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musings-of-a-rose · 3 years ago

Text

Meet the Millers - Chapter 11

Pairing: Joel Miller x Benny Miller x Will Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 4700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Bear in mind the pairing of this fic along with the fact it’s set in a post-apocalyptic setting, so there will be themes and elements fitting the setting. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This is it, folks! The final chapter! This fic was a challenge to write but I had so much FUN! Thank you for coming along on the Miller journey with me. I hope you enjoyed it! This is also the first official chapter series I'm ending, and even though I wrote it over the course of 2 weeks in February, I'm still feeling a way about it. It's poetic that this ends on my birthday too!

**UPDATE: I have decided to continue this fic beyond this point!

I hit 200 followers and wanted to give y’all a little something so I did a poll and let you pick what one shot I write next. This is what y’all picked! I hope I can deliver. I started this out as a one shot and it MAJORLY got away from me, so now it’s a mini series. Thank you so much for following me and reading my ramblings! Also a shoutout to @astoryisaloveaffair for helping me figure out how things work and being an amazing sounding board, @icanbeyourjedi for helping me to settle on a filter for this moodboard, and @theewokingdead for being delightfully appalled at how many words this one shot has turned into and cheering me on with memes and gifs.

This is set loosely in The Last of Us universe. I’ve only played a bit of the game and watched others play (and the show isn’t out yet), so please forgive any inaccuracies. Also it’s a post-apocalyptic world so I’m taking a bunch of liberties here. Because fan fiction.

Ages at the time of this story (so you don’t have to do math):

Reader: 28

Benny: 35

Will: 38

Joel: 50

*Reader is ethnicity inclusive despite stock photo bias

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

<<Chapter 10

—----

Time passes as it does. You loved living with the Millers as they were the only people in the world that you cared about. They never judged you, only loved you, supported you, and cared for you, and you the same for them.

About a year after Joel had joined the relationship, you were standing in the kitchen making tea when you turned around to see all 3 of them on one knee behind you.

“We may not have rings or anythin’ fancy, sweetheart.”

“But we love you, darlin’.”

“Our lives are made whole with you in it, angel.”

In unison, they said “Will you marry me?”

Benny chuckles. “Or us, rather.”

“I- YES!” you throw yourself on your knees, pulling them all in as you hug and kiss each of them.

“We’re sorry we don’t have a ring or anythin’. It’s hard to come by, angel.”

“I don’t need a….a…”

They all look at you as the lightbulb comes on in your brain.

“Do any of you know someone who does tattoos?”

Will chimes in. “Yeah. One of my officer’s sisters a few sectors the other way from where you lived. Why?”

Benny claps you on the shoulder. “Where you gettin’ it?”

Smiling at him, you point to your ring finger, where you would traditionally have a wedding ring, if this was pre clicker times.

“What are you getting, angel?” Joel and Will are confused but Benny smiles at you knowingly.

—----

A week later, you stand in front of a few coworkers of the Millers, the only person you ever really met that you worked with was Benny. You had found a pretty sundress and styled your hair nice - one of the wives had helped you and put flowers in your hair. No one really questioned the fact that you were binding yourself to 3 men, all related. They were all just happy to have a reason to celebrate in this dark world.

After your vows, you headed over to the tattoo artist where she got to work, drawing an exact replica of the M tattoo the Miller brothers shared on your left ring finger, exactly where a ring would be. You couldn’t stop smiling despite the pain, loving the fact that you had their mark on you - it made you feel found, like you finally belonged, in a world where you had only felt lost.

The second you walk through the door to your place that night, Benny and WIll are on you, touching, kissing, biting, lifting your dress off as you rid them of their clothes. The three of you start to make your way to the hall, intending to head into Will’s room, but Joel speaks instead.

“Wait.”

Pausing, the three of you stop to look at Joel, whose eyes are roaming up and down the parts of your body that’s exposed. His head jerks towards his room.

“My bed’s the biggest.”

The three of you look at him - Joel had never joined in your group sessions, opting to only make love to you one on one, which was fine with all of you. But as you analyze his face, you see nothing but desire and a willingness, a lust for you that has you nearly dripping down your legs. You walk forward to stand in front of Joel and he looks down at you, eyes drifting over your body. You cup his face and wait for his eyes to return to yours.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“To quote my brother, “I’m not touchin’ them, but I can ignore their dicks.” Especially if it means I get to touch you and see you loved.”

You pull him in for a kiss and nip at his bottom lip, loving the groan that pulls from him when you do. Fingers graze over the buttons on his shirt, undoing them and exposing his bronzed skin underneath. You slide his shirt off, feeling for the button on his jeans. Sliding his pants down, he kicks them and his boxers off and you let your eyes roam down his body, pouring all your love and adoration into your gaze. When you lock eyes with him again, his eyes are dark, lust blown, and you can see the restraint in his features. He leans forward to kiss you, leaving a trail of them down your neck and gently taking a boob in his mouth. You moan and toss your head back, feeling Benny move in to kiss you almost immediately, swallowing your sounds. Always the practical one, Will moves down the hall to open the door to Joel’s room and you gently push Joel off your chest as you break the kiss, biting Benny’s bottom lip as he smirks and turns to head to the room. You take Joel’s hand and gently pull him towards the doorway, Will slapping your ass as you walk past him. You laugh and squeal, smirking at Will over your shoulder as you lead Joel into the room and up to the bed. He stands there, eyes big and wide, looking a little lost. Thinking for a moment, you place your hands on Joel’s chest, reaching up to place a soft kiss on his lips before you whisper in his ear.

“Sit on the bed. On your knees.”

Joel swallows hard and does as you say, scooting about halfway up the bed. Still standing at the foot of the bed, you pull Benny to you, slotting your lips against his and winding one of your hands around his neck, playing with his hair. Will moves in behind you, pressing his body against yours as he kisses your neck and shoulders. He slowly glides his hands across your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. One of his hands finds a boob and he starts to massage it gently, swiping his thumb over your nipple, feeling how it hardens under his touch. You moan into Benny’s mouth as he slides his hand around the back of your head, holding you to him and deepening the kiss. His other hand finds the unattended boob, mimicking his brother’s actions. Will’s other hand slowly slides down your side, traces little designs as he descends. He moves his hand carefully in between you and Benny, making sure he won’t touch his brother. Once he’s comfortable, he swipes a finger through your folds, quickly pressing into you before pulling your juices out and back up to your clit. Breaking the kiss with Benny, you moan out as Will continues his work, Benny moving to grip your chin, watching your facial expressions as Will pumps his fingers in and out of you.

Benny and Will continue their worship of you for a few more moments, until you suddenly remember Joel is there this time, waiting patiently on the bed. You manage to turn your gaze to him and feel a rush of wetness between your thighs that has nothing to do with the way Will is treating you. Joel is sitting on his legs on the bed, eyes blown wide with lust as he watches you, gently gripping himself, sliding his hand up and down his length. Struck with a sudden desire, you tap Will’s and Benny’s hands and they stop what they’re doing. You kiss them each deeply before crawling across the bed up to Joel, kissing him deeply as well. Pulling back, you nip at his nose, earning yourself a smirk as you turn away from him and lay down on your back, legs dangling off the foot of the bed, placing your head in Joel’s lap, your head next to his already leaking cock. You stare up at him, giving Joel wide doe eyes as he continues to slowly stroke himself right next to your face.

Quickly glancing down at Benny and Will, you see them nod at each other, apparently having made a plan. Benny grabs your legs and spreads them wide, holding them up as he lines up with you. You hold Joel’s gaze as Benny slowly slides into you, touching a spot at the back of you. Your mouth opens, a soft “oh!” escaping your lips as your brows furrow together, Benny grinding into you at the end to rub into that spot harder. You wrap your legs around Benny’s waist pulling him closer to you. He grips your hips, pulling you onto him as he thrusts into you, making your head slide a little up and down Joel’s leg.

Joel’s face is watching yours, waves of pleasure dancing across your features. His pumping has sped up a little, drawing your attention back to his dick. Gently, you reach your hand up and lightly grab his, pulling him off himself. Confusion on his features for a brief moment, until he sees you open your mouth and slide his cock into it gently, making sure you don’t scrape him with the movements of your body as Benny continues to fuck into you. Licking around him, you take your time pulling him into you fully, seeing his head fly back, wordlessly mouthing “shit” as you suck him in. Because of your angle, his cock presses into the side of your cheek, the definition of him becoming apparent the more of him you take in.

“Angel, shit, you look so gorgeous.” Joel’s hand comes up to your cheek, rubbing over where he is stretching your skin, rubbing small circles into you, feeling you moan and writhe under his touch and praise. Slowly, he inches out of your mouth, watching as a trail of saliva connects both of you as he pulls fully out. Pushing back into your mouth, you slide your tongue around him, tracing designs into his skin as he pushes in deeper.

Suddenly, your clit lights up, adding fuel to the fire that had been steadily growing inside you. A tongue laps at your nipples and you feel the gruff of Will’s beard, the calluses on his hands catching on your bundle of nerves as he massages you. Your hand flies up, winding fingers into his blonde locks as you hold him to your chest, moaning and whining into Joel’s cock, causing him to stammer.

“Fuck, angel. That..you feel so good.” He strokes your cheek again, brushing hair from your face as he starts to increase his thrusting.

“Look at you, takin’ all of us like a good girl.” Joel nearly growls out his praise, and you can feel him holding back.

“She’s the fuckin’ best,” Benny chimes in, grabbing your legs and pulling them up to rest your ankles on his shoulders, pinning Will’s fingers inside your folds, which just increases the sensations. Benny picks up his pace and you can feel his hips start to sputter as he rails into that spot in the back of you. Your own pleasure about to break over the dam inside you, you pull your head back to get Joel out of your mouth, crying out as you come with Benny, both of your sounds filling the room as his hips shove into you, spilling himself deep inside. Will hasn’t removed his hand, guiding you back down from your orgasm, biting down on your boob, earning him an extra hard tug on his hair from you.

Benny kisses your calf before he pulls out, Will dropping your boob and removing his hand at the same time. Feeling suddenly empty, you turn your head to the side, pushing Joel’s cock back into your mouth, loving the grunt he lets out as you do. Able to focus on him a bit more, you take charge of the motion, wrapping your tongue around him and tracing patterns into his skin as you hollow out your cheeks as best you can, feeling Joel caress your cheek every time he pokes at it, praising you and caressing your face the entire time. About a minute goes by like this before Joel pulls out of your mouth.

“Hold on, angel. You’re…entirely too good at that and I want to make this last.”

A moment’s silence and then Will speaks.

“I’m…not as gentle as Benny.”

Joel nods and shifts you over so the back of your head is resting directly in between his legs. His hands caress your face as he gazes down at you, love pouring out of him and washing over you, causing you to heat up again. Benny lays on his stomach, scooting up to your side, one hand guiding a boob into his mouth as he laps at your nipple as you whine out, gripping his hair with one hand. Will grips your legs and pushes them open, as he lines up with you. You feel him heavy at your entrance, your pussy clenching around nothing as if trying to suck him inside. Will feels it and groans, his dark blue eyes finding yours.

“Are you ready, darlin’?”

You nod vehemently and before you finish nodding, Will thrusts into you, roughly pulling out to slam back into you, setting a rough pace as he tightly grips the underside of your thighs. You feel your head slamming into Joel who doesn’t seem to mind. Your mouth is open, whines escaping you with every harsh thrust. A crack echoes across the room and you feel the sting of Will’s slap on your ass and you cry out at it, Will repeating the action just to hear your sounds.

Benny drops your boob from his mouth and moves his opposite hand to your lips, locking eyes with you as he pushes his fingers into your mouth and you suck on them a little, listening to his small moans. Removing his fingers with a pop, he moves his hand down your body and finds your clit, rubbing small circles and taps onto your sensitive spot.

“Shit..I…I…fuck!” is all you manage to get out, feeling Benny gently nipping at your boobs, his hips starting to grind into the bed, unable to help himself.

Will pushes your legs wider, spreading you open and giving Benny more room to massage your folds and you cry out as Benny does just that. Joel takes your free hand in his and rubs small circles into the back of it, watching your face as it bounces in his lap from Will’s hard thrusts.

“You’re doing so good, angel. Lettin’ us take care of you.”

All you can manage back is an open mouthed smile at Joel, feeling Will’s thrusts getting harder and faster, knowing that’s his cue for getting close. His hands move under your ass and tip your hips up and at this new angle, he rubs right up against your g spot and you’re seeing stars, crying out as you come undone around Will, feeling him thrust into you a few more times before grunting out, spilling himself inside you. Benny continues to gently rub your clit as you come down, your body jerking as overstimulation sets in. He removes his hand as Will pulls out and moves down between your legs to bite your inner thigh, watching you grunt in pleasure at the mark. He continues kissing up and down your inner thighs, Benny having moved on to sweet kisses across your chest as well, Joel caressing your face.

“I need…I need…” you’re trying to gather your speaking skills.

“What do you need, angel?” Joel asks, watching your face.

You meet his eyes. “I need you, Joel. Please,” the last word was more of a plea but you weren’t above that.

Joel studies your face. “Are you…are you sure, angel? If you’re too…too sore or tired, you don’t have to-”

You’re sitting up, pushing Will and Benny from you as you do, turning to kneel in front of Joel. Placing a hand on either side of his face, you pull him to you, licking and biting at his lip before sliding your tongue inside, feeling him wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer. You feel his erection pinned between you both, his thick cock pulsing with desire. You break the kiss but keep his eye contact, bringing your hand up to your face and licking your palm, sliding it between your bodies and gripping him, sliding your saliva around his erection. Joel breathes out heavily, watching as you pump him a few times.

His restraint breaking, he pulls you down onto him as he lays down, kissing you passionately, feeling you grind your hips along his.

“You ready for me, angel?” his voice is low and raspy in your ear, a shutter coursing over your body at the tone.

“Fuck yes.”

You sit back and take him in your hand, lining him up and sinking down onto him, both of you crying out when he’s fully seated inside. Unable to help himself, he thrusts up into you, tapping at a spot in the back.

“Oh fuck angel, you feel..ngghh…fantastic.”

You ride him for a few more thrusts, meeting his hips with yours as you both whine. You feel a strong hand between your shoulder blades, Benny’s voice husky in your ear.

“Bend over for me, sweetheart. I wanna be inside you too. That ok?”

You nod, letting the force of his hand push you forward, leaning over to kiss Joel. His hands come up to cup your face, cradling your jaw. You hear Benny pop his finger out of his mouth and feel him press at your other hole, massaging it gently before he slowly pushes his finger in to his first knuckle. You whine into Joel’s mouth, feeling Benny letting you adjust before he pushes in further. This time you break the kiss, mouth hanging open as you cry out, pleasure radiating out across your body. He slides his finger out, feeling you grip him as if trying to hold him inside. He pushes inside of you again and Joel watches your face contort in pleasure, mouth open in an “o” shape as Benny pushes in and out of you, cautiously adding a second finger before repeating his preparations. He gently pumps in and out of you, making sure you’re ok the entire time.

“I think you’re ready for me, sweetheart.”

He quickly wipes his finger on a cloth before settling behind you, Joel spreading his legs wider to give Benny more room. Joel thrusts into you hard once and stills, nodding at Benny. You feel his head pressing at you, hesitating for a moment before he slowly pushes in.

“Oh fuckfuckfuck!” you pant out, feeling every inch of Benny as he continues to slowly inch inside of you, letting out his own grunts along the way. When he bottoms out, his hips against your ass, your head hits Joel’s chest and you cry into it, feeling stretched and full.

“Fuck you’re so tight, sweetheart. Shit.”

He slowly pulls out of you and you beg him to come back, unable to stand the loss of his weight, his presence, inside of you. He chuckles lowly and slides back in, repeating the process a few times to make sure you’re ok and ready for him to set a pace.

Once Benny starts to move, Joel moves too and you cry, feeling both of them hitting all of your spots at nearly the same time. Benny grabs one of your hips and Joel grabs the other, digging their fingers into you as they both fuck you. Several thrusts later, you feel a strong hand grab your jaw, turning your head.

“Think you can take me, darlin’?” Will looks down at your tear streaked, lust blown face, his eyes darkened with his own desire.

“Please,” you pant out, unable to form actual words. You open your mouth and Will gets the hint, moving into a stable position. You lick at suck at him before he pushes into your mouth, grunting as he bottoms out. He grabs the back of your head and looks down at you for confirmation, making sure you were ok. You give him a wink and suck a little harder, running your tongue along the length of him. He moans as he pulls out, pushing back into your waiting mouth and setting his typical rough pace, holding back slightly because it’s your mouth.

You’ve never felt so deliciously, deliriously full. All 3 of the men you cared about most inside you at the same time. It made you feel powerful and sexy, these grown men, your men, shifting their own positions to make sure that you were getting pleasure from this too. And fuck were you getting pleasure. It seemed like every part of you was alight with it, someone pulling out while another pushes in, tapping at several places at once, skin gliding and slapping against skin as the sounds you all were making echoed across the room. You managed to slide a hand over to Will’s knee and tap it, Will sliding out of you and hovering in front of your lips.

“Come for me, boys,” you pant out the last word and quickly take Will back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him while he slides fully into you.

You feel all of their hips starting to sputter, their breathing and grunts speeding up and your dam breaks, your release jolting through you and extending out to all of them as they all come. Joel’s hips thrust into yours sloppily as he comes, grunting out his higher pitched moans as he coats your inside. Benny slams his hips against your ass, digging his fingers into your cheeks as he spurts into you, his head thrown back and jaw open. Will’s hips had a few hard thrusts left in them as he comes into your mouth, gripping the back of your head and pulling your hair as he groans. For a few moments, no one moves, everyone breathing heavily as they come down.

“Shit darlin’. I’m sorry,” Will nearly whispers as he slides out of your mouth, moving to grab a cloth as you take deep breaths. He dabs at your mouth, cleaning you off before he plants a quick kiss to your lips, nipping at your nose as he moves to grab another cloth. He tosses one to Benny and one to Joel, who nod their thanks. You rest the side of your head on Joel’s bare chest, watching as Will pulls on a pair of boxers and walks out of the room, his explanation of “Waters!” spoken over his shoulder. Benny pulls out next and you whine at the loss of him, feeling a cloth being pressed to you as he gently cleans you up and places a kiss on your lower back. Benny walksto the door and yells after Will, still completely naked, yelling “We need snacks too, William!”

Managing to pick your head up, you meet the chocolate eyes of Joel, heavy with love as he gazes down at you. You make a move to sit up, but he locks his arms around you, holding you to him for a few moments.

“You gonna stay in there all day, Joel?” you chuckle.

“I was thinkin’ about it.” He smiles as you brush the hair from his forehead and let your fingers trace his features, ending by cupping his face.

“How do you feel, Joel? Was this all…ok?”

He sighs and brings his hand up to the back of yours, squeezing it. “I’ll admit I wasn’t sure about this when we started. But, angel, that was…so fuckin’ hot… I’m kickin’ myself for not joinin’ sooner.”

“Well, we have plenty of time for whatever you desire.”

He kisses you softly before groaning as he pushes at you gently, giving you the signal to lift off of him. You do and the both of you whine, missing the feel of the other. You lay down feeling hollow, empty without them. Joel lays down next to you and pulls you to his side, letting you nuzzle into him. His chest rumbles as he starts to stroke the arm you’d thrown over his chest.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you too, Joel.”

“SNACK TIME!” Benny bursts into the room still butt naked, and bounces over to the bed, jumping onto it on all fours. Laughter erupts from your mouth as Joel swears at Benny.

“Put fuckin’ some pants on, bro! I don’t want to see that!”

“Then stop lookin’! I know other people in this room appreciate my body.” He winks at you as more laughter pours from your mouth, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes as you slap his chest.

“Ok, ok stop, I can’t breathe!”

Benny joins in with your laughter, moving off the bed and helping you to sit up. You pull on your dress and throw Benny’s underwear at him, hitting him squarely in the face. Joel joins in the laughter now, watching as Benny waggles his eyebrows at you, brandishing his boxers and doing a corny seductive dance as he puts them on, hopping around the room on one foot. Once you’re all dressed, you join Will in the kitchen, where a small meal had been set out. The 4 of you eat and chat, having a great time and you think to yourself how lucky you are to have found 3 people in this broken world that care for you as much as you do them.

—----

One year later…

Will walks in the front door, kicking off his boots and joining you and Benny at the kitchen table where you were playing cards. He takes your cards as you move to get him a drink, letting him know dinner will be ready in about an hour.

The 3 of you sit to eat when Joel comes in, an odd look on his face. He mimics Will, kicking off his boots and hanging his coat up before entering the kitchen where you’ve already set down a bowl of stew and a drink for him. Joel walks up and pulls you to him, giving you a quick kiss and a whispered “Thank you” before sitting down, taking a couple bites of food before speaking.

“I was offered a..mission of sorts today.”

The three of you turn to look at him, giving Joel your undivided attention.

“Oh yeah? How far this time?” Will asks.

Joel rubs the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. I would be gone for…at least a year, probably more. Granted, that’s if all goes well.”

You all stare at him, frozen in your actions.

“Over a year?” You ask, worry and dislike lacing your words.

Joel meets your eyes. “Yeah. It’s…pretty important. Tess said it has to be me. But-” he looks at each of you in turn. “-I don’t want to be away from you all for that long, especially considering there’s a strong probability I wouldn’t…come back.”

“Absolutely not, Joel.” You find your words first, Will and Benny voicing their agreements.

“Angel, this is important.”

“You’re important, Joel. To me. To us. What is so important that you’d be willing to risk that?”

He sighs. “There’s a..girl. She needs to get out of the city and to…the Fireflies.”

You all swear, Will slamming his fist down on the table.

“BUT-” Joel raises his voice, putting his hands in the air. “-I want you all to come with me.”

That shut you up.

“What do you mean? Leave Boston?” Benny asks.

Joel nods. “Exactly. I know we have good lives here but I can’t leave with the very likely chance I won’t see any of you again. And honestly, I need you. All of you.” His eyes linger on your face, blown wide like a puppy.

Silence for a bit, but you’re the first to break it.

“Why is she so important?”

Joel watches you for a moment, internally debating with himself. “Tess said she’s got the potential for a cure. For this.” He gestures around vaguely, but you all know what he’s talking about.

You glance at Benny and Will, reading their expressions and seeing they match your own. As much as you don’t want to be over the wall, you admit that the idea of being outside again thrills you, and a change of scenery? A way to get out of dreary Boston? And still be with your boys?

“When do we leave?”

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @softpedropascal @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @diaryofkali @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @jadore-andor @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed

Joel Miller Taglist:

@spanishmossmagnolia @xowlan @rosechvnel @maievdenoir @itspdameronthings @hb8301

Meet the Millers Taglist:

@miraclesabound @coco-pebbles @evergreenriver @wildmoonflower @harriedandharassed

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

oh captain ~ jack sparrow;pirates of the caribbean

word count: 2488

request?: yes!

“Can you do a Captain Jack Sparrow smut where the reader has a kink of calling Jack her captain”

description: in which she loves to call him her captain, even in the most intimate of situations

pairing: jack sparrow x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist

It all started as a joke.

I came aboard the Black Pearl in search of my sister, Elizabeth Swann, and her secret lover, Will Turner. It was no secret that they were travelling with notorious Captain Jack Sparrow and, although my parents did not exactly like Will Turner, they had sent me as a way to tell Elizabeth that they were giving her their blessing to marry Will.

Of course, the moment I - a single, young maiden that had often been described as “beautiful” by my suitors - stepped on to the ship, the captain himself couldn’t keep his eyes off of me. There was many a moment in which Elizabeth had to actually tell Jack that he was being too forward or too crass with me. I liked to play along with his games as well and would tease him back. My favorite way of teasing him was to call him “Captain” in a sarcastic manner.

The first time I said it was in response to Jack’s very bossy tone as he told Elizabeth and I to do something. “Oh, of course, Captain.”

I could see a fire light in his eyes even then as he looked at me. “What did you say?”

“Well, you insist that we on the boat here refer to you as your supposed title,” I had told him. “I was just saying it. I thought you would like that.”

“The way you said it,” he pointed out. “It wasn’t very...crewman like.”

“Oh, my apologies, Captain.”

The fire ignited in his eyes again, but he decided to leave it be this time and to go on to yell commands at his other crewmates.

That’s how it all started. It was just a joke, a way to poke fun at Jack without being too harsh. I used the nickname almost every time I saw him, and almost every time I could see a look on his face that was hard to understand.

That was, until I found myself bent over his desk moaning the original teasing nickname repeatedly.

I never expected to find myself falling for Captain Jack Sparrow. Elizabeth had told me many a story about his attempts at courting beautiful maidens, including herself despite her love for Will. The stories led me to believing that Jack was just a man who wanted to use then leave a woman. I wrote him off as nothing more than a scoundrel, a pirate captain. Oh, what a fool I was.

No one on the ship knew of our love affair, especially not Elizabeth. I loved my sister dearly and I knew she would never judge me for who I had fallen in love with, however I also knew she couldn’t keep a secret from our parents for the life of her, and the last thing I needed was to break my parents hearts by telling them that their youngest daughter had fallen in love with a pirate.

That’s why I continued to use the teasing nickname in such fashion in front of my sister, but every time I used it, I could see that spark of desire in Jack’s eyes.

There was one day that we were on course for some sort of treasure that Jack was dying to find.

“It’s been lost for hundreds of years,” he was explaining to Will. Elizabeth and I were trying to help some of the crewmen and overheard the conversation that both men were refusing to tell us. “Wealth and riches beyond your wildest dreams. You could buy over Elizabeth’s parents with that sort of money.”

“I don’t think anything could buy over Elizabeth’s parents at this rate,” Will joked. “But do you really believe it to be truth? I’ve heard it’s nothing but a - ”

“A pirate’s tale,” Jack finished. “A way to lead pirates to their deaths? I’ve heard those stories, too. But there’s only one way to find out.”

“Mad man is going to get us killed,” Elizabeth whispered to me. “He only cares for the riches he may get, he doesn’t think of the countless lives he’s risking.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” I responded. “Anything that will shower him in gold and recognition is his top priority.”

“What are you two talking about down there?” Jack called from his perch at the steering wheel.

Elizabeth and I shared a teasing glance before Elizabeth responded, “Just about how smart you are, my dear captain! This journey can only go right!”

Jack raised an eyebrow at the obvious sarcasm in Elizabeth’s voice before his eyes landed on me.

“We were discussing how much recognition you will get once you find this totally real treasure you’re looking for,” I said. I paused a moment before giving Jack a brief smirk as I added, “Captain.”

He shuffled a little, trying to make his lust seem like he was just annoyed with me and Elizabeth. I couldn’t help but smirk triumphantly at him before turning back to Elizabeth, who was also giggling.

“You both doubt me,” he finally said after a long stretch of silence, “but I’ll show you both, and this whole boat, that I am right and this treasure is real.”

He came down from his perch and walked into the room that was designated as “his office”, his eyes meeting mine for a split moment. “I’m going to study the map for some time, please do not disturb me.”

What he really meant was, No one else come disturb me, I will be fucking (Y/N)’s brains out.

I felt myself becoming tingly between my legs, a regular sensation that Jack was able to get out of me. I tried to keep a light look on my face, but it was hard to do so when all I wanted was to follow him into that room.

“You two should be kinder to him,” Will said, although he, too, was laughing. “He’s been kind enough to let us travel with him.”

“After trying to get under mine and (Y/N)’s skirts for a few months,” Elizabeth added. “He knows that we like him and that we are grateful for him. It’s just so easy to tease him sometimes.”

Tell me about it, I thought to myself.

“Maybe we should leave the captain alone to his mapping for a while,” Will said, wrapping an arm around Elizabeth’s waist. It was his only silent way of asking Elizabeth for what Jack was trying to get from me.

“Perhaps we should,” she responded and gave her husband to be a light kiss on his lips.

The two left without another word to me, which was alright by me. It meant that I didn’t have to make up an excuse as to why I was “disturbing” Jack when he asked me not to.

Once I was sure they were too busy with one another to notice me, I turned and raced for the door. I hastily did mine and Jack’s secret knock before shoving the door open. I was shocked to see that the room before me was empty - the desk where Jack usually sat waiting for me was empty, and there was almost no sight of him at all.

Before I could even consider why this had happened, the door slammed behind me and I felt someone take hold of my throat and shove me against the closed door. Jack’s lips met mine and I felt the familiar explosive feeling I had whenever we kissed. His hands were already roughly pulling at my skirt, trying to pull it up around my hips.

“Someone is impatient,” I breathed against his lips. “You told everyone not to disturb you, remember? You don’t have to be so fast and so rough.”

“But if I take you quickly once, I can take you again before anyone notices that we’re even gone.”

His dirty words ignited a fire in me. I giggled as he picked me up in his arms and laid me down on his desk. The poor thing had seen more of our action than any actual work that Jack had ever done. I was surprised that it was still standing after all this time.

I took hold of the back of Jack’s neck and pulled him in for another kiss. Our lips moved so perfectly with one another as his hands trailed up my bare legs, his cold rings leaving shivers where they trailed. I pulled at his pants, trying desperately to get them off. He chuckled against my lips, the vibrations running through my entire body.

“Who is the impatient one now?” he asked.

“Not like the great Captain to leave a girl waiting in her desire,” I teased, hoping the nickname would be used to my advantage.

Lucky for me, I knew that was the one thing that could break Jack. He roughly pulled at the strings around the back of my dress, causing it to loosen and fall off my body completely. Once my dress was a heap on the floor, Jack pushed me onto the desk so I was laying on my back. I watched as he undid his pants and pulled them down just far enough for his hard member to pop free. Just seeing how hard he was from the little amount of teasing we had been doing was enough to make me start dripping in anticipation.

I gasped as I felt him pushing himself into me. No matter how many times we had sex, I still continued to be shocked by how big he was. He made my eyes roll into the back of my head just by filling me with his hard cock.

His hand found my hair and he roughly pulled me up so my body was pressed against his. “What’s my name, love?”

“Captain,” I breathed, dying to move my hips against his to get some sort of friction between us. But I knew that would only result in him punishing me for being naughty.

My response earned me a few slow thrusts. I bit my lip as to not moan too loud, but it was hard to keep quiet during one of our rendezvous. They were often few and far between, leaving the two of us very pent up and needing of release when the time came.

“Say it again for me my pet,” he purred.

“Captain,” I moaned, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him as closely as I could. “Oh, Captain.”

The grip he had on my hair tightened as he began to thrust into me more, now going at a quicker and more steady pace. I pressed my lips to his to try and muffle my moans, which were now starting to become loud enough for anyone who would be passing by to hear.

I moaned out the name a few more times, which led to me being laid back over the desk yet again with Jack leaning over me, his thrusts so rough now that the desk was being moved. I arched my back against him, trying to get him as far into me as he could go. One of his hands was gripping my thigh while the other was wrapped around my throat, pressing slightly against the sides every now and then, and causing me to feel lightheaded.

Jack was always able to hit a spot in me that made my brain turn to mush and my eyes roll back into my head. I could barley think straight when he was pounding that spot relentlessly inside of me, especially at that moment when the only thing I could feel was waves of pleasure rippling through my body.

I managed to pull my thoughts together enough to utter out a sentence, “I’m so close, Captain.”

“Let me feel you come undone around me, my pet,” he said. I could feel him twitching inside of me, indicating that he was close to finishing himself.

My fingers curled into the desk as I felt myself hitting my climax. My entire body seemed to curl in some way as I felt myself contracting around Jack. His hands slipped under my arched back, pulling my body up to press against him as he did his final thrusts and finished inside of me.

The aftermath of our love making rarely lasted long in fear of being caught. Jack held me for a short amount of time, kissing the top of my head and whispering sweet nothings into my ear, before he finally had to pull away from me and begin to redress himself. I pulled my dress back up.

“You mind tying me back up?” I asked him, turning around to present my still bare back to him.

He laced the strings through their proper holes and tied it tight enough that it would stay up, but not too tight to cause discomfort.

“Do you really think you’ll find that treasure you’re on route for?” I asked him once he was finished. “Do you think it’s real?”

“I choose to believe every treasure is real until proven otherwise,” he responded. “I know everyone on the ship thinks that I’m leading us to our deaths, but I truly believe there is something waiting for us at our destination.”

“Well, if you believe it then I believe you,” I said. “What do you plan on doing with your riches once you get them?”

“I’ll share them amongst the crew,” he started. “There’s supposedly enough to keep a dozen men from having to work for the rest of their lives, and I have just a little over a dozen men on this ship. What I keep for myself I’m going to use to get a better ship. The old Black Pearl is starting to see her end I’m afraid. And, with whatever is left, I intend to buy you a rock so big and so stunning that any royal woman would be jealous of it.”

He lifted my hand to his lips and gave my knuckles a soft kiss.

“You intend to marry me?” I asked him.

“Of course I do. Why do you seem shocked to hear that?”

I chuckled. “Well, the stories I’ve heard about the great Captain Jack Sparrow, none of them made it sound like he would ever settle down with a woman.”

Jack smiled and wrapped his arms around my waist, looking lovingly into my eyes. I could get lost staring into those beautiful eyes of his.

“A man must know when the right woman has come along,” he told me. “Especially a pirate. And the moment you stepped foot on my ship, I knew you were the right woman.”

“You sweet talker,” I said before pressing my lips to his. “When you do get me that ring, just know that I will say yes.”

“Of course, my love. And I cannot wait to have you to sail the seas with for the rest of my life.”

#jack sparrow #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow smut #jack sparrow x reader #captain jack sparrow #johnny depp #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp smut #johnny depp x imagine #imagine #one shot #smut #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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raahosh · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I saw you wrote 18+ one shots and I have a request. If you’re not comfortable that’s perfectly fine, tho!

I was thinking of an Azriel x reader where Azriel just got back from a mission and it’s been a month or so since he and reader have seen/been with each other. Reader tease him and he says something along the lines of “come sit on my face, let me show you just how much I missed you”. And well, let’s just say he missed reader a lot… 👀

Type: Azriel x reader.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses.

Summary: Azriel got back from a mission and let's just say he missed you so much, at the point he wanted to show you for how long he waited for this moment.

Warnings: This is 18+, so if you don't like it just keep scrolling, I know you'll find something that fits you.

Authors note: Thank you so much for requesting. Actually I was urging to make a Azriel x reader, I have one in my drafts that I'm working on, but I didn't know what to do and you gave me the best idea. I hope you like it, and enjoy your reading honey. Any grammar error I'm sorry but this is the first full one that I'm doing in English.

Honor mention to talk about Sarah saying that he's a freak so... Let's say I'm a bit excited for the next book.

Ok, your hate towards Rhysand wasn't even a thing before he kidnapped your mate's attention. You knew there was a lot of things to resolve and political things aren't easy, mainly because we're talking about Prythian and the High Lords aren't really the type of grown man when it comes to internal fights, but you haven't had even a full day with Azriel in a whole month.

Your relationship with Azriel was very affectionate, his love language was skin contact and it might not look like when you're around other people but behind closed doors he was the most clingy you've ever had. And now you didn't have time to even hug him properly in a whole month.

You were at the living room talking to Cassian when you saw your mate arriving. He was destroyed, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Automatically, you stood up, Cassian didn't even try to argue because he knew his friend needed some woman help at this moment.

He got to walk to the bathroom with your help, where magically you made a bath for him. His body sat down and when the warm water touched his body he relaxed. The shadows were still there, including in his eyes where they were most concentrated, just proving that he hasn't seen a bed in days.

"You look really tired. How was your day?" You tried to turn his attention for you and make it easier for him to distract a little bit.

"Exhausting. I knew Tamlin was hard to work but not that he was a complete asshole who can't even accept help." He sighed.

Your gaze met the bar of soup next to the tub, you grabbed, wet and started rubbing Azriel's back with it, paying double attention to his wings. You knew how sensitive they could be and how Iryllians were when it's about those things.

"I told you, he's not someone... talkable. But I feel some kind of pity after all Hyberns stuff and then I remember what he did to Feyre." You made delicate circles around his back, then his chest and then you put the soap in his hands to let him finish.

You went to the sink to clean your hands and dried it with a towel. When you came back he was finished, you grabbed that soup bar again and started working on his wings. Rubbing slightly, putting less weight in your hands.

"I can't feel anything but angry when it's about him. He could have done so much and chose to be this way." Azriel’s voice was a little darker than before.

"Ok, let's change the subject. Let's talk about you've not been sleeping those days. Love, I know you have a lot of things to do but you're going to kill yourself this way." Your hands went down, and down.

"I know but-" He didn't finish, instead he let out a low moan and grabbed the sides of the tub trying to stay still. "It seems that you got to the part."

Yes, you knew what you were doing. Your relationship with Azriel was long enough for you to have memorized what you can do and where, the many times and how, but now you wanted to tease him. You let your hands move free against his wings, now just them, to make him feel your touch.

"Continue..." You couldn't contain the excitment in your face but your voice was low and husky, it just made Azriels erection pulse a little more.

"You wanna know what, Y/N" His hands met yours. You could feel the warmth on your cheeks, they were getting so red. He took the soap from your hands and adjusted himself on that tub. "What, babe?" You arched your brow.

At this point the bath was cold but it didn't matter because he pulled your hands making you come closer to him. "I think you should get in... here with me." His gaze met your lips and then he kissed you.

Hands.

Lips.

Tongues.

Touch.

You were craving for his touch in a long time. Since Azriel was busy you didn't have times like this with him and even though his presence was everything you wanted you couldn't deny you missed it too. You missed the sensation of his hands trailing your body and his tongue doing magic in your mouth.

There wasn't a thing that Azriel did with bad quality. But you, you were smarter when you just pulled away with a smirk on your face. You took some distance from him, your clothes didn't get longer to be on the floor and Azriel didn't let his eyes meet anything but you. And, if you ask me what was going through his head, you'll know soon.

You stepped ahead and entered the tub, he held your hand and helped you do it. Now, your body was on his lap, your hands tugging his hair when he finally kissed you again. He was hungrier than before, the kiss turned to a making out session, he wanted you and you only, the only thing he could see was you.

"Oh, darling. I'm going to show you exactly how I feel everytime I see you." He said next to your ear. "Did you miss me?" His hand traced your entire body. He went from your arm, to your belly, then found it down there. His fingers trailed it's way and started exploring the territory.

You couldn't even think at this moment and got worse when his middle finger found your clit and started rubbing it slowly. At first you swallowed your moan and looked at him with a heavy breathing, then he fasted the pace, his other finger found your cunt and started to explore more that area.

"Hm, I didn't hear you. You didn't answer my question, darling." His mouth was in your ear, you could handle his hand but along with this husky voice it was impossible.

You let escape a loud moan when two of his fingers started to fuck your cunt, and when I say fuck I mean it. "Y-yes, I missed... Fucking God- I missed you so much." You couldn't even finish a phrase.

"How much did you miss me, gorgeous?" You knew what he was trying to do. The Cauldron knows how bad you wanted to continue his game but it was impossible since he was godly great with his fingers.

You didn't respond, instead just grabbed his shoulder tugging your nails in it while you moved on his fingers chasing some kind of more friction. Your breath was heavy and you could feel it, when he took his fingers out of you and you panted.

"No, love, you're not going to cum now." He stood up and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He took you to the bedroom again and shoved you to bed. First he looked at you, eyes shining with your figure right in front of him. It made you blush but he didn't swerve his gaze, he wanted to memorize every bit of you, skin, hair, lips, your curves, he loved every little detail and the way you always get nervous at those times.

"You're going to just look at me?" You arched your brow.

"Honestly? I could do it all day but I have other plans for you." He bit his lip and came to the top of you.

His hands were one in each side of you, but one of them grabbed your wrists and pushed it up to the top of your head, cuffing it there with just one hand. The other he used to grab his cock and pull it inside you.

You sobbed with his size, he was being gentle with the velocity he was administrating. He was slow, letting you adjust to it, but even like this you were so tight for him, tight enough to make him groan when he got to the base. "You're so fucking great." He whispered.

Then he dropped your hands and grabbed your ankles, he started moving inside you. Gentleness wasn't Azriel's at those times, his pace was rough, you were seeing stars with every thrust, every time his cock was deep and fast. Azriel could be whatever you think but during sex he's not the cute mate you know.

"Az- Azriel" You couldn't even think anymore.

His sight of you was delightful, his pace increased his right hand went to grab your face, with his four fingers in one side and his thumb in the other.

"Look at me, that wasn't what you wanted? Am I the only one who make you feel like this?" He stopped and started thrusting slowly, torturing slowly.

The first made you stutter and choke on your words. "Ye-yes that is what I wanted... You a- Azriel-" In each words you said he made a thrust and the faster you get the faster his pace was, the more you stutter the more he thrusts on you. But he was waiting for you to continue, he wanted you to say it. "You're the only o-one." You reunited all your powers to say it but even though you gaggle at the end.

Azriel grabbed your thighs and pulled it up to his shoulders, giving him a way to go deeper. And so he did, his invests started to get deeper and deeper, you were a mess of sweat, moan, pants and pre-cum when he released inside you and continued until you get the high too. When your orgasm hit you strongly and you creamed Azriel smiled in satisfaction and collapsed beside you.

"Well, I didn't think it'd come to this but I'm not the one to complain." You listened to him while he just laughed and then turned your face to see him. "I love you."

He smiled. When you turned your head you saw that he was already looking at you. "I love you too, Y/N."

#azriel imagine #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #imagine #azriel acotar

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allthingskakashi · 4 years ago

Text

• Bells and Balls •

[ Kakashi x Reader ]

Tags : NSFW, Smut

Words : 4.8k

A/n: I wrote over 4k words just to get some dick.

Okay sbsbajash idk I'd been working on this for like a whole week and i couldn't concentrate on anything unless i finished this lmao so here it is whatever, I can't drag this around anymore. Uhhh hope you like it I'm still not very good at writing smut im sorry. This takes place in the post Anbu and pre team 7 era and Kakashi’s a bit of an asshole but you know you still love him. This is also a little similar to my other fic ‘Yearning’ but here you get the s e x and i’m sorry if the characterization is bad, i put more focus on making it hot i guess ok ill shut up now i hope you like it

You give the sheet of paper in your hand one final glance, and look around the room. There’s a long line behind you and you’re surrounded by your fellow jounins, each here to submit their respective lists.

You were extremely happy with the performance of your team and didn’t have to think twice before passing them. You had no doubt that they would make wonderful shinobi. You looked forward to teaching and guiding them, and judging by the chatter around you, most other jounins had passed their teams too.

The trouble, however, remains with Kakashi Hatake.

A few weeks ago, you had all been named squad leaders and put in charge of a squad, and today was your very first day with your assigned teams. As instructed, each of you conducted a test for the genin and depending upon whether they passed or failed, the final list would be announced.

No one till date had ever passed Kakashi Hatake's infamous test, and everyone was sure that no one would this year either. Most genin trembled in fear of him, being aware of his strict methods.

And as it happens, at this moment, this infamous man is right in front you, standing with his back hunched forward as he hands his paper in to the woman behind the desk.

You wait for your turn, your eyes fixating on the red symbol on his vest as you wonder, ruefully, about the fate of the students he must have failed this time.

You take a step forward as he turns around, having submitted his paper, and the line moves up behind you.

Kakashi peeks briefly at your paper as he passes, letting out an audible scoff at the list in your hand before walking on ahead, hands tucked in his pockets.

You’re momentarily confused by this sudden act, but something is already starting to boil up inside you. You aren’t exactly known for being placid, nor for sitting by and allowing people to give you crap. Your eyebrows furrow as you hastily thrust your sheet onto the desk, before making your way to follow after him.

“Do you have a problem?” you call to his back as a few heads turn towards you.

He stops, taking his time turning back to look at you, half lidded eyes looking as indifferent as always.

His demeanour pushes you further to the edge and you take a few steps closer, craning your neck to meet his eyes, waiting for an answer.

“Well?”

He peers down at you unfazed, completely oblivious to the audience around you, as if they are not even there.

“You’re too soft”, he shrugs. “You don’t know how the shinobi world works” he says bluntly, piercing you with his unwavering gaze.

You glare back at him, your mouth twitching with the sled of retorts forming at the back of your tongue.

“Who gave you the right to—"

But he’s already turning away from you, your eyes meeting with the red symbol of his vest once again.

“Hey don’t you fucking walk away from me!” you yell, going forward to stop him, but he saunters on ahead without turning back; his scent lingering in the air as you stand there, watching his figure disappear slowly along the hallway, your fury seething inside you.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

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

“Thank you! This is just what I needed.” you chime, digging into the hot bowl of ramen in front of you, your mouth salivating just at the look of it.

You take a big mouthful, revelling in the immediate burst of flavours on your tongue.

“Mmmm.” You moan, “You’ve outdone yourself, Ayame!”

The young girl smiles at you in delight, proceeding to serve you another helping.

You take another blissful bite, closing your eyes to relish the moment.

The streets are quiet around you except for the faint chirp of crickets, as is expected at this hour of the night. It must be past midnight by now, you’re not exactly sure.

You had been tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. For some reason, the encounter with Kakashi from earlier today had you feeling bitter and edgy. You hated that he was in your head, you didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you to be this bothered by some mindless comments from someone. You’d had altercations before, worse ones, but they were never enough to steal away your night’s sleep.

And yet, this time…

You had to do something to take the edge off, ideally punch him in the face, but since that was not the plausible choice, you settled for the next best thing. Going for a run and treating yourself to your favourite comfort food later.

So here you are now, out at night all by yourself. The Ichiraku shop was still open, bless the lords.

You slurp some of the soup from the bowl and let out a loud smack of your lips.

You can feel your spirits lifting, and you’re glad for it. He wasn’t in your head after all, you were just having a bad day, that’s all.

You shift your focus back to the bowl in front of you, moaning and slurping as you go.

“Whoa there, Get a room.”

The sudden interruption of the familiar voice makes you stop cold.

Are you fucking kidding me?

You look up from your bowl, turning your head around to see none other than Kakashi Hatake, standing smug in all his glory.

The strange pang of bitterness is back in the depths of your stomach and you resist the urge to punch that smug look off his face.

“Ah, if it isn’t Kakashi Hatake, the all-knowing wisenheimer.” you say, your tone snide. “Say, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Some genin to fail?”

He comes around to take a seat on the stool beside you, a smirk evident through his mask, almost as if he’s enjoying this.

“I’ve already failed them” he smiles sweetly at you. “Worked up quite an appetite too.” He says, looking away from you to place his order.

You notice as Ayame notes his order down, the distinct shade of pink that tinges her cheeks as does, before turning away and disappearing into the supplies room at the back of the shop.

Ugh. What is with this guy? Why is it so….

You don’t realise you’re staring at him until he looks back at you, raising a questioning eyebrow. You supress your startlement at being caught, pretending as if you’d meant to be glaring at him.

“What the hell are you even doing out here so late?” you spurt, trying to sound irritated but it comes out sounding almost…concerned?

Thankfully, he doesn’t notice. “I could ask you the same.”

You look away, unwilling to answer. You were out here to get him out of your head, and now here you are, sitting beside him in a ramen shop while the entire village sleeps.

It almost feels like you’re the only two people in the world. The feeling makes something churn inside your stomach.

You dab your mouth with your napkin, before swivelling on the stool to face him. You look at him intently, studying his features. He stares back at you, as if waiting for you to say something.

“Why?” you ask, catching him off guard with it.

“Why what?”

“Why does no one pass your test? What’s so difficult about it?” you ask, gaze fixated on him. You expect him to look uncomfortable but he just shrugs.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious” you reply truthfully, watching him smirk at your answer.

You hate it when he smirks, how his face looks when he’s being cocky.

Ugh.

He swivels in his chair now, turning his body towards you. “Is that so?”, he says through the smirk, resting his elbow on the counter and leaning in.

You don’t know why, but something about his tone and the way he leans in makes it difficult for you to breathe all of a sudden.

But you’re not one to be fazed.

“Yes” you reply, refusing to let yourself crumple under his gaze. Your voice comes out sounding hoarse, and you clear your throat.

He smirks wider at your reply and stretches the next words out.

“If you’re so curious…Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Your heart thuds like clapper clanging against a bell. You resist the urge to gulp.

Was it this hot when I left the house?

You clear your throat again. “I don’t have the time to take part in your stupid games”

The smirk is adamant on his lips, his gaze unnerving.

He breathes, “Do you not have the time…or do you not have the balls?”

His tone is challenging. Or inviting. Or both, you’re not really sure, you’re not thinking straight anymore.

Your jacket is too hot against your skin, you writhe beneath the thick material.

Sliding off the stool, you walk slowly towards him, erasing the space in between you bit by bit with each step, until your bodies are a few inches away from touching. Your eyes bore into each other’s as if in silent battle. It’s your turn to smirk now.

“Training Grounds in 20 mins” you whisper. Despite the hitch in your breath, your voice is clear. “Don’t be late.”

You walk past him without breaking your gaze, brushing your shoulder against his arm as you walk by, perhaps a little harder than necessary, leaving Kakashi to stare after you.

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

You sit on the damp grass with your back against a tree, waiting. Your jacket lies in a puddle beside you.

You count the weapons in your bag, you hadn’t exactly come out prepared for a fight tonight. Two kunai knives, that’s all.

Would that be enough to take down the copy ninja? You hope so. There’s no way you’re letting him win. It’s time someone taught him a lesson and you would love to be that someone. The nerve of him…to actually challenge you.

He really needs to get a life. But then, here you are too…

Why am I here? What am I even doing?

You close your eyes and tilt your head back against the hard bark, your eyebrows furrowing the way they always do when you’re deep in thought.

Back at the shop… the way he spoke…the look in his eyes— God, Stop. Stop it.

Who the fuck cares about the look in his eyes?

Not me.

It’s okay. I’m good.

We’re here to teach this asshole a lesson. An asshole, that’s what he is. Insufferable and stupid and smug and ridiculously ho— horrible. Ridiculously horrible.

You take a deep breath, opening your eyes and standing up so fast that it makes your head dizzy for a brief second. You start walking around, jerking your arms and legs, stretching your neck, even slapping yourself a few times on the face to make yourself focus.

Yes, I need to focus. The lack of sleep is getting to me.

You crouch down to tighten your shoelaces, before getting up and starting some stretching exercises. Gotta loosen the muscles, make sure you have full flexibility. After all, taking on Kakashi Hatake all by yourself is probably not going to be a piece of cake.

You look down to check your attire: running shorts and a tank top, not fully ideal but it’ll do.

You’re bent over, in the midst of doing rotating toe touches when your eyes fall upon a silhouette far ahead, nearing closer and closer. You pause, standing up straight with your hands on your hips as the figure walks slowly towards you, a faint jingling noise ringing through the air, as Kakashi finally comes near enough for you to make out his face in the dim light.

“Late as always” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kakashi stands a few feet away from you, holding something in one hand, other hand inside his pocket. He’s not wearing his jacket anymore either, you observe.

“Sorry, had to go get this” he says, holding up what looks like two small bells with strings attached.

You squint at it, coming closer to get a better look. “What the hell is that?”

“Bells”, he smiles. “That’s the test. You have to get these bells from me. You can use any attack you want but… since you’re not a genin, I’ll raise the stakes a little higher for you. You cannot use ninjutsu or genjustu. It has to be purely physical attacks. You have till dawn.”

This little fucker. He knows taijutsu is not my strong point.

But fine. If that’s how he wants to play this, so be it. I’m taking him down one way or another.

“Dawn?” you chuckle, fixing him with your gaze. “I don’t need till dawn” you sneer, coming forward with a kick aimed to his head. He blocks it just as you’re about to make contact, grasping your ankle in his strong hold.

“I didn’t say start yet” he says through a smirk, letting go of your foot.

You take a few steps backwards, glowering at him as he ties the bells to a loop on his trousers. They hang over his thighs with a jingle, silver metal glimmering in the moonlight.

He looks back up at you, eyes twinkling with an unusual sparkle.

There’s that look again…

“Go” he commands, his body tensing up into a defensive stance immediately, ready for you.

You fix your gaze on the shiny metal of your goal and hurl yourself forward, your arms meeting each other’s in blows and defences. You throw a few kicks to his stomach, making him tumble but not enough to knock him out.

You shift your stance, before directing another punch to his face; he deflects it, sniggering.

Okay okay okay, I’m not focusing. I need to focus.

You take a deep breath.

Kakashi stands waiting, his features emanating pure amusement.

You feel a restlessness brewing within you, a strange energy buzzing through your veins. You’d been itching to punch him in the face and now’s your chance.

You watch him, mentally calculating all your options. His silver hair shines like moonbeams in the dark.

FOCUS.

Drawing a kunai from your bag, you lunge forward, distracting him with a kick to the head as your kunai slashes through the air, just about to cut across the strings when— your hand is caught in his grasp, a ‘slap!’ cutting through the air as his palm clasps around your wrist.

He bores into you, your wrist held firmly in his hand as he turns you around swiftly, gripping both your wrists at the back.

You feel the muscles of his chest against your body as he comes closer, the metal bells hanging over his leg brushing against your fingertips behind you.

You wriggle your hands, trying to break free but it’s in vain. His grip is firm, slender fingers digging into your skin as he leans into your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Not so fast” he whispers, his lips almost brushing the top of your ears.

The words send a shudder through your spine. You feel the black sky closing in on you, there’s a hum springing through your veins.

He loosens his grip as your hands fall, the kunai held limply in your hand. You turn around, your heart skipping a beat at how close he is to you. You feel your resolve weakening.

No.

Stop.

Your hand flies to the collar of his shirt, the other hand holding the kunai to his throat as you push him backwards with your body, your eyes blazing into his.

Keeping the kunai at his throat, you lower your other hand slowly, brushing it down his chest, his muscles taut under your hand. You trail your hand down along the line of his sternum, down the firmness of his stomach and further down, your fingers lightly caressing the bulge of his trousers before they almost make contact with the bells alongside, right there, just a flick away—

so close—

Before your wrist is caught in a sudden, fast clutch again.

His grip is much stronger this time, unyielding, hungry. Your bones ache beneath his hold.

You watch something ignite in his eyes as his shoulders rise and fall in rhythm to your heaves. You suddenly realise how out of breath you are.

In the flash of a moment, Kakashi grips your kunai holding hand, holding it away from his throat as he pushes you, the weight of his body pressing onto yours as your feet scrape along the ground, stumbling backwards till your back slams against a tree, the force making your body jolt. The kunai slips from your hand.

His arms pin you defenceless against the tree, his gaze holding you hostage, burning through your skin.

The touch of his skin against yours feels alien. When was the last time you felt the warmth of someone’s skin? You cannot recall.

He’s so close to you, you cannot see anything beyond him.

In the dark, under the moonlight, the edges of his face look softened.

A wind passes by, the sound of rustling leaves filling through the silence. A volcano erupts within you.

Now.

You gulp. Up this close, you can make out the outline of his mouth.

Now.

Your lips press into Kakashi’s in a desperate lurch, your neck straining to meet him as far as his grip on you allows. Your heart explodes like firecrackers inside your chest as your tongue pushes against the cloth of his mask, demanding to be let in.

You feel his grip loosen around your wrists as the mask is off and he reciprocates, his lips on yours, his hand gripping your chin up as his tongue moves in fervent swirls inside your mouth.

A thousand questions swarm inside your head, buzzing but you’re not being controlled by your head anymore. You can feel the thud of his chest against your own.

He trails his hand down to your throat, holding you in place, other hand exploring every edge and curve of your body before it snakes down the waistband of your shorts, down the elastic of your underwear.

You gasp, arching your back as you feel the touch of his long fingers down there, moaning helplessly into his mouth as he rubs along your wet entrance in rapid strokes.

Your head is a dizzy mess of jumbled emotions as yearning overpowers your senses, your previous resolve weakening into a mushy puddle with every stroke and thrum of his fingers inside you.

He pulls away from your mouth to leave sloppy kisses down your neck, his tongue painting patterns along your skin as you catch a glimpse of his face and you see it— his face, glowing under the moonlight. And you realise.

He’s…beautiful.

An overwhelming ache breaks through your senses, creating a frenzied whirlwind of passion and agony in your mind. Your detestation for him crumbles into pieces underneath the weight of your desire, as you realise…

You don’t hate him.

You never did.

Not even close.

Not even a little bit.

Not even at all.

You pull his face up to meet your lips again, planting urgent kisses on his mouth as your hands tease the hem of his shirt. His fingers slip out of you and you can feel the wetness of your panties, soaked through with arousal.

“Kakashi…” you whisper in pleasure as he looms over you, your foreheads touching, out of breath and heaving with exhilaration. His eyes burn with the same passion that you feel inside.

“We can’t…shouldn’t…here…people...” you mutter in struggled breaths, as he plants another kiss to your lips, the sparks from it fogging your mind

“Since when do you care about people?” he whispers against your ear, his raspy voice enough to strip you off of all your remaining sense and judgement.

You pull his shirt over his head in one swift motion, throwing it to the ground beside as he follows, taking off your shirt and then unhooking your bra, tossing both away as his hands reach for you in hungry clutches.

His hands caress your breasts, pressing them and pulling on your hardened nipples, his mouth following soon after. His lips lock around them, sucking hard as you bury your face into his broad shoulders, biting lightly to keep yourself from screaming.

You sink your fingers into his hair, tugging softly as his mouth moves in a wet trail further down your body, strands of his hair tickling your stomach as he goes, his hands tugging your panties, sliding them down the curves of your hips.

Your heart thuds in your ears as Kakashi sits crouching in front of you, parting your legs. He looks up at you, as if asking for your permission, and you give it to him by pulling the back of his head closer between your legs.

He puts your right leg over his shoulder, spreading you for him, his other hand clutching the back of your left thigh as his mouth teases you down there.

The tip of his tongue flicks at your entrance, before it finds your weakest spot, and you feel your body shuddering, barely able to keep your balance.

You tug at his hair harder as his tongue moves skilfully inside you, fingers rubbing your swollen clit simultaneously. You feel every nerve ending in your body come alive as you moan out his name “K-Kakashi…” through trembling lips.

Your insides shudder and a deep moan forms at the back of your throat, threatening to escape as Kakashi puts his hand over your mouth, before pulling you down on top of him with a sudden tug.

You come down with a thud on his thighs, your body jolting with the force as you watch him in front of you, the copy ninja… bare bodied and heaving in front of your eyes.

Who would have thought…

You straddle him, admiring his unclad torso, before pushing his shoulders down with your hands, making him lie back on the grass as you stoop over him. His eyes are fixated on you, pure pleasure making itself known on his face.

He really is beautiful.

You bend forward, your mouth exploring the smoothness of the skin on his chest, as a strange cold feeling down there distracts you.

You look down, squinting in the dark to find yourself sitting on two glimmering metal balls placed over his thigh.

The bells.

A thrill runs through your nerves as you smirk, glancing up at him.

He’s noticed it too.

His eyes return the same sparkle of mischief as yours as he lies still, waiting.

You press your hands down on his chest, locking your gaze with his as you position yourself over the bells, tilting your head back as you move back and forth over them.

The cold metal of the bells rubs against you, sending tremors through your entire body.

Your gaze at Kakashi again, watching him squirm at the sight of you, his hands twitching to feel your skin.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide down slightly on his thigh, tugging his trousers down as you go. Your hands find the base of his cock as you allow yourself to admire his throbbing length.

He leans his head back on the grass and you feel him getting harder in your hands.

Forming your hand into a fist around him, you move it up and down along his shaft in slow steady strokes, leaning down to bring your mouth closer to his tip, before swirling your tongue in circles around his skin.

His hips tremble as he clutches onto the grass, writhing.

Your lips clasp around his cock, mouth slurping up and down his length, taking your time sliding down to the base and back up, your hands following suit.

You tease him, switching between the tip of your tongue and your whole mouth, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

He quivers and you sit back up, bending forward over his face and pressing your lips on his. A groan from his mouth erupts inside yours as he clutches your hips.

His hands guide your hips back and forth over his length, your lips trembling as he slips into you, his cock finally inside you, pushing into you, filling you as deep as you can be filled.

A new rush of pleasure burns through your senses, your insides stretching as you move your hips around him, back and forth and then in circles.

“A-a-ah...mm…yeah…”, your muffled moans cut through the depths of the forest in the silence of the night.

Kakashi breathes your name, the eruption of your name from his lips enough to send you to a frenzy, filling your heart with drunken fervour.

You moan his name back in reply, hopping up and down on him as his arm snakes behind your waist and he flips you over in a sudden, swift movement, the weight of his body falling over you now.

You arch your back, pushing your hips up to meet his, unwilling to break away even for a second.

You want him so, so bad.

The pointy peaks of grass underneath poke your skin, your nails digging into his back as he nibbles on your neck, thrusting deep, deep into you.

You feel the familiar shudder from earlier again, your mind getting clouded with waves of pleasure coursing through you. Kakashi’s grunts quaver in your ear as you feel his hips jerk in tune to yours.

There’s a tantalizing jolt of ecstasy through your body as you scream out, your quivering voice matching his grunts as you both put a hand over the other’s mouth, your muffled moans melting into each other’s skin. He quivers inside you for a final time before you feel him slipping out of you, as hot wet cum trickles along the insides of your thighs, dripping into the dewy grass beneath.

Droplets of sweat from his hair drips down on you, tasting salty in your mouth. You heave together in exhaustion as he plops down on you, before rolling to the side.

You lie on your back panting, your entire body damp with sweat.

Languor threatens to take over you as you struggle to keep your eyes open, looking up into the night sky.

You see a firefly glowing above your head. You lift a lazy hand to reach it, but it flies away far above, becoming one with the twinkling stars in the sky.

Soft sounds of Kakashi’s breath echo beside you, his foot still touching yours lightly as the both of you lie heaving under the stars.

He turns his head to look at you and you can feel his eyes on you as you try, with all the fibres in your body, to not look back at him.

You know you won’t be able to hold yourself together any longer if you do.

He extends a hand towards you. “That was…”

“Sshhh… Shut up” you say in a slumberous whisper, moving closer into his arm, putting your own around him, your head buried into chest as you feel your eyes getting heavy…not able to stay awake anymore. You feel Kakashi envelope you in his arms, the warmth from his skin against the cold air lulling you to sleep, your mind becoming foggy as you close your eyes, slowly drifting off somewhere far, far away…

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

Your eyes open to the chirping of birds perched on the branches above, rays of morning light casting a rosy glow in the horizon.

You watch the half light in the distance, rubbing your eyes, smiling to yourself.

The night had taken with it the black clouds of denial fogging your mind, your heart is as clear as day now.

You turn your head just in time to see Kakashi opening his eyes, his eyes puffy, imprints of grass marking his soft cheek.

You smile at him as he looks at you, lips curled into a sleepy smile. “Good morning” he yawns, tapping over his mouth with his palm.

“I won.”

“Hmm?” he asks groggily, eyes still adjusting to the light.

You hold up the two small bells in front of him, they jingle over his face.

He chuckles. “I don’t think so. It’s past dawn”

“I took them off before. I won.”

He laughs again, his face lighting up in a way you’d never seen before. He looks even more beautiful in the daylight.

“In all fairness y/n, there are no losers here.”

You laugh along with him now, reaching across and smoothening the imprints on his cheek, keeping your hand there, cupping his cheek.

“So, I passed?” you ask, looking at him, inching closer.

He looks back at you, with the same look from earlier in his eyes.

But you’re not turning yourself blind to it anymore.

“Top of the class” he laughs, pulling you closer, nuzzling your nose with his before pressing his lips into yours.

Notes :-

Did I quote 10 Things I Hate About You on a Kakashi Smut?

Yes, yes i did.

#kakashi #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #kakashi x reader smut #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto x reader #kakashi fanfic #kakashi x reader fluff

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shadowofahope · 3 years ago

Text

803

Warnings: Sexual content mentioned, could be triggering for some, toxic relationships, dubious consent, hurt but no comfort, momentary self-hate.

Premise: Best friends to FWB to Strangers.

Idols x reader

Authors notes: To put it lightly, I was in a mood when I wrote this. I know I don't mention it is BTS in this one, but I did intend to at the beginning. However, as I wrote i realized it could be related to any group or persons. So I decided to leave it blank. I also realized I wrote this as fairly gender neutral, which I also ended up liking. So I'm unsure how to properly list this one.

Sorry for the heavy topic, coming out of nowhere Sweet Peas!

Oh and side note: this drabble is exactly 1122 words long, you'll see why that made me chuckle.

masterlist

Staring at the blank beige ceiling you hear the door click shut. The overbearing silence becomes piercingly loud. Your limbs sore setting with a dull throb. Your naked body covered in marks, painful reminders of tonight's events. You feel the warm thick liquid slip out of your body between your legs and a tear finally escapes you. You have no idea how much time goes by, your mind blank unable to reason why you let it happen again. More tears cascade down the sides of your face into your hair, but you can’t bring yourself to wipe them away. The now chilled air sweeps over your damp skin, you shiver. Rolling to your side you bring the dishevelled comforter around you. You lose consciousness for who knows how long. You stopped looking at the clock when you were here. It almost hurt more.

On autopilot you peel yourself off of the bed, into the shower then redress into your leggings and sweater. Grabbing your bag and heading home in a taxi. Deja vu all over again.

What even were you anymore? If you said no, if you said you wouldn’t meet them in this hotel room anymore. Would you go back to being friends? Friends? Were you even friends anymore?

How could you be, when they didn’t even treat you as a person anymore. Just something to alleviate their stress, no longer contacting you outside of wanting to meet in 803. One dumb choice you all made what feels like forever ago has made you grown to hate the number 803. But every time they sent that pre-scripted text ‘803. 8pm tonight.’ you’d arrive first and end up leaving last.

Clothes thrown back on them and they’d be out the door. You’d be left alone to care for yourself. You’d become a toy, a device for them.

You tried so hard to hold onto the memories of your friendships. Movie nights, dinners, game nights in their dorm, sharing everything. Being each other's support systems. You wanted to believe in it so much you became delusional. The rose coloured glasses finally cracked.

They hadn’t contacted you in over a month since the last time. They promised to take you to dinner as a way of distracting you to not feel so guilty for missing your parents funeral. You couldn’t afford to fly home for it, spending your life savings moving here to be their number one fan and find your own life. The accident had been sudden, you could have never seen it coming.

So there you sat, until the restaurant informed you that they were closing. They hadn’t shown up. They hadn’t called, no text, nothing. That’s what you were now. Nothing.

Consumed by sadness, losing yourself in a shell of what you once were.

Another month went by and finally communication, ‘803. 8pm tonight.’.

Like a robot you packed your bag, gathered your items and headed out. Opting to walk there in hopes something might happen and you wouldn't make it. It couldn't be your fault if you couldn't make it then. How little did you think of yourself that after all this time you were still afraid of losing them?

Walking into the overwhelmingly familiar lobby, you walk up to the check in. You don’t need to say anything, this woman knows who you are. Most of them do. You're too numb to see her, eyes focusing past her meeting your own in the mirror behind her and losing yourself.

You’ve already lost them. You’ve lost your own self respect, they don't respect you. They don’t need you. They’ve already left you, your parents left you. You have no one, no one but you.

Looking down you see the key card in the lady’s outstretched hand, you reach for it. Staring at the numbers engraved under the hotel's name. You look at her, she gives you a sympathetic smile and a slight nod. You drag yourself to the elevators stepping inside alone again waiting for your floor.

Stepping out, you're fighting to keep your feet moving, like the floor is coated in fast drying cement. Have these hallways been this long? Have there always been this many doors to pass? Things you’ve never noticed.

Mistakes repeated. You unlock the door and step in. Placing your bag on the bed, while your phone and keycard of the table, you stare out the large window. The view was as beautiful as always. The night fog rolling over the river, just a stone's throw away. Something so close yet still feeling so far. You open the glass, letting the cool breeze wash over you.

There you wait for the inevitable.

Time passes by too quickly. Your phone's notifications begin to go off. Text after text, phone call after phone call. But your eyes stay plastered to the world outside, your chest beginning to constrict, hurting to breathe.

In anger you rush over to the table, grab your phone and throw it straight out the window. Barely being able to see the screen glow as it plummets down and into the water below. Tears stream down your face as you look out. How easy it would be to follow…

Shaking your head you turn back to the room, identical to your torment but there's one key difference. You pick up the hotel's key card, room 1122.

Your heart is shattered, but maybe it was better to be alone.

There’s a knock on your door. The tears stop streaming, your body begins to tremble. Please no. You silently creep your way to the door and look out the peephole.

Breathing again you unlock the door.

“Room service courtesy of the front desk staff and kitchen.” The older man smiles reassuringly at you. You step aside and let him wheel the cart in. Placing your regular favourite orders on the table. All of the things you’ve ordered in your nights alone, after they had left. You try not to cry again. “Your cable and demand are also paid for the full night. Please rest and enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you.” You manage to squeeze out weakly.

“It’s no problem at all, goodnight.” He bows before wheeling the cart out again, you lock the door behind him.

For the first time in almost a year of coming to this hotel, you change into sweats and a shirt, turn on your favourite comfort movie and dig into your food.

Knowing when tomorrow would come, you would once again leave this place alone. Alone but not lonely. There would be more, you’d find it again. You’d find your light, you would do what you came here to do. Create your own dreams, live your life.

And leave room 803 behind forever.

masterlist

#idol imagines #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts ot7 #bts angst #bts x reader #no fluff #bts imagines #hurt but no real comfort #kind of comfort?#bts drabble #kpop drabbles #relatable to real life #i dont know why i had to hurt myself so much with this one

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tippedbykreider · 3 years ago

Text

your love is my turning page | c. kreider

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfect, thanks a lot for your help.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? And you like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, you caught me.”

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

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

Chris instinctively offered his hand out for her to shake.

“Well, I’m Christopher and you are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A favourite of yours, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, you.”

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

“I need you to help settle a debate.”

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

“Sounds serious.”

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

“Oh, Christopher, I was born ready.”

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

“Out with it, Chris,” Rosie laughed.

“Crunchy or smooth?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so confused right now.”

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

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

“Rookies had too many beers?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I hate packing,” she whined.

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

“You’re mean.”

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

“No, I’m Chris.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, I’m not terrible.”

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

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

“All of the above?” Rosie laughed.

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

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

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

“That sounds incredibly full-on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rosie?”

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

“Ro, what happened?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry, Rosie…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So go to her.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Just like that? Just go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Course I will, and Mika?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything to see you smile, Ro.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Chris. I need you.”

“I’ve got you, Ro. I’ve got you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Christopher…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Chris, it’s beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My dearest Rosie,

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

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

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

All my love, Always

Chris

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

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

“Chris…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#chris kreider #chris kreider fic #nhl fic #nhl fiction #nhl fanfiction #chris kreider x ofc #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey fiction #chris & rosie #turning page universe #my writing

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doreamu-san · 3 years ago

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An analysis of SolKy

Hello! Thank you so much for clicking on this. A while ago, I was asked to do an essay explaining why people ship SolKy other than the whole rivals/opposites attract reason, and I got a lot of feedback stating it was useful for newcomers to the ship! As a result I’ve decided to post this on tumblr, but just on the ship’s tag as to not bother uninterested people.

A couple of disclaimers before I begin. This is firstly just my own opinion, so whilst it makes sense for me, other shippers may disagree with my points. I’m also not claiming they are canon because they are not. But I do hope it’ll give some insight into why some people like me enjoy them together.

Even once you’ve read this essay, you can still dislike SolKy. This isn’t an essay stating you have to ship them.

This will be extremely long as I basically cover every single interaction they’ve ever had with each other since I know some people sort of gloss over their dialogue, so grab yourself a drink, get comfy, and I hope you enjoy reading!

(Last edited: 09/05/2021. This will be updated again when Strive releases!)

How this all began

If we’re starting right at the beginning, it’s common knowledge that Ky and Sol weren’t exactly on great terms and often clashed most of the time due to their conflicting beliefs. Ky saw the world in terms of black and white, and had very strict rules on what constituted as right and wrong. Sol seemed to think differently and went against that, which was a stark contrast compared to the other Order members at the time.

Considering that they were in fact, in the middle of a war, you would think that generally people would be willing to put their differences aside and work together.

But Sol wasn’t like everyone else, going off and doing his own thing instead of actually listening to orders, so it’s understandable why Ky found him rather irritating.

However, Ky did grow curious of Sol. Obviously curiosity does not equate to love, but it is the basis of Ky wanting to become more friendly with and know more about Sol. There seemed to be something that Sol knew but Ky didn’t, but how was that possible..? As a result, despite how infuriating he could be, Ky sought to seek out the truth and so fought him for answers.

In regards to why exactly they fight (aside from the fact that this is a fighting game), Ishiwatari wrote something called ‘Hostility is Akin to Love’ right above a picture of them fighting:

Hostility is akin to love Thinking of your opponent’s actions to fight, Reading your opponent’s inner thoughts to fight, Planning attacks that will hit your opponent to fight, And then transmitting your thoughts with those attacks, The more you think of your own advantage, at the same time you think of your opponent, In the instant you mix with your opponent, a passionate feeling arises, and blood boils, Reality is hurt, and you wound your opponent, Hostility is akin to love. — Guilty Gear Isuka Mook

It states how fighting someone can be close to feelings of love because you have to think about what your opponent is doing, as well as how you’re going to respond to your opponent. Overtime, you start to memorise how your opponent thinks, and as a result you’ll know them on a deeper level.

So considering the above, this explains how even though they weren’t on friendly terms, they still formed a bond with one another.

Now we’ve established how exactly their relationship started, and why Ky was curious about Sol in the first place, let’s look at things from Sol’s perspective.

Sol’s attitude towards Ky

We know that Sol was also pretty annoyed by Ky, which was totally justifiable given the extreme way in which Ky thought the world worked. But Sol didn’t exactly dislike Ky.

In order to provide some evidence that Sol cares about Ky, let’s cover that infamous scene everyone likes to reference which shows Sol crying over Ky’s dead body:

Sol: "I came to pick you up." Ky: "Always coming late... you never could fix that..." Sol: "You..." Ky: "As to be expected... until the very end... I could never beat you..." Sol: "Don't say anything!" Ky: "I have... a request..." Sol: "I said shut up!" Ky: "After Commander Kliff... carry on... the Holy Order..." Sol: "Stop it... that's your job!" Ky: "Please... promise me..." Sol: "Dammit..." Ky: "If it's you... you can do..." Sol: "Hey.... what's wrong. Hey! KYYYYYY!" — Guilty Gear XX Drama CD Side Red, Battle of Rome — Deathmatch

A lot of people bring this quote up when discussing SolKy and yes, it does show Sol cares about Ky considering how Sol never really cares about anyone in general, but the fact that Ky’s death managed to make him emotional shows what an impact Ky had on him. There are however more quotes that show Sol’s feelings.

There’s this scene in the GG Xtra manga, Ky and Sol get attacked by a mountain-sized gear. In order to save them, Sol rips off his limiter and Dragon Installs. This scene is very poignant when you take into consideration what Sol said in After Story A:

Sol: "Back during the Crusades, before we met... Kliff told me this rumour about a prodigy swordsman." Sol: "If you couldn't guess, that was you. I didn't give a shit at the time..." Sol: "But then I saw you on the battlefield." Sol: "I saw someone out there who surpassed all of my expectations. Or perhaps I should say 'something.'" Sol: "No openings, no wasted movements, no carelessness, no hesitation, no embarrassment, not even any honor. No chivalry or mercy. A being unaffected by emotion." Sol: "You were a killing machine. Taking down gears with brutal efficiency." Ky: "...That was a long time ago." Sol: "I'm not done talking. I've seen the face of the 'serious' Ky." Sol: "Then one day, you challenged me." Sol: "You wanna know what I thought right then?" Ky: "..." Sol: "I was afraid. Hell, I was scared shitless." Sol: "'He figured out that I'm a Gear, and he's come to kill me.' That's what I thought." — Guilty Gear Xrd -REVELATOR-, After Story A

Sol admits that he knows just how scary Ky can be. Since Ky was extremely against Gears, if Ky found out that Sol was a Gear, then Ky would have most likely attempted to kill him. But Sol knew this and was willing to die for Ky’s sake, and transformed anyway:

Ky: "Sol..." Ky: (Really... that's really..) Ky: (That's really you!?) Ky: "SOL!" Sol: "Shut it..." Sol: "I didn't do it..." Sol: "To help you out—...." — Guilty Gear Xtra, Chapter 5: Unspeakable Thoughts

Going off on a bit of a tangent from Sol’s feelings, but I just want to point out Ky’s state of mind at this point. Ky in this time period was still very anti-Gear, as it was only through this moment and his encounters with Solaria and Dizzy later that made him change his way of thinking. It took a long time for Ky to accept Gears, and he still had the remains of that mindset in him when he had Sin, as he refused to make eye contact with him because Ky was ashamed of having a Gear child. So the fact that Ky knew Sol was a Gear, believed all Gears were evil, but still decided to accept Sol into his life and wanted to support him regardless of that, is interesting.

Back to Sol, another small quote that manages to show Sol’s feelings towards Ky is this:

Sol: (Maybe I'll finish them off while I'm at it...) Sol: (But that would mean breaking my promise to Ky...) — Guilty Gear XX Accent Core Plus R, Sol Badguy Path 2

Now, Sol doesn’t care about 99% of what other people do as long as they don’t get in his way. The fact that he intends to keep his promise with Ky suggests that he holds Ky in somewhat ‘high’ regards compared to others.

There’s also this quote that shows Sol is thinking about Ky in Overture:

The frustrations of the man wielding a giant sword were piling day by day, and a familiar face appeared in his head. What’s he up to right now? “Hmph, whatever…” With a feeling of self-contempt, Sol Badguy shook his head. What am I getting sentimental for? — Guilty Gear 2: Overture, #0 “Noise”

And when Sol encounters Raven later on after seeing Ky incapacitated, Raven points out how he can tell Sol is upset, meaning Sol’s not really doing a good job of pretending he’s still indifferent to Ky.

Raven: "You're as ruthless as ever, huh, monster?" Sol: "Look who's talking." Raven: "Can you not put down your sword and talk? I understand you're upset with Ky Kiske defeated." Sol: "I'll ask your corpse for answers." — Guilty Gear 2: Overture, #5 "Gaze of the Chronicle"

Sol’s thoughts about Ky become even clearer during his confrontation with Sin when he’s under the influence of Valentine, where Sol defends Ky’s actions and tries to make Sin understand Ky is not 100% at fault:

Sin: "Can you see it? Can you feel it? This is my real power. This is my mother's strength." Sol: "But it's light. It must be from your father." Sin: "Shut up! Don't ever mention him!" Sin: "He abandoned my mother and me using justice as an excuse!" Sin: "Who cares about the King!? Who cares about the people!? That man, and that Kingdom, not one of them can protect a damn thing!" Sol: "I don't give a damn about your family." Sol: "But you know what, Ky may be a stubborn idiot, but at least he's true to his beliefs." Sol: "A punk like you is still alive thanks to his justice." — Guilty Gear 2: Overture, #15 "Roaring Compass"

Okay, that’s the pre-Xrd era for Sol done, now to focus on Ky’s pre-Xrd’s emotions.

Ky’s attitude towards Sol

We’ve established earlier that Ky was annoyed by Sol and disliked him in the Crusades. However, afterwards it seems as if Ky saw himself as friends with Sol:

Ofc1: "All of them seem to have been destroyed by... fire?" Ofc2: "Yeah... why could that be?" Ky: "........" Ky: "Change our course!" Ky: "Head towards the Eastern United States!" Ofc1: "May I ask why, Chief Ky?" Ky: "To meet an old friend." — Guilty Gear Xtra, Chapter 4: Former Friends

We know that Ky outwardly expressed his first signs of liking Sol when Sol stole the Fuuenken and Ky chased after him, only for Sol to win in their duel, and Ky says this:

Ky: "Promise me one thing..." Sol: "..What?" Ky: "We'll meet again." Sol: "Hmph... Well, if fate brings us together..." Ky: "..That's fine." — Guilty Gear XX Accent Core Plus R, Sol Badguy Path 1

It’s pretty interesting that Ky wanted to see Sol again despite how Sol never used to listen to his orders, and how Sol never even tried to act like what the Order expected their men to act like (chivalrous, putting the people first, etc). It at least shows us that Ky saw possibly the potential of becoming friends with Sol. And Sol didn’t even say straight up ‘no’ or ‘in your dreams’ or whatever Badguy-esque notion he usually would’ve done, so we can assume he doesn’t mind seeing Ky again either.

Then they don’t speak to each other properly for 5 years until the tournament that Testament holds, though they have probably ran into each other a few times within those years.

A common misconception people have is that during those 5 years, Ky was obsessed with Sol and would constantly try to find him. Obviously, this is not true. Ky was busy with IPF stuff and Sol was hunting Gears down.

However, it’s not as if Ky completely forgot about Sol — he was just probably at the back of his mind, and Ky does admit that he has been chasing after Sol the most more than anyone else:

Ky: (Waiting outside for me when I left the ship... burning red flames. Soon, they seem to take the shape of a man... and he appears before me. Yes... it's him. The one I've been after the most... it's him.) — Guilty Gear X Drama CD, Vol. 1: Track Seven — Crater

There’s also these two other quotes:

Ky: (Sol...) Ky: (Why are you so stubborn about doing things alone?) — Guilty Gear Xtra, Chapter 5: Unspeakable Thoughts

You can interpret this in two ways: either Ky wants to help Sol out and/or he’s curious as to why Sol always does stuff alone.

And then there’s this:

Ky: "Maintaining peace, law, and order. That is my duty." Sol: "Whatever..." Ky: "You and I, we are cut from the same cloth." Ky: "How long are you going to keep that facade?" Sol: "..." Ky: "Answer me Sol!" — Guilty Gear Judgment, Sol and Ky Ending

Being ‘cut from the same cloth’ is quite a strong statement. The phrase means that Ky thought he and Sol were similar somehow, and that he shared something with Sol. Regardless, the ‘how long are you going to keep that facade’ at least shows that Ky knows Sol is intentionally acting distant/rough/etc. and that its not actually who he is.

Jumping to pre-Overture, just before Ky gives Sin to Sol, Ky is in a really depressive state due to all of the stress he’s been going through. This leads Dizzy to contact Sol. The fact that Sol is called means that Dizzy knows that Sol is possibly the only person who can help Ky at that point, which puts some emphasis on just how much Sol means to Ky or at least affects him.

Before I move onto Xrd, there’s this part where Ky gives his son to Sol. This proves he trusts Sol so much considering he was asking him to take care of Sin for a long period of time.

Ky: “Sol....I want to request something...” Sol: “...hnn?” Ky: “My son....Sin..can you take care of him for a while?” Sol: “...what did you say?” Ky: “I know it’s unreasonable but...I still want to ask...” — GG2: Overture Story, Sol's Story

The Xrd era (because it is so long, it needs its own section)

The Xrd era is extremely interesting to me, because Sol and Ky have some more in-depth conversations, and boy, do they have a lot of conversations.

Focusing on Sol first, theres a scene in REV where Sol asks Ky why he isn’t interested in his past:

Sol: "Why don't you ask me already?" Ky: "Ask you what?" Sol: "About my past." Ky: "I can ask you?" Sol: "I guarantee, it won't be interesting." Sol: "Every other word that came out of your mouth was 'Duel me,' or 'I challenge you!' You were so eager to fight and..." Ky: "........" — Guilty Gear Xrd -REVELATOR-, Story Mode: Chapter 03, Sense A

Given that Ky was constantly pestering Sol about his background in the past, it makes sense why Sol is suddenly a bit confused about Ky’s sudden change in behaviour. But it also shows that Sol wants Ky to know about his past. After ~170+ years of being alive, Sol wants to finally open up to someone again, and he specifically chose Ky for this. It shows in the very least Sol trusts Ky and knows him well enough to decide to let him know about who he used to be.

And then Ky says this, which is basically him just showing Sol how much he cares and understands him:

Ky: "Sol. Of course I have an interest in your past." Ky: "But wanting to understand someone and trying to understand everything is completely different." Ky: "Right now, Sol Badguy's future matters much more to me, than Frederick's past." — Guilty Gear Xrd -REVELATOR-, Story Mode: Chapter 03, Sense A

There’s also this scene in SIGN:

Ky: "I don't know your history." Ky: "I don't know if you had friends once, or if you fell in love, or why you burn with such hatred for That Man and the Gears..." Ky: "I don't even know your real name." Sol: "..." Ky: "But I do know a great deal about a man named Sol Badguy." Ky: "Blinded by vengeance, he lost sight of himself, and now he runs from the truth that frightens him." Sol: "...Say that again." Ky: "Tomorrow always comes, Sol." Sol: "..!" Ky: "If tomorrow promises to be cold and dark, I cannot stand idly by... even if I know my efforts will come to nothing." Sol: "... The self-righteous apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Ky: "I don't expect the world to change tomorrow, but I do hope that, today, perhaps my words will reach you." Ky: "Sol..." Ky: "I'll be waiting for you. We'll all be waiting for you. Sin, Dizzy..." Ky: "Once all this is over... come home." — Guilty Gear Xrd -SIGN-, Story Mode: Chapter 04, Kaleidoscope B

Three things to take away from this:

Ky admits that he doesn’t know anything about Sol’s background, but that he knows a lot about the current Sol, and then goes on to explain how Sol acts. Which to expand on, means that although Ky used to care about Sol’s past, he doesn’t really mind about it anymore because Sol’s past won’t really change much who Sol is to Ky now. Also, the part where Ky explains how Sol was ‘blinded by vengeance,’etc. shows that Ky knows Sol’s current personality well enough in order to be able to distinguish his behaviours. Which is interesting because nobody has been around Sol long enough to be able to know him really well unlike Ky (Aria and Asuka count too, but they were around Sol when he was Frederick, and Sol seems pretty adamant on the idea that he’s a separate person from Frederick.)

‘Come home’ is pretty significant, as it implies that it’s almost like Ky is saying home is with Sin, Dizzy and the Valentines, and so when Sol is done getting revenge on That Man, instead of letting Sol just wander off alone, Ky wants Sol to be a family with them.

The fact that says Ky says ‘I’ll be waiting for you’ separate from ‘we’ll all be waiting for you’ implies that either Ky’s want to wait for Sol is somehow different from everyone else’s or it’s just for the sake of being dramatic. I interpreted this in both ways, as it seems like Ky knows that Sol treats him differently compared to others. So in a sense, by Ky emphasising that he’ll be waiting for Sol, it might make Sol more likely to ‘come home’.

There’s also a scene that shows Ky knows Sol’s personality well:

Ky: "When I look at you, Sol, I see a man who is afraid." Sol: "... What?" Ky: "It became clear when I watched you caring for Sin." Ky: "You work very hard to keep everyone at arm's length." Sol: "..." Sol: "I got Gear blood in my veins, and it ain't friendly. It's always there in the back of my head, whispering that I oughta just destroy all of this." Sol: "The only way I'm gonna get some closure is tracking down That Man and beating some answers out of him." Sol: "And if he doesn't have 'em..." Sol: "Then maybe there really isn't a good way to live." Ky: "That's why you close your heart off." — Guilty Gear Xrd -SIGN-, Story Mode: Chapter 08, Hope A

There’s also this:

Ky: "Not all people have the strength to stand on their own." Sol: "..." Ky: "If only life were simple, and the right path was laid out before each of us..." Ky: "But even then some would leave it, and some would struggle with walking it. Such is human nature..." Ky: "The truth is that no path will ever be 'right' for all people. Each of us must find the one we are meant to walk--and sometimes that is where none exists." Ky: "That is what I learned from you." — Guilty Gear Xrd -SIGN-, Story Mode: Chapter 08, Hope A

This just shows that Ky actually learnt something from Sol. Which I think is important because Ky is someone who always used to be very strict to his ideals. The fact that he learnt something from Sol that had an impact on his mindset means that Sol actually managed to have a great impact on Ky.

There’s this scene where Sol finds out that Aria isn’t dead when he confronts That Man, and he has somewhat of a mini mental breakdown. So Ky excuses them from the room, and goes outside to talk with Sol:

Ky: "Sol. The grudge you hold is certainly not something that can be taken lightly. And, whatever answer you think you've found, I doubt any of us will be able to stop you from seeing it through..." Ky: "But we have very little time left. Right now, we need the Gear Maker's help." Ky: "So, I'm begging you... Just for now. Why don't you stay outside with me." — Guilty Gear Xrd -REVELATOR-, Story Mode: Chapter 06, Cause A

The last line that Ky says is interesting because it’s obvious that he’s just trying to calm Sol down, and Ky thinks that if he stays with Sol outside for a bit, he’ll be able to help him calm down. Furthermore, Ky thought it was more necessary to pause everything and help Sol out rather than keep listening to the plans of what their next course of action would be.

Ky does have the habit of comforting Sol. One of the more significant moments is whenever Sol refers to himself as a monster:

Ky: "Yes, he took away some of what makes you human, but that doesn't mean he altered your mind or your soul." Sol: "So what?" Ky: "I want to believe that you'll fight for the people of this world." Sol: "Are we seriously having this conversation?" Sol: "Look, kid. I'm a monster. I'm here to do two things: Destroy That Man, and kill all the other Gears." — Guilty Gear Xrd -SIGN-, Story Mode: Chapter 04, Kaleidoscope B

To expand a little on Sol’s mindset, it’s common knowledge that Gears were generally in the past regarded as akin to monsters. Now we don’t have any solid proof Sol is referring to himself as a monster because he’s a Gear, or because he feels guilt about the whole Gear Project, etc. But we do know it’s something he’s affected by given that he constantly refers to himself as one.

So the fact that Ky constantly reassures him that he’s not one, and that Ky didn’t treat him differently after finding out he was a Gear, must be comforting to know.

Then at the end of REV, there’s the scene where Daryl is about to shoot Sol, because he (quite rightly) doesn’t trust the fate of the world to be left to Sol. And so, the kids get beamed up, but Ky asks to be left behind:

Ky: "But, if you plan on targeting Sol, then you must leave me behind, as well." Daryl: "What!?" Zappa:"60 seconds until impact..!" Sol: "What the hell are you doing?! Stay with Sin!" Ky: "I am well aware that this is a one in a million chance..." Ky: "But, if I survive at the expense of my dear friend, then there is little reason left for my ruling this world as king." — Guilty Gear Xrd -REVELATOR-, Story Mode: Final Chapter, Fireworks

This was a really odd moment because Ky’s life was never in danger at that moment. If he had been sent on board Daryl’s ship as originally planned, he would have been safe. But Ky intentionally chose to risk his life, and its kind of startling because Ky has always put his people above everything. There were times when he put the people above his own family, like when he kept his family a secret instead of coming out with the truth about them in order to remain as King to protect his people.

So Ky suddenly going ‘I would rather die with Sol than take care of my people’ is really extreme. Also Ky was willing to leave his family behind, which is even more extreme. So this just really proves how highly Ky regards Sol considering how he would rather die with him than live without him.

Some concluding notes

I think Sol and Ky’s personalities do work really well. Perhaps not in the Crusade era, but if we take a look at the Xrd era, they have shown to get along and have deep conversations with one another that they both enjoy. They know each other extremely well; they know how to support one another when life gets a bit too much and they’re also capable of telling one another when the other is wrong.

Sol teaches Ky that life isn’t as simple as it seems, and that (figuratively speaking) he shouldn’t stick exactly to the textbook. He’s able to see under that perfect image Ky puts up about him being able to cope with everything, acting as a source of stability when you consider how Sol has been the only person who’s been around Ky since the very beginning.

Throughout all of Ky’s life, he’s been under so much pressure. From being Commander in the Crusades, to becoming the Head of the International Police Force, to becoming King. In every situation, people are constantly relying on him, and his environment is changing rapidly. But despite everything, Sol has always remained the same. He looks the same, acts the same, etc. Ky can rely on Sol and trust Sol. He’s like a source of stability for Ky in those hectic times.

And Ky provides something similar to Sol too, given how often he ran into Sol time and time again. When you’ve been alive for so long, it’d feel reassuring in the very least to see a familiar face. And Sol does seem to get less annoyed each time they meet each other again, considering like how in Overture he voluntarily went to go see Ky after seeing himself on a wanted poster.

Ky also gives Sol the chance to open up to people again and form connections with them, something that Sol has been reluctant to do. Sol needs someone to care about him, and Ky proves that by constantly reassuring him and never giving up on trying to help Sol, even though he kept getting pushed away.

They may not be canon but I really do love how they work together. Yes it’s true some people may like them because they are ‘rivals’and seeing rivals get together and bicker is great, but actually I think when people focus more on how much they support and rely on each other, as well as the fact that they do get along, them being in a relationship is more convincing.

Whilst this essay focused on their canon interactions, there’s plenty of other great material out there. For instance, the Guilty Gear 4KomaKINGS manga provides plenty of great SolKy interactions (like the time Ky wanted to have a friendship diary with Sol, only to get rejected and start crying about it. Of course, take these interactions with a pinch of skepticism considering the frivolity of the source material.)

And that, was my very long SolKy essay. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading! Though you may not have agreed with everything I have said, you still continued reading, and I am grateful for that. Thank you for showing such enthusiasm and loving this franchise.

#solky

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retrowhatever · 2 years ago

Text

Word Game Wednesday (err… Friday)

Thank you to my wonderful and talented server overlord pocket friend @poppypopp for tagging me in the word game meme, requesting I find the following words in my fics: blade, whisper, glow.

Lucky for me, I have exactly three published fics and was actually able to snag a different word from each one! 😅

Blade - From my Niloy fic "The Held Breath, The Loosed Arrow" (Cheating a bit on this because the like in question is pulled directly from the in-game dialogue. Also, sorry this snippet is so long, I wanted to include some words I actually wrote rather than just lifted directly from the game.)

“But I didn’t wound you,” she countered, trying not to think of how forlorn he’d looked when she had turned down his invitation to duel to the death.

“Not by metal. Still, I forgive.” He shrugged. “A duel is such a fleeting joy. If one of us had ended the other, we’d have missed all this. The wait before blood is shed, like the scrape of a blade across your teeth—”

“Nil, you’re making it difficult to be glad to see you,” she said, cutting him off before he could say anything even more unsettling.

“But you are glad to see me.” Even in the moonlight, she could see the glint in his eye, so much like the expression he wore in the moments before introducing an unsuspecting bandit to an unexpected end.

“You’re… needed,” she said slowly, and she had a hard time meeting his sharp gaze. “This battle will be hard.”

“Hard?” he scoffed, “I was assured the odds would be near impossible.”

They are, she thought, pushing down the panic that threatened to rise up again. “So why are you here?”

He huffed, as though she had asked him to explain something completely obvious, and counted reasons on his fingertips. “Impossible odds, fine company, killing without consequence—” he leaned closer to her, adding softly, “how could I resist?”

She rolled her eyes, hoping the darkness hid the blush that warmed her cheeks at the suggestive hum of his question. “I meant here, at the river. All the pre-battle anticipation”—she stretched the word out meaningfully, the way he did—”that you’re always going on about is up there.” She gestured back towards Meridian.

He shook his head. “All the little bees buzzing around that particular hive are a noisy distraction. I prefer to savor the sharp promise of the coming clash in a more… intimate environment.”

Whisper - From my Ereloy fic "Quite the Catch"

She stood, offering a hand to help him to his feet. When he took it, his calloused palm warm against her own, the fluttery sensation in her stomach returned, stronger than ever. She pulled him up and they stood there for a long moment, hands still joined between them. She thought again about what it would be like to kiss him.

“You know,” he said slowly, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “I don’t usually let women buy me drinks without getting their name first. Even pretty redheads with interesting questions about my relationship status.”

“Aloy.” It came out in a near-whisper.

Glow - From my Ereloy fic "After Midnight" (Featuring the absolute height of comedy that is a bouncing penis because yes I am secretly twelve.)

"Okay?" he murmured against her forehead.

"Very," she responded dazedly as she ran her fingers through his hair, her movements slow and lazy. He glowed with the pride of having undone her, of seeing her transformed from a tightly coiled spring to this softly unwound woman, nearly limp in his arms, all from his touch. The thought stirred him, and pressed together as tightly as they were, he knew Aloy would feel it.

And she did, pushing him away from her so she could rake her eyes over him once more, the wicked grin from earlier returning to her flushed features. Moving as though to pull him back into the hug, like lightning her hands went instead to his trousers, and grabbing hold of both them and his smallclothes at once, she yanked them down so quickly he had no time to react.

The fabric strained against his erection for a moment and then his cock sprang free from the garments with such force that it bounced slightly up and down. Aloy let out a surprised laugh and then clapped her hands over her mouth, blushing so deeply in embarrassment that it overtook the flushed glow still lingering from her orgasm.

Tagging @ariseis, @souls-that-have-senses, and @theyloydespitethenora with the words worry, candle, and (thank me later for this gift) hands.

#horizon fanfic #writing #fanfic #tag game #niloy #ereloy #nil #erend #aloy

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anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

Note

Can we please get more tfota scenes from cardan's pov? Maybe something from qon this time 🙈

Happy New Year! ♥️🥂

It’s so great you guys are enjoying these Cardan POV pieces! This one sort of follows His Monstrous Bride and this other little continuation -- it’s taken from Chapter 18 of The Queen of Nothing when Jude and Cardan talk about her exile before meeting with the Living Council.

I don’t have a title for it -- let’s just call it His Monstrous Bride Part II. lol

(Also a shameless plug for my ongoing fic The Nine Terrifying Moons, which will feature a Cardan POV chapter coming soon. Wheeeee!)

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

Cardan is well versed at hiding his emotions, but it doesn’t hurt to look the part. And the day that his High Queen is finally awakening, once again restored to Elfhame, is a day to dress for a very specific kind of battle. Jude has ignored him for months – now he must be unignorable. He has gold along his cheekbones and caps like gold knives at the tips of his ears. Jude likes knives after all.

He’s flanked by his guards at her door. (Their door? He’s unused to sharing.) The Living Council means to interrupt her convalescence, and he’ll have none of it. He’s there to make sure she is fit and ready, and he doesn’t have to do more than that, he tells himself. His envoy is at his sides at all times now, and still, in this moment, some part of him wishes there were more of them. Wishes he could shrink back from what may lie ahead.

“Your Highness?” His guards are waiting for him to do something. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been hesitating.

It’s just… it’s been months of endless rejection, though he knows now she never received his letters, but still…he’s not sure he can take one more. And his heart is still cracked and raw from her most recent brush with death.

He steels himself. And knocks at the door.

It’s Oak who answers with an innocent smile, which is something of a relief. With Oak around, Jude’s less likely to become stabby.

Although, at least if she’s stabbing him, she’s no longer ignoring him. And Cardan really can’t stand one more minute of being ignored by Jude Duarte.

She’s there now, and the sight of her standing catches him right in the chest. The last time he’d clapped eyes on her, she was bleeding all over his spider-silk sheets. He’d cleaned her blood with his own two hands, but now she’s upright and clear-eyed, dressed in a foreboding black number with silver at her collar and cuffs. Her auburn hair has been braided like a crown, and with smoky traces of rose around her eyes, she looks deadly and formidable once more.

It’s such a welcome sight. He has never been so thrilled to see her. And that’s such a treacherous and terrifying notion, since he thinks it’s very likely she’s might smack him in the near future if he can’t navigate the mess of crossed wires between them.

The thrill lasts only a moment, because then his stomach gives a lurch. He’s just realized that all of her sisters are there, too. And they’re all staring at him. And he’s been staring right back.

Suddenly, Cardan’s on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat.

“Walk with me,” he finally tells Jude, eager to get away from so many Duarte eyes.

“Of course.” Jude’s brown eyes in particular seem uncharacteristically wide and confused.

Vivienne catches Jude’s hand before she can join him.

“You’re not well enough,” she objects. As if Cardan can’t take care of her. As if he hadn’t cleaned up her blood himself.

“The Living Council is eager to speak with her,” he says instead. Jude should be proud of how he’s learned to curb his tongue in her absence.

“The only danger anyone has ever been in at a Council meeting is of being bored to death,” Jude is reassuring her family, before stepping away, the guards folding in around them.

Cardan offers her his arm – he wants to keep her close, and he wants Vivienne to take note. It is different now, and he wants them all to see. Jude is cared for here.

He wants to take his time with her at his arm as they swap neutral business about the Roach, about the Bomb, about Madoc, but he can hardly even look at her. His head is full of visions of those nights he wrote to her again and again, outright begging in the end, and then lying awake, alone, certain his agony would be never-ending. Gods above, he’d even written once that his heart was hers, buried with her in the soil of the mortal world -- and she’d sent no reply. And though he knows now it’s because she hadn’t even received it, he’s still completely unsure of how to act.

It’s extremely unsettling how normal Jude seems in this moment. As if no time has passed at all.

And there are still so many eyes on them. Courtiers bobbing their heads as they pass. The guards just an arm’s length away. This is no place to try to sort through what he had written to her, what she needed to know. So maybe he just won’t, he thinks. Maybe it can just be like this for an eternity and he can go back to drinking away his feelings after this Council meeting. Maybe this is the most he should hope for.

But then, Jude says: “I need to talk to you.”

And his heart plummets to his guts. He’s not sure he can keep the dread off his face.

“It won’t take long,” Jude says, which is maybe worse. It means it’s simple: she wants to end their marriage. She wants to return to the mortal world. Of course she does.

But then, she says: “Whatever your scheme is, whatever you are planning to hold over me, you might as well tell me now, before we’re in front of the whole Council. Make your threats. Do your worst.”

What? What the bleeding skies is she talking about? This is such a mess he’s made. And it is, perhaps, the first mess he’s ever truly cared to clean up.

Cardan turns them away toward a corridor to the outdoors.

“Yes,” he agrees. “We do need to talk.”

He steers them for the royal rose garden, where he knows the guards will stop at the gate and leave them alone. He has only a few steps down a path of shimmering quartz stairs among the roses to decide exactly what parts of his heart he’s willing to reveal today. What exactly won’t hurt so terribly much should she throw it all back in his face.

“I assume you weren’t actually trying to shoot me,” he says, choosing first the obvious and easiest. “Since the note was in your handwriting.”

“Madoc sent the Ghost--” Jude starts, but then stops. Softens. “I thought that there was going to be an attempt on your life.”

This does not mean that she cares for you, he has to remind himself. He still doesn’t want to look at her. The memory of perceived rejection is still too strong, still too bitter.

But he’s not going to live with the regrets he’d drowned in when she’d nearly died. He tries to choose his next words carefully.

“It was terrifying,” he admits, feigning interest in a nearby bush of jet black roses, “watching you fall. I mean, you’re generally terrifying, but I am unused to fearing for you.” He swallows back the memories, threatening the periphery of his mind. “And then I was furious. I am not sure I have ever been that angry before.”

“Mortals are fragile,” Jude shrugs him off. She doesn’t get it.

“Not you,” he sighs. “You never break.”

There. Can that be enough? He’s made it fairly obvious now, hasn’t he? Surely she gets it now – he doesn’t want her to die, he doesn’t want to see her hurt. Witnessing it was the worst thing he’s ever seen. Because he cares for her.

If he has to spell it out, it might kill him. So, he just waits for what she has to say to that.

Jude’s looking at the roses, too, when he glances at her, her thick lashes lowered.

“When I came here, pretending to be Taryn, you said you’d sent me messages,” she says, and oh, please, gods, not this. “You seemed surprised I hadn’t gotten any. What was in them?”

Cardan wants to vomit. No, he needs to vomit. If his nervous stomach would cooperate and vomit everywhere, he could still get away from this with a shred of dignity.

He clasps his hands behind his back so she can’t see how they shake, his smile telling the lies that the rest of him can’t. That he is cool and unaffected, not at all hopelessly in love with the mortal girl in front of him.

“Pleading, mostly.” He tries to say it like it’s a joke. “Beseeching you to come back. Several indiscreet promises.” Maybe that little bit of tantalizing will flatter her.

It doesn’t. Actually, he’s not sure Jude can be flattered. She closes her eyes shut in no small amount of frustration.

“Stop playing games,” she growls. “You sent me into exile.”

“Yes. That.” Right, of course she doesn’t love that he’s beating around the bush. If only he could help it. He’s so goddamn nervous. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said to me, before Madoc took you. About it being a trick. You meant marrying you, making you queen, sending you to the mortal world, all of it, didn’t you?”

The glare she throws him is so very Jude, though he loves it less when it’s directed at him.

“Of course it was a trick,” she seethes. “Wasn’t that what you said in return?”

Well, this is rich.

“But that’s what you do. You trick people.” Though Cardan’s starting to realize just how wrong he’s been about the things Jude enjoys. “I thought you’d admire me a little for it, that I could trick you. I thought you’d be angry, of course, but not quite like this.”

“What?” Jude looks like she could unhinge her jaw and swallow him whole. He might even deserve it.

He needs to put an end to this nightmare. There’s still a miniscule chance she’ll find some part of it amusing.

“Let me remind you that I didn’t know you’d murdered my brother, the ambassador to the Undersea, until that very morning,” he points out. Surely, the context will help his case. “My plans were made in haste. And perhaps I was a little annoyed. I thought it would pacify Queen Orlagh, at least until all promises were finalized in the treaty. By the time you guessed the answer, the negotiations would be over.”

But Jude’s face is unchanged. He isn’t seriously this good at trickery, is he?

“Think of it,” he presses, hoping she’ll follow along. “I exile Jude Duarte to the mortal world. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown.” Any minute now. Any minute.

“Pardoned by the crown,” he repeats to her blank stare. Right, so, this game isn’t funny anymore.

“Meaning by the King of Faerie. Or its queen,” he explains, watching her eyes grow wider, wilder. “You could have returned anytime you wanted.”

When he’d first envisioned her figuring out the riddle, he’d expected probably a punch in the arm, maybe she would have even drawn her blade again. That would have been delightful. He’d thought about trembling beneath her again, about that searing look she got in her eye just before devouring his lips. That would have been – gods. He might have considered letting her murder more of his brothers to have that again.

But what is happening now is decidedly the opposite. Jude’s breath is quickening, her face flushing, and in the air between them, Cardan feels a rift cracking wider. He hasn’t played a trick – he’s done something horrible.

When Jude begins to back away from him, he thinks back to what it felt like to find Nicasia with Locke. What Jude’s face is doing now – that is what his heart had done then. She is recoiling from him. Jude Duarte is recoiling from him, because he has hurt her.

He honestly had not thought it was possible. He honestly had not thought himself capable. He honestly had not thought she cared enough.

She whirls then and marches away from him, and he has never hated himself more. Stop her, he thinks, but he’s still stunned. If he’d known she cared…

Stop her!

He runs after her. She has to know he wouldn’t have done it if he’d known. She has to know he will fight to keep her now that he knows. But when he seizes her arm, she hauls around and slaps him, hard enough to turn his face.

It’s not the worst hit he’s taken, not by a long shot, but its sting is entirely different. There’s something fiery in her eyes, and, for the first time, he’s aware that he is not the only one who has been in agony these long months. Oh, he would undo it all now if he could. He would pull her in and kiss her over and over until they both stopped hurting.

Except she still looks murderous. Getting close to her face is probably not a good idea if he doesn’t want to be bitten. (He does kind of want to be bitten, just…in a very different scenario.)

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, carefully, and his hand finds hers. To his great surprise, she lets their fingers lace together, and his heart seizes with a wild hope. It does not mean she loves you, he thinks. He fumbles. “No, it’s not that, not exactly. I didn’t think I could hurt you. And I never thought you would be afraid of me.”

“And did you like it?” Jude asks, narrowing her eyes.

His cheek is hot from the slap of her hand, and now with shame. Because how is he supposed to answer that? He didn’t hate being more powerful for once. He didn’t hate being the one with the answer to the riddle.

“Well, I was hurt.” He’s hesitated too long, and now Jude’s pressing on. “And yes, you scare me.”

Cardan finds himself taking in her full face then, the one that has always seemed so defiant and fearless and headstrong.

“You’ve always scared me,” Jude is saying, and this is what almost undoes him. She repeats it, telling him again and again each moment she had been afraid of him, and with each one, his mind bursts a little more. This doesn’t seem real. “And I am scared of you now,” she concludes, that defiant gleam in her eye til the end.

Cardan is speechless. And Cardan’s never speechless.

There was a time when he enjoyed playing a villain in her heroic story line, but she wasn’t supposed to be truly afraid of him. She was supposed to vanquish him and make him beg for her kindness. (And he would now. He really would.)

(Maybe he will.)

“You despised me,” Jude reminds him, because he does need reminding. He’s not sure now if he ever really did. “When you said you wanted me, it felt like the world had turned upside down. But sending me into exile, that made sense. That was an entirely right-side-up Cardan move. And I hated myself for not seeing it coming. And I hate myself for not seeing what you’re going to do to me next.”

At that, Cardan closes his eyes. Hopelessness is threatening to overtake him. Fear has created this monster before him, the one who irrevocably holds his heart. Is it possible to unmake such a curse? He’s certainly been unable to find a cure for his own fear, lifelong coward that he is.

When she’d first returned and his heart was freshly cracked, he’d thought back to a fairy story about a boy cursed with a heart of stone and the monster he took as his bride. It had been patience and fearlessness that had won over the monster in the end – something the boy had managed only because of his stony heart.

So, Cardan thinks of stones then. Of pulling together all his cracked and raw edges. Of being impenetrable and solid and fearless. He thinks of doing what needs to be done. He needs her, for so many things, and she must know that. Perhaps it is folly to wish for anything more than simply averting a crisis.

But he can’t manage it if he’s looking at her. He releases her hand and turns away.

“I can see why you thought what you did,” he says at last. “I suppose I am not an easy person to trust. And maybe I ought not to be trusted, but let me say this: I trust you.”

Patience. Fearlessness. Deep breath.

“You may recall that I did not want to be High King. And that you did not consult me before plopping this crown on my head. You may further recollect that Balekin didn’t want me to keep the title and that the Living Council never took a real shine to me.

“There was a prophecy given when I was born. Usually Baphen is uselessly vague, but in this case, he made it clear that should I rule, I would make a very poor king.” It hurts more than he thought it would to say it out loud. “The destruction of the crown, the ruination of the throne – a lot of dramatic language.”

He has to be cavalier about it; it stings too much otherwise. It’s been the bane of his existence, this prophecy. It is the reason his entire childhood was filled with nothing but dismissal and cruelty. It’s the very, very low standard he’s spent his whole life trying not to meet. The best his family had ever hoped for from him was his complete and utter disappearance – and he’d failed to do even that.

He turns back to Jude. Patience. Fearlessness. He has so much more to say. He has so much more he wants to be than this. Deep breath.

“When you forced me into working for the Court of Shadows, I never thought of the things I could do – frightening people, charming people – as talents, no less ones that might be valuable. But you did. You showed me how to use them to be useful. I never minded being a minor villain, but it’s possible I might have grown into something else, a High King as monstrous as Dain. And if I did – if I fulfilled that prophecy, I ought to be stopped. And I believe that you would stop me.”

Jude sputters at that, blinking hard.

“Stop you?” she echoes. “Sure. If you’re a huge jerk and a threat to Elfhame, I’ll pop your head right off.”

“Good.” And he means it. To die by Jude’s hand would be a dream. “That’s one reason I didn’t want to believe you’d joined up with Madoc. The other is that I want you here by my side,” and just for good measure, just in case she still isn’t getting it: “As my queen.”

But he can’t read the expression on Jude’s face when he says it – if it brings her joy, if it brings her more distress. He’s not sure what else he could have said to make it any more clear. And now her silence is threatening to eat him alive. This reeks of the beginnings of yet another rejection.

He smiles at her, instinctively, a last ditch effort to make this even slightly less awkward.

“But now that you’re High Queen and back in charge, I won’t be doing anything of consequence anyway,” he promises. “If I destroy the crown and ruin the throne, it will only be through neglect.”

He wants her to smile back. To roll her eyes at him and act like she isn’t amused when she so clearly is. He’s missed that, oh, how he’s missed that.

He gets all that and more when she blurts out a laugh.

“So that’s your excuse for not doing any of the work?” She quirks an eyebrow, and it makes his heart swell. They’re smiling together again. He’d needed that, too, more than he’d realized. “You must be draped in decadence at all times because if you aren’t kept busy, you might fulfill some half-baked prophecy.”

“Exactly,” he says. Exactly… It’s more true than he wants it to be. His smile fades. And Jude is looking more tired than he’s comfortable with. He hopes he has not pushed her too hard. He touches her arm, gently, not thinking. Her gaze catches his, soft and warm. He finds himself leaning in…

“Would you like me to inform the Council that you will see them another time?” he asks. “It will be a novelty to have me make your excuses.”

But Jude is stalwart and determined as ever. He expected nothing less.

He pulls back. She does not need him. Not like he needs her.

“No, I’m ready,” she says.

How he wishes he could say the same.

-----------

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