She said with a big smile. She was missing a tooth in the front, but that didn't take away from her charm.

Rowan swallowed, "Um, Hi." He managed to smile but he couldn't help that she looked too little like Lysandra.

“Are you a grandpa?” The girl asked and Rowan choked. “Only grandpa has grey hair.” She smiled and looked proud of herself. Silver, his damn hair is silver, not grey.

"Go ahead, Helia," Aelin said before Rowan could answer, her voice firm. She pushed the little one toward the alley away from Rowan. Aelin stood up when the little one was gone and his eyes shot to hers.

"It was nice to see you again," she said but he knew she was thinking the exact opposite. Rowan's heart was beating so loudly that Rowan could hear it pounding in his ears.

"Aelin," He called to her, stopping her in her tracks. " Just how... How old is she?"

"Bye, Rowan." Her voice left no room for questions, but he didn't care. He didn't care about what happened in college and now wasn't the time to start.

"Answer me." Not a question and she knew it. He could swear he saw the gold ring in her eyes flutter, a sign he had learned to recognize as anger. Well, let her be angry, he deserved answers.

"Ace, is everything okay?" A man with nearly black hair and sapphire blue eyes asked him. A boy a little taller than Helia was sitting on the man's shoulders and when Rowan saw his green eyes...

He had to be wrong.

"Aelin?" The man asked again as Aelin hadn't looked at him yet, her gaze still on Rowan.

"Yes." She replied with her voice cold. "My friend was just leaving, right?"

The way she said the word "friend" was anything but friendly. Fuck, he wanted to yell at her, he wanted to demand answers now, but he didn't. The two little girls were behind Aelin and the man, watching what was going on.

"Answer my question first."

"Get out." She gritted through her teeth.

"Why do you have your angry voice, Mommy?" The little boy asked and suddenly Aelin's eyes softened and she looked at the boy. She grabbed him by the underarms and took him in her arms.

Mommy.

Her son.

Clearly not the son of the man next to Aelin. He looked about six, maybe even seven.

No. That was impossible. It was only one night. One night he had spent the last seven years regretting...

“Mommy’s not angry.” She smiled as she caressed her son’s hair. Their… No, her son. For all Rowan knew, Aelin only had a thing for men with green eyes. It meant nothing. “But she’s busy right now, go back to the car with uncle Dorian, okay? Then we’ll eat pizza, that’s your favorite, right?” The three kids cheered and Aelin gave her son to the man, Dorian.

“You okay?” He asked, touching Aelin’s shoulder. Rowan didn’t know why but he wanted to slap the man.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in two minutes.” She reassured him and he nodded, letting Aelin’s son on his shoulder as he held the two girls by their hands and walked back to the parking lot. Rowan wanted to stop him, wanted to ask that boy and girl how old they were but they were just kids. He couldn’t scare them. This was between Rowan and Aelin.

“I deserve the truth.”

“You don’t deserve shit. Not after what you did.”

“It was between me and you, not between me and-” He was cut off by her.

“There is nothing between you and them. Do you understand me? Nothing.” Them. So the girl…

He couldn’t take it. She had made it clear already, deep inside he knew the answer to his question but he needed to hear her say it. “Are they mine?” He finally asked and if looks could kill, Rowan would be buried already.

“They are mine.”

Why did she have to be so fucking complicated? He clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger inside him but it was so damn hard. “Am I their father?”

Both of them were breathing heavily and Rowan was glad for the empty store now, not wanting to cause a scene. “No.” Her voice was lethal and Rowan’s mind froze. He didn’t know if it was a good thing or not. But they looked so much like him… “If your question is whether or not you knocked me up, the answer is yes. But you are not a father. Never been and never will be to them.”

They were his. Rowan’s entire world stopped and he wasn’t sure how he kept standing. He was a father, no matter what Aelin said.

“How could you hide this from me? How could you take them away from me?” He was screaming now. He didn’t care about causing a scene anymore, he didn’t care about anything but the two kids in a car outside. “They are my kids!”

“You don’t even know their fucking name!” She was screaming too, cheeks red. Fuck, why did she always had to be the most attractive when she was angry? He hated her so fucking much. “I am the one who’s been raising them alone for almost seven fucking years!” She didn’t look alone, not with that Dorian by her side.

Suddenly, he knew Aedion didn’t punch him for what he and Aelin shared the last night he saw her. He had punched him for getting his cousin pregnant. He knew Aelin hadn’t been honest about what happened between them after the sex or he would have been dead by now, so now he was sure it was because of the kids. He had deserved it, deserved more than the five punches Aedion managed to give Rowan before Fenrys and Lorcan separated them.

“I will die before I let you treat my children like you treated me. Get out of Terassen, nobody wants you here.”

She left storming out of the store without her groceries and Rowan was frozen. He knew he should go back after her and apologize, he should beg her for a chance to know his kids but he couldn’t move.

He had children, twins. And Aelin had been raising them alone because of him, because of what happened.

He was so fucking screwed.

He didn’t care about what Aelin told him, he wouldn’t go anywhere. It was too late to save what could have happened between him and Aelin, it had been too late since the night she left his apartment in tears. But it wasn’t too late for his children and he would fight for them.

————

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #slipped away

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

--

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

#rowaelin #nobody does it like you do #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin au #ndilyd #i cant believe it's the last part of this fic #crazy #hope you all enjoyed

[drarrywords]

With you, anywhere, everywhere

It was raining that day too, in a way, flakes of snow drifting down slowly. The world was white – peace and innocence. He held out his hand for the snowflakes that settled like frosted kisses on his palm. He closed his eyes, and his lips curved into a smile.

“Are you ready?” Remus asked, his smile soft. He swallowed, and gave him a nod. The man chuckled, and gave the slightest shake to his head. “Nervous, are you?”

“I – Yes, I’m nervous.”

“I was nervous as well,” Remus said, with a smirk. “On the day I got married to Sirius.”

He scoffed. “You weren’t nervous.”

“I was,” Remus said with a small laugh, a small, sort of fond quirk of his mouth while he carded his fingers through his hair. “But you’re doing considerably well, I had a panic attack five minutes before walking down the aisle.”

“I’m not,” Draco said, dropping his face into his palms. “We aren’t rushing into this, are we? I want to marry him, but I’m so nervous and I should’ve chosen the other suit –

“Draco,” he said calmly, with a hint of amusement. “Walk down aisle, and your worries will fade away, I assure you.”

He swallowed, cleared his throat, a familiar panic rising within him once more at the prospect, “I – fine, sure.”

The interior of the atrium was done up in white and light blue, glittering icicles hanging from the walls, and the room was warm. They began to walk down the aisle, as he drew his gaze up from the dark green carpet swirling with silver, to meet the faces of their guests.

Yet, he was nervous. Even now. No, he couldn’t focus on the guests. His gaze turned to the makeshift altar, glancing briefly at Ron wearing a pitch-black suit. And there he was – Harry, in a white suit, contrasting beautifully with his tan skin, hair as messy as the day they first met, glasses the same wireframes he'd always had. The man he loved.

And his worries faded away. Remus nudged him softly, muttering a soft: “I told you so.”

“Hey, gorgeous.” He said at the altar, as they laced their fingers together. Their eyes with glistening with tears, and he knew that one of them was going to cry.

Draco was wearing a white suit with light blue accents, a deep plum calla lily sticking out of his lapel pocket. Harry sporting a classic white lily, his suit accented in green.

A dreamy voice broke through, considerably calm, “We are gathered today to commemorate a beautiful moment in the lives of these two men.”

Luna's blond hair fell to her waist in golden spindles, her radiant yellow dress circling her in various frills, smiling suns hanging from her ears.

Her cheeks were flushed, blue eyes bright, as she held out her hands. “In the brumal cold of December, they’re going to get married. We’ve watched their love grow, and the animosity fade.”

They smirked at each other, as Draco mouthed: “Scared, Potter?”

Harry chuckled, and gave a slight shake to his head before he muttered, “You wish.”

Luna fixed her gaze on Ginny, as she said. “Love sustains you, and to marry the person you love, is a commitment. A commitment to be with each other, and a way of saying that you’ll always be there,” A beat, “Now, the vows.”

Draco commenced crying, as he began reciting his vows. “Harry, I’ve always been drawn to you. I would’ve never expected myself to fall in love with you. I didn’t see that coming. But I’ve learnt to expect the unexpected with you.”

He paused briefly, gaining his composure. “You captivate me in ways, no other soul ever will. You, Harry James Potter, are everything my heart dreams of.”

Draco was crying, a lot freely than he wanted to. Harry reached out, and wiped a tear with his thumb and gave him a soft smile.

“I would’ve never imagined that you would love me, and that was a gift beyond fantasy that I could dare to think. It’s always been a fantasy of mine, to be your husband. Your partner. And I know this, Harry – I love you, and I’ll love you until I take my last breath.”

Draco fumbled with the gold band for a moment before managing to slide it on the trembling finger and chuckled as Harry stared at it. He blinked, and peered into the grey eyes. It was engraved with the familiar words: Même les constellations ne peuvent pas comprendre mon amour pour vous.

Even the constellations can't fathom my love for you.

“I’ve never had a normal life. It has always taken an unexpected turn. And on that night, near the black lake, you saw the scars that I didn’t want anyone to.”

His gaze flickered to the faint scar on the back of his hand: I must not tell lies. Draco ran his thumb over the scar absent-mindedly. “It was instinctive, the way I fell in love with you. It was like an effortless intake of breath. You have bewitched me, Draco Malfoy – heart and soul.”

“And I don’t care about the obstacles ahead, because with you – I know I can achieve infinities. You are my destiny. You are my forever. You are the magic, Draco Malfoy.”

He slipped the gold ring into Draco’s trembling finger, engraved with: Mon cœur t’appartiendra toujours.

My heart will always belong to you.

“It is my honor,” Luna said, in a soft voice. “To pronounce you one.”

Draco inched closer, as he drew him into a kiss. It was slow and sweet and lingering, taking their time to taste and savour the other's lips. “The show’s over, mate!” Ron said with a soft laugh, “Besides, I’m starving.”

“Yeah. Go, Ron. Lead the way.” Draco said, with a satisfied smirk. The snow had begun to fall again, languidly landing on them, and vanishing into the air. “We’ll be right behind you.”

“You can’t ask us to start without you –

“I can,” Draco said, waving his hand dismissively at him. “Go on, we’ll join you.”

“Come on, you lot.” Sirius announced. "Give them a moment, they just got married!"

Ron gave him an eye-roll for good measure, before leading the others outside. The real snowfall outside was visible through the glass ceiling. They had been through so much together. The horcrux hunting, the war and the healing. He would’ve never imagined that they would’ve made it so far.

“Hey,” Harry said, with a confused frown. “We’re not going outside?”

“No,” Draco said, brushing his thumb across the oh-so familiar cheekbone. “Because I want to dance with my husband.”

“We’re supposed to dance after the –

“Harry,” Draco cut in, shaking his head in disbelief. “Dance with me, will you?”

He closed his eyes, as a soft music drifted in the air. He nodded, as Draco laced their fingers together and twirled him. His emerald eyes glistened, and a smile spread across his beautiful face. “You know how to be romantic.”

“I know,” Draco chuckled, as they glided effortlessly around the floor in the music, their actions were smooth and confident. Harry’s messy black fringe fell across his scar, and Draco brushed it away.

“I was nervous, you know?” Harry whispered, brushing their lips together. The warmth and tenderness coursed through his body, and he gave the blond a soft smile. “But when you walked down the aisle –

“Your worries faded, and you knew that you wanted to marry me more than anything in the world.”

Harry’s mouth was caught open in a small ‘o’.

“Yes, you wanker.” Draco chuckled, twirling him around and drew him close. “I was nervous, but I saw you. And I knew that I wanted the privilege to call you my husband.”

He could vaguely hear the noise outside. It was almost distant. He was focused on Harry, and dancing with him. His husband.

“Do you remember the dance we had in remembrance ball, eighth year?”

“Yeah,” Draco laughed, recalling the events of the party. “I believe that you asked me to marry you, because I was insanely gorgeous in that suit.”

“Or that you told me that I changed you, and your life. And granted, that you couldn’t feel your fucking toes – You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I would never have it any other way, love.”

As the music slowed down, Harry dipped him to the floor and leaned down, brushing his lips gently over his. Draco snaked his arms around his neck, melting into the kiss but also deepening it as he drew Harry’s face closer to his own. “I love you, you enormously stubborn pain in the arse.”

“I love you, you absolute wanker.” Harry whispered against his mouth, and pressed their foreheads together. He was slightly breathless at the way Draco held him close. “Have a destination in mind, do you? We’re supposed to go somewhere.”

“Yes,” he said, chuckling softly. “We’re going to India. I hear that it’s beautiful, and I’ve always wanted to go with you.”

“Knowing you, we’re probably staying at the Taj in Mumbai.”

“You know me well, Mr. Potter-Malfoy.” Draco said, placing a kiss against his forehead. “One month in India – Just us. I’ve told the others that we’re going to Rome.”

“They aren’t going to disrupt our vacation, Draco.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” he said, halting as the music died down. “It’s our first vacation as husbands, and I want it to be absolutely perfect. Two days in Mumbai, and then we'll go to the northeast - To the beautiful seven sisters and it will be perfect.”

“With you,” Harry whispered, kissing him deeply. “It’s always going to be perfect. And I’ll go with you – anywhere, everywhere.”

I'm tagging a few people for a boost, you can ignore this if you like<3 @textrovert-01 @sorry-i-ship-drarry @dearly-devoted-dawdler @krystalliumm @missdrarrydawn @nv-md @nousheen @notdeadpoetsociety

#drarry #draco malfoy #drarrywords #harry potter #hogwarts #drarry fanfic #drarry oneshot #gryffindor #magic #slytherin #oneshot #prompt #drarry prompt #drarry wedding #dance

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Speedy one night stand

Ok, so this is an old scene that i never posted because I never thought it was good enough, but since I wanted to post smth before ‘Tis the Damn Season, here it goes! I’m sorry for any typos, it’s 3 am and I don’t have the patience to proof read rn. There are mentions of a car accident but I swear it is not a sad or angsty scene. It’s bad and not at all a believable situation, but I hope it’s ok enough to be mildly enjoyable!

Aelin was having a spectacular day.

She had woken up around six, laying near the hottest man to ever walk on this Earth. In the previous night, she had drank enough to practically guarantee her a bitch hangover, but apparently her beautiful, silver-haired stranger had fucked it right out of her. A few times.

Not so proudly, Aelin sneaked out of his house without making a single sound. Maybe she should have stayed, maybe asked for his name. But she was also almost sure she had given him her number yesterday, and so if he wanted to continue things, he could call her. If not… Well, it had been a fun night.

Understatement of the fucking century.

And thanks to her stranger, once she got home, Aelin felt energized and inspired enough to finally give the painting a try.

The painting had become Aelin’s nightmare for the past year and a half. She had the idea, had the ability, but didn’t know how to do it, how to tackle it. She tried a few times every few days, and left the room hating it more and more. The painting started to be a mock to her abilities— she would finish other works, beautiful works, and yet the messy canvas would always stare at her from the corner of the room.

Aelin was mainly a sculptor, not a painter, and so she didn’t even know why it bothered her so much but it did. Oh, it most certainly did.

For the past eighteen months, staring at that taunting canvas was like staring at yourself on the mirror for too long. The vision started to blur, and it didn’t look real, evoked a deep panic.

For the past eighteen months, Aelin hated that fucking painting.

And yet, when she got home earlier, all she could think is that she might be able to finish it. The painting was supposed to be of Oakwald, a beautiful forest that extended for the whole expanse of the west of Terrasen. She hadn’t been at home for so long now, and all she wanted was a painting of how she remembered the forest to be. She wanted to capture its light, its life. She wanted it to look exactly how it was in her memory, but the colors never seemed right. Her fondness of the memory was becoming stained with that stupid canvas.

All she needed was the right palette.

And he had walked in a bar and sat by her side yesterday.

Her stranger was the literal embodiment of her memory, so much so that for a split second, Aelin had thought she had gone officially insane. His silver-grey hair was the exact shade of the sky on the cloudy mornings when she and her dad would go for a walk. Eyes a combination of a few shades of green and small specks of brown that reminded her of how the trees were. His demeanor was cold, and yet Aelin found him somehow so welcoming— just like she felt back at Oakwald, back home.

Her stranger had given her the thing she had needed for the past eighteen months, even if he hadn’t given her even his name.

Aelin was staring proudly at the now finished painting when the phone rang. She was glad her roommate wasn’t at home to witness her staring at the painting for that long like a crazy person, and honestly hoped it was Lysandra calling to ask if she wanted to go out and grab something to eat.

Or maybe it’s your stranger.

Aelin forced herself to shove every single spark of hope down until they were nothing more than cinders. To be honest, Aelin knew that she probably wouldn’t get a call from him. It was his first day in town, they both had been drunk, and, even though the sex had been great, her stranger didn’t seem like the dating type.

At least not the dating type with a woman who left his house unannounced at six in the morning after leaving him with no note other than her number that could potentially be wrong since said woman was already tipsy when she gave it to him.

A fucking shame.

“Hey.” Aelin said, putting the phone to her ear as she looked for her car keys. She wanted to be in the elevator by the time the word “eat” left Lys’s mouth.

“Is this Aelin?” A female voice she had never heard in her life asked, uncertainty and hesitation lacing every word.

Aelin withdrew the phone from her ear and looked at the unknown number.

Aelin rarely gave her phone number to strangers, and lately it had only been to…

Oh fucking shit.

He had a girlfriend?

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hum, yes?” Aelin sounded as uncertain as the girl. “I’m sorry, but who is this?”

Maybe it wasn’t what she thought. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe—

“Do you know a Rowan?”

Well.

“Maybe?” Aelin wanted to bang her head against a wall. Almost seven months without touching a guy, and the first one in her way back to the land of the social people had a girlfriend. At least she knew his name now. Rowan seemed fitting, matched his appearance somehow. “Silver hair, green eyes, looks really pissed even when he’s sleeping?”

Please say no.

“Oh, yes.” The woman said, sounding… relieved? “I’m doctor Towers, and—“

“Doctor?” Aelin blurted out, all anger and nervousness being substituted for confusion. “Doctor?”

“Yes. Well, actually an intern since I’m still halfway through my first year here and—“

“I swear I mean no offense, but I am a little confused.” Aelin interrupted her after she started mumbling. “You’re Rowan’s girlfriend?”

“No!” The woman shouted loud enough that Aelin had to take the phone from her ear. “Gods, no. I thought you were his girlfriend.”

A moment of silence passed through the two women.

“What the fuck?” Was everything Aelin managed to say. She cleared her throat, mind trying to catch up with what was happening. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re the only contact on his phone.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

“I am.”

“You are.”

“I— Why are you calling me?” Aelin shook her head, her grip on her keys strong enough that started to be painful. She didn’t know if this was some type of joke her friends were pulling on her, or if Rowan was just some sick asshole that was fucking with her now that he had her number but she sure as hell wasn’t enjoying the experience.

“Well, you see.” She cleared her throat, voice tone becoming more serious, more professional. “Rowan was admitted into the Torre’s hospital a few hours ago. He was involved in an accident, and all the emergency contacts we could find are not in town as of now. I know it is not protocol, and I’m breaking so many rules here, but I went through his phone to see if I could find a contact of someone who was around. We didn’t know if his injuries were serious or not, but…”

Doctor Towers didn’t finish the sentence, and dread mixing with some type of anxiety started rolling inside Aelin’s stomach. “But?”

She didn’t respond the question, instead changing the subject. “You’re the only contact, Miss Aelin.”

Aelin slowly sat down, the dead silence of the apartment mixing with the expectant silence from Doctor Towers. She didn’t know the guy, didn’t even know his name until two minutes ago, and yet the image of the painting in the other room kept flashing in her mind, the colors in the canvas mixing with the colors she saw on his face. “I— Is he alive?”

“Yes, yes. He’s in surgery, I believe.” The initial apprehension came back to the woman’s voice. “I don’t know, actually. Again, just an intern. People don’t tell me much here.”

“And I suppose hiding somewhere after stealing a patient’s phone isn’t the best way to pick up on any information they might be sharing in the halls right now.” Aelin said, some amusement for the girl showing through her voice. “Where are you? Storage room?”

“Coma patient room.” Doctor Towers laughed nervously. “I thought I was helping.”

“It’s fine.” Aelin said even though she didn’t feel it.

The line went silent once more, and after a minute, Aelin said. “Well, bye, I guess.”

“Wait.” The doctor’s apprehensive voice sounded again. “Couldn’t you… Can you still come? Even if you’re just his friend?”

Aelin sat frozen on her chair. “I’m not his friend.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Ok. Sorry. Have a great night, Miss Aelin.”

Before Aelin could respond, the call was ended.

—————

The first thing Rowan noticed when he opened his eyes was that he was not at the rented apartment he and the rest of his friends had gotten for the summer.

The lights were too white and too artificial, the bed too uncomfortable to be the same one he had slept the previous night.

And there was also the fact it felt as if he had been thrown from the top of a building, broken every single bone in the impact and, somehow, survived.

He tried opening his eyes a little bit more and acute pain shot to his brain.

Unfortunately. Unfortunately survived.

Shit, maybe he was in hell.

“I don’t know if the struggle is amusing or pathetic.” A low and sultry voice sounded from the left corner of the room. “Maybe try not staring directly into the light and then try opening your eyes.”

Rowan turned his head to where the soft voice had come from, pain burning his neck with the movement but he found himself incapable of not looking at her direction. But the woman was right, and Rowan managed to open his eyes enough to see her seating in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs, legs crossed in front of her and fingers laced on top of her stomach.

Rowan mentally scratched his last thought. If he had actually died, that certainly was tilting a lot more towards heaven than hell even with the killing pain.

“Fuck, I think I died.” Rowan blurted out.

“I’ll pretend you just compared me to an angel, not to the devil.” She said, getting up and walking in his direction. Despite her hurt tone, she was smiling as she approached his bed. “It’s the least you could do after you ruined my perfectly perfect day. I was having a blast, you know?”

Hell, heaven, or Earth— it honestly didn’t fucking matter because the pain was the same, but her voice seemed to soothe his muscled, make the pain secondary to the pleasure of listening to her voice.

“Yeah?” Rowan rasped out, hoping she would continue talking.

“Oh, yeah.” She sat by the edge of the bed, straightening his sheets. The light wasn’t so blinding anymore, and he could see every detail on her face.

Heaven. Definitely heaven.

“I’m an artist, you know. Sculptor mostly, but I’m a decent painter. There’s this painting I’ve been trying to get done for over a year now, and today I did not only make progress I liked, but I also finished it. I thought today was going to be a terrible day, you know? Yesterday I found out my flight back home had been canceled and I would only be able to get another one by the end of summer, so I went to a bar and planned on getting drunk. Today was a day for tears and hangovers.”

“But?” Rowan asked automatically, all too focused on the woman sitting next to him.

She smiled, raising a hand to brush his hair from his face, fingers intertwining with the shoulder-length knots he most certainly had after whatever it was that had happened. She seemed too focused on her hand gently undoing the knots, but thankfully kept talking. “But I met this guy, you know? Definitely not from here, accent gave it away immediately. Also not from where I am from. Just that made him interesting enough. And,” she turned her eyes to him, eyes glinting with mischief. “Very, very fucking hot. That definitely made him even more interesting.”

“What a guy.” Rowan could feel some of the life coming back to his body, and even managed to weakly match the grin she had on her face.

“Oh, yes, what a guy. Fucked the hangover and artistic block right out of me. A hero, if you will.” Her grin extended into a smile, and she shook her head. “So imagine how ruined my day was when I got a call saying my amazing bar guy had been in a car accident.”

Rowan let out a broken laugh, his ribs screaming in pain when he did so. “So irresponsible of him.”

She assented solemnly. “And there I was, hoping he would have called me to go out on a date. I’m not picky but hospital is a huge downgrade from mind blowing sex in his expensive apartment.”

Rowan laughed again, not even caring about the pain.  “I’m sure the guy would have asked you if you hand’t left the expensive apartment at the crackass of dawn without telling him.”

“And instead of calling he let his car be smashed by a fucking truck to get my attention? Tsk, tsk, tsk… Maybe I didn’t dodge a bullet with this idiot.”

Rowan’s lips were taken by a grin. “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

“Next time try something a little less dramatic.” She said, eyes narrowing but Rowan could see how she was trying to contain a smile.

“The girl really seemed into dramatics tho. Gave it away last night when she—“

“Since I didn’t know your name until your doctor called me, Rowan, I’ll save you the embarrassment of asking mine.” She interrupted him, slender fingers going from his hair to the top of his lips. “I’m Aelin.”

“Aelin.” He said against the finger sushing him. “May I ask how you got here?”

She blushed a little, taking the finger from his mouth and straightening her spine. “I was the only contact in your list. They called me.”

“Lost my phone in the airport yesterday and had to buy a new one. Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, small nose frowning. “You’re very talkative for someone who could barely open his eyes a few minutes ago.”

“Am I?” Rowan said, hoping to push some of her buttons. Consciousness had been coming back slowly, and Rowan certainly remembered every single detail. Remembered being pissed by losing his phone, impatient because he would have to wait two more days for his friends to arrive.

Remembered all the pissy and impatience leaving his body once he sat on the bar by the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had been quick-mouthed, with no filter, and absolutely hypnotizing. She wasn’t just fucking beautiful, but also funny, smart, and had the ability to make him forget every single thing that was making him irritated.

And the rest of the night… It was a shame Rowan was bedridden, he certainly wouldn’t mind reenacting last night again.

And again. And again.

And again.

Rowan had wondered earlier if she had been that amazing because he was drunk. The answer was obviously no.

Aelin pursed her lips, red coloring her cheeks. She cleared her throat, rolling her eyes. “The doctor guilty tripped me.”

“Yeah?” Rowan knew he was smiling like an idiot.

“She said you were in surgery and she didn’t know how serious.” Aelin finally looked him straight in the eyes, and Rowan noticed how beautiful hers were. “No one deserves to have no one in this situation. She said your friends were out of town, and the girl sounded desperate enough that it sounded as if you were fucking died. Again, no one deserves to die alone. Specially someone this good in bed.”

It took Rowan a second to understand everything she had just said. When the last sentence finally registered on his brain, Rowan laughed. Aelin shook her head, a small smile appearing again.

“Also, you’re the first guy I slept with in seven months. Letting you die alone seemed like bad luck.”

“I am honored you put so much consideration into coming to stay with me.”

“Shut it.”

“If it makes you feel less embarrassed—“

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“I would have come too. Make sure my best fuck wasn’t dead.”

“Awn, best fuck? You’ll make me tear up like this, Ro. So romantic.” Aelin pretended to clean fake tears the moment the doctor in darker scrubs and a few on lighter ones entered the room.

“Good to see you awake, Mr Whitethorn.” The man smiled at him, checking his charts. “It’s always good to see wives crying of happiness rather than sadness around here.”

“Of course.” Rowan agreed, turning to Aelin and raising an eyebrow.

“They wouldn’t let me stay if I wasn’t family.” She whispered low enough so that only Rowan would hear. Her face slowly broke into a grin, and she winked at him before turning to the doctor. “So he’ll be fine, right, doctor?”

Rowan had to bite his cheeks from laughing at how obviously fake she sounded, but no one other than him noticed. “Yes, yes. Other than a fracture to his right wrist, your husband is completely fine. Some bruising and soreness that painkillers can help, but nothing major. You two are free to enjoy your vacations when he’s discharged tomorrow.”

“Oh, great.” Rowan said, nodding seriously. “My wife here has just informed me that a hospital is no adequate place for a first date.”

All the people in the room laughed, thinking Rowan meant their first date in Antica.

Not their first date ever.

“I’ll leave you two. Anything you need, ask a nurse and they will page me.” The doctor in darker scrubs said, leaving the room with all the ones in lighter scrubs following.

“Where do you live?” Rowan asked the moment the doctor was out.

Aelin turned to him, fingers going back to his silver hair. “Have been living here for the past two years in an art internship. Going back to Orynth, Terrasen by the end of the summer.” She curled a strand around her finger before looking to his face. “You?”

“Have been and will continue to be a very happy resident of Orynth.” Rowan said, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Definitely happier after the summer.”

“Haven’t even asked me out and you’re already thinking about the end of the summer.” Aelin shook her head and clicked her tongue even though she was smiling. “No surprise you got into a car accident, so speedy.”

His smirk grew into a smile. “My dear wife, would you like to go on a date with me?”

She narrowed her eyes, taking her sweet, sweet time to answer. “I’ll think about it.”

“And, seeing how the doctor talked about all my grave injuries—“

“Grave.” She snorted.

“Do I get kisses to feel better?” Rowan’s tone was full of mockery and some laughter.

“If I kiss every place you’re hurting after being hit by a fucking truck, I think we’d be here for a long while.”

“You didn’t complain yesterday.”

Aelin half laughed, half snorted. Rolling her eyes, she bent forward, and even though she was trying very hard not to, Rowan could see the start of a smile just before she pressed her lips against his. They were sweeter and softer than he remembered, and despite the pain on his arms and specially on his right wrist, Rowan raised his hands and put them in her golden strawberry hair.

“One more thing.” He said against her mouth.

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask for too much?” Aelin said impatiently.

“As our situation is already as fucking weird as it’s gonna get—“

“You don’t say!” Aelin said, voice dripping with so much fake surprise Rowan couldn’t stop but smirk up at her.

“As our situation is already as fucking weird as it’s gonna get,” he repeated forcefully, eyes narrowing at her as her smile widened. “Tomorrow, when my friends arrive.”

“Yes?”

“Can you please still pretend you’re my wife?”

Aelin stared at him blankly for a moment before letting out a full, lovely laugh. The bed shook with her laughter, and Rowan joined her— a little weakly due to the pain, but joined her nonetheless. She bent down to kiss him again, nodding as she did so. “Of course. What type of person would I be if I didn’t help such injured person find some happiness in their lives?”

Rowan kissed her back, fingers playing with her hair. “So this means you’ll go out with me?”

“We’ll see.”

.

.

.

.

.

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004 @fromthelibraryofemilyj @rowaelinismyotp

* if your name is in bold i cannot tag you

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin au #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin oneshot #rowanaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin #rowan #whitethorn #aelin whitethorn #galathynius #ashryver #aelin and rowan #aelin ashryver #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass au #throne of glass oneshot #com #hof #QoS #eos #tod #koa #sjm

[midnight-motorist]

When in Doubt, Ask Him Out! (Tumblr Ver.)

I don't think this needs a trigger warning (I hope), but please tell me if you think it does.

This one's kinda short, and I tried out a different writing style. I think it worked pretty well! Lemme know what you guys think though :)

She’s sitting on a ratty-cushioned waiting room chair in a black and white striped sweater, hands in her lap, and he’s leaning up against the front desk, arms crossed and face streaked with sweat and smudges of grime from work. The lobby of the auto shop buzzes with silent and awkward tension, and he rubs the back of his head as he stares down at the worn ugly carpet. They used to be childhood friends, but time and circumstances set them on opposite sides of a chasm of loss and pain. Now, though, time and circumstances seem to have once again healed that scar in the landscapes of their lives; for they are once again together in Hurricane, Utah. She fiddles with her key lanyard, flashing a name he hadn’t heard in seven years: “Charlie”, embroidered on the faded green polyester. He raises his head and starts to say something; but at the same time, so does she.

They both stop abruptly and look away, casting their gazes around the room, looking anywhere but into the other’s eyes. Charlie settles on staring intently at the nametag ironed onto his mechanic’s jumpsuit. As if she needs any reminder of the name of the boy she’d spent so much time with as a young girl. The stitched words spelling out “Michael A.” shift, and her attention is drawn to his hand as he runs it through his fluffy brown hair a second time. Swallowing her anxiety, she tucks her short, dark hair behind her ears and begins to speak again.

“I can’t believe you’re still here. Not that I wish you weren’t!” she hastily adds, terrified of coming off as rude. “I just meant- I guess- that I would’ve thought you’d take the first opportunity possible to get out of Hurricane, y’know, considering all the shit that happened here seven years back.”

He looks back up and smiles half-heartedly. He remembers all too well.

“I, um- I haven’t had a chance to leave yet. So much has happened while you’ve been gone, I don’t think we’d have enough time in the day to talk about it all. I’m glad you’ve come back for a visit though; it’s really good to see you again.” He tries not to fidget or betray his anxiety. God, how he’s dying for a smoke break. Socializing is not his strong suit, especially when it involves a girl he’d been hopelessly in love with as a child and still is now, it seems. What if now that he was older it was more obvious that he wasn’t a real man? Would she even still be able to stand the sight of his face?

She gives him a nervous crooked smile and replies, “It’s awesome seeing you again too! I thought this was going to be a rough week, but now that we can hang out like we used to, things are looking a little better.” Shit, she really shouldn’t have assumed that he’d even want to try rekindling their friendship. Oh god, what if he hates how she’s changed? How almost everything she wears is black? How she’s pretty sure she likes girls as well as boys?

She’s barely able to hide her relief when he visibly brightens at her words.

“Yeah! I’d really love to catch up,” he says, looking rather timid but adorably hopeful.

“Wanna grab some coffee later maybe...? I- If you don’t want to, that’s totally cool. We can do whatever you wanna do. Um...” she trails off, anxiously picking at her already ragged cuticles.

Michael is honestly glad she’s not looking at him. He’s pretty sure his face is bright red when he replies “No, that sounds great! Coffee sounds great, that is. And hanging out with you again sounds great too, of course! Better, even! Not that coffee isn’t good, I just- goddamnit ” he cuts himself off with a self-exasperated groan and thunks his head down on the counter. He hears a quiet laugh and peeks up over his arms.

“I missed this. God, we’re both such a mess.”

He feels his heart lighten and his mind stops racing. It’s almost like old times. He chuckles a bit too, beginning to believe that maybe things might just turn out better than he’d been catastrophizing.

#michael afton #charlie emily #charlotte emily #michael afton x charlie emily #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddys #fnaf fanfic #fanfic #my writing

[sapphirelass]

I’ll be by your side - Remus LupinxDaughter!Reader

Hi!! Wooow I’m a slow writer XD To be fair though, I am graduating in June, so there’s...quite a lot to do. Anyhow, this is part 3 of my imagine deal? so I’d recommend reading that one and part 2 first. Remus is my favourite HP character, so this mainly focuses on the relationship between him and his daughter, but I guess it’s slight HarryxReader as well ;)

Deal? (Part 1) | Oh, darling... (Part 2) | I’ll be by your side (Part 3)

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

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

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

You probably already know this, but still:

Y/N - Your name

Y/N/N - Your nickname

Y/H - Your house

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

Word count: ≈ 2200

Warnings: Battle of Hogwarts, Angst, Blood, Death :(

Enjoy! :)

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

“But, dad! You can’t go yourself and then expect me not to come along!”

“Yes, (Y/N/N), I can, and I will!”

He was desperate to go join the rest of the Order, and searched frantically for his old coat.

“Bu-”

“Darling, listen, this is not your fight, okay? You’re staying with Tonks and Teddy this time, and I’ll-”

She had grabbed his coat and was holding it behind her back, out of her father’s reach.

“DAD!!”

Remus stopped for a moment and took a proper look at his daughter for the first time since receiving the message about the upcoming battle.

“Look, I’m seventeen years old. I’m an adult now, and most of my younger friends are fighting. There’s literally no reason for me not to!”

“There is a perfectly good reason and you know that! Besides, your age is completely irrelevant! It wouldn’t matter if you were fifteen or seventeen, twenty or thirty, I don’t want you fighting!”

His voice was stern, which admittedly wasn’t too uncommon, but it lacked the normal comedic undertone and not even a ghost of a smile could be seen on his face. This did make (Y/N) feel quite uncomfortable, but she was not giving up. She couldn’t leave everyone else and just sit quietly on the sidelines. Surely he understood that, right?

“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not your choice to make. I know you don’t like it, but I’m going.” 

She gave her father his coat and picked a jumper for herself, but stopped abruptly when approaching the front door. Remus had stepped in front of her, and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Please, darling… I can’t have you injured again - or worse! Stay.”

“Dad, I promised you two years ago that I would pick my fights more wisely. We made a deal. And I am choosing this one.”

“(Y/N), it’s not the same! Seeing you hurt back then caused me more pain than you could possibly imagine, but this will be worse. Far worse. An-”

“Don’t you think I know that?” It wasn’t her intention to snap at him, but they didn’t have time for this argument. People were waiting. “I know it’s for real this time, it most definitely was two weeks ago, but I honestly thought you would have more faith in me. I’m not five, okay?!”

“(Y/N/N), don-”

She pulled out of his embrace, tied her shoes and apparated. Leaving him in the middle of an argument like that broke her heart. She knew the chances of them both making it out alive were low, unharmed close to none. They did, however, not have a choice. There was no time to waste. Voldemort could be attacking the castle this very moment, and Harry, Dumbledore’s army and the rest of the Order would need all the help they could get…

~~~

(Y/N) ran down the stairs, desperately searching for any familiar faces, and eventually spotted one she had really longed to see.

“Harry!!”

He turned at the sound of his name and smiled - really smiled - when their eyes met. They weren’t more than a few feet away from each other, and it didn’t take long before they met in the middle.

“(Y/N/N)! You alright?” They hugged each other tightly and enjoyed the feeling of safety, if only for a few seconds. “What happened to your arm?”

She followed his gaze and found her sleeve torn and shoulder covered in blood. It wasn’t too bad though, she hadn’t even noticed it before Harry pointed it out.

“I-I don’t know, it’s fine. How are you feeling?”

He looked down at her and used a bloodied and scarred hand to push some of her hair behind her ear. He wanted to say “fine”, but it would have been a lie.

“Scared”, he admitted, “But also ready. Let’s finish this, once and for all?”

She nodded. “You’re right! How can I help?”

“Well, some people are trying to evacuate all the younger students through the room of requirement, think you could lend them a hand?”

“Sure! Good luck Harold, see you!”

He shook his head at the nickname, but smiled nonetheless.

“Right, good luck. And (Y/N/N)?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay alive, will you?”

“I’ll do my best on one condition.”

“Hmm?”

“You do the same”

He gave her a nod before continuing up the stairs.

“And Harry, we don’t have time for the full story, but if you run into my dad, let him know I’m sorry, will you?”

~~~

Sure, (Y/N) loved Hogwarts, it was her second home, but this was proper chaos! Most of the younger kids were finally safe, but the battle was far from won. There were death eaters everywhere. She stumbled behind suit of armor, narrowly avoiding a flash of red light, and suddenly remembered something her dad had said the other night: 

“It is the quality of one's convictions that determines success, not the number of followers” 

She knew it was meant to work as motivation, but thinking about it now just made her feel sad. How could she be so stupid? She fought her way through the corridors, but after turning a corner, she found herself facing an empty hallway? A chill went down her spine as the booming voice of Lord Voldemort could be heard all throughout the grounds. He was ordering his followers to back down, hoping to get Harry to come directly to him. Great! Now she had two people to find before it was too late...

~~

Entering the great hall this time felt nothing like it had almost seven years ago. There were people everywhere. Students, teachers, children, former graduates and parents - all in this together, mourning, comforting and healing.

(Y/N) would have noticed Fred Weasley surrounded by the rest of his family. Neville and Oliver Wood carefully moving Colin Creevey out of the way. She would have seen all of them, had it not been for a certain old, brown coat in her peripheral vision. 

Her world fell apart, she found herself unable to breathe and didn’t realize she had sprinted towards her father before she felt two, strong arms wrap around her. (Y/N) struggled and tried to push them away, but didn’t have enough strength to do so. She crumpled to the ground and was pulled into a tight embrace.

“(Y/N/N)…”, a soft voice mumbled. “I’m so sorry. Can you try to breathe slower, please? Deep and easy, alright.”

She realized that someone was speaking to her, but she didn’t recognize the words. They held no meaning, almost as if he spoke a different language, or stood very far away. (Y/N) eventually stopped hyperventilating and tried to ease the shaking as she slowly turned to check who it was, sitting with his arms around her. Her eyes met a pair of emerald green ones.

“Harry.” she whispered, still crying but trying to keep her focus on him. There was so much more she would have wanted to say, but she was unable to find the right words. “Please tell me.... Tell me he’s no-...”

“‘m sorry”

They sat for a few minutes before Harry picked a small vial from his pocket and asked if she’d be okay.

“(Y/N/N), I’m sorry, but I have to go. It’s not over yet.”

She took a deep breath.

“It’s fine, I get it. Go. I’d love a moment alone anyways.”

~~~

She sat by her father’s side for a while, but felt unable to look at him, not wanting to fully accept the reality of the situation. It was when the fifth person came up to her to give their condolences that she got up and left the great hall. She couldn’t take it, and besides, it should be fine. The death eaters had left.

She walked the familiar path towards the (Y/H) common room, but nothing seemed... real. It felt like a nightmare, only this time she couldn’t talk it through with her dad over a cup of tea. This time, nobody would be there to convince her it was just a bad dream. 

This time, no one would wake her up…  

The very moment that thought crossed her mind, a dark chuckle shattered the otherwise eerie silence.

“Avada kedavra”

She barely had time to register Antonin Dolohov with his wand pointed in her direction before an intense flash of green light caused her world to go dark.

This time, she wouldn’t wake up.

~~~

*Darkness*

*A flicker of light*

*A flicker of... hope*

*Warmth?*

~~~

It was a weird feeling. She didn’t feel happy, but rather… at peace. She sat up slowly and let her eyes adjust to the brightness as two voices simultaneously asked:

“(Y/N/N)?!”

She turned around and found herself face to face with a rather tall, red haired wizard, and a slightly older man with longer brown hair.

“Fred? Sirius?”

Fred skipped over and held out his hand, helping his younger friend to her feet. He immediately noticed her dried tears and pulled her into a tight embrace. Sirius remained a few feet away with a pained expression on his face, but was unable to stay quiet for long.

“What happened?”

(Y/N) pulled away and met her godfather’s worried gaze.

“I… It’s my fault. I thought all the Death Eaters had left the castle. They were waiting for Harry in the forbidden forest and I just needed some air...”

“Did Harry go?”

A couple (Y/N) had only seen in pictures, but knew to be James and Lily Potter, had appeared behind Sirius.

“I’m not sure. He left for Dumbledore’s office about fifteen minutes earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t even try to stop him but, with all due respect, he would have gone anyways. It’s impossible to change his mind once he decides on something.”

To her surprise, none of Harry’s parents looked very worried, but shared a smile instead.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N/N).”, said Lily gently, “He’ll know what to do when the time comes.”

“You’ve both come so far”, added James, “Things will be fine in the end, and if they’re not fine, then it’s not the end.”

“I hope you’re both right…”, she mumbled quietly, “sorry, but is dad…?”

James smiled sadly and nodded before turning to call his old friend over, however Sirius got there first.

“Oi! Moony! Get over ‘ere.”

Remus had been discussing something not too far away, and Sirius’ comment made him chuckle as he approached the other marauders. 

“Easy, Pads, you make it sound li-”

That was all he had time for, as two arms wrapped themselves tightly around his torso. He would have known who it was even without looking. He’d recognize that hug anywhere. He promised himself he wouldn’t cry, but all it took was one word.

one. single. word.

 “Dad!” 

A single word before hot, salty tears filled his eyes. It wasn’t possible!? He was completely lost for words. Didn’t know how to react, what to say or what to do. He just stood there, his arms wrapped around his only daughter, unable to process the fact that she was… dead. They both were.

“Dad, I’m so so so sorry! I shouldn’t have shouted, I shouldn’t have taken my anger or fear out on you and above all I shouldn’t have left!?! I… I..”

“(Y/N/N)”

“And now Teddy won’t have his father-”

“(Y/N/N)!!”

“And I swear I tried to find you, but I couldn’t and then it was too late and it’s all my fault a-”

“(Y/N) Lupin!!!”

She fell silent but didn’t let go.

“I’m s-”

“Darling, calm down! What’s done is done, alright. I still wish you hadn’t gone, especially given the apparent outcome, but I understand. Are you okay? Nothing broken?”

“No, I’m good, actually… Nothing hurts at all, but-”

“Good!” He pulled away and put his hands on her shoulders. “Would you mind letting me in on what happened?”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, not really wanting to talk about the last few hours, yet knowing she owed her father that much.

“I… I entered the great hall and saw… you. I don’t quite know what happened, I just… broke. Then Harry showed up and we just hugged, I guess?”

Lily and James looked at each other and smiled.

“Then we both left and Dolohov appeared out of nowhere and… well that’s that.”

Remus shook his head sadly, immediately understanding the true meaning of his daughter’s words. HE was duelling Dolohov earlier that night. HE lost that duel. Had he won then maybe, possibly, she would still be alive too. His fault... as always

“Remus? Rem?”, James mumbled, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulders, “It’s not your fault. You tried, and that’s the best either of us can do.”

~~~

Things didn’t go according to plan, but perhaps they were the way they were always meant to be.

Her body next to her fathers, as they rested peacefully in the great hall. Her soul next to her father, as they wandered through the deep valleys of Nangijala, awaiting the day lost friends and lovers would come join them. No matter in this life or in the next;

I’ll be by your side 

~ L

Masterlist

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x daughter reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x daughter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #HP #hp imagine #battle of hogwarts #writing #marauders imagine #marauders #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #sirius black x reader #fred weasly x reader #Padfoot #astrid lindgren

[allegra-writes]

“Heartfelt”

Bar musician! Harry styles x Bartender!Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

Just some Valentine's day fluff with our favorite green eyed boy. Dedicated to @gaycinnamonrollgirl for giving me the idea, and @tomsrebeleyebrow for patiently listening to me endlessly gush about Harry Styles and still being my friend. Happy belated Valentine's day 💖

"You don't have to say you love me

I just wanna tell you somethin'

Lately you've been on my mind..."

Adore you - Harry Styles

...Oh, she looks so good, oh, she looks so fine

And I got this crazy feeling that I'm gonna ah-ah…

"Bartender, my good friend! I'll have my usual and a plate of your finest chips, if you would be so kind"

It was closing time when Harry, the local musician, sat in front of you, elbows on the bar you were wiping down while humming to Patti Smith's "Gloria".

You raised an eyebrow at him, but the willowy man could see the slight tremble at the corner of your lips, a tell that you were suppressing a smile.

"I'm afraid the kitchen is closed, mister Styles. Sam left an hour ago."

"Yes yes, but I have it from a very good source he left you a big pile of leftover chips before he did," He accused, "you know, as he does every night..."

You frowned in confusion,

"I thought you hated cold fries. That you found them to be, and I quote, soggy and disgusting" 

"I guess you can say I acquired a taste for them" He shrugged, mischievous green eyes sparkling, "Just like you did for this lowlife songwriter in front of you and the heartfelt conversations you share with him" 

"Did you now?" There was an edge of scepticism in your voice, but you were already disappearing inside the kitchen. 

Harry's heart did a little jump as you didn't immediately deny liking him.

"Hey, Joe" he called out, "why don't you go home? I'll help Y/N close when we're done…" 

There was a deaf noise as a young waiter, the only person left in the bar beside the two of you, set the last chair on top of a table. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I got this" he reassured him, "did it dozens of times. Go home to your girl"

"Thanks, mate!" The second brit practically skipped on his way to the backroom, but turned around just before reaching the door. "Listen, you know I like you, but if you hurt y/n in any way…"

Harry smiled, genuinely. He could never get mad at anyone that protective of you.

"You know where I live. Pick my sister on the way, though. I think she would like to join you."

Joe rolled his baby blues,

"I know you're not a creep. I meant her heart"

"Yeah, me too…"

Whatever your friend saw inside Harry's eyes was enough to convince him. He nodded and left, as the musician got up to lock the front door and turn the "open" sign off. 

If you noticed Joe's absence at your return, you didn't comment on it, simply setting the giant pile of chips and two cans of cherry cola you were carrying, down in front of Harry, who had returned to his seat. 

"Ah, you always have the good stuff!" the sigh that left his lips as he took the first sip of the soda was not unlike the one any of your regulars made after the first taste of something strong after a hard day. 

"Rough night?" 

"Kind of. Good show though, so at least I have that going on for me…" 

"It really was, I'm actually impressed" You had to confess, "And surprised too, it was a bold choice going acoustic on a night like this, with such a big audience," So many people had gathered to see the show that the bouncer had to start rejecting people so you wouldn't have trouble with the fire department "but it definitely worked" 

There was a slight blush on the singer's cheeks when he replied, far more humble than you were used to,

"Well, you know, Valentine's day and all that. The band, all have boyfriends and girls they wanted to spend the evening with…"

You tilted your head,

"And you didn't?" It was hard to believe, when almost every night he played there you would see him leave with a different, always sculptural, painfully perfect girl. Or man. 

Harry didn't reply, choosing instead to stuff his face with stale fries.

"Alright then" You raised your shoulder in surrender, "keep your secrets…"

He squinted in disbelief,

"Did you just quoted The Lord of the Rings at me?"

"Did you just recognize my Lord of the rings quote?" You countered.

"You are such a nerd!"

"Look who's talking, chicken little!" You gestured at his powder blue sweater with a yellow baby chick at the front and herringbone pants. 

"Oi!" His manchester accent popped out, like it always did whenever he lost his cool "I'll have you know, this is Gucci"

You scoffed,

"That doesn't make it any better, it just means that you spent a shit load of money to look like my third grade teacher, mister Harrington!" 

"Ok, first of all," he countered, "your teacher sounds awesome and second-"

An inelegant snort escaped your mouth. Harry's emerald eyes pinned you down. 

"Second of all, you're no one to talk either, kitten hoodie" 

You could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks. Praying he couldn't see your blush in the dim light, you took a mouthful of soda to cool you down. 

For a moment, none of you said anything, the sweet notes of Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams" the only thing filling the silence.

… Players only love you when they're playing

Women, they will come and they will go...

"Listen, y/n-"

"If I'm being honest-" 

He chuckled,

"I'm sorry, ladies first" 

"Now I'm not sure if I wanna tell you…"

"Come on" A grown ass man pouting should not be that cute, "I want to know"

You feigned a long suffering sigh,

"Fine, if you must know- If you must know, I actually like your new style. It's way better than that... rock and roll cliche... thing you had going on when we first met" You gestured vaguely in the direction of his body, "You know, the long hair, black clothes, doc boots…" 

He flinched, 

"Ugh, Don't remind me. I was trying too hard back then. And not only with my clothes, with my music too"

"Oh, yeah, I remember. All you used to sing about was" You chose your words carefully, "frisky girls and being horny…" 

"Well, to be fair, I still sing about being horny"

"Yeah, but now you're…"

You trailed off, unsure of how you could explain the difference, the change in your feelings towards his music, without explaining the change in your feelings towards the man that made it.

However, Harry would not let it go that easy. He was used to you being sharp, opinionated, guarded. Now there was a crack on that armour, and he wanted to see what was underneath it. 

You hadn't even realized how close you had leaned into each other until his hot breath fanned over your face.

"Now I'm what, y/n?"

More real. More mature. More emotional, as if he had finally found the link, made the connection between sex and love. 

"More open"

Harry smiled,

"Open. Yeah, I like that…"

So close. He was so close now, his malaquite eyes were out of focus. So close you could feel his magnetic field, the gravity of his atoms pulling in yours.

"Harry…" 

Never in his twenty seven years of life and over ten as a musician, had he heard a more beautiful sound than his name, breathlessly falling from your lips.

"Yes?" He murmured, lips ghosting over your soft, perfect ones.

"No"

"No?"

"No" You repeated, more firmly, taking a step back, putting as much space between the two of you as possible, "I know what this is"

"And what is this, y/n" To your surprise, he didn't sound mad, or demanding. He sounded confused and sad. Dissapointed but unsurprised, as if he had expected it to go south or… never had dared expect it would actually happen at all. 

"A bad idea" You explained, "with guys like you, is always the same: You have beautiful women throwing themselves at you every night. And you take them home with you cause why wouldn't you? You are young, and free and hot. There is nothing wrong with taking what's being offered" 

"Y/n-"

"I'm not saying it's your fault" You went on, ignoring him, "And I'm not saying you don't fall in love, sometimes. But that's the exception, not the rule, and I… I'm the kind of girl that's the rule. Not the exception"

Harry had always thought the worst that could happen to him was losing your friendship. Finally making a move, a real move, and getting rejected by you. He thought that was the definitive pain, the one that would obliterate him, if things were not to work out. And he was almost certain they would not work out. 

But sitting there, in front of you, separated by a wooden bar that might as well have been the great wall of china as you stood there, arms around yourself, small and defenseless as you explained to him all the reasons why you wouldn't allow yourself to love him… that was way worse. 

"What if you already were my exception?" He blurted out, before he could stop himself, "What if I was in love with you?"

You laughed, bitterly.

"Harry, I'm not even your type. I've seen you leave night after night with models and socialites and actors, each one more surreally stunning than the last one…" You didn't have a bad self esteem, you didn't. You considered yourself attractive, but the people Harry usually went for were on a whole different level.

"Yes, but that's only because the most absolutely perfect woman in the world for me, keeps me at arm's length!" He rubbed his face in frustration, "And it's so maddening, so fucked up, the way I can't even get away from her long enough to get over her, because even the pain of seeing her every night knowing I can't touch what I see, that I will never have her, is better than the pain of being away from her. 

So I keep on taking home the hottest people I can find hoping they will keep me distracted long enough to fill the hours until I can see her again… until I can-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Never, in all the time you had known each other, had Harry given you a single signal indicating he had any kind of feelings for you. Your relationship had always consisted of friendly banter and quip battles. Sure, you could get flirty sometimes, but you were a bartender, flirting was pretty much your customer service voice, and he was a musician, he would flirt with his own shadow if he could.

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but a familiar melody started coming from the still working speakers.

Walk in your rainbow paradise

Strawberry lipstick state of mind…

"Hey, this is my song!" You didn't quite understand why he seemed so marveled, "You never added any of my songs to your playlist before!"

Oh. Oh.

"Yeah, well" Harry could now clearly see your darkened cheeks as you stumbled over your words, "I guessed I never liked one of your songs so much before" 

This time, he was the one blushing and avoiding your eyes.

"What would you say if I told you-... If I told you I wrote this one for you?"

"I'd say you're full of shit" You scoffed, "Didn't you tell me you only ever wrote about girls you had dated?"

"No," he corrected, "I said I only ever wrote about women that had broken my heart…"

"How did I break your heart?"

Harry sighed. Your walls were back up, higher than ever, and he didn't know how to break through them. It wasn't your fault -and had it been your fault, truth was he could never blame you either, there was something about you that made it physically impossible for him to get mad at you- you spoke from experience, he didn't need to unlock the secrets of your past, didn't need the details. It was obvious you had been burned before, and though he hated it, hated them for whatever they had done to you, he couldn't fault you for trying to protect yourself.

Not when he wanted to protect you too. 

"You didn't like me, back when we first met"

"Harry-"

"No, it's ok. You didn't like me, and you were right not to like me. I know you probably didn't realize it but, that first time you rejected me, when I flirted with you that very first night and you rolled your eyes at me… you changed my life"

"What? How??"

"You weren't wrong, I was a cliche. And I was trying way too hard, to be cool, act like a rockstar… but you took a look at that guy, at that though, playboy, sex, drugs and rock 'n roll guy… and you hated him" Harry snickered. You didn't understand what about all that was so funny, "I had created that guy so that everyone would like him, and you hated him. And the funny thing is-" He finally met your eye. No, he caught your eye and imprisoned them, "The funny thing is, you hating me for what I wasn't, somehow allowed me to start being myself a little bit more, because if you already disliked me… then I had nothing to lose" 

You didn't quite know what to say to that.

His bright green eyes were unable to face yours, choosing instead to focus on the palms he was picking at,

"Is that why you… uhm…" You pointed at his sweater.

"Yup" He admitted, "I showed up here one day, on laundry day, in one of my old nerdy sweater vests and you smiled, when you saw it"

"I remember that!" You chuckled, "It was the brown striped one, it almost looked like a crop top, cause it obviously didn't fit anymore"

Harry nodded,

"I may have had a couple grow spurts since I got that in high school" 

"Ok, but, you made it work somehow…" 

"Thank you. The point is…" he turned serious again, his deep, rich voice even more hypnotic than usual. Or maybe it was just you, for the first time allowing yourself to enjoy it without reservations. "The point is, you didn't like cool Harry, but you liked the real me. Even if just a little bit, and that meant the world to me. I… I adored you because of it. So I wrote a song for you, cause even if I couldn't say it to your face, I had to get it out. Just like I had to get this out tonight"

He opened his arms wide, in his typical ta-da gesture, sad, resigned smile on his face, before getting up from his stool, grabbing his jacket and guitar case.

"You don't have to say anything, I don't expect you to love me back" He declared, "I just- I thought I'd let you know. Valentine's day and all that."

He turned to leave, his own voice still signing in the background,

I'd walk through fire for you, just let me adore you

 Oh, honey…

"Harry, wait!" You almost fell on your face, trying to jump over the bar, but managing to stop him right before he reached the door. His poorly concealed smirk told you he might have seen your little show, but you didn't care.

"Did you mean it? That you'd do anything for me?" 

"I did" He confirmed, earnestly, "I still do. Anything you want, just say the word"

"Well then," you took a step towards him, that he mirrored without even noticing, "what about a date? A daytime date. At a public place." You clarified. Harry did smirk at that.

"What's the matter, afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me?" He teased, leaning closer. 

"Don't ruin this, Styles" You warned, raising to your tiptoes to meet him eye to eye.

His smile faltered, replaced by the most sincere intensity you had ever seen on his handsome face,

"Wouldn't dream of it, bartender" He whispered, before capturing your lips with his.

#harry styles #adore you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #valentines day special

[freddi-in-the-fray]

Small drabble bc I am bored, and yes I ripped the acrylic nails off my thumbs just to type this out. This will be posted on AO3 soon methinks.

How to Tie a Knot:

When Farah and Saul finally see each other again, after Farah has risen from the dead and after Saul has finally recovered from endless months of torture in the Solarian dungeons, they are unable to move towards each other. Both are stuck, still with the relief and hearts heavy from their forced separation. Never before have they spent so much time apart. Their closeness feeds their bond, but their distance has more than starved it. It’s gone, an empty spindle in both of their chests.

Farah remembers feeling Saul in her bones every time she looked into his eyes, but the man in front of her now is more or less a stranger. His mind is a fortress, and though she wants to, she will never prod his mind with her magic. That kind of invasion is just—it is something she has sworn to never do.

Saul remembers Farah as warm honey that creeps through his blood with a thickness that comforts him as much as it suffocates him. He remembers thinking that he could drown in her if it were possible. She’s all sunshine and summer sun, an impossibly idyllic perfection that taunts him when she’s near.

Their reunion is bittersweet. They’re both breathing, alive, but without that connection to the other, neither are truly living. Farah is the first to step forward, and she places a delicate hand on Saul’s cheek, as if her touch could reignite their bond. It doesn’t. She still feels empty. Tears swell in her eyes, reddens them until they finally spill over and slip off her cheeks. Saul is quick to pull her into his chest. His arms come around her, slide behind her shoulders. Her nose presses into his throat just as one of his hands creeps up her back and tangles in the underside of her neatly pinned hair.

“It’s okay, love.” He murmurs, but the crack in his voice betrays him. “It will be okay.”

Months go by, nearly an entire semester before they break. Being together and feeling so alone is too painful; it fractures their minds until they’re both screaming at each other in the open corridor. Communication has never been a problem for them, but then again, they’ve never really had to communicate. The inability to feel one another eats at their souls until they’re angry and bitter and exhausted.

But then Saul snaps. He reaches forward and grabs Farah by the back of the neck. He drags her forward so his nose hits her cheek and his lips cover her own. Farah struggles to hold back a surprised gasp, but that’s all the specialist needs to feel to know that she feels the same. This rage, this pain…it’s from the silence inside them. The string that tied them together has been severed until they’re only echoes of the pair they once were. The touch of skin on skin is comforting, though, and a timid relationship different to the one they’ve always known blossoms between the two.

Another year goes by, eventless and mundane to others but thrilling to Saul and Farah. They share stolen kisses in empty corridors, sneak from each other’s rooms late at night—or very early in the morning—, and finally make use of some of the abandoned rooms throughout the East Wing. It’s exciting, a new adventure full of discoveries for both of them. Their bond is still gone, still creates a void in their chests, but in some ways, they’ve come to know each other even better without it. Farah recognizes each subtle change on Saul’s face, memorizes every twitch of his brows and dimple on his face. Saul commits her voice to memory. Each syllable she speaks, each tone or heavy sigh she lets out sends shivers down his spine. He knows what she feels just from the lilt in her laughter or soft chokes in her cries. In some ways, this is better than the bond. They communicate openly now. Neither have to prod an invisible string to get the truth because they’ve become accustomed to just saying it. Moreover, neither are shy about those three little words that hung like curtains between them for so many years. They see everything now. They finally see each other.

It’s a rainy Friday evening in the middle of November when Saul gets down on one knee, and for the first time, he is truly grateful that their bond has been severed. Farah, his beautiful, clueless Farah, is completely in the dark about his plans. Her face is full of awe, stuck in surprise when he lowers himself to the ground and takes her hand.

“My love,” he whispers. It is only them standing in a circle of flower petals and dimly lit candles in front of the fountain where they met all those years ago. The lights from the school glow behind them, drape over their faces while the fiery wicks of the candles make shadows dance over their bodies. “I have waited over 25 years to do this.”

He doesn’t get the chance to ask, because Farah falls to her knees in front of him and presses her lips to his so quickly that they forget where they are.

“Yes,” she whispers. They both laugh breathlessly.

Seven months later, on the twelfth day of June, Saul stands in between two trees at the end of several rows of hollowed logs draped in soft green moss. Lights twinkle above him, hanging delicately from the white chiffon drapery Terra hung that morning. An aisle has been cleared, and their closest friends and family sit in rapture as Farah steps into the middle at the other end. She is a vision in white, in lace and ivory that hangs from her like dew drops in the misty afternoon. Saul chokes on his breath. Tears fall traitorously from his eyes, and he lets them. She has her arm linked through Sky’s elbow as he guides her over the pine straw and leaves. Sam stands behind Saul, and Terra stands on the opposite side of the altar. As Farah walks, she blooms delicate white flowers behind her. It’s stunning. It’s everything Saul has dreamed of for over 25 years.

Sky stops them both in front of Saul, let’s put a small chuckle when Farah forgets that she can’t just run into his arms. Both of them are a mess of tears as they long to touch. When she finally steps up, Farah hands her bouquet to Terra so Saul can grip both of her hands in his. His are big where hers are small, steady where hers are shaking, and warm where hers are not. It’s like coming home. Neither are sure what is said during the ceremony. Neither really pay attention. Farah looks so beautiful, and Saul scrutinizes every detail until it is burned into his mind: her smile, the way her tears leave light trails through her makeup, the way her eyelashes fan over her pink cheeks. Saul looks a mess, Farah thinks, but it is the most beautiful she has ever seen him. He tries not to cry, but he does. And she’s grateful to not feel him in that moment, because she’s sure if they still had that bond, neither would be able to make it through their vows.

When Ben clears his throat, Saul jumps at Farah. His arms wrap around her waist and drag her body to his. Her shaky hands grip his cheeks as he dips her backwards into a heated embrace. And the sky opens up. Rain starts to pour down over them, echoing in the loud applause of their audience. And then there’s warmth in their chests. Through the grey cover of steam that rises as water hits the ground, a golden light erupts between them. It feels as though something is being tied back together, an invisible string once broken now reconnected.

Farah pulls back in shock when everything that is purely Saul floods her soul. His love for her, his anguish, his fear, his happiness, his grace, his mind. They all crack against her frantic heart, and from the looks on his face, hers crack against his as well. It’s heavier than before, so much deeper than it has ever been. It’s almost overwhelming, the renewal of this bond, and it feels stronger the harder it begins to rain. She chuckles, her finger coming up to trace the delicate line of his nose and brow.

“Water makes knots stronger,” she whispers against his lips, and Saul smiles at her. Drops of rain splash against their faces as they are reborn together in a summer storm.

#silrah #farah dowling x saul silva #ftws #fate the winx saga #farah dowling #saul silva #fluff

[scoopsahoy]

hi can u do a sequel to the derek pregnancy fic where u were pregnant for a full nine months and go into labor one night when yall r asleep

ぺ  word count ⋰ 1.8k

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ birth

ꨃ  part one

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

You opened your eyes to a sharp pain in your back and stomach, causing a sharp breath to enter through your nose.

“Jesus,” you whispered to yourself. You gently pulled Derek’s arm, which was wrapped around your stomach, off of you. You sat up with a struggle, as you were heavily pregnant. You looked at the alarm clock to see it was almost six o’clock in the morning.

The pregnancy was nine months, meaning the baby would be human. You found out at five months that it was going to be a girl, and Derek couldn’t wait to have a tiny version of you running around his loft.

It was a rough nine months. It destroyed your knees, hips, ankles, and gave you massive, dark stretch marks. You’d become insecure about them, but Derek didn’t care.

He was sad that you were insecure about them. He called them your ‘battle scars’, always making sure to make you feel better about yourself when you looked in the mirror.

Even having been with him for over three years, you’d never seen the sensitive side of him that came out when you got pregnant. He made you breakfast, massaged your feet, and would even help you wash your hair sometimes.

You loved it, you just wish he’d been like this the whole time you knew him.

Moving his arm woke him up, and he reached over and lightly ran his hand up and down your back.

“You okay?” he mumbled, still half asleep.

“I think so-”

Just then, you felt a massive puddle forming under you. It dripped onto the floor and you felt a pressure in your belly.

“Derek,” you said in a monotone voice, standing up. You looked at the wet spot on the bed, and he did too.

“Did you pee yourself?” he asked innocently.

“I think my water just broke.” That seemed to wake him up, because he immediately shot out of bed. “Get the hospital bag,” you told him as he slipped his shirt on. He nodded and practically ran to the other side of the loft, returning with a crossbody bag.

He helped you put your shoes on and when you stood back up, he took your hand, helping you to the elevator.

You’d never seen him so nervous and distraught, anxiety reeking from his body. When you got outside and to his car, he made sure you were strapped in before running to the driver’s side and zooming to the hospital.

When you arrived, he didn’t even bother parking straight. He dragged you inside, calling out for help. You both looked up to see Scott’s mom, Melissa. You let out a sigh of relief when she ran over, followed by a nurse with a wheelchair.

You eagerly sat down in it, letting them wheel you to a room you didn’t even know the number for.

Once you were changed into a hospital gown, you laid in the bed, an IV in your arm, and bracelets on your wrist. Derek sat next to you, holding your hand.

“Have you had any contractions yet?” Melissa asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Sometimes water will break before contractions start, but they should get here soon.”

“I didn’t think you worked in obstetrics,” you said as you adjusted the blankets.

“I don’t. I figured I’d stay with you for a minute though. Is there anyone you want to call?”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.” You looked at Derek. “Can you grab me my phone?” He nodded, pulling it out of his pocket. “Thanks.” You opened it and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name Stiles.

Stiles was one of your best friends, and he was eager when you announced the pregnancy. He told you he wanted to be there when you gave birth and made you promise you’d tell him when you went into labor.

Even if it was six in the morning.

You held the phone up to your ear, hearing it ring a few times.

“Hello?” said the groggy voice on the other line.

“Hey, what are you up to?”

“Sleeping,” he said simply.

“Well, I figured I’d let you know I’m in labor, but if you wanna go back to sleep you can.”

“You’re what?” he yelled, making you pull the phone away from your ear.

“My water broke. I’m at the hospital.”

“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be there.”

“I can’t control-” He hung up. “-when the baby comes.”

You sighed and smiled at Derek.

“I’ll come back when you start pushing, okay?” Melissa said, giving you a smile.

“Okay. Thank you.” She left with a smile.

“Are you gonna call your parents?”

“I never even told them I was pregnant.”

“Really?”

“Did you forget I haven’t talked to them in years?”

“I just figured this might be something they should know. You know, since they’re about to be grandparents and everything.”

You sighed. “I’ll call them sometime. Just not now.”

He nodded. “I’m gonna go get some food from the vending machine, do you want anything?”

You nodded. “A Snickers would be nice.”

“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed you. “Be right back.”

No one else had seen this side of Derek except you. He wasn’t the same person he was to Stiles, or Scott, or even his uncle, Peter. With you, he was soft and sweet, always making sure you had everything you needed and wanted. You doubted anyone would believe you if you told them half the things he’d done for you over the years, even before you started dating.

Fifteen minutes went by quickly, and before you knew it, Stiles ran into your room, his shoes squeaking and his breath heavy.

“You haven’t given birth yet, have you?” he asked as he sat next to your feet.

“Nope, not yet. I haven’t even gotten contractions yet.”

“Is that good?”

“Just means it’ll take longer.”

He nodded. “Great.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Just then, you felt a heavy pressure and pain course down from your stomach to your legs, your hand reaching for Stiles’, which was right next to your knee.

“Nevermind,” you groaned, closing your eyes and inhaling sharply.

He winced and an ‘Ow’ left his lips.

When the contraction died down a moment later, you let go of his hand. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” he said, shaking his hand.

“That was not what I was expecting it to feel like.”

“Better or worse?”

“Way worse,” you chuckled. “Jesus. The next few hours are gonna be Hell.”

‘Few hours’ was an understatement. It was now seven p.m., and your contractions still weren’t anywhere near as close as they needed to be.

You’d tried everything the midwife suggested to speed it up: walking around the room, sitting in a chair, sitting on a yoga ball, drinking tea and water, peeing, laying on your left side, and you even tried falling asleep.

But none of it worked.

At this point, you were sweating, crying and in some of the worst pain you’d ever felt.

The doctor decided to see how far dilated you were, which was two centimeters, eight away from being able to push.

“On the bright side, you’ll be able to deliver naturally,” she said.

“What does that mean?” Derek asked.

“No c-section.” You both let out a sigh of relief. “Once you get to four centimeters you’ll be in active labor, which shouldn’t be as long as early labor.”

“Thank God,” you whispered.

Even though it wasn’t as long as early labor, active labor was ten times more painful. It was definitely the absolute worst pain you’d ever felt.

But your boyfriend and best friend were there for you the entire time, even through your random bursts of anger, sadness, and pain.

When you were told you were at nine centimeters, you looked at Derek.

“I can’t do this, I don’t think I can do it.”

He stood up and leaned over you, gripping your hands. Stiles stood at the other side of the bed.

“Hey,” he said, softening his voice. “Are you kidding me? If anyone can do this, you can do this.” You let a tear fall. “Babe, I’m scared, too. But guess what? We’re gonna have a baby. A tiny version of you. We’re gonna have a little girl. And she’s gonna be awesome. Okay?”

You nodded. “I love you,” you whispered. You looked at Stiles. “Be ready for me to crush your hand,” you laughed.

“I’m ready,” he said somewhat reluctantly. “Just try not to break any bones.”

You smiled.

“Alright, Y/N. You ready?”

Screams filled the room, both Stiles and Derek wincing at how hard you were squeezing their hands.

You pushed a total of six times before you felt a massive relief of pressure, and you gasped for air. Your cheeks were soaked with sweat and tears, your legs tingly.

You let go of their hands and, just like before, Stiles shook his hand in the air. You breathily chuckled at his reaction as the nurses wrapped the crying newborn in a blanket.

They handed her to you, now having stopped screaming, and you started crying all over again.

She was beautiful. She had the same pale green eyes that Derek had, and bright red hair.

“She’s a ginger,” he whispered.

“My dad is, maybe that’s who she got it from,” you said.

Only a little while later, Derek was next to you in the bed, and you both just watched her sleep in his arms.

You’d never seen him so happy. He had a soft smile plastered to his face and he was a natural at holding her.

You let Stiles hold her, and, just like your boyfriend, you’d never seen him happier. An uncontrollable grin formed as he sat in the recliner with her, letting you and Derek have open arms for a little while.

Once Scott and the rest of the group arrived, you decided to tell them the name you settled on: Charlotte Allison Hale, Charlie for short. Allison was your best friend before she died, and you figured it would be a nice tribute to her.

Scott loved it, and it pleasantly surprised you. You were worried it would make him sad, and you knew it probably did, but you were glad he liked the name, too.

You spent the next few days in the hospital, learning how to change diapers, breastfeed, and all of the other essential things included in being new parents.

Stiles was there every day, other than going to school. He went to his classes, went to lacrosse practice, and then immediately came back to the hospital.

You liked being at the hospital and having some help from the nurses and Stiles, but being able to go home and spend time just the three of you was your favorite thing in the process.

And it made your heart melt watching Derek with her. For the first few days he didn’t let you get up during the night and insisted he go check on and feed her with the bottles of breastmilk you had pumped while at the hospital.

You were finally in a place where you were genuinely happy with everything in your life. And you couldn’t have asked for a better one.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #imagine #derek hale #derek hale fanfic #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale imagine #derek hale fluff #derek hale x reader #derek hale x reader fanfic #derek hale x reader fanfiction #derek hale x reader imagine #derek hale x reader fluff #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fluff

[sleepysnk]

Team Player: Chapter Seven

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.8k

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

The past four days had been slow for Eren and (Y/N). All the two have been doing is communicating ideas to help improve his teamwork, of course it was a lot of Eren disagreeing or saying it wouldn't work. (Y/N) assured him that it would help, and it would also give him some time for his ankle to heal. 

It wasn't the easiest convincing Eren of all people, sometimes he didn't want to listen, but (Y/N) would tell him in the end it'd be worth it and he shouldn't be complaining, because it gets him nowhere. 

Here they were, sitting in class talking about everything. 

"How else could I change it? There aren't many ideas!" Eren complained, shrugging his shoulders. 

(Y/N) sighed, rubbing her temples. "Look Eren, we'll figure it out soon. Just help me with this," she replied, scooching her chair closer to him. "Look this up for me please," she added, looking at the website she had jotted down. 

Eren sighed in annoyance and opened his laptop to the slideshow. Most of it was already done by (Y/N), because of their deal. It was itching at Eren at how much he wanted to change about it, all of it looked so fancy, and he just wanted to restart. 

"(Y/N), Eren, how is the project going?" Professor Ackerman asked, approaching their table. 

She rubbed the back of her neck. "Uh.. it's going well!" she replied, smiling nervously at her professor. 

His face remained stoic as he shrugged. "I hope it goes well, this is worth your grade. Keep up the good work," he replied, walking towards another table. 

(Y/N) sighed with relief as she turned towards Eren, who had a giant smirk on his face. 

"What?!" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. 

He chuckled a bit. "Oh nothin', you seemed so scared of Professor Ackerman over there. You looked like you were gonna fall over," he said, smirking again. 

(Y/N) felt heat grow onto her cheeks. "I wasn't scared! He's just a hard teacher to pass, that's all. God, shut up!" she said, rolling her eyes at him. 

Eren laughed again, smirking in the process. "Whatever you say princess," he replied in a teasing voice. 

She looked at him again with an annoyed expression. "Will you shut up with that nickname? It's so gross! Ugh," she said, turning her face away.

"Is that why your face is all heated up? I can tell, but nah I like that name for you. It's funny," he said, chuckling. 

(Y/N) gave him the middle finger, covering her face. "Can we just focus?" she asked, rolling her eyes. 

Eren leaned back in his chair. "Yeah fine… but we need to figure out ways to improve my 'teamwork' or whatever," he said, looking towards her. "We don't have much time until the championship game," he added.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows and turned towards him. "When is that game?" she asked, nodding her head. 

"I don't know, my coach never exactly knows those dates until we win the game," he replied, sitting up. "I'm certain it's soon so we have to get something done," he added. 

She nodded, looking at her phone. "How about tomorrow I come by your dorm, we can do this idea. It may work," she said, looking up at him. 

"At my dorm huh? (Y/N) I never took you as that type," Eren said, smirking. 

She smacked his head, causing him to almost fall out of his chair. "Can you not? I'm trying to explain, and I'm not talking about that stuff. Just wait until we hangout," she said, rolling her eyes. 

He rubbed the side of his head. "Okay fine! I was just messing with you," he said. 

She sighed. "God you're a pain in the ass," she said, looking back towards her laptop.

Eren crossed his arms. "Whatever you say (Y/N)," he replied, looking around the classroom. 

"Class is over! Be sure to finish your projects," Professor Ackerman yelled. 

Eren and (Y/N) stood up, exiting class together. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" she said, nodding her head. 

He smiled. "Yeah! Do you need my dorm number?" he asked, putting his hands in his pockets. 

She looked on her phone. "Yeah I actually do," she replied. 

Eren took his phone out, going to send her a message. "There ya go!" he said, looking down at her. "It isn't too far from yours," he added. 

(Y/N) looked down at his message. "Yeah, it's pretty close actually. I'll probably come by around 6 or 7, because that's when my classes end." she explained, putting her phone into her pocket. 

He nodded. "Sounds like a plan!" he said, going in the opposite direction. "See you tomorrow," he added, turning to walk away. 

(Y/N) smiled, shaking her head as he walked away. Who knew he could be such an idiot, but cute at the same time? She hated thinking Eren was attractive, but she couldn't exactly say he wasn't charming. His brunette hair tied up in a bun, his hands, his height, those piercing green eyes, the cologne he wore, and those broad shoulders. 

God, why was she thinking of him that way? It's Eren Jaeger. The asshole who ruined her reputation. 

(Y/N) pushed the thoughts out of her head, and made her way back to her dorm. She silently prayed that tomorrow would be a good day, and hopefully Eren doesn't act like an ass towards her. 

-

The next day seemed to fly by for the two, Eren didn't have practice so he had a bunch of free time to get ready for (Y/N) to come by his dorm. For some reason, he felt extra? He re-did his bed which was out of the ordinary, he took a shower, he even put on extra cologne. 

It was out of the ordinary for sure, Eren never usually got this ready for someone. He usually would just leave things the way they are, but it felt different. 

Weird how he got extra for (Y/N) out of all people, the two never got along before, and it surprised Armin when he mentioned it. Armin stated that he should be thankful for her help, and he should feel blessed that a person like her even agreed. Considering what happened three years ago. 

Eren was laying on his bed, the time on his phone reading 6:38 P.M. Eren remembered that her classes went a bit later, since she was a smart student. She was similar to Armin, having classes at weird hours of the day while others just did the usual morning to afternoon classes. 

His phone suddenly vibrated. He grabbed it, opening the message. 

(Y/N): hey um, are we meeting up? I just wanted to ask.

Eren: yeah we are, you can come by rn.

(Y/N): okay great! i'm on my way.

Eren sighed sitting up to fix his hair, he tied it into a messy bun, and sprayed some cologne on as he waited for her to arrive. His mind wandered to what ideas she had to fix his teamwork skills, was it the project? He didn't have any idea what she meant. 

A sudden knock came from the door. Eren stood up, making his way over and opening it to see (Y/N) standing there with her backpack. 

"Hey.. come in," he said, moving so could enter his dorm.

(Y/N) entered and looked around his dorm. "Nice dorm," she said, smiling a bit. "I'm going to finish the project first then we'll get onto my idea," she added, putting her backpack down. 

Eren shut the door and went to his side of the bed. "Alright.. sounds cool," he replied, crossing his legs on his bed. "Are you sure you don't need help?" he asked. 

She looked up from her laptop. "Yeah I'm fine.. just give me a few minutes," she replied, opening her folder and grabbing her paper. 

Eren looked at the slideshow as she edited it and added information. He watched the way her eyes squinted or the way she chewed her lip, Eren couldn't help but stare. She looked kind of.. cute.

"Eren! I need you to look at this really quick," she said, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

He shook his head, going to look at the slide she was at. He read through the information she put, he looked back up to see her eyes on his. 

"Does it look fine?" she asked, nodding her head. 

Eren leaned back against the wall. "Yeah! That looks fine, but are you sure you don't need any help?" he asked, raising a brow.

(Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest. "Do I need to remind you of the deal? Trust me Eren I got this, just sit back and let me finish this." she replied, looking back down at her laptop.

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Okay fine.." he mumbled, looking around the room.

Within a few minutes she finished the rest of the presentation, she felt satisfied with the project. Hopefully Eren wouldn't pull what he did freshmen year and fuck it over, that's why she decided to submit it as early as she could so no new changes could be made without the professor noticing. 

"Alright.. done!" she said, closing her laptop. 

Eren sat up and clicked his phone off. "So what now? What did you want to do?" he asked, nodding at her. 

She looked over at him. "So I know this sounds odd.. but it's a good way to help with your teamwork. Do you mind if we clean your dorm?" she asked, grabbing her backpack.

His brows furrowed. "Clean my room? How is that going to help me?" he asked. 

She sighed. "It involves teamwork if it's the two of us and there are a few ways it helps. It helps communicate, share ideas, and it can be useful," she replied. "Trust me, it was either this or we go find people to play football with." she added, taking out some trash bags. 

Eren looked at the stuff on his bed. "If you say so.." he mumbled and stood up. 

The two began to clean his side of the dorm, (Y/N) was a bit surprised seeing how his side wasn't actually that dirty, but it still needed a lot of work. Eren was tossing out some garbage that was under his bed, while (Y/N) sorted through his dresser and table. 

"You got ibuprofen as your pain killers?" she asked, holding the bottle. 

Eren looked over and nodded. "Yeah that's what the nurse gave me," he replied. 

She chuckled a bit. "No wonder you aren't healed, these are baby painkillers. You need some Tylenol," she said, putting the bottle back onto the dresser. 

Eren tossed the bag of garbage onto the floor, he tossed a few things off his nightstand and put them onto his bed. 

"Should I do my bed?" he asked, looking over at (Y/N).

She looked over at it. "Furniture first! Your bed should be last," she replied, turning back to his dresser. "Eren, can you give me the cleaner?" she asked.

Eren grabbed the cleaner and walked up behind her. She turned around and her breath hitched, she forgot how tall Eren had gotten. His breath slightly fanned over her face. 

"Here," he replied, going back to his nightstand. 

Her heart raced a bit. She turned back to his dresser and sprayed the lemon scented cleaner onto it, she wiped it up and tossed it into the garbage bag. 

(Y/N) began to place back some of the items on his dresser, she looked at the different football trophies he had or the photos of his family. She vaguely remembered the mention of a sister, Mikasa was it? She placed the frame back onto the dresser and turned towards Eren. 

He was on his phone watching something. 

She walked over and grabbed it. "Come on! Let's keep going," she said and put his phone on his dresser. 

He sighed in annoyance. "Why is this so hard?" he asked with a whine. 

She crossed her arms over her chest. "It isn't that hard Eren. You're just lazy right now," she replied. "Come on, let's do your bed." she added and walked towards the end of his bed. 

He stood up and threw the sheets off his bed. 

"Someone's aggressive," (Y/N) said, picking up his comforter. 

Eren rolled his eyes playfully. "I just wanna get this over with," he replied, walking to the other side of his bed. 

"Here.. tuck this in on your side," she said and flipped the sheet towards him. 

Eren grabbed the ends of the sheet, lifting the mattress a bit as he tucked the sheet under it. (Y/N) did the same. 

Within a few minutes his bed was made and his side of the dorm was clean. Eren was surprised at how clean it was, it hadn't been this clean since he first moved in three years ago. He felt a bit tired from all the cleaning. 

"Toss me my phone," (Y/N) said and walked towards Eren. 

He handed the cellphone to her, she opened her timer app and nodded. 

"What?" Eren asked and raised a brow. 

She smiled a bit. "I timed this whole thing.. we got it done in less than an hour," she replied, showing her phone to him. 

He raised his brows in surprise. "Damn.. it takes me usually about an hour or more," he said. 

(Y/N) giggled a bit. "See? That's what I was trying to teach you. Working with someone else can get things done quicker, and we did organize a lot of your stuff which shared ideas," she replied. 

Eren fully understood what she was trying to do now, it didn't seem so bad afterall. 

"That makes a lot of sense," he said, chuckling a bit. "But uh.. thank you for helping me with my room," he added and smiled at her. 

She couldn't help but admire his nice smile, his teeth were pearly white. "O-Oh! Yeah totally, it was no problem." she said, looking away as her cheeks heated up. 

They sat there for a while, staring at each other. 

"Uh.. I should get going. It's getting pretty late," (Y/N) said, breaking the silence between them. 

Eren blinked a bit. "Oh yeah totally.. um, do you want me to walk you back? It can be dangerous you know," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Yeah sure.. that'd be nice," she said and grabbed her backpack off the floor. 

The two stood up, Eren put his slides on and followed (Y/N) out the door. He exited the doors of his residence halls with her, she shivered a bit as the cooler air hit her skin. 

"Cold huh?" he asked, laughing a bit as he watched her attempt to warm herself. 

She smiled a bit. "Yeah.. I kind of miss summer," she replied and looked down at the ground. 

Eren nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I miss it too but I love fall, it's football season." he said and smiled at the thought of the sport. 

They got to the residence hall that she stayed in, Eren opened the door for her and watched as she made her way inside. Eren followed her down the hall to her dorm, he remembered her number like the back of his hand. 

She stopped as she got to the door. "Well I hoped helping you did something," she said, smiling a bit. 

Eren chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah it did in a way," he replied, staring down at her. 

They stared at each other again. Something inside Eren was tempting him to do something to her, not something bad, he was tempted to..

"Thanks for walking me back. It means a lot," she said, breaking Eren out of his thoughts.

He shook his head. "Uh yeah! No problem, I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, nodding his head. 

She smiled. "Yeah totally, be careful. Don't fall," she said, giggling a bit. 

He rolled his eyes playfully. "I haven't fallen yet, but thanks for the concern princess" he said, chuckling at her nickname. 

(Y/N) slapped his arm and opened her dorm door. "Shut up," she said and laughed. 

"Alright whatever, see ya" Eren said, waving at her.

"Goodnight," (Y/N) replied, shutting the door to her dorm.

Eren sighed as he left her residence hall, he was tempted. He was so tempted to just lean down and…

Nevermind. 

(Y/N) lied down on her bed, she couldn't get Eren out of her mind. Yeah it was normal to think of him usually, but this was different. She thought of him on a daily basis, she was kind of disappointed to see him leave her dorm. She wanted him to stay for some reason. 

Something in her wanted Eren around.

tagging: @ererokii @eremiie @callmepromise @katsuhera @moomii-hime @luvrboykento @flam3bird @thicmitten @simpforerensattacktitan @daughter-of-the-stars11 @mariardgzn @basket-flower-chick @just-a-little-sad @chayauwu @sofi-yeager @ryan249057 @bell0214 @lunamoonawatcher

#anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic #team player

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Continues

Part 12: Home

Summary: Jensen and Y/n are adjusting to being new parents when an unexpected visitor turns everything upside down.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 3.9K+

Warnings: Language, mentions of postpartum struggles, home invasion, attempted kidnapping

Author’s Note: Thank you all for the endless love, my girls who are always there to cheer me on, and my amazing beta @emoryhemsworth xoxo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

4 Weeks Later

Steam billowed up from the mug that sat on the counter. Y/n dipped the teas bags in and out of the boiling water, letting the flavor steep out. Once she was satisfied that it had been long enough since she’d initially dropped the bags in, the mother pulled the soaking pouch from the mug, squeezing the excess water from them into the sink. She pulled open the tabs of the nursing bra she was wearing and stuck one bag into each cup, allowing the warm, humid, heat to surround her swollen nipples. 

“Every time I walk into this room you are doing something strange in our kitchen.” Jensen’s voice had her popping her head up, a soft smile on her face. Her husband was cradling their son in the crook of his arm, the infant cooing as he looked up at his father. 

“I looked it up online; it’s supposed to help with pain,” the noise that fell from her mouth was almost a whine… almost. 

“Have you talked to the doctor about it?” 

“Yeah, it’s likely he’s just cluster feeding because he’s going through his first growth spurt. It should taper off in a few days, but for now, he’s attached to my fucking breasts, so they are not having a good time.” Y/n picked up her mug and headed into the living room to plop down on the couch. 

It was no secret that parents, especially new parents, tended not to get much sleep, but nothing had prepared her for this level of exhaustion. Since birth, Y/n felt like she didn’t get any time to herself. She was a walking milk machine with her body attempting to heal at the same time, and more than once, she found herself in tears out of pure frustration. Jensen had been wonderful, of course, and having Donna around during that first week was a godsend, but they could only do so much, especially now that he was cluster feeding. The fact that Ezra was even letting Jensen hold him at the moment was something of a miracle. She was hoping the tea might help her sleep a tad more soundly, something she had been struggling with since her son was born, her body hyper-aware of everything happening around her, but she had to be careful and watch how it affected the baby. The tip about the tea bags on her sore nipples was a lucky bonus.

Jensen followed her to the couch, sitting beside her as their son babbled away in his arms. The new mother couldn’t even stop herself, her attention immediately on Ezra. She smiled brightly down at him, using her free hand to wipe away the flyaway hairs at the crown of his head. Her husband watched the exchange, an equally wide grin on his face. 

“He’s a growing boy, that’s for sure,” Jensen agreed, watching his wife with an amused smile. 

“Yeah, well, I wish he would stop.”

“Don’t all parents wish that?” He sat back in his seat, laying out Ezra along the length of his lap. The little boy peered up at his parents, his chubby legs and arms thrashing about. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice high as she played with the giggling baby during their conversation. Y/n continued to make faces at the smiling baby as she spoke, her attention divided between the men in her life. “I just know it makes me feel old.”

“It makes you feel old?” He scoffed out a laugh at her comment.

“You know what I mean. He’s already growing out of outfits. I blame you and your damned height for that.”

“Oh, as if height doesn’t run on your side of the family,” Jensen pursed his lips and she laughed at him. 

“Fine, you’ve got me on that one. I’ll just blame my dad.” She turned her attention from the infant, whose eyes had begun to grow heavy, a beaming smile on her face as she looked at her husband. 

“Sounds good to me,” he smiled back at her, leaning in to peck her lips. “I’m going to see if he’ll let me rock him.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you in bed.” Y/n watched as Jensen shifted Ezra back into his arms so he could stand. He turned to her as he got to his feet, the tall Texan bouncing the infant in place as he spoke. 

“It’s seven-thirty.”

“Yeah, so I’ll see you in bed,” she repeated with a pat to his behind as she stood along with him. Jensen shook his head as he headed off, leaving her to get ready for the night with a smile on both their faces. 

****

The cries ringing through the house grew insistent, the pitch rising fast through the baby monitor before she was jolted awake. Her body jumped from the bed on instinct, startling the sleeping man next to her. 

“Again?” He husked, his voice like gravel as he didn’t bother to open his eyes, but he recognized the sound filling the bedroom. Y/n wiped her hand over her face, rubbing her knuckles into her tired and sore eyes. 

“Yeah, it’s the damn cluster feeding,” she replied as she tossed the covers from her body. Jensen moved to get up from the bed at the same time, but she gently urged him back against the mattress. “I’ve got him.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, unless you want to breastfeed him.” It was supposed to be a joke, but she was too exhausted to attempt to hide the aggravation behind her statement. Her adamance about avoiding a bottle had turned into Ezra refusing them, which meant that she and her nipples got no breaks. Not to mention if they wanted to break the cluster feeding, baby-to-breast was the quickest way.

A wide yawn broke across her face as she fetched her robe, slipped it on, and headed to the nursery. She let her muscle memory guide her body through the house, her eyes still struggling to open fully as she shuffled across the floor. The fatigue in every cell of her body was fighting against being awake again. 

Y/n pushed open the door with another yawn, her eyes on the crib as she entered. Between the cries, the white noise machine, and the lethargy, her brain didn’t process that something was off until it was too late.

“Hello, Y/n.” Y/n whipped around, her breath catching in her throat at the sight in front of her. Seated in the glider in the corner of the nursery was Chandler, her son wailing away in his arms as the man rocked the chair back and forth. Y/n opened her mouth to talk, but for once she was truly speechless. Adrenaline was now coursing through her blood, the only thought in her head on getting her son away from him. 

“There’s no way...” When she finally willed away the lump in her throat, the words slipped past her lips, cracked with fear. Chandler’s menacing grin somehow grew wider on his round face as she spoke. 

“Where there is a will, there is a way,” Chandler chuckled to himself as if he’d cracked some code and not just uttered one of the most common idioms in the English language. “See, I overestimated your security system at first. It messed up my whole plan, and I had to improvise. No worries though, he will not notice anything.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Her mind was reeling. Part of her was attempting to assess the situation, looking for any way out, while the other half listened to the deranged words of a sick man, but it seemed Chandler was the priority. That is until he no longer had her son.

“He thought he was doing the right thing by changing out the system when in fact he just made my job of freeing you that much easier,” Chandler went on as if she hadn’t said anything. “Hooking everything up to the Internet just makes it easier to hack. Besides, I was already on your computer—”

“Wait, my computer?” Her voice broke through his rambling. 

“I’ve been waiting for years now to save you, but I had to make sure you were safe in the meantime… so I have been keeping an eye on you,” Chandler explained to her, the nonchalance in his voice terrifying as her son continued to cry in the man’s arms. 

“You cloned my computer.” The realization hit her like she had been slapped. 

“More or less,” Chandler rolled his eyes at her statement. That action somehow irritated her more than the fact that he was holding Ezra hostage at the moment.

“You keep saying ‘save me.’ Save me from what?” At this point, Y/n was only trying to buy herself some time to come up with a plan of her own. Her eyes flickered around the room, landing on the baby monitor sitting high on the wall. The green light on the side of the camera was not shining, signaling that it had been turned off. Whether it was Jensen or Chandler who had done it, she couldn’t be sure. Both her and Jensen were guilty of shutting the device off in the past if their son was still fussy as someone was attending to him in the middle of the night. It was the only way they managed to get an inkling of sleep some nights. Now she was afraid that it could be her undoing. 

“This obviously,” he indicated the child in his arms. The infant was still fussing, but his cries had grown softer in the mere minutes since she had walked into the room. “This cliché of a life you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“What if I told you I loved my life?”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“You don’t even know me!” Y/n reared back at his observation, more than irritated that she had been dropped into the lunacy of this man’s head once again.

“I do know you!” Chandler yelled back, the roar in his voice startling the fussing baby and sending him into another frenzy of cries. He rose to his feet then, and she could now make out the holster on his hip. Y/n stepped back, the revelation of the possible escalation of the situation heavy on her shoulders. “I know you’re way too good just to be someone’s wife and mother!” 

It took her a moment to find her voice again, the frightened woman shaking where she stood as she kept her eyes on her son. All she wanted was for him to put Ezra down, but she had to be careful how she went about it. There was no telling what might set him off next time. 

“So what now?”

“We leave,” Chandler allowed the grin to return to his features, the triumph in his eyes not lost on Y/n. “You and me.”

Y/n bit down hard on the tip of her tongue, wanting to say anything but what she ended up saying next. “Okay.”

****

The faint sound of a distant shout and the continued muffled cries from across the house pulled Jensen back to consciousness. He blinked in the darkness, confusion taking over as he realized what he was hearing. 

He rolled over in the bed, noticing Y/n was still up, making the cries of his son unusual. The still groggy man crawled across the bed and snatched the baby monitor off of the nightstand. He hit the power button, bringing the screen back to life in no time. As it adjusted to the darkness of the room, he could see where his wife stood near the doorway, but she wasn’t holding Ezra, and Jensen couldn’t see him in the crib. The scene perplexed his tired mind. That was until his wife’s voice came through the small monitor.

“So what now?” 

“We leave.” 

The sound of a second voice in the room had Jensen on his feet in an instant. He cursed under his breath as he ran back to his side of the bed and pulled his pistol out of the locked compartment at the bottom of his drawer where it had been waiting for this very moment. Somewhere deep down, he’d always suspected they hadn’t seen the last of the man that haunted his wife’s dreams. Though he’d hoped that it wouldn’t play out this way, he hadn’t disregarded any of the potential scenarios where Chandler may re-emerge. 

Jensen expertly checked the magazine and chamber before flipping off the safety. He ripped his phone from the charger and dialed 9-1-1, putting it on speaker in front of the monitor before sprinting from the bedroom. His long legs brought him to the nursery in no time, his wife’s name on the tip of his tongue.

“Y/n!”

****

“Okay?”

“Yes, just—” The sound of her name had her spinning on her heel, her husband skidding to a stop behind her. His brow creased in the center of his forehead as they made eye contact before he lifted the gun in his hands. The glare that settled into his features as he took in the scene in front of him was downright terrifying to look at. “Jensen, no!” 

“I would listen to her,” Chandler challenged, his actions mirroring that of the enraged husband and father. With the baby in his grip, he was at a disadvantage physically, but the reality was that meant he now held all the cards. 

“Please?” Y/n put her hands up, one towards Jensen and one towards her stalker. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she turned a pleading gaze on her husband. “Jensen put the gun down.” 

“Y/n—”

“I’m leaving,” she hiccupped, hoping he would understand what she was doing, that every action from here on out was about making sure Ezra was safe. Most of all, she hoped Jensen knew that no matter what, she loved him. “Put it down.” 

Jensen searched her face, his eyes scanning over every inch of her tear-stained features, searching for anything to hint she was lying to him, but the truth was she had every intention of going. If it meant Ezra was safe, she would leave and figure the rest out later. It was all she had right now. He nodded, his eyes glistening as he succumbed to the truth in her words. He clicked the safety back on and set it on the ground before kicking it away from him. 

Y/n turned back to Chandler. “See, I’m coming with you, but you’ve got to put my son down. Please, just put him in the crib and I’ll go wherever you want.” The man eyed her before glancing at the crying infant. Carefully he placed Ezra into the crib, his eyes never leaving the couple as he did so. A shuddering breath escaped her chest as soon as her son was out of the line of fire. 

“Go,” Chandler indicated out the door with his gun, the action causing Y/n to flinch, but she did as she was told. Jensen was forced to step back and watch as the woman he loved was carted off at gunpoint. Instinct was yelling at him to go after them, but one false move could mean he risks her life and he had their son to think about too, so instead, he let her go. 

Y/n kept her head forward, blinking back the tears that were blurring her vision as she walked. The unknown laid out before her with every step she made, and it took everything in her to keep from breaking into hysterics. Her chest ached with every fractured breath she attempted, bordering on hyperventilating. Chandler grabbed her arm as she passed the door outside, tugging her back and out the door into the courtyard. She shivered in the night air, the stone wet and cold under her feet as he dragged her along. Her whole being wanted to protest, but there was no use anymore, she was at his mercy. 

He continued to drag her down the driveway and into the road, his grip tightening on her bicep. Her feet shuffled beneath her, her toes going numb from the cold with every step. There was no telling where or how far he would take her. She only hoped someone would be able to find her, or one day she’d be able to find her way back.

Chandler walked up to a parked car sitting at the end of the street less than two houses down from her home. He guided her to the passenger seat, unlocking the door and tugging it open for her. Y/n let out a huff as he shoved her forward, biting her tongue to stop the comment she wanted to spit at him. She turned her back on him before she got in, her eyes going straight to his hands and the gun where he was flipping off the safety. The once irritated woman saw his guard down as her opportunity to run, her stomach now in her throat. It was now or never. 

The woman used this momentary distraction to disarm him, the gun skidding against the asphalt and behind the car. She lunged for the device as he howled from the pain she inflicted to his wrist, picking up the pistol in trembling hands and bolting across the street. Temporarily dazed, Chandler unintentionally gave her a head start before chasing after, anger enticing his actions. His hand reached out just as she got to her feet, gun in hand, his fingers gripping a sliver of the tie of her robe to tug her backward, making Y/n lose her footing. Her body tumbled to the ground, the wet concrete slicing up the exposed skin of her extremities. 

“Stop!” She screamed as she hastily rolled onto her back, the gun aimed at his head as he loomed over her. Her heavy breaths fanned into the night sky in a plume of white mist as she laid out on her back in the middle of the street. 

“Ha, you won’t do it,” he snarled, taking in the way the adrenaline and cold had her whole body shaking. 

“Try me,” she growled back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her break yet again. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated whether or not she was capable, but Y/n held her ground, refusing to move first. The sound of police sirens hit before the blue and red flashing lights began to bounce off the nearby houses. Y/n let out a breath as a police car skidded to a stop just in front of them, the headlights bathing the two in blinding light. 

“Drop your weapon!” She heard the shouts coming at her, but she wasn’t ready to give in. More than anything she wanted to shoot him, for the months of worry and stress to be over once and for all, but she knew deep down that it was over. Y/n put her hands up in defense, dropping the clip from the gun before setting it down slowly and pushing it out of her reach. 

Then everything happened in a blurred mess. She was on her stomach, her hands being pulled behind her back and secured into metal cuffs before the officer brought her to her feet. It was now that she finally let the floodgates open, every emotion hitting her at once and racking her body with sobs. The cops must have thought she was crazy, but she honestly didn’t care. 

“Shit, Y/n!” Jensen’s voice had her popping her head up. He was jogging down the street towards her in just his boxers and a robe. The cop turned on him as he approached, stopping in his path. 

“Sir, please, you’re gonna have to stand back.” The cop grabbed him by his shoulders as Jensen continued to try and pass him.

“The hell I am! You have my wife in handcuffs!” Jensen barked as he knocked the hands of the cops away from his body. 

“This is your wife?”

“Yes, now will you tell me why she’s being detained?” Jensen kept trying to peek over the cop’s shoulder, trying to meet his wife’s eye as she continued to sob. The sight hurt worse than watching her walk out the door. After everything she’d been through, now this, and he couldn’t even be there to hold her. 

“She was pointing a gun at this man when we pulled up,” the police officer explained.

“Maybe because he was trying to kidnap her!”

“Sir, please, it's just procedure. Let us take both your statements and we can go from there,” he assured Jensen. 

“Can I at least see her?” The annoyance was heavy in his words. The cop nodded and Jensen didn’t think twice before rushing to her side. He pulled her body into his arms, cradling her head against his chest as he began to cry with her. “Don’t you ever do anything like that to me again.” 

“I’m sorry, I had to for Ezra,” she wept, her inability to hold him as well making everything worse. Jensen sighed, his whole body going slack when her words registered in his head.

“Shhh, I know, I know. I just—I can’t lose you.” He kissed the crown of her head, one hand moving to rub up and down her back as he continued to try and soothe her. 

The police officer returned with the gun now in an evidence bag. Y/n couldn’t believe what was happening. She felt like she was watching someone else’s life through their eyes and not her own. It was all so surreal. The officer took Jensen’s statement before she insisted he go back to the house. He didn’t want to go, but he’d been gone long enough, the baby monitor in his pocket not sufficient for anything longer than he had been away. He reluctantly left her in custody, placing one last kiss on her forehead before he returned to their son.

Once the paramedics arrived on the scene a few minutes later, the cops released her, Y/n’s statement, and Chandler’s record enough to explain the scene they had arrived at. She didn’t want to let the medics clean her wounds, her mind focusing only on returning home, but she eventually relented that it was the best course of action. The second they cleared her, Y/n was on her feet, running back to her house as if her life depended on it because honestly, she felt like it did. 

Jensen was waiting in the kitchen, attempting to feed a fighting Ezra a bottle. He turned when he heard the door opening, relief washing over him that she was back to him. The still shaking woman ran to her family, allowing her husband to properly wrap her in his arms as she held both of her men against her chest. Her face was shoved into his robe on his shoulder as she let the floodgates open, soaking the fabric in her tears. Jensen shushed her through the release, her body shaking as it came down from the high of everything that had happened. There was no stopping the trauma the night had inflicted upon her, no matter how much she tried. 

So she chose instead to let it out. At the end of it all, Y/n would push it all aside and move forward because she refused to let the experience control her any longer. All that mattered was continuing to build and nurture the family that she and Jensen had started. It wouldn’t be easy, but time would heal the wounds if she worked through them now, and her promise to the guys in her life was to figure it out. Her promise was one of a future filled with nothing but continued happiness.

Epilogue 

Forevers: @22sarah08 @akshi8278 @anathewierdo3467 @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @briagallen @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deandreamernp @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @janicho88 @jensengirl83 @katehuntington @lyarr24 @malfoysqueen14 @miss-nerd95 @mrsjenniferwinchester @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93 @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @smol-and-grumpy @suckmyapplejacks @superfanficnatural @supraveng @talesmaniac89 @tatted-trina6 @thoughts-and-funnies @tranquility-or-chaos @waywardbeanie @winchest09

Happiness Continues: @afangirlreacts @anaelsbrunette @ashleyrose0117 @austin-winchester67 @cno92 @deanbowlegsackles @deangirl93 @deans-baby-momma @death-unbecomes-you @dvnmbabe @fangirl199813 @harryhook-lover @hoboal87 @itsdesiree86 @jbsgirl4eber11 @let-me-luve-you @linki-locks11 @lunarmoon8 @neverland14353 @onethirstyunicorn @parinarain @rebeccathefangirl @rebelemilu @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @squirrelnotsam @stoneyggirl @supernatural3002 @traceyaudette @winchestergirl82 @winqhster @zpandaqueen

If your username is crossed out, Tumblr will not let me tag you. Sorry!

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[slythorniia]

1- “you didn’t let me finish”

This is the first chapter of Nyctophilia

——————————————

*warning: gets a lil steamy, not much but kinda. ya get the point <3.

Elaine Harp, a smart and sophisticated woman, worked her long hair into two separate braids, letting them hang over her shoulders when she was done. She slipped into her white button-down shirt, looking in the mirror to make sure you wouldn't be able to see the lace from her bra. After she made sure you couldn't see it, she slipped on her black skirt, situating her robes around herself, tucking her wand into her waistband.

​Elaine made sure to apply slight make-up before stepping out of her chambers. If you had asked her two years ago what she thought she would be doing today, never did she think she would respond with "working at Hogwarts with her old professors." But, that's exactly what she was doing.

Elaine headed down to the Great Hall, smiling to herself as she walked through the doors, distinctly remembering the days she would sit at the Slytherin House table and listen to Dumbledore's speech for seven years. Making her way past the student tables, she took her seat besides Minerva and Severus. The younger woman turned to her former professor, smiling grandly at her.

"Hello, Minerva. Shouldn't you be heading to greet the new first years?" Elaine questioned, tilting her head slightly. "Oh, my dear, you're correct. It must've slipped my mind. You would think cats would have better memory, but it seems I do not." She responded, hurriedly making her way from the Great Hall.

Elaine turned to the dark-haired potions professor, smiling at him. "Hello, Severus. How are you today?" Severus looked up and sat there, still a little shocked to see how beautiful the younger female in front of him truly had turned out to be. "Fine. I'll need a potion to relieve my headache after I deal with the ruckus these children will cause." He mumbled, not much of a talker yet.

Elaine smiled, nodding along, listening attentively, laughing softly at what he said. "I agree, one hundred percent. Please, do make me one as well." She said, humor lingering in her voice. Severus felt his eyes raise again, noticing that she had laughed at his joke and had included her own part of the joke. He went to respond but before he could, the hordes of children barreled in.

Severus noticed her attention turned to all the children, seeing a few older kids that she remembered from the past two years, smiling to herself. The past two years had been a blast. Elaine learned that Minerva wasn't all that strict, and Elaine often found herself drinking with Minerva, Albus, and Severus. Her and the Potion's Master still weren't exactly friends, but they had a few conversations. Usually involving work, but nothing more. Elaine wished they would speak more, she knew despite his condescending demeanor, he was a sweet and bright man, and Elaine wanted nothing more than to be friends with the dark-haired male.

As Minerva strolled in, first years trailing behind her quickly, Severus's eyes landed on a certain boy, and so did Elaine's. The difference between them, was the boy they were watching. Severus's eyes were on a dark-haired young boy with emerald green eyes, his glasses looking loose around his smaller face, and his hair unruly messy. Elaine's eyes, however, were on the short blonde-haired boy, with blue eyes and a superiority personality that she immediately knew who the father of this child was.

Severus noticed her eyes were locked on Draco Malfoy, slightly pondering why she looked so concentrated on staring at this boy. Severus knew his boundaries, and dared not to ask her. Despite every feeling in his bones telling him to.

As the sorting ceremony started, Elaine's eyes remained on Draco, swiftly changing to the dark-haired boy with his round glasses at hearing his name. 'Harry Potter, here at Hogwarts? How peculiar.' Elaine thought. As she heard all the first years being sorted, she clapped at each one. Minerva finally appearing back to her seat, smiling and chatting quietly with Elaine before Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Just a few words before we are fed. First-years should acknowledge that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits, and Filch has asked me to remind everyone that using magic between classes is not permitted. The third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is forbidden for anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Elaine perked up at the last comment, understanding that it was forbidden and slightly understanding why from Minerva explaining that most she could before Albus shushed her. After all the children had turned into their dormitories, Albus suggested some Fire Whiskey in his office, Minerva quickly agreed, Severus agreeing shortly afterwards, mumbling something about dreading the next day. Elaine was the last to agree, nodding to the offer.

As they all headed to Albus's office, she listened to him say the password, smiling at Minerva cracking a joke about his how password is always candy. Albus turned and stuck his tongue out at her, a sight Elaine never thought she would see, snickering to herself and glanced to see a ghost of a smile on Severus's face.

As they all sat down in his office, Albus handed them glasses filled with fire whiskey. They all started drinking, laughing amongst themselves. Finally, Albus suggested playing a muggle game, Truth or Dare. Elaine snickered, knowing this game from her years as a student, seeing Severus's expression made her laugh only harder. Everyone agreed, Severus reluctantly, and they started the game.

"Elaine, truth or dare?" Albus said, a small twinkle in his eyes. "Dare." Elaine replied, not being one to chicken out of something. Albus thought for a second, turning to Minerva, a knowing look in his eyes. "Alright, if you refuse the dare, you take a shot of fire whiskey. You refuse a truth, same thing." He grinned, before continuing. "Elaine, I dare you to kiss Severus."

Elaine felt her soul leave her body, staring at the elder, her mouth agape before taking a shot. "Nothing against Severus, of course. But we're friends, that's it." She stated afterwards, Severus understanding slightly, not really offended by the fact she didn't kiss him. Severus understood he was no one's type, and was fine by that.

As the game bored on, Minerva had fallen asleep, and Dumbledore on the verge of doing so as well. Elaine and Severus were drunk off their asses, laughing at Dumbledore's glasses falling off his nose slightly. They both stood and took their leave. Surprising enough, both of their living quarters were in the dungeons. Elaine and Severus reached his quarters first and she stopped.

"It would be rude of me not to make sure you got to your chambers safely." He slurred, motioning to follow him. Elaine snorted, "Severus, I'll be fine. It's literally down the hall, I think I can manage." She took a breath before speaking again. "Severus, about the whole kissing dare. I would've but-" She was soon cut off by the deep, gravelly voice of the man before her.

"Elaine, there's no need to explain. I'm not many people's type, little to no one's, and I understand we're just colleagues." He finished. "Severus, you didn't let me finish." Elaine muttered, looking up at the taller male before stepping towards him, smiling a little. "I would've kissed you, but I did not feel like making a scene in front of the two old saps we call friends."

Severus felt his eyes widen slightly before regaining his composure the most he could, considering he was literally swaying just standing. He felt Elaine's hand on his chest, before finally swooping down to capture her lips with his, snaking his arms around her waist. As soon as he felt her kiss back, he pulled her imaginable closer, the two of them fighting for dominance.

Severus ultimately won that battle, victorious by the fact he had taken her bottom lip between his teeth and pulled. Elaine let out a soft moan, feeling Severus kick open his door after muttering the password, pulling her in with him. They quickly moved to the sofa in his living quarters. Elaine pushed him down onto the divan, glad to see there was a backrest that got smaller as the divan stretched.

Letting Severus lean back against it, she took place in his lap, yanking him forward by his collar, her lips against his in a flash. Elaine soon felt hot kisses being trailed down her neck. Severus sucked a little, leaving small, almost unnoticeable hickeys. Elaine let out a small moan, grinning slightly, tugging on his hair a little.

Severus pulled back, and Elaine marveled in the sight before her. Severus Snape, his hair disheveled and his robes unbuttoned, along with the first three buttons of his shirt. Elaine grinned, seeing his bulge in his pants, looking up at him innocently.

"Oh, did I do that...?" She smiled, laughing softly. "Yes, you did, so you better take care of it, witch." He growled, his voice even deeper, sounding more seductive than anything. Elaine felt herself become aroused, and she clenched her thighs together. She smirked to herself, leaning down, her voice low and seductive as well.

"Hm, well, I believe you are a big boy, and are able to take care of it yourself." She whispered, biting the shell of his ear before straightening herself up, walking to the door to his chambers, turning and waving slightly before letting herself out. Hearing a long, loud groan of frustration from the potion master made her burst out into a fit of giggles.

Elaine found herself collapsing into her bed, asleep before she even had the time to say "Dumbledore's Army" (yes, that's a joke for future reference.)

Elaine awoke with a jolt, rushing to get ready for classes, a major hangover cursing her body. She showered and dressed appropriately for class, rushing to Minerva's room. Minerva smirked at the faint hickeys she had missed this morning.

"Did someone have a good night?" She laughed. Elaine took a look at her neck, and immediately casted a glamour before all the students piled in. Elaine kept trying to remember last night, and all she could reminisce was the hot feeling of a pair of lips on hers and the gentle touch of this person. She knew it couldn't have been Dumbledore, and there was no way it was Severus.

Or so she thought. That disagreement went out the window when Severus strolled in, small hickeys adorning his own neck, quite oblivious to them. As soon as Minerva noticed them, she let out a howl of laughter, glancing between you two.

"Oh, my- You guys were so intoxicated, you don't remember anything. Bloody hell" She muttered out. Severus's eyes met yours, and everything fell into place.

Anywaysss, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I'll try to get the second one out soon.

Mwah <3

(wc.) 2177 words.

#professor snape #harry potter #severus snape #snape x reader smut #snape love #fanfiction #fanfic #new writer boost #writer #severus x oc

[jawritter]

Where The Green Grass Grows

Chapter 2

Summary: Life changes, nothing ever stays the same. With most change comes with some degree of pain, that’s how we grow. Jensen thought he had his whole life planned out, written for him in the bright lights of Hollywood. One failed marriage later, and a lifetime of lessons learned, lead him home to a place he thought he’d left behind him when he was only a teenager. He thought his life was over. He felt like he’d lost everything, but who knew one little trip to the local diner that had just opened up outside of town would turn his whole world upside down. All because he met you. Maybe a little slower pace of life isn’t such a bad idea after all…

Warnings:  Language, Angst, mention of past OC character death, mention of grief, dealing with a divorce. Drinking. I think that's about it for this chapter.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word  Count: 2065

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine!!Please do not copy my work! I hope you all enjoy this one! Feedback is golden!

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“Fuck me,” Jensen mumbled as he rolled onto his back from his stomach and looked up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. 

His head was pounding, and his stomach was more than a little woozy. He desperately needed to stop drinking so damn much. He was just getting too old to do it anymore like he did when he was in his 20’s, and the hangovers were no joke anymore.

He was thankful that his mom had redecorated his bedroom over the years, and that it was set up as more of a guest room than it was his old bedroom. It helped to not have to face all those memories he had shoved way down, and just pretend it was a holiday or another family gathering where he had to stay over for a while. 

He knew his time in Hollywood had come to an end for the foreseeable future because he was still having trouble keeping his emotions in check, and as long as he was doing that drinking had been his go too. It was a natural spiral for him, he was glad in a way the public didn’t have a chance to see just how bad he was. Alex was right about one thing, home had been a good place to hide. 

He couldn’t hide from everyone here. That was the only problem. His family could see just how bad of a clusterfuck his life had turned out to be. He knew they knew he was drinking heavily, he saw it in the way his mom looked at him every morning when he finally dragged his back from the dead ass out of his room, and down for breakfast. 

A loud rap on the door nearly made him fall out of the bed and with three heavy thuds he was brought back to reality. 

Jensen looked up just in time to see his dad come into the room, and sit down in the small chair next to the window before turning the lamp on there. Jensen shielded his eyes from the assaulting light that flooded the room and groaned as he rolled himself over to hide in his covers. 

“Morning,” his dad said, crossing his legs as he watched Jensen struggle to adjust to the light and refocus his gaze on his father. 

“Morning,” Jensen finally mumbled, sitting up on the side of the bed, and running his hands through his sleep tousled hair.  

“Mom’s got breakfast ready downstairs, and some slacks and a dress shirt ironed for you in the laundry room,” Alan said as he watched Jensen get up and stumbled his way towards the connecting bathroom, leaving the door cracked so that he could yell back over his shoulder to the older man sitting in the chair.

“Where are we going?” Jensen yelled before flushing the toilet and making his way to the sink to wash his hands and throw water on his face. 

He didn’t like going out in the public eye right now. Someone always recognized him, and always had a damn camera ready.

“It’s Sunday, and as long as you live under this roof with us you know you will have to go to church with us,” Alan said simply as Jensen made his way back to sit on the foot of his bed. “That was the agreement when you moved back in here remember?” 

Jensen tried to push down the annoyance that rose up in him surprisingly quickly. 

Church? He hadn’t been to church in years. Hell, he didn’t even know after everything that he’d gone through if he even believed there was a God anymore.

Jensen licked his lips, attempting to choose his words carefully. This was his father’s house, and he had agreed to it when he’d moved in, he just didn’t anticipate Sunday coming so damn soon. 

“Dad, I don’t know If I’m fit to walk into a church house this morning,”  Jensen said, locking eyes with his father, and doing everything he could to convey without saying it out loud that he’d rather do anything than go to a church service. 

He wasn’t really, he was doing all he could not to throw up right there in front of his dad. 

“Eating will help with that hangover, then you can get a shower before we go, I’m confident you will be just fine.” 

Jensen shook his head and let out an annoyed huff. Just like when he was a kid, there was no arguing with him. There was no pleasing him. So he just gave up like he always did. That’s one reason why he didn’t want to come back here. Here he was, a grown-ass man in his 40’s, and his dad was still telling him what to do.

“Jensen, look, I know you don’t want to go, but don’t do it for me, do it for your mom. She was so excited this morning when she got up to make breakfast that you were coming with us. She wants to make a whole day of it. Go out to a little diner just outside of town once it’s over, and just have a family day. Just... give her today.” 

His dad stood up and made his way towards the door before turning around to look back at him. 

“The only way you're ever going to move on from this son is to pick yourself up and just do it. No matter how much you want to just roll over and give up. If you do that, Danneel wins. Pick yourself up, shake it off, find a pretty girl to go out with to help you get over her, and put the bottle down for Christ stakes. It’s only going to cause you more pain in the long run.” 

Jensen watched as his dad excited the room, his mind reeling with what he said to him. He knew he was right, he was never going to move on as long as he let himself wallow in what happened. He had to get past this. He wasn’t the first man to ever go through a divorce, and it wasn’t like it was all sunshine and roses while they were married. 

Jensen forced his aching body to its feet and made his way towards the shower to rid himself of the smell of alcohol. They say what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, but right now he didn’t feel so strong.

Five hours later, all the way across town, you had just finished cleaning up from the first lunch rush. Sundays were always a big tip day, and you could really use the money, so you didn’t complain not one bit about the almost constant on your feet that the day was sure to bring. 

Most church groups came in all together, which made for large orders, and large tables. Today was not different. As far as you could tell there had already been seven church groups come through, and seeing as it was close to 1:30 pm, it wasn’t anywhere near over for you. 

You were just contemplating taking a break before the next wave of customers, but you must have contemplated a minute too long because the dinging chime above the door announced the arrival of more guests. 

It was a party of about seven adults and a few children. You could tell that they were all family just by looking at them, so it would probably be an easy table.

“Want me to grab that table?” Jess asked as you through the cloth you were wiping tables with in the bin behind the counter and started to make your way towards the table they had chosen with our pad and pin to start taking their orders. 

“Na, It’s not that big of a table, I got it,” you answer her and she nods at you with a smile. 

“Y/N, hold up a sec,” she says, running over to you to whisper in your ear. “You see that guy with the black shirt, the one who just took his shades off?” 

Your eyes trained over the extremely attractive man with broad shoulders, brown, almost auburn hair, and the most astonishing pair of green eyes that seemed to sparkle even at this distance. 

“That guy is Jensen Ackles, have you ever heard of him?” she asked, the smirk growing over her face as your eyes raked over the gorgeous specimen of a man sitting at the table looking at the menu that was already there. You watched him swat at the young girl you assumed was his sister playfully when she leaned over to annoy him. 

“No, and right now who he isn’t important, what’s important is the tip I’m gonna get when he’s done.”

“I hear he’s recently divorced,” she said, but you cut her off, and made your way towards the table to take their drink orders, and introduce yourself. You didn’t need to know his history. The guy was way out of your league, and you weren’t an idiot.

“Hi, my name is Y/N, and I’ll be your waitress for this evening,” you announced as you came to a stop at the head of the table next to the oldest man, and the man that you were informed was Jensen Ackles. 

Jensen’s eyes met yours and you swore to god for a moment you forgot how to breathe. He was so heartbreakingly handsome up close, and the moment he smiled at you, a swarm of butterflies was turned loose in your belly, and you haven’t felt like that in a very, very long time.

“Can I get you guys started with drinks?” you asked, clearing your throat, and quickly looked down at your pad to hide the blush creeping up in your cheeks. 

“I’ll have a Dr. Pepper,” Jensen said, starting the roll call of drinks your way. Once everyone had their drinks, and you had brought their food to the table, you went to hide behind the counter, and try to catch your breath. 

Every once in a while you would catch Jensen looking at you, and when he caught you looking back at him he would smile warmly at you, making those butterflies take flight all over again. 

“You’re blushing, Y/N,” Jessica said, elbowing you playfully as she followed your gaze. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, and went back to refilling the ketchup bottles in front of you.

“He keeps staring at you ya know, maybe you should go ask him out.” 

If looks could kill the look that you were giving her would have done the job. You didn’t have time to respond to her, because the sound of a throat being cleared behind you made you nearly jump out of your skin. 

“I’d like to go ahead and pay if that’s okay?” Jensen said, as you turned around and the smirk Jensen gave you nearly made you fall flat on your ass.

The man was insultingly handsome, and he knew it.

“Sure,” Jessica said, turning to the register and giving him his total. His eyes barely left you as he paid for his meal, and you made your way over to start clearing the table they were sitting at. 

You thought you had to escape him because you can’t think straight when he’s looking at you for some reason. You should have known better than to think it was over that quickly. 

Looking down at the table as you picked up the plates you saw a folded napkin set in the center of what was Jensen’s plate with a note scrawled on the napkin, and a $100.00 bill tucked inside that simply said,  “For the prettiest girl in Dallas.”

You turned around just in time to catch his eye as he winked at you, and followed his family out of the door. The look on your face must have been priceless because Jessica came running your way shaking your shoulders to get your attention. 

“What is it? Talk to me Y/N!” 

You showed her the note wordlessly. Your head was swimming with emotions as she squealed and jumped up and down with excitement next to you. 

You were too stunned to do anything but stand there, how the fuck could you have a crush on someone that you had barely even spoken to? How the fuck could he have such a hold on you already?

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanficiton #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles series #jensen x reader #jensen x you #spn fanfinficiton #spn fanfic #spn series #dean winchester #where the green grass grows #x reader inserts

[arcturusreads]

Tequila Tales - Merhayes

Living in a hotel full-time had not been something that Meredith had been particularly excited about. Especially when her kids were only a fifteen-minute drive away and she couldn’t even hug them. The only saving grace to this entire situation was that at least she had some company in this place. As fate would have it Cormac Hayes’ hotel room was situated right next to her own. She hadn’t thought when she first met the obnoxious Chief of Paediatric surgery, that she would ever be thankful for his company but after spending far too many hours across a surgical table from each other, she found that he wasn’t actually all that bad.

After finishing a 19-hour shift, where she had called time of death on six patients, Meredith had swung by the supermarket to grab some essentials drove straight to the hotel and took a long warm shower. She stared at the bottle of tequila placed on the table as she changed into a set of grey sweatpants and an old purple hoodie. She’d picked up the tequila whilst she was in the supermarket, after the day she had it was definitely classed as an essential item. Mer picked up the bottle, ready to fall back onto the bed before thinking better of it.

Sighing, Meredith put on her slipper boots and shuffled out of her room. Looking up and down the hallway, she wasn’t surprised at the stillness that greeted her. Most of the hotels were housing healthcare workers who weren’t able to go home or didn’t want to take the risk. The only noise that occurred was when workers would be making their way in and out of their room before and after a shift.

Meredith gave a soft knock on the door that was to the left of her own. “Hey, Hayes, you in there?” Her tired voice called.

She wasn’t even sure if he was back at the hotel. Meredith had seen him at seven in the morning when he had been helping out Maggie with some of her paperwork since the paeds ward had been so quiet. For all she knew, he could still be on shift, but it was worth the try. There was shuffling behind the door and Meredith was surprised at the relief she felt knowing that Hayes was in.

“Grey, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Cormac leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

Meredith held up the bottle of tequila she had a tight grip on. “I’ve had enough of your whiskey, now it’s time for you to drink my pick in poison.”

Hayes laughed, creases showing in the corner of his eyes and he moved out of the way for Meredith to enter. Meredith hated the way her stomach flipped at the sound of his laugh, throaty and deep. Not many people had the pleasure of hearing that man laugh and Meredith wouldn’t admit it but she couldn’t get enough of the sound. She had taken the time whilst he had closed the door to appraise him. A set of green plaid pyjama bottoms and a black v-neck t-shirt adorned his body and she had to admit that he wore his loungewear well. As Cormac turned around, Meredith quickly averted her eyes and went to sit cross-legged on the bed.

“I normally drink from the bottle but with everything going on, it’s probably best we use glasses, right?” Drinking from the bottle meant that she paid a lot less attention to the amount that she was drinking which suited Meredith just fine but with a raging pandemic it was probably best they forwent that option.

Cormac grabbed two tumblers, the only glasses that he had in the room and sat down next to her. Meredith twisted the cap open and poured the tequila into each glass, so they were half full.

“Bloody hell, Grey,” Cormac stared wide-eyed at the glasses and Meredith grabbed her own and took a long sip.

“I’ve built up a pretty good tolerance to this stuff,” she shuffled on the bed as she tried to get more comfortable.

“I’m sure there are a few good stories attached to that.” Cormac teased, a cheeky glint in his eyes as he drank.

“You don’t know me well enough for that.” Meredith parroted the words that she had spoken to her a couple of months ago in surgery when he wouldn’t tell her about the electric fence story.

Cormac pulled his feet onto the bed and moved closer to Meredith. The shift almost made Meredith feel nervous but that was overpowered by the electric feeling she felt on her skin. She wasn’t entirely sure when she had become so comfortable with him being around but now there were times, especially after a long and difficult shift, that she found herself craving his company. He had the ability to make her forget about reality for a little while

“Oh, come on, Grey. We’re getting through a pandemic together and I’ve let you polish off a bottle of my Irish whiskey. Do you know how difficult it’s been for me to get my hands on that right now?”

Meredith rolled her eyes and bumped her shoulder into Cormac. “You know, tequila is one thing, me on morphine is a whole other story…”

Grinning, Cormac willed her to go on.

“I got appendicitis during my residency, and I was dating Derek and this vet, Finn, at the time but that’s a whole other story that will need a lot of tequila for me to tell,” Cormac laughed. He liked getting to know more about Meredith’s life outside of surgery, he wasn’t surprised that she was as much of a handful then as she was now. “Bailey put me on morphine before surgery because of the pain and having three guys who I’d kissed all in the same room as me at the same time… yeah, that wasn’t the best idea.”

“Well, your residency certainly sounded more exciting than mine.” Cormac had already been married as he finished his intern year and had his kids during his residency. Anytime he wasn’t at the hospital, he was at home with Abigail and the boys. He didn’t regret a single second of it though, some people might have called it boring but for him, it had been perfection… even if he hadn’t thought it at the time. He’d go from cleaning up patients to cleaning up his kids, feeling like he was sleep-walking through the days but looking back on it now, Cormac would do anything to go back to a time where it had been the four Hayes’ against the world.

“You really don’t know the half of it…” Meredith smiled shaking her head as she thought about everything that had gone on during the early years of her career. Sometimes she wondered how she’d even made it to where she was.

Cormac made a face as he took another sip of tequila, “I don’t know how you drink this stuff but if you’re going to make me, then you owe me some stories.”

“Hmm,” Meredith downed the rest of her drink. “You pick then. Do you want the story of the bombing, the shooting, the drowning, the plane crash, the time my friend got cancer, the time my other friend got hit by a bus, the one where Cristina had her eyebrows shaved off, or where we cut a guy’s LVAD wire?”

Cormac choked on his drink, “I’m sorry, what?” He had known that Meredith had lived a pretty colourful life but he hadn’t heard any of the stories. People called her a survivor but grossly underestimated what they had meant.

Meredith just grinned at him, “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Lucky we have some time then. So, what’s this about Yang and her eyebrows.”

The two of them had ended up talking late into the night. Meredith wasn’t sure when, but she had ended up drifting off. Moments before sleep had taken over, she had a fleeting thought that she had to go back to her room, but exhaustion had won over.

Cormac had woken up in the middle of the night, feeling an unusual weight over his legs. Slowly opening his eyes, he propped his head up to find Meredith’s legs resting over his. He let his head fall back against the pillow again, letting sleep take over. It was the first time in a very long time that Cormac had fallen asleep with a smile on his face.

#merhayes #meredith grey #cormac hayes #hayes x grey #cormac x meredith #grey's anatomy fanfic #excuse me whilst I rearrange the alphabet

[creativeashproductions]

Healed by the Music // Luke Patterson

Summary: After the fallout of reckless behaviour and forced to return back home the reader had rediscovered her love for music. Close with her family once more her band Graveyard Petals receives an offer that could turn around the band’s tarnished reputation. The only issue is not wanting to hurt those close by leaving.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of death, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.3k

A/N: The second and final part to a lovely little series I had grown to love, the first part is Drowning From the Past. I came up with the band name so if you want to use it send an ask and we talk about it. This is set after the first season and Ray can now see them after the whole Golden glow thing.

Part One - Drowning in the Past

Masterlist

In the months you retreated back to Los Feliz the band had grown exponentially bringing in more revenue with merch. The social media followers grew as well with the hope of a new photo posted of you and the band. The most recent teased new music coming.

Speaking of music, it seemed to pour out of your body into two notebooks unknown to both your sister and her band—the band of ghosts that become massive fans of Graveyard Petals when Julie played full-length debut album Dahlia. Luke had even collaborated on a song for your band; his name the first of writing credits.

Now, seven months after the shameful return the band had gotten the offer of a lifetime to open for 5 Seconds of Summer on a world tour. The issue came with talking with Julie, and the guys gave you had shown your father you had healed.

"Hey, what's been up with you lately?" Julie asked, seating herself in the swing right beside you. Her hair pulled away from her youthful face.

Whenever you looked at Julie, you saw Mom with the gorgeous hair and gleeful smile that brightened a room. Even on your mom's death bed, the room flared with that same smile in every picture in albums and on the walls. Sometimes you swore the piano in the studio bath in the warm light brought by the one person that taught you and Julie to play.

"I've been thinking." You simply spoke eyes focused on the park that had been a massive part of your life.

Every year Rose and Ray Molina had brought their three children to the very park the two had met years before. Rose would bring flowers to a specific bench, and every time you asked why she had the same answer.

Little Y/N was a precocious child inquisitive of the world around her held at an arms life by her parents. Skilled at singing and natural affinity for music it worried Rose, in her eldest child she recognized something. The intense passion and talent that a particular guitarist had once displayed on a stage that would have changed everything.

"It a place of absolute joy and acceptance. Four legends came together in front of that very bench."

Rose would never know about the place had Bobby not subconsciously led her there for the first time mere hours after the devastating loss. He had collapsed to his knees, pleading for his best friends, his brothers to return. In broken sobs, he had told Rose that this park, this bench was the first place Sunset Curve played. Band fresh and still unnamed they had gotten confident enough to set up near the bench to start building a following.

Now it was eight years after the first visit with Bobby who started going by Trevor a year after the loss. The fresh-faced boy that had flirted with Rose had changed, and at that time, Rose wasn't sure it was a good or bad thing.

"It was the guys Mom left the flowers for." Julie started following your eyesight to the bench that had a fresh bouquet. A single dahlia in the middle of the flowers for your mother.

"Yeah." You softly spoke, turning to focus on the girl that had healed through music. Seeing how grownup Julie had become hurt your heart. Julie wasn't a child anymore, and you wished she never went through what you did for months.

The two Molina girls sat in comfortable silence with minds thinking the most opposite things possible.

"5 Seconds of Summer is going on tour. We should try and score some tickets when they come to LA." Julie spoke, raising one leg to rest her arm on it. The high waisted light washed jeans with paintings on them.

Your heart clenched at her excitement for a band you both adored for years.

"I know. 5SOS gave Lucy an offer for Graveyard Petals to open for them worldwide. The others are down to join, but if I'm not ready, we won't." You avoided the brown eyes burning your cheek for a second.

Julie's warm hand clasped yours in hers to jog to your car you had bought with your first paycheque. Unable to figure out her state on the possible tour, you quietly drove back home with no sound other than breathing.

"Hey!" Luke beamed as his two favourite girls, came wandering into the studio with pensive expressions and stooped shoulders.

Alex picked up on their moods almost instantly, "Are you okay?"

Your mouth opened before the loud yell of Flynn cut off your opportunity to respond and a slap smack to the back of your head. The sharp cry of pain stumbled from your chapped lips and Flynn's frustration rolling off her form.

"Flynn!" You sharply called rubbing the stinging spot with a glare outmatched by Flynn's fire. The look unlike you had ever seen on the girl with a sharp sense of fashion and unapologetic personality.

"You got asked by 5 Seconds of Summer to tour the world as an opening act!" Flynn elaborated at your confused expression, "Jules texted me. You need to do this! The amount of questions of if GP will return is outrageous! In the last two days, the band's Instagram got five thousand new followers."

The ghostly trio stayed silent as Flynn reprimanded her best friend's older sister with crazy talent. Flynn was your self appointed biggest fan with buying the first album at the store to demanding to wear newly designed merch before the drop.

"I'm enjoying being at home. I'm on good terms with Julie and Carlos, Dad doesn't look like he's gonna drop dead in disappointment when he sees me." You shrugged focusing on the discoloured mark on the ground.

"It's okay to be scared." Alex supplied smiling as Flynn nodded her thanks as the tall drummer stepped in.

After escaping the Hollywood Ghost Club (HGC), a handful of people gained the ability to see them, including Flynn. It was rather refreshing for the girl to finally interact with the guys with Julie being the middle man.

"I'm not-"You cut yourself off at the disbelief on Julie's face with her arms crossed just as your mother had done, "I nearly lost myself in the bottom of a bottle. I fucked up my relationships and tarnished both mine and the band's reputation."

Luke's warm hand came down on your shoulder in the act of support, the touch a new factor to the ghost. Your hand came to rest on his with a smile of gratitude cast to the dead boy.

"You have healthy coping mechanisms to fall back on. You'll have us to visit with the poofing ability. If you stumble, we will be here for you." Reggie informed you with his toothy grin and kind eyes.

The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place, feeling the wound close up, leaving a scar that had blistered and reopened since last year. The cheers enveloped you like their arms as you texted Lucy and the band your decision.

Dublin, Ireland 2021

"Hello, Dublin!" Your voice amplified in the large stadium of fans cheering for your band—the thud of Iris on her drum kit.

James idly stroking the strings on his dark green teal guitar your band had pitched in as a gift to him. On the opposite side of the stage was Sawyer with their custom-made gorgeous marble green and white colour.

"I hope you are enjoying yourself so far! It is our last song before the real act comes out!" You exclaimed to the boisterous crowd.

Just barely in the wing of the stage waited the band that had quickly become older brothers to you. A band that had given you a chance after the madness of your downward spiral.

"This song came out in 2018 and quickly became one of my favourites. It wouldn't be right to sing it without some friends." You continued as the guys walked onto the stage, "Without further adieu, this is Lie to Me by 5 Seconds of Summer!"

Luke Hemmings along with Calum, Ashton, and Michael ran to join your band as Iris started a sick beat. Calum and Michael already joining Sawyer and James in absolute perfect sync leaving Ashton to rock out by Iris. Hemmings, to not confuse him with Luke Patterson, came to stand next to you with a guitar.

[Verse 1: Hemmings]

I saw you looking brand new overnight

And I caught you looking too, but you didn't look twice

You look happy, oh, mmm

You look happy, oh

Hemmings angled his body to face you but not cut off the fans behind him, creating the vivid story you had done each rehearsal. The blue clashing your own eye colour holding your personalized sparkly emerald green mic.

[Pre Chorus: Hemmings & Calum]

Flashing back to New York City

Change your flight so you stay with me

Remember thinking that I got this right

Only adding backing vocals as Hemmings retreated to jam out with Calum leaving you to jump around the stage. Landing next to Sawyer they beamed with the loud stadium heard even through the in-ear monitors.

[Chorus: Hemmings & Calum]

And now I wish we never met

'Cause you're too hard to forget

While I'm cleaning up your mess

I know he's taking off your dress

And I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

Raising the mic to your lips, you came into your cue returning to the middle of the stage with Hemmings.

"Give it up for Y/N!" Ashton yelled into Iris' personal microphone.

[Verse 2: You]

It's 3 AM and the moonlight's testing me (Ah)

I know that you've been holding on to someone else

And now I can't sleep (Ah)

I ain't happy, oh

I ain't too happy, oh

[Pre Chorus: You]

Flashing back to New York City

I was done, but you undid me

Classic me to run when it feels right

The stage was charged with the chemistry the two lead singers of their respective bands all sharing grins. The cheers growing as Hemmings came closer to share the green microphone, the tech guys skillfully turning Hemmings off; no feedback sounding.

[Chorus: Hemmings & You]

Now I wish we never met

'Cause you're too hard to forget

While he's taking off my dress

I know she's laying on your chest

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

Singing, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie (Yeah yeah)

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

The Australian singer stepped closer to hug you quickly before finding his way to your bandmates too. The crowd all having their phones out in which the hugs would be made into edits, and the shipping would intensify.

"Dublin! You have been incredible to play for. Enjoy the rest of the concert and rock out because I will be doing so backstage." Your voice echoed over the fans with a beaming grin feeling comfortable on stage again.

"This is Easier!" Hemmings shouted as the rest of his band commenced their part of the concert just as they had the last few months.

Watching the guys perform with your own band with you was incredibly bittersweet after touring worldwide for months. The media had eaten up the sudden reappearance of the band with positive publicity increasing the popularity.

"I love this song," Sawyer spoke with a twinkle in their eyes tapping their foot to the beat. James was just barely moving his head to beat while Iris was jumping around uncaring of the people around.

"You love it because we got to collaborate on the song!" James exclaimed, tapping his hip on her thigh. Iris' 5'11 form towered over James' 5'7 height but that never caused issues with them.

James's black hair gleamed blue in the strobe lights tinting his pale complexion as well. Sawyer's hair dyed bright red pairing well with their tawny skin colour with their mocha brown irises. Iris had changed over the break abandoning her past style for a more laidback skater style.

"I'm gonna head to the bus. Grab a shower and change." You informed the band as you started retreating to where the bus was parked.

"See you soon!" Sawyer yelled with their attention halfway back on the band of guys that had given you all a second chance.

Walking down the hall with employees milling around, you barely acknowledged them other than a smile. The performing had taken a lot out of you after a fitful sleep. Carl, your band's security detail and current bouncer to the backdoor, nodded at you.

Carl's colleague would be stationed at the bus as per usual with your routine of catching one song and then leaving. Bea's hardened gaze relentless on scouring the area with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Hey, Bea." You spoke earning a grunt in response from the jaded security detail hired after adjusting back to civilian life.

You didn't have the entire story other than Bea had been in the military, but due to an injury had been medically discharged. Your manager Lucy had been the one to hire her as per the new policy of having two people of different genders on detail.

The bus was quiet as you entered flinching at the sight of your father sitting on the couch with Julie and Carlos beside him. Your mouth gaped at seeing your family after months of only FaceTime and calls.

"Oh my gosh!" You yelled lunging to hug your siblings with wide eyes matching.

Carlos had definitely grown at least two inches since you last saw him, and Julie's hair was pulled back in an intricate style. Her outfit screaming Flynn's advice but her ring was on show that matched your own.

"Surprise!" Ray exclaimed to his eldest child with pride written clear on his face, "I missed you, Mija."

"So, did I!" The cheerful voice of Luke interjected as the three boys of Julie and the Phantoms made their appearance.

Standing further back in a band shirt with Graveyard Petals was Alex's boyfriend Willie with a shy expression. He still felt incredibly guilty of delivering the boys straight into Caleb's hand and often voiced his feelings of not feeling he deserved to be friends.

"Hey, Willie. I like your shirt!" You told the tall skater who sent a shy smile.

"Still weird," Ray muttered having walked in on Reggie towel drying his hair the month before you left for tour.

It had been a very confusing and emotional time for Ray and Carlos to adapt to the new information. After Julie saved the boys and that weird golden glow happened, they had been able to make themselves visible; just no poofing in the vicinity of Ray after he nearly fainted that one time. The details hadn't been worked out yet, but Caleb was out of the picture.

"Did you catch the concert?" You questioned the group tugging on the damp t-shirt you had worn on stage. The fabric was drying after being drenched in the sweat after spending an hour under hot lights and continuous movement on stage.

"We stayed for the one last night. We stayed for your set tonight before we got Bea-"

"-she's terrified by the way," Alex interjected with a grimace on his face at the stoic young woman. The glare at focusing on her scars had truly scared the anxious drummer.

"-to let us on the bus. We wanted to surprise you and congratulate your success." Luke informed the group, "You're insanely talented by the way."

His left hand coming to intertwine with your right hand just as it had before you departed for the world tour. You had grown incredibly close to the guitarist firstly as best friends before developing into a relationship.

"We did explore Dublin for the morning. I'll forever be in Lucy's debt for sending the tickets for us." Ray happily sighed, thinking of the lovely woman that had helped Ray guide his daughter back to herself.

"I'll just hit the shower quick." You swiftly jogged to the back of the tour bus where the shower was situated near the five came rooms. The entire band each had one room and a spare for the driver.

Los Angeles, 2021

Your hair pulled away from your face you sat beside a willow tree in contemplative silence with only your guitar and notebook. You knew that in a few seconds Luke would appear for another writing session.

"I love you." Luke breathlessly spoke as he ran up to you with a great big smile.

The awe at his words blinding your thoughts from the hope you had been feeling for the last week. Luke's hazel eyes glittering in the sun and the smile bubbled onto his face.

"I love you too." The words slipped quickly off the tip of your tongue as the guitarist tugged your form into his body. Supple lips quivering on the skin of warm neck all Luke felt was gratitude.

Luke leant back to brush his calloused fingers on your cheek, "Julie got a call. Someone little birdie sent in a demo to a label."

"I wonder who that happened to be." Your smirk revealing just precisely who had sneakily grabbed the freshly recorded demo.

Lucy had always had an interest in Julie's talent in music but tabled in during the period that Rose died. The grief stealing Julie's voice and leaving behind stage fright hadn't been something Lucy would chance. The manager had always hoped Julie's voice would return.

"You gave Lucy the demo, and she passed in on to the Red Bedroom Records!" Luke was quick to tug you into his arms with a huge grin, "Julie and the Phantoms are getting signed! The owner is personally flying over on Monday to go over the contract and sign it!"

Your words muffled by his chest, "Lucy informed me about that, and she offered to manage you as well."

"Lucy is the best. She gonna mentor and give Flynn an internship to still work with the band. Thank you so much, baby." Luke whispered against the warm skin of your forehead.

"I just decided to speed up the process. Can I tell you something?" At Luke's nod, you continued, "I'm thinking in a few years to open a label of my own. I was hoping you guys and Julie would be interested in doing that with me?"

"I am so down to do that. We're gonna hire an investigator to make sure what Trevor did isn't able to happen at our label." Luke was already passionately thinking of what the hypothetical future label.

"That's perfect!" You beamed, "We could give a workshop to aid songwriting too! I thought that we could name it A Rosie Sunset. My dad called my mom Rosie most of my life and Sunset for your first band."

"I didn't think I could love you more than I did a minute ago. You proved me wrong." Luke breathless laughed before humming when your lips made contact with your own.

The warmth that had been missing the year after you mom passed away had returned, and sometimes you swore the sun shone down on you. You had no doubts it was your mom's way in heaven to hug her children. You and Julie had come to the conclusion that your mom had sent the boys into your lives.

Rose Molina, even in death, did her best to make her children happy. The three remaining members of Sunset Curve the absolute best part of her two daughters lives.

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