#his late-life appreciation for mozart? go OFF | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-supernatural-writer · 4 years ago

Note

hcs for poly! tlb with a fem! s/o who’s style is dark academia and is really blunt/logical and smart. she basically gives off a ‘mysterious, quiet, dark, critical’ vibe (she also doesn’t really know how to handle people who are extremely emotional and she doesn’t know how to soothe someone. she’s just really oblivious/clueless when it comes to others feelings). i’m so sorry if what i requested doesn’t make sense or if it was too much. i am seriously incapable of writing anything without making it look like an essay lmao. love your work btw 💕✨

Dark Academia Fem! S/O

Poly Lost Boys x Fem reader

I had so much fun writing this! I love the dark academia aesthetic! And it made perfect sense and it wasn’t too much! Having a lot actually helps me expand and write more so thank you. And I’m the same, once I have an idea, I write a lot, so you’re all good! And awww!!! Thank you!!! 💗💗✨✨ I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy!

Okay, so you are very different compared to the large number of characters on the boardwalk. Your style consisted of button shirts, sweaters or turtle necks, dress pants or a plaid pleated skirts, cardigans or waistcoats, oxford shoes or even wire framed glasses if you wore them for seeing or just for the look.

To say that you caught the boys attention would be an understatement. You seemed to stand out amongst the crowd and they became curious. You were a mystery to them and they love the challenge.

Somehow, someway, after days or weeks later, you became good friends which soon lead to you dating four trouble making punks. It was tough on both parts, but it happened, and hey, you weren’t complaining.

You were very blunt when you first met them, not really interested in them and more or less interested in the book in your hands. It took a lot of “accidental” run ins to even get you to hang out with them.

You slowly opened up when they offered to take you out for dinner at a local diner. They’re constant joking soon had you letting out small, almost whisper-like giggles and tiny smiles that sent them into a frenzy.

When you would start talking about yourself, your ideas of fun were different from theirs. You liked museums, opera houses, bookstores and going to theaters to see plays. The games you played were chess and cards, and the music you listened to was old. You were pretty sure they thought you were boring but you actually peaked their interest.

After a while of being friends with them, they asked you out. You liked them and the only logical step was to see if you liked them the same way they liked you was to date them, so you said yes.

In general, them having a girlfriend with a 1940s/1950s dark prep look was fun. David and Dwayne like it the most. Paul next, then Marko.

David actually really likes picking out your clothing on most days. You have an extensive collection of clothing with material from cashmere to linen, all the colors consisting of browns, black, cream and even a little dark green.

His favorite thing to put you in is trench coats. Doesn’t matter what color it is, he just likes seeing you in them. Also, there are a handful of times that he has MADE you wear his trench coat. Yeah it almost swimmed on you, but he thought it made you look cute and it fit in perfectly with your look.

Dark academia isn’t only your style, but it’s your way of life. David is the one that plays chess with you. You had to reteach it to him and pretty soon, the two of you had your own little set up in the cave that was always ready for a game of chess.

David is sort of like you… in a way when it comes to others feelings. But deep down he knows that he really likes you and tries to show it the best he can. He took you to a theater to see a play that you were constantly talking about and so he took you on a date. You being you, didn’t realize that’s what it was until he told it straight to your face. Let’s just say you were speechless for the next hour.

Also, when it’s just the two of you, deep inside the cave where your nest is, classical music is playing from your record player. It could be Beethoven, Tchaikovsky or Mozart. Whoever it is, David is the one that will listen to it with you the most. I think he really enjoys classical music and he enjoys it even more if the two of you are cuddling in your bed.

Occasionally Dwayne would join the two of you. You would be sitting in between David’s legs as Dwayne sat in between yours, his head leaning back against your chest. It was like a cuddle pile… cuddle train?? Whatever you wanted to call it, it was cuddling while the three of you relaxed listening to classical music. And it was darn cute.

Dwayne loves listening to you go on and on about any books you were reading at the moment. Whether or not it was nonfiction or even about any type of history. He was down. He lived through a lot and he knew about half of the stuff you gushed on about, but for some odd reason, it never bored him when you talked about it.

He would be the one to get you new books, leaving you sweet little notes tied to them. Of course you thought it was just him being nice and thanked him for it without thinking there was any romantic meaning behind it. Yeah he was one of your boyfriends but it never really crossed your mind that way. He would just shake his head at your obliviousness and give you a small peck on the lips.

Don’t ask him why, but his favorite look on you is a light cream colored blouse with a plaid skirt and Mary Jane shoes. Dwayne is a leg man so… he’s very happy when decide to show off some skin if you decide not to wear knee-socks or stockings with it. Even if you did wear them, he would still be attached to your side the entire night.

Like David, Dwayne would bring you out to a lot of places that were opened late at night. If there was an art exhibition in town or even a museum that was open late, just say the word and he will happily drive you on his bike. Heck, David might even tag along.

Also, late night bookstore dates… oh my heart, it’s too sweet it hurts. There are times that he does have to throw you over his shoulder when the bookstore is closing and you're pretty much refusing to leave. When he does that, you just stay frozen over his shoulder, not knowing if you should be blushing or cursing at him for carrying you like a sack of potatoes.

If anything, you and Dwayne connect very well. You’re naturally very quiet and so is he. Not much is said between you two but there's a mutual understanding that can’t be explained. While the others are out causing trouble, you and him are on the sidelines watching hand in hand or your reading and he's just staring at you as you do so.

Paul and Marko kind of give you whiplash. They’re loud and rowdy and definitely 100% opposite from you. But they interested you. They had a very chaotic outlook on life which made you ask many questions.

Paul found your look sexy. He’s horny and you give off preppy school vibes, he’s living for it 24/7. Constant teasing of you giving him ‘private lessons’ which results with you whacking a book against the back of his head. But it doesn’t stop the reddening of your ears which doesn’t make him stop.

This man is also your designated jewelry expert. You only wear some accessories and they're very simple. So you are very surprised when Paul finds you jewelry that is your style and collects it for you. You like leather watches, guess what, he’s got it for you. You want some fancy victorian looking brooches, he’s got that too. Simple rings with a single jewel in the middle, expect constant ‘will you marry me’ jokes, but he gets you the best.

Also, he’s not overly big into your music selection. He does try to get you into his type of music, which you only like very few and far between. But when you do get him to listen to your type of music, it’s only if you agree to listen to his music the next night. You guys come up with a system and decide to switch every few nights.

Each of the boys have their favorite look on you and Paul's is when you wear a button-up of any color with a simple black tie, a pencil skirt and a pair of Dr.Marten boots. He especially likes the tie… for reasons. God damn it, you know the reasons, get out of here.

He’s a very affectionate boy and he finds your looks over confusion some of the cutest shit he’s ever seen. Probably the first one to tell you that he loves you and you honestly like glitched out. Did you feel the same way? Yes, but poor little thing you doesn’t say it right away, but Paul knows that you aren’t really used to saying things like that without warming up to it. Which is okay. He knows even if you don’t say it.

He definitely steals one of your blazers to put pins on it. Marko helps, putting a few patches on it that they both know you would like. It’s the one item that stands out in all of your clothing and you will wear it if they ask you to.

Marko definitely thinks the look is cute and it suits you very well, but why no color?! You wear dark colors but nothing bright like the colors that are on his jacket. He tries to slip in some colorful clothing into your everyday look, it never goes as planned but you give him an A for effort.

He loves how dark you can be at times though. You want to go to a local graveyard just because? Sure! Let’s go! He’s your designated graveyard buddy. You have many date nights there, looking at all the different gravestones and finding it interesting when you jot down some names in one of your notebooks.

Speaking of notebooks, you have many of them. They were filled with notes from books you’ve read, real life observations or even just some random poetry and short stories that you wrote. Marko would go through them a lot and even sometimes draw little doodles or rough sketches that were thought up from your writings.

When you spend nights down at the Boardwalk, your go to drink isn’t a slushie or a milkshake or even a soda. It’s coffee or tea. Yeah, and only Marko knows your drink orders by heart. None of the others seem to remember them correctly which you thank them for trying but Marko has got them all beat.

Marko likes seeing you in sweaters and in your trousers or linen shorts with chelsea boots. If anything, when the two of you are alone, just wearing a knit sweater and shorts were perfect for him. He likes how cozy and warm you look. He’s very happy when he cuddles you and you are warm.

Now when they tell you that they’re vampires, you think that they’re joking. Vampires aren’t real, they’re a work of fiction. Yes there was a real man named Dracula, but there was no way that they were actual vampires.

Then they showed you hard proof and then there was no denying it at that point. Instead of running away, you were fascinated. You wanted to understand your boyfriends vampire ways that lead to you conducting extensive research and a notebook dedicated to them.

They showed you everything about them, how they feed, to which you didn’t bat an eyelash of watching them feed one night. You were one morbid chick but they saw that as a plus that you didn’t react. You had graveyard dates for crying out loud, nothing really surprised them at that point.

Flying came next and they had a lot of fun showing you just how high they could go with you in their arms. You never screamed at the height, you were too caught up in seeing the overhead view of the town. You could get used to seeing a view like that every night.

Then came the other things; how they slept before you came along, what actually hurt them and what didn’t. There was one time that you stared at their vampire faces for hours because you were taking notes on how their facial features changed.

Soon you had to stock up on more turtlenecks because of the many bite marks they would leave behind from feeding on you if the weather was bad one night. It wasn’t tough adapting to their occasional feeding. A lot of your clothing already covered up your skin so it was easy to hide from people on your nights out.

Not too long after, they popped the question. Would you want to be a vampire? Live forever, never grow up? Be with them for all eternity? You didn’t really need to think about it for too long, you knew what your answer was and so did they even if you didn’t say it out loud. You loved your boys and not much would change.

When you did change, it was entertaining for them to watch. You soon started taking down notes about your progress, comparing and contrasting your experience to their own.

To the eyes of many, you became even more dark and mysterious. You had an aura around you that drew people in, it’s what got you your four vampire boyfriends, only now, it brought in your meal for the night.

202 notes · View notes

mystaracrosstheuniverse · 4 years ago

Text

Last Piece 2.

title. Last Piece pairing. GOT7 JB x Reader genre. slice of life, romance, attempts at comedy, angst warnings. cursing, jb being a cute cat dad, reader is hella awkward but so is he, mentions of anxiety, GOT7 members being hella extra bc they are summary. As an English teacher from abroad, you get a lot of perks. One of the best ones is that you live in an apartment for free. Another perk seems to be the elusive, attractive man who lives two floors above you… Though his cats seem to prefer your apartment over his. And so does his mail, which makes you travel to his place pretty often regardless of whether he wants to see you or not.

new beginnings master post.

part one. part two.

______________________________________________________________

Ever since that first package drop off, you’ve run into Jaebum quite a few times. Living in the same building and occasionally getting each other’s mail definitely attributed to the frequency, and you were thankful for it. While you’re sure the male wouldn’t really consider the two of you friends, you liked to call him a ��not quite but almost friend”... Not to his face but to your own friends and to yourself. Maybe occasionally to his cats. Speaking of his cats, you’ve met more than just Odd and Nora at this point. Nora seemed to be the jealous type, wanting her dad’s attention to herself, and would push the younger ones out of the apartment as Jaebum would come and go. The amount of times you’ve found Odd or Kunta wandering around the hall made you wonder how the man didn’t ever notice his oldest child bullying her siblings. Other times he gets your mail, having it been delivered to him on accident somehow. You’d never live down the time he got a huge package from your grandparents, an amused smirk across his face as he brought it to you. “Forget some things back home?” He had teased, setting the package down on your counter. Your face was bright red, unable to string together a coherent sentence because you didn’t want him to think you were forgetful, but then again you kind of were but what if -- “Hey, I’m just teasing, Y/N.” He had said, gentler this time, “I know it must be nice to have someone back home who cares about you.” You had just nodded, your heartbeat evening out slowly as you chatted for a few more minutes before he hurried off. He was a bit gentler for a few days after, as if scared to get that reaction out of you again. You appreciated it. You hoped that one day you’d be able to not have that instant reaction to panic over a small comment. Since then, you’ve been trying to gather up the courage to ask if he wants to hang out for lunch or something. Every time you get close, you end up chickening out. And every time you cursed yourself, because you just wanted to be his friend -- something about him made you want to be around him. Today, though, you just wanted to get to work. You had planned a big interactive activity for your class today and you wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Hurrying down the stairs, you made sure you had everything in your bag before leaving the building. As you looked up, you noticed someone just barely walking ahead of you. Jaebum. Immediately your mind went through possible scenarios, from saying hello to quietly avoiding him, maybe even -- “Do you want to get lunch or something later Jae???” Oh no. Oh no. Your mouth decided for you. Not only that, you addressed him so casually even though he’s older, he’s definitely going to hate you -- Was... that a laugh? You focused her attention back on him, seeing him looking amused and a half smile on his face. You ignored the small catch in your throat and pushed away the thought of how nice he looked. “Sure, give me your phone and we’ll plan something.” You don’t even remember handing over your device or him adding himself to your contacts, but a few minutes later he gave you a little finger salute and a promise to message you later for planning. “Im Jaebum” the contact read in kakaotalk, simple and to the point, much like the man you were hoping to befriend. As you mentally patted yourself on the back for not crying, you glanced at the time on your phone before cursing loudly in your native language and running off to the subway. You were going to be late. Despite you thinking that you totally had your excitement under control, your co-teacher and students definitely thought otherwise. “Teacher, why can’t you sit still? Don’t you ... much sit down?” Sangmin, one of your fourth graders, attempted to ask. You smiled and gently corrected him, saying you liked to sit down very much, but don’t ‘always’ do it. He bashfully nodded and bowed his head down to talk with his desk partner about the dialogue you’d given out for discussion. “They’re right you know,” You jumped before recognizing the voice of your co-teacher, Taeyeon, “You’re acting like you’ve drank the Ediya shop out of stock.” Oh. Perhaps you were flitting about the room more, babbling a little to yourself and to your students, and constantly looking over at your desk where you kept your phone while class was in session. “I just... I made a friend.” You admitted, “You know, the guy from my apartment building?” Taeyeon raised an eyebrow, looking at you skeptically. “I know I’ve asked this, but you sure you don’t like him more than a friend? It’s not like we’re not friends and you don’t have friends, Y/N.” See you KNEW this but one of your biggest anxieties and fears was that you’d never be able to make friends outside of work or your past. Because, like Christian had always reassured you, you were a wonderful sweetheart but you were so hard to talk to because you were always so nervous. It made it hard. “I really just want to meet his cats... Except Nora because she seems mean.” You noted, not really answering the question but in your mind, it was sufficient. Having worked with you and had recently made herself your friend, Taeyeon knew this was probably the best she was going to get out of you and just left it be. You’d figure it out eventually and she knew she’d be one of the first to know. She still couldn’t help but question it when she saw you light up at a notification on your phone. ‘Want to meet up after your work and eat some chicken? I know a good place.’

___________________________________________________________ You forgot why you were so worried about hanging out with Jaebum in the first place. Talking with him, after the initial awkward greeting, was coming really easily to you. You only hoped he felt the same, it seemed so. “So why Korea, hm?” Jaebum had asked, looking over at you as he drank his water. You chewed your food thoughtfully before swallowing. It was a question often asked, but it never bothered you to answer it. “I fell in love with this country the first week I came here, back in school.” You explained, “I’ve only ever felt at home in one other place, and it was with my grandparents. But when I came here... it just felt right, you know? Like fate was telling me to come here. So I wanted to come back after figuring out what I wanted to do.” Jaebum listened well, nodding along as you spoke. “I see. And you found teaching was it?” You nodded. “I love what I do, even more so that I get to do it in the place that feels like home.” A small smile creeped along his face, and you coughed to distract yourself from staring. “So what do you do, Im Jaebum?” After finding out that he HATED being addressed by his full name, especially by someone younger than him (which you were by a year), you couldn’t resist. You had to. “I’m a freelancer. I do a lot of music production work or lyricist support.” He rolled his eyes at your antics, but didn’t say anything. You lit up at the mention of music. Your father loved music, and you had fond memories of growing up with him playing everything from Mozart to The Eagles while your mother was gone. “That’s so cool! Did you go to school for it or is it just... apart of you?” You struggled to find the words to describe what you meant. While you were confident in your Korean, some words just... didn’t translate well in your opinion. He chuckled lowly, “I’ve been making and doing music since I was young. Never thought about doing anything else once I found it. I learned along the way.” The conversation continued, talking about favorite genres of music, eventually leading you to ask how his cats liked his music or if they preferred a certain type, to you demanding to know why Nora keeps trying to bully Odd. It was nice. Really, really nice actually. Jaebum smiled so much at you and even joined in your weird reactions or antics and it just made you feel warm and happy on the inside. He even insisted on paying since he was older and who were you to refuse free food? You were to excited -- you made a friend! The talking lulled while walking back to the apartment complex, but the silence wasn’t an awkward one. It was gentle and understanding. You didn’t need to fill up the space with idle, unneeded chit chat to be with each other. As you came to the doors of the building, Jaebum opened the door and allowed you to go first, and you might’ve missed it because of how bashful he sounded. “It’s been a while since I’ve had fun with someone who’s not my group.. Thanks, Y/N.” You smiled brightly. “Well, consider me apart of your group. We’re friends now Jae!” There you went with no honorifics. He scowled at you, pinching your neck as you tried to avoid him on your way to the elevator. “At least call me hyung or something if not oppa, you disrespectful brat!” He called out, only getting your childish giggles as his response. Hanging out with Jaebum wasn’t really easy or often. He’s really busy and his schedule is… not consistent. You knew it was due to his job and not because he hated you, so you weren’t as worried about it as you could be. Especially since he tried to talk to you at least once a week, even it was just a brief conversation in the stairwell, or on your way out to work. It was enough for you. Of course you see each other a little more often than usual because of the mail situation. For some reason, the mail person could not understand that just because you were one of the only foreigners from the U.S. in the building does not mean that every package from the U.S. is for you. But it did give you an excuse to go see Jaebum after a week, so you head up the stairs, package in hand, and you hear Jae’s voice -- and a few others, it sounded like? Huh? “Jae??? Is that you???” You peer up the stairwell to see if you can catch him, and soon you see Jae leaning over his own railing, catching sight of you and waving, but looking over to where you couldn’t see and looking a little pissed off. Oh... That was new. Was someone bothering him? Were you bothering him? You started apologizing, “Hey sorry if this is a bad time -- I got another package from your friend and I just --” “Yoooo Who’s that?! It sounds like a girl OH are you in love?!” A loud, excited male voice shouted over you, startling you and almost making you drop the package in your arms. “I told you her name is Y/N and she’s a friend!!” Jaebum’s chin seemed to stick out in reaction to your startled state -- you hoped he wasn’t too mad at you. Or his friend. It’s not his fault you’re easily scared. You decided to call out once more, “So... the box?” He looked down at you, his arm pointed and pushing someone, supposedly his friends, as he responded. “Yeah, bring it up, I’ll grab it from you -- Just let me get my friends into the apartment.” “I want to meet her!” “Bring her to us!” “Let us see her!” The loud, rambunctious voices all decided to loudly protest at once, making you shake a little in your boots, letting Jaebum disappear from your sight before sitting down to regain your nerve. You didn’t know Jaebum had... such loud friends. Feral children was the phrase that came to mind... Gathering your nerve, you walked up the stairs and into Jaebum’s hallway, where he’s already waiting for you, leaning against the door as it bumped against him at times, the sounds of whining and demands to see you seeping through the solid door. “Thanks, Y/N.” Jaebum smiled gently, taking the box from you. You managed a smile back, jumping at the sudden movement of the door that jostled him forward. “Sorry, I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” He apologized, kicking the door, “Hopefully you can meet them later, but right now I can tell they’re going to be too much for you and I actually want you to still be my friend after meeting them.” His explanation was a little rushed at the end, pink tinging his cheeks. Was Jaebum embarrassed? Well that was kinda cute. You quickly pushed that thought aside. But you couldn’t help but flush. He noticed that about you? “Sorry, Jae...” “Don’t apologize! When you’re ready we can set something up. I think you’ll like them when they’re calmer.” His smiled widened, “Then I’ll have someone calm and not evil to combat these brats.” “I thought I was a brat, though?” You tilted your head, feeling more at ease. He rolled his eyes. “You’re all brats and I suffer. But I guess I enjoy suffering.” He shrugged. “Well, I’ll see you around Y/N. Promise.” You nodded, scurrying off before Jaebum’s friends could break the door down. After getting into the apartment, you smiled to yourself. Jaebum liked you enough to want to meet his friends. You were friends.

77 notes · View notes

charincharge · 4 years ago

Text

Cruel Summer, Part 25

cruel summer masterlist

AN: This is the final chapter. Just an epilogue after this. Our Cruel Summer has come to an end (90k words later). I just wanted to thank everyone so much again for spending time reading, commenting, and messaging about this story. When I first started writing it in April, I had no idea I would come to get to know so many of you, and it’s been the most rewarding thing to be part of a fandom again. Taylor Swift hearts to all of you. xo.

Aelin doesn’t think she’s ever been this hung over, or this confused. The ghost of Rowan’s lips caresses her forehead as she lies down on the couch, sprawled in front of the television to watch some obstacle course challenge show that Dorian enjoys heckling.

After Rowan fled her house – yes, fled – she immediately went in search of her parents to find out what they’d been meeting with him about, but she received absolutely nothing in return.

“If Rowan wants to discuss it with you, I’m sure he will,” Rhoe had said with a traitorous, all too-knowing smirk.

Aelin wants to throttle him. She loves her dad, but she’s far too twisted up in her own emotions to be sated by his logical non-answer. Meanwhile, her mother isn’t even on the premises to be questioned. Hiding away in meetings, like a coward. She wants to know so badly.

She contemplates texting Rowan to ask. After all, he clearly opened up their channel of communications again with that picture of the two of them… right? But she can’t help but think her dad is right. If Rowan wanted to tell her what they talked about he would. The question is, what the hell could her parents want to talk to Rowan alone about? What kind of topic required a one-on-one meeting with one of their employees?

Aelin tries to relax, even nap for a bit, but anxiety plagues her brain. The not knowing is keeping her stomach in knots. So, when Dorian departs for the afternoon with a reassuring arm squeeze, Aelin retreats to her safe spot – the music room.

The late afternoon sun splays its warm rays across the piano, tendrils of sunlight curling around her and slowly helping dissipate her hangover. With a deep breath, Aelin spreads her fingers and takes off. She warms up with scales, trailing up and down the keys with her expert touch. She segues into one of her favorite pieces – Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. The pulsing methodical rhythm of the left hand keeps her centered as the dark somber tones float through the room.

The piece is sad, and it pierces her to the core. She lets her emotions flood through her hands as she tries to play out her complicated feelings for Rowan.

As she reaches the third movement, she lets her anxiety out into the frantic, technical workout for her fingers. The frenetic pace matches her rapid heartbeat, the worry and stress and heartbreak of the last few days taking over. She wants to cry. She wants to scream. She wants to let everything out. She gives into the heartache she feels, the stress from hiding, the shame of letting him go, the loneliness of being without him. It all comes pouring out in droves. She’s overwhelmed with her feelings. She knew she was sad, and to let it all out like this makes her feel like she’s bleeding out. She lets the music speak for her. And it speaks loudly.

As the final notes ring out, applause comes from behind her, and she gasps, startled by the intrusion.

“Sorry,” Rhoe apologizes, squeezing Aelin’s shoulders gently. “You were in the zone, huh?” he asks, and Aelin shrugs, still breathing hard from the musical marathon she just ran.

“Yeah,” she breathes heavily. “That was intense.”

“Maybe something lighter next?” Rhoe suggests, and Aelin smiles as her fingers take off at lightning speed for her favorite Mozart concerto. The complex finger work distracts her from her feelings momentarily as she performs for her dad.

When she turns around again, she’s surprised to see her dad has been joined by the rest of her family – her mom, Aedion, Lysandra, Evie and Gavin clap thunderously, appreciating her performance. She starts to stand to see if she can finally question her mom, but she’s interrupted as Gavin sprints toward the music bench, climbing next to her in the clumsy way only a five-year-old can.

“I wanna learn!” he says, looking up at her with his widest blue green eyes.

“You do?” she says, chuckling softly. He nods excitedly, and she smiles at her nephew’s enthusiasm.

Aelin’s family quickly disperses, her mom shouting out that dinner will be ready in an hour, but Aelin is entranced by her nephew’s gleeful smile.

“Teach me!” he demands happily.

“I think that piece might be a little too hard,” she explains, while placing his little fingers on the proper keys. “But, I think I know the perfect one…”

She begins showing him the middle C note and moves his thumb in a rhythmic pattern from there. She shows him the notes an octave higher, slowly performing the easy back and forth of the base.

“Like this?” he asks, starting to move his hands in time with hers.

“Just like that,” she says. He fumbles the keys a few times, and Aelin places her fingers over his to help, but soon enough he manages the bass line easily. Aelin can’t help but smile, her heart swelling with pride at how pleased Gavin looks with himself.

“Auntie Ae, look, I’m doing it!” he squeals, and she nods animatedly.

“Are you ready to turn it into a duet?” she asks, and Gavin crinkles his brow, suddenly looking very serious and so much like Aedion it takes Aelin out for a second.

“What’s a duet?” he asks thoughtfully, and Aelin tries her hardest to explain it in terms a five-year-old will understand.

“Well, you’ll keep playing your part that I just taught you,” she says, “And I’ll add a new part up here,” she says, wiggling her fingers over the higher keys. “And when you put it together, it makes the whole song.”

Gavin’s eyes get impossibly wide as she explains, until he’s practically vibrating on the bench next to her.

“You want to try?” she asks, and he shouts his enthusiasm loudly.

She lets Gavin start his part and play it two times through before coming in herself. She can’t help but sing along as she plays the jovial melody.

Heart and soul, I fell in love with you

Heart and soul, the way a fool would do, madly

Because you held me tight

And stole a kiss in the night

“There are WORDS?!” Gavin asks, incredulous, pausing his baseline.

Aelin nods and laughs, her heart lightening immensely as they start the second verse. The dark cloud of heartbreak that hung over her previous songs is notably gone, replaced with a much lighter one as she launches into the second verse.

Heart and soul, I begged to be adored

Lost control, and tumbled overboard, gladly

That magic night we kissed

There in the moon mist

Aelin’s cheeks flush as she helps Gavin pick up the pace of his playing. She looks down at her nephew with adoration. She suddenly feels so happy, she feels like she might float away, filled with the intoxicating glee. Her heart soars as she launches into the final verse.

But now I see, what one embrace can do

Look at me, it’s got me loving you madly

That little kiss you stole

Held all my heart and soul

Aelin is so caught up in her playing that she doesn’t even notice Aedion sit down on her other side and play the melody with her one last time, an octave above her. Aelin laughs loudly as Gavin’s mouth drops again.

“Daddy, you know this song?”

Aedion chuckles softly as they wrap up the song with a flourish.

“I remember when Nana Ashryver taught us how to first play Heart and Soul,” Aedion says. His shoulder leans gently int his sister’s. “You were even younger than Gavin.”

Aelin remembers it well. It was when she decided the music room was her favorite room.

“Look at you now,” Aedion says.

“Again, again!” Gavin chants from his spot on the bench, and Aelin and Aedion appease him, playing the song over and over until they’re all hoarse from singing too loud. Aelin is so happy she feels like her face hurts from smiling so much.

As they replay the song, Aelin trips up on the lyrics. Her voice cracks slightly as it hits her in a sudden flash. This feeling of happiness, the ease she feels at the piano, singing her heart out – it’s exactly how she feels when she’s with Rowan.

She never felt this way with Chaol. Never felt her heart pound against her ribs until they threatened to puncture her chest. Never missed him as soon as he was out of her sight. Never thought she would fall apart if she never saw him again. Never felt like she belonged with someone so fully.

When she and Chaol broke up, Aelin had forced herself to wallow – to play the part of the sad girl, but she realizes now that she’d never really felt that way. Each break up had been a relief, a small reprieve to the uncomfortable life she’d tried to shove herself into. It was just another thing she had lied to herself about.

“Oh my god,” Aelin laughs to herself as they wrap up their final run through of the song. She can’t believe how stupid she’s been. Truly, she’s an idiot.

An idiot who’s in love.

She wants to run and tell Rowan right now.

She loves him.

“Wash up for dinner, please!” Evalin shouts from the kitchen, interrupting her thought process, and Gavin sprints away, not bothering to give Aelin or Aedion another look.

“I see how it is,” Aelin laughs as she puts the piano lid down, covering the keys. Aedion gives her a pointed look. “What?” she asks, wiping at her face, in case she has a piece of long forgotten burrito attached to her cheek that no one told her about.

“We were summoned for cheer up Aelin duty, and we had to do practically nothing. Look at you,” he says. “You’re glowing. You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asks, suddenly concerned, and Aelin groans and shoves him away.

“You were summoned?” She can’t imagine her family knows why she’s been in a mood for the last two days. “By who?”

“Dad,” Aedion finally admits. “Want to tell me what’s going on?” He wraps his arm around her shoulders, and Aelin leans into her brother’s warm side.

“I broke up with Rowan.”

“Huh.”

Aelin extracts herself from under Aedion’s arm and pokes him. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Aedion pauses. Aelin stares, but Aedion gives nothing up. “Nothing!” he insists. “I liked him.”

“You did?” Aelin asks, perplexed. That’s not how their last conversation about Rowan went. “What about that whole fucking the gardener bit?”

Aedion pinches his nose and looks regretful. “I slept alone for a whole week for that comment, and I knew as soon as it was out of my mouth that it was wrong,” Aedion confesses. “He makes you happy.”

“Yeah, he does,” Aelin laughs sadly.

“But, you’re…. okay?” Aedion asks, and Aelin nods.

“Better than okay.”

Aedion shrugs. “Well, okay, then.”

At dinner, Gavin spends the entire time telling the family about his new penchant for piano, and Aelin tells him she has a few more pieces he can learn if he wants.

“We’d pay you for lessons,” Lysandra adds, and Aelin pauses mid-bite.

“You would?”

Lysandra nods. “Of course. We tried to get a teacher for Evie, but she was ‘too mean,’” Lysandra says in air quotes.

Evie pouts. “She was! She stretched my hands too far and cut my nails down.”

“I would never,” Aelin says seriously, winking at her niece.

“Seriously,” Lysandra follows up. “Think about it. We paid the last girl $100 an hour.” She looks at Gavin. “Would you like that, Gav? To learn piano with Auntie Ae?”

Gavin’s whole face lights up, and he even stops shoving mozzarella into his mouth to cheer loudly. “Yeah!”

Aelin smiles again at her nephew. And then looks around the table. At her family. Filled with CEOs. A teacher is a far cry from that. Not exactly a high-powered job, but she can’t help but think how much she enjoyed playing with Gavin. She thinks she might really love it. Plus, she could do it anywhere. Like. In Terrasen. Where Rowan lives. She clears her throat and look at her mom.

“I think I might want to do that. To teach music.”

She pauses nervously as a small v forms between Evalin’s eyebrows. “Really?”

Aelin nods.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most glamorous job…” she trails off, watching her parents exchange silent glances. “But, I could start with private lessons while I work toward a teaching degree, and, I think I’d really love it.”

Evalin’s frown turns into a blinding smile as she nods at her daughter. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“You do?” Aelin asks, positively shocked at her mother’s warm reception. “Even though it’s not being on a charity board or working with you?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Evalin replies, slightly perturbed, but Aelin can’t help herself. Her mother has been trying to marry her off to the highest bidder since she was eighteen. “Do you think I’m that much of a snob?”

Aelin snorts, ignoring the way her mother angrily spears the tomato on her plate and continues.

“It might not be glamorous,” Evalin continues, “But teaching is one of the most noble professions. You know I’ve always supported funding arts education.”

Aelin pauses, wondering if her mom has more to add, but she doesn’t. The table switches topics to their schedule for the remaining three days before they leave. Aelin is blown away. She must be gaping, because Aedion squeezes her hand under the table comfortingly.

After dinner, Gavin immediately pulls Aelin back into the music room, wanting to start his lessons as soon as possible. Aelin is helpless against her nephew and plays with him until well after his bedtime. With every replay of Heart and Soul, Aelin feels her heart grow bigger, swelling with the feeling that went unidentified in her stomach for so many weeks.

By the time everyone leaves the house, Aelin feels like she’s going to explode, needing to talk to Rowan. To just blurt it out and tell him. But she knows that’s not exactly the right thing to put into a text. Instead, she gathers her strength and texts him a different question.

I know you asked for space, but can we talk tomorrow?

She types it quickly and then shuts her eyes quickly, as if she doesn’t look then it’ll prevent it from hurting when he doesn’t text back.

Her phone vibrates in her lap, and she garners the courage to crack an eye open and peek at his reply.

You really wanna know what your parents talked to me about, huh?

Aelin bites her lip, stopping the massive grin that threatens to take over her face. Her cheeks warm with a blush, realizing she’s texting with the man she loves.

I mean, yes, obviously. But this isn’t about that. I swear.

She holds her breath and waits again.

I’m busy during lunch, but I can stop by after work?

Aelin frowns. It’s not exactly the reply she wanted. And why would he be busy during lunch? Was he having lunch with someone else? Aelin’s heart pounds nervously. No, she needs to talk to him sooner than that. She thinks a full twenty-four hours of waiting might kill her.

But Aelin takes a deep breath, realizing that Rowan has put up with a lot more waiting for her than twenty-four hours. The least she can do is wait until he gets off work.

We’ll be at the park tomorrow. Find me when you finish your shift?

Rowan sends back two thumbs up emojis, and Aelin clutches the phone against her pounding chest.

Tomorrow she’s going to tell Rowan she loves him.

She falls asleep, comforted by that thought.

But when Aelin wakes up, she can’t help but groan. Rain splatters against her window, a soft grey overcast dampening her spirits as well as the ground outside.

The park still runs in the rain, but it’s absolutely no fun, since they close down any ride that could potentially be affected by the weather. Essentially, the only ride that’s open is the log flume, and Aelin knows her family won’t want to go to the park just for that.

She groans internally.

Of course this would happen.

Aelin paces around the kitchen with her coffee, hoping against all hopes that the rain will dissipate if she wills it to. But, instead of fading, the clouds darken even further, giving way to even heavier torrents.

She feels like a trapped animal.

Nothing distracts her – not playing the piano, not getting ready or putting on a full face of makeup. She’s so wound up, even a delicious lunch of her favorite potato salad and grilled chicken doesn’t help soothe her nerves.

By mid-afternoon, Aelin’s started counting down hours until Rowan’s work ends. Only four more hours. She grumbles, staring at the clock, hoping she can somehow speed up time.

“Aelin, sit down, you’re doing that anxious pacing again,” her dad chastises from behind his newspaper.

Aelin tries to pause, but she finds herself flicking her foot in tendus again, unable to still completely.

Her dad smiles softly. “Want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Evalin asks, emerging from her office to refill her mug of coffee.

“Why Aelin looks so nervous today,” Rhoe laughs, and Evalin’s eyes widen in excitement.

“Oh, did Rowan tell you?” she begins, but Rhoe’s pointed stare cuts her off.

“Tell me what?” Aelin explodes, and Rhoe shakes his head and laughs softly again, hiding his face behind the paper. Evalin frowns again.

“Well, if he hasn’t told you, what are you so keyed up about?” Evalin sighs, as if she’s exasperated with her daughter. Aelin scoffs. No one is more exasperated with anyone at this moment than she is with her mother. Her secret keeping mother!

“I’m leaving!” Aelin growls, finally snapping. She doesn’t care that it’s raining out. She needs to see Rowan right now.

“Where are you going?” Evalin shouts out after her, but Aelin is already halfway out the door. “Aelin, take a jacket! You’re going to get soaked!”

She doesn’t pause to realize her mother’s parting comment was more than right as she stumbles along the wet sand. Rain soaks through her t-shirt and pelts down on her head, wetting her hair. By the time she makes it to Playland, she’s sure she looks like some kind of drowned animal. Her sneakers squeak loudly with each step, her toes filled with water, and she doesn’t even want to imagine what her face of makeup looks like.

But she doesn’t have time to think anything through. She’s a woman on a mission.

“Aelin!” a surprised voice says, definitely shocked by her rain-drenched appearance.

In a stroke of luck, Lorcan is seated at the admissions booth. “Rowan?” she pants, hoping the rest of her question is understood.

Lorcan frowns. “Not sure.”

“What do you mean not sure? Aren’t you in control of his schedule?” Aelin knows it would be wrong, but she feels like smacking Lorcan.

She sees him hide a tiny smile as he shrugs. “He’s pulling tarps off the rides,” Lorcan explains, pointing to the sun peeking through the clouds, the rain finally coming to a stop. “He could be anywhere.”

“Useless!” Aelin shouts, agitated, and Lorcan snorts loudly as he slaps a wristband onto her hand.

“Enjoy your search,” he snickers, and Aelin huffs as she stalks across the slick grass and puddles of mud to find Rowan.

Her shoes squelch with the newly acquired mud, and she struggles not to slip as she walks at a brisk pace through the park. For the first time in her life, Aelin regrets how large the park grounds are. She circles the entire place, with no Rowan in sight. On her second loop, she goes further into the park and walks by the bumper cars and the carousel, which have no tarps on them, and deduces that she must at least be in the right direction.

Through the light drizzle of rain, the sun finally starts to shine, and Aelin smiles as she watches a rainbow take shape over the park. Her eyes follow the colorful beams, watching as they curve down, all the way to the middle of the fair grounds. She holds her breath as she spots a bright silver blonde head of hair just beyond the rainbow. Her own personal pot of gold.

A similarly rain-soaked Rowan rolls up the sides of the eating tent and affixes them to the top methodically. Aelin barely has time to process his appearance before she picks up her pace and heads toward him, a smile stretched across her lips.

“Rowan!” she shouts, breaking into a jog.

Confused, Rowan glances over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the approaching girl. She knows she must look ridiculous, water-logged, eyes wild and beaming, but she can’t stop.

As she tries to increase the speed of her jog, her foot catches on a slick patch of grass, and Aelin shrieks loudly as she attempts to stop her skidding, but it’s no use. Aelin’s feet slide out from beneath her, and she closes her eyes tightly as she falls to the muddy ground with an unceremonious thud.

She groans, feeling the wetness soak through her shorts and underwear. She opens her eyes and realizes she’s skidded directly into a watery pool of mud.

“Aelin!” Rowan shouts, concerned. She lifts her head, laughing, as he approaches her with worry. “Are you okay?” he asks. His hands stretch out, and she takes them in hers, helping hoist herself off the ground. She shakes her head, her wet hair still stringy around her shoulders. This was not exactly the reunion she’d anticipated for them.

“I’m fine,” she laughs, trying to brush the clumps of mud from her ass and thighs. She crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously. She can’t believe this is how this is happening. But she can’t turn back. She’s here. And she’s no longer being a liar or a coward.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, wiping droplets of rain from his own hair, and Aelin takes a deep breath and centers herself.

“I told you I’d be at the park,” she says, and she watches as Rowan’s eyes crinkle in confusion.

“In the rain?” He pauses, looking her over. She doesn’t even want to think about what she looks like. She knows it’s a mess. “I just assumed—”

“I love you,” she blurts out, cutting him off.

It feels so good to say it, she barely notices Rowan’s soft lips parting in surprise. She’s not ready for him to reply, so she just keeps talking.

“I’m an idiot. And a liar. Of course I love you, Rowan.”

She can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She knew she’d be emotional, but – gods, this is something else. She feels like she’s been possessed by some vulnerable alien. But that doesn’t stop her. She will get this out, even if it kills her.

“I knew it as soon as you kissed me that this wasn’t just for the summer. This is forever,” she barrels on as she points between the two of them. “And I know we have a lot of stuff to figure out, because we never talked about any of the logistics of anything, and I know that’s completely my fault because I was just… really at good at pretending like I didn’t have to,” she rambles, getting faster and faster as she logics her way into convincing Rowan to accept the possibility of a real relationship. “But I don’t want to leave. I’m going to teach piano, and I can do that anywhere. And I want to stay in Terrasen. With you.”

Aelin pauses, breathing hard. Her arms cross over her chest tighter, squeezing herself and acting as a defense shield against the thick silence between her and Rowan.

She looks at Rowan’s face. His eyes are still crinkled in confusion, and his lashes flutter as he blinks rapidly. His pursed lips haven’t moved since they first parted, and she can see the tension in his neck as he strains to breathe.

She can feel her heartbeat angrily thumping against her crossed arms, and she takes another deep breath.

“I really wish you’d say something,” she says quietly. “Anything.”

Rowan rubs at his face, covering his mouth, and she notices how tired he looks. “Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to move to Terrasen,” he says finally, and Aelin feels like a dagger has pierced her straight through the chest.

Oh Gods, she’s too late.

So this is what genuine heartbreak feels like. Aelin is so busy feeling wounded, she almost doesn’t hear the rest of Rowan’s sentence.

“…because I’m going to be living in Adarlan.”

Aelin looks up and is shocked to see Rowan’s green eyes twinkling as he reveals his smile from behind his hand.

“Wait, what?”

Aelin is so confused. Her head is spinning with all kinds of thoughts.

“I didn’t want to say anything to you until it was official,” Rowan says. “But, I’m going to be working for the Ashryver Corporation as an app developer. I interviewed at lunch, and they called about an hour ago to give me my official offer.”

The pieces start to click into place. “That’s what my mom wanted to talk to you about?”

He nods, and she watches as his ears turn pink as he stares her down.

“So, I shouldn’t move to Terrasen,” Aelin says slowly, and Rowan’s smile widens as he shakes his head. “Because you’ll be in Adarlan.” She takes another long breath. “Where I live.” He takes a step forward, and her breath hitches.

“Yes.”

“Rowan, they’re making your app?” she asks, and he nods but doesn’t smile. “That’s so amazing, you should be so proud of—"

“Say it again,” he whispers, cutting her off, and she watches his eyes darken. She wonders what he wants to hear for a second, thoughts bouncing around her brain as she’s assaulted by his scent as he hovers over her.

“Hm?” She can’t think straight as she tilts her head up towards his, his lips dangerously close to hers now.

“Say it again,” he repeats and wraps his arms around her waist, sliding his hands into the mud-caked back pockets of her shorts.

Oh.

Aelin grins and whispers back.

“I love you.”

His lips are on hers before she can finish her sentence, parted lips sliding onto her damp face as he pulls her closer. She snakes her arms around his neck and smiles against his mouth. Their kiss deepens, unencumbered by stress or worry for the first time all summer, and Aelin can’t stop herself from lifting herself up. Her legs spring off the squishy ground, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tugging him closer and closer, until she can feel his heart pounding against hers.

His lips are soft but demanding against hers, and they feel like coming home. She kisses him harder, his mouth pliable under hers.

Aelin doesn’t think she’s ever felt this happy ever.

As Rowan’s tongue swipes against hers, she clutches at him tighter. He leans her back, and she’s so consumed in the feeling of him against her that she barely notices that he’s placed her down on the closest table inside the eating tent. His hands drag upward and knot themselves into her wet hair, and she parts her lips further, breathing him in. She wants to live in this moment forever.

All too soon, Rowan finally pulls back. He pulls his wet hands from her hair and slides them to her cheeks. They’re cold against her flushed cheeks, warmed from his thorough kisses, and she can’t help but smile widely at him. His face reflects the same expression back at her. Two grinning idiots.

As if he can’t bear to apart from her for too long, Rowan leans in again, pecking a flurry of kisses all over her face – her cheeks and forehead and eyes, and finally one last lingering kiss on her lips.

“I love you,” Aelin says again. She doesn’t know if she’ll be able to stop saying it.

“I love you, too,” Rowan says, his voice hoarse and breathy.

Rowan ducks his head, as if to kiss her again, but they’re interrupted by a loud whistle. They look over their shoulders, and see a frowning Lorcan, but there’s no real ire in his expression.

“If you two are done making out on my table, Rowan, can you head to the ticket booth to do your job?” Lorcan rests his hands on his hips, trying his very hardest to look annoyed, but Aelin can see the barest of smiles threatening to break through.

“Yes sir,” Rowan answers with a nod. He looks at Aelin as she hops off the table and links her arm with his, leaning into his side. He immediately wraps his arm around her shoulders, neither of them anxious to let the other go. “What are you going to do with the rest of your afternoon?” he asks.

“Anxious to get rid of me that soon?” she snorts.

Rowan looks shocked. “No! Of course not, I just meant—”

Aelin laughs and kisses his hand, which is tangled with hers. “I know, I’m kidding.” She pauses. “I thought I could hang out with you until your shift is done?” she asks nervously. “And then, we can go back to my house and tell my parents about us.”

Rowan’s smile nearly blinds her. “Yeah?” He squeezes her hand.

“Yeah,” she smiles back.

“And then I should shower. Because I’m covered in mud,” Aelin snorts, and Rowan laughs loudly and tugs her closer.

“I love you, even covered in mud,” he says.

“Yeah?” she asks, looking up at him, eyes wide in wonder. How could she have kept herself from feeling this all summer?

“Oh yeah,” he laughs, brushing a clump of mud from her shorts.

Because it’s a slow park day, Rowan is blessed to be the only one taking tickets, which means that Aelin can sit next to him, as close as she wants. His thumb rubs up and down the back of her soft skin, and Aelin only holds his hand tighter as they make their way to the booth. She’s not letting go of him any time soon.

Rowan pauses a few feet away from admissions, and his hand becomes a vice grip around hers.

“What?” Aelin leans into his side further, her chin resting against his arm.

“Uh…” he starts, sounding nervous, his eyes flicking from Aelin out to the parking lot.

“Oh!” Aelin is shocked to see her entire family, walking toward them.

Rowan starts to remove his hand from hers, but Aelin shakes her head and holds it tighter.

“Are you sure?” Rowan asks, his eyes locked on Aedion for some reason. “I wasn’t anticipating telling your brother about us until we were married and I was a more permanent fixture.”

Aelin’s mouth drops. “Aedion likes you.”

Rowan shakes his head. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“What have you heard?” Aelin asks, curious.

Rowan groans. “I may have overheard a conversation where he… wasn’t so enthused about our relationship.”

Aelin freezes and stares at him. “You came that night. To pick me up from Aedion’s.”

Rowan nods, grimacing slightly as he tracks Aelin’s approaching family, nearly to the entrance now.

“And you left…”

Rowan laughs, but it sounds pained. “And I’m now remembering all the reasons we didn’t tell your parents in the first place.” He pauses. “Maybe we should keep this a secret for a little longer.”

Aelin stops them, pulling him so he’s facing her and looking away from her family. “Rowan,” she begins emphatically. “What Aedion said was horrible, and if I’d known that you heard it, I would have told you a lot sooner that he didn’t mean it. But even if he did, it doesn’t matter. Because I want to be with you. Because you’re so much better than all of them. You’ve worked so hard for everything you have, and you’re so incredibly talented and kind and real. And I love you.”

Rowan looks like he wants to protest, but he begrudgingly releases a small, “Fine.”

Aelin is so taken with his acceptance that she can’t resist wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him again. He melts into her, arms locked around each other in a tight embrace, until they hear a throat clearing beside them.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?” Aedion’s low voice jokes, and despite Rowan stiffening beneath her, Aelin presses one more kiss to his lips as she flicks off her brother. Aedion cackles loudly.

“Aelin!” her mother cries out. She sounds so horrified and shocked, that Aelin can’t help but finally pull away to explain herself. “You’re covered in mud!” her mother chastises, and Aelin cannot believe that her mom just walked up to her kissing Rowan, and that is what she has to say.

“I fell?” Aelin says by way of explanation. Evalin shakes her head disapprovingly, and Aelin realizes that there are some things her mom will always care about – like her appearance, and being polite, and manners. But, apparently, Aelin is free to live her life the way she wants to, and somehow that realization is worth everything.

“Rowan,” Evalin says with a smile, ignoring the flaming blush crawling up his cheeks and ears. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Rowan smiles bashfully and tucks his chin into his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rhoe leans in conspiratorially. “Make sure you counter offer their salary. They’ll lowball you every time.”

Evalin looks positively offended at her husband’s comment. “We would never! We value all our employees and pay them very fairly,” she says, and Rhoe snickers again, wrapping his arms around his wife.

Aelin can’t believe that no one has commented on her tongue being shoved down Rowan’s throat mere minutes ago. And she’s even more surprised when Evalin tells Rowan he should come over for a celebratory dinner after work.

“I’d love to,” he accepts with a shy smile, and Aelin can’t resist kissing him again. This time on his shoulder.

Surprisingly, it’s Gavin who is the first to speak up.

“Auntie Ae, did you just kiss Rowan?” His little face crinkles in confusion. He has a moment of understanding, and his eyes widen with excitement. “Is Rowan going to be my Uncle?”

She’s not sure how to answer, and she can feel her cheeks warming under her family’s scrutiny, smiles hidden into each other’s shoulders as Aelin struggles with how to answer her nephew.

“Probably,” Rowan says with a shrug as Aelin answers, “Yes.”

“Probably?” Aelin gapes at him as Rowan gapes right back, repeating her words at her. “YES?!”

Aedion laughs loudly as he scoops Gavin into his arms. “Do you think they’ve always been this dysfunctional?” He looks at the couple stammering and blushing in front of him and then back to the small child in his arms. Gavin, of course, doesn’t know what his father means, but nods seriously regardless. “Let’s go get some cotton candy.”

Gavin shouts his affirmations, sprinting into the park, the rest of the family following close behind. No one comments when Aelin takes a seat next to Rowan in the ticket booth, but Rhoe winks at his daughter.

Aelin is grateful for the slow trickle of patrons, leaning over to kiss Rowan whenever she feels like it.

By the time Rowan’s shift ends, she can feel her lips starting to chap with how often they’ve been attached to his, but she can’t bring herself to care at all.

Aelin is reluctant to leave Rowan’s side when they get back to her house, but she knows she really does need to shower. She still has dried patches of mud on her legs, and her hair is a tangled stringy mess.

She showers as quickly as she can, and when she returns downstairs she’s shocked to see Rowan laughing with her entire family, as if he’s fit there the whole time. She doesn’t know what she was ever worried about. Everything seems so stupid now, looking back. How much pain she caused them both for absolutely nothing. Because of her own stupid insecurities. Because of her need for her parents’ approval. She’s so incredibly grateful Rowan is as forgiving as he is. She’s not sure she would have been as kind to herself.

Her mood lifts completely as Rowan smiles brightly when he spots her, freshly showered and in clean clothes.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Evalin finally asks, of course, just as Aelin takes a sip of her wine. Aelin splutters, coughing wildly as she chokes on the alcohol, and she glares at Rowan, who smirks beside her, completely unaffected as he rubs her back.

“When did I catch you climbing out of Aelin’s window again?” Lysandra asks Rowan nonchalantly, and then it’s Rowan’s turn to choke. “Must have been back in June…”

“Oh Gods,” Rowan begins to apologize to Aelin’s parents, who are resisting laughing themselves.

“I saw him only about two weeks of being here, I think,” Rhoe finally pipes up. “He didn’t even see me on the patio.”

Rowan’s face is beet red as he tries to hide it in Aelin’s shoulder, and she can feel herself reddening, too. This is a nightmare. But the best kind.

She leans into Rowan reassuringly and smiles when she feels his lips brush across the top of her head.

After dinner, Rowan politely thanks her parents, and asks Aelin if she wants to go out to the beach to stargaze. Aelin nods enthusiastically, taking his hand and letting him drag her out to the edge of the sand. She pulls the oversized pool chaise and leans it all the way back, motioning for Rowan to sit.

He does, and she climbs onto his lap, relishing the way his arms immediately circle her and pull her close. Because that’s something he can do now, even in sight of her parents. She leans her head against his chest and sighs happily.

“I’m sorry,” Aelin whispers.

“For what?” he asks, and Aelin tilts her head up, brushing her lips against his stubble as she continues.

“Everything.” She laughs. “If you’d told me I was too late, I would have accepted it, you know. I put you through hell this summer.”

Rowan laughs softly and pulls her closer. “If this is hell, I think I’m doing okay.” He pauses and looks at the sky. “I don’t’ know if you can understand this, but… I’ve never quite felt like I was good enough. The first time I stepped into this house, I’ve never been more terrified of anything before. The level of inadequacy…” He laughs at himself. “I was so afraid I was going to fuck this whole thing up. My job. My life, pretty much.” He pauses again, thinking hard. Aelin wants to interrupt, but she lets him finish. It’s so rare that Rowan opens up about anything. And she wants to hear every single word of his inner most thoughts. “But, you changed that. Tonight, I sat with your parents and I honestly thought we’d be talking about my job, but all we talked about was you. They wanted to know why we kept it a secret. Because they couldn’t fathom us thinking they wouldn’t approve of me. And I’ve never felt like I belonged more. I belong with you.” She relishes in his words and nods. She feels the exact same way. And she tells him as much.

They sit together, staring at the sky for a while, kissing occasionally, happy to just be, until Rowan’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket.

“Sorry,” he apologizes as he pulls it out. He snorts and shows Aelin the text from Manon.

U ALIVE?!

He leans in and kisses Aelin. She’s sure it’s supposed to be a quick kiss, but she can’t resist deepening it. She smiles against his lips as she sees the camera flash go off behind her closed lids.

He sends the picture of them smiling into each other’s mouths as a text reply to Manon, who immediately replies with a vomit emoji.

GROSS.

“You do belong,” Aelin says, and Rowan smiles softly again. She’ll tell him again and again if that’s what it takes.

“So, Uncle Rowan, huh?” he teases her, chuckling as he slides his phone back into his shorts, and Aelin shoots him an uncomfortable glance.

“Yes,” she replies, and she can’t help but smile as Rowan leans in and kisses her again.

If this is the beginning of forever, she’ll take it.

THE END

~*~*~*~

tag list:

@thewayshedreamed

@b00kworm

@alifletcher2012

@aknymph

@the-third-me

@mymultiversee

@superspiritfestival

@empress-ofbloodshed

@http-itsrebecca

@queen-of-glass

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius

@westofmoon

@rowaelinforeverworld

@iliketoasterstrudels

@bamchickawowow

@hizqueen4life

@faerie-queen-fireheart

@giorgia-the-trashpanda

@acourtofmoonlight

@m-like-magic

@rolltide7

@wordsafterhours

@amren-courtofdreams

@alserath

@tswaney17

@jesstargaryenqueen

@joyceortiz13

@itsme-malin

@aesthetics-11

@keshavomit

@yingyingbearbear

@alxanxah

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius

@minaidss

@meowsekai

@deepdarktrashhole

@samotita

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@ehazzard7

@cursebreaker29

@flourishandblottsx

@maastrash

@nishlicious-01

@sailorsassley

@aelin-queen-of-terrasen

@anunforseeablereader

@galyxsy

@greatwombatblaze

@queenofbumblebees

@kaitlynn1216

@januarystears

@officialasianbitch

@jewel334

@justgiu12

@df3ndyr

@l0sts0uls1128

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@annejulianneh111

@readstudyhike

@sjmships

@studyliketate

@iammissstark

@maybekindasortaace

@dean-winchesters-impala-1967

@heirofthenightcourt

@sleeping-and-books

@acourtofmarauders

@cmoff1

@stardelia

@alyx801

@verryberriess

@viajandosinalas

@grace-k-sterling

@tottenhamboys20

@throne-of-frost

@louiseleblancdiggory

@morganofthewildfire

@abookishfreak

@myfireheart-rowaelin

@faerie-queen-fireheart

@rockgirl321

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #cruel summer au #amusement park au #charincharge writes #throne of glass #tog fanfic

301 notes · View notes

dc41896 · 4 years ago

Text

POV

So I’ve been wanting to write something based on the song pov by Ariana Grande and then a certain someone decided to attack my heart strings yet again playing the piano so this is an idea I thought of lol. Also this is a sequel to Between the Lines.

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: None, all fluff! (Well maybe a teensy amount of sad times because of the lyrics)

“There she is,” Chris smiles entering the small make shift studio holding two steaming mugs. Joining your bundled form on the grey loveseat, he hands one to you before sweetly kissing your cheek and moving your legs to stretch across his lap. “So how’s my two-time Grammy nominated superstar doing?”

That’s pretty much all he called you now, besides his usual baby and honey, ever since the list of nominations were announced a couple months ago. Every time the words left his mouth, you found yourself giddily smiling and feeling as if you were in a dream you were bound to wake up from any moment.

Like other artists, winning a Grammy was always one of your ultimate goals and now that there was a possibility you could take home not one but two, you felt immense pride and excitement that your hard work was paying off. This excitement soon turned into stress though with the added preparations you needed to complete as the big day quickly approached. Since you were also performing, you and your team had been busy thinking of what the perfect song choice would be as well as concepts that would match.

So far everything was perfect until your pianist had an unfortunate accident requiring him to have surgery on his wrist. Now you were even more stressed wondering if there were any other people you knew that could fill in.

“A little overwhelmed honestly,” you sigh placing your phone down before noticing what exactly was in your mug. “How did you know I was craving cocoa?”

“Well knowing how stressed you’ve been lately, I figured you’d want some since that’s when you crave it most.”

“Aww thank you baby,” you smile leaning over to wipe his mini chocolate mustache before kissing his lips.

“Still looking for a piano player?”

“Yea but with it coming up so soon, we might just have to do the backup song which isn’t entirely a bad thing, but then I’d have to think of a totally new concept, outfit, then we have to rehearse, I’d have to tell the producers at the show we changed it-,”

“Hey let’s take a break from that okay?,” he speaks trying to calm your rambling and very apparent nerves. Taking your hand, he pulls you closer to sit on his lap guiding your head to fall on his shoulder. “I know things aren’t going how you want, but everything will work out. You’re gonna have an amazing performance that people are gonna talk about for the rest of the year, and no matter what, me, your family, friends, and fans will be so proud of you.” Bringing your hand to his lips, he peppers kisses along your knuckles and fingertips making you smile as you snuggle closer to his neck.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, you know I’m always here.”

Soothingly rubbing circles in your back the way you loved for him to do, you nearly let the vibrations from his humming lull you to sleep before an idea makes you sit up, staring at him now confused.

“Honey? You okay?”

“Yea...yea I just thought of something. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You play piano for me! I mean you know the song you’ve heard it plenty of times, heck you even helped with the melody. Then that way nothing has to get changed!,” you excitedly answer holding onto his shoulders.

“Yea all of that is true, and I’d love to help but are you sure? Y/N that’s your night, I don’t want anybody trying to say I’m somehow tied into your success when that’s not true.”

“Chris, you and I both know people are gonna talk no matter what, and as long as I’m with you sadly someone’s gonna think that and try to spread it everywhere. But I don’t care what anyone says, and you shouldn’t either,” you smile moving your hands to rest on his partially bearded cheeks. “Like you said it’s my night and sharing it with the man I love will make it even more special. Especially if he’ll be right beside me the whole time.”

“Whether I was physically on that stage with you or not, you know I’m always beside you.”

Closing the gap between you, his lips capture yours in a quick yet passionate exchange before he rests his forehead against yours.

“Now if you win, does that mean my name goes on it too? I mean as you said I helped with the melody and I am providing my services,” he states as you both laugh holding onto each other.

“I don’t know about the name inscription, but we can work that out later,” you answer.

———

“Alright five minutes guys!,” Gina announces fluffing your curls one last time. Noticing your infamous lip bite as your knee rapidly bounces, Chris places both hands on your knee quickly kissing your cheek before being swatted away by your best friend giving you a much needed laugh. “Hey relax, no smudging the makeup until after they say cut.”

“Two minutes!,” a voice yells as you try your best to breathe.

“You got this alright? You’re gonna do great!” Giving you a quick hug, she disappears behind the cameras and soon you hear the cheery presenter in your ear as she begins introducing your performance.

“Alright now I’m not trying to be biased, but this next performer is one of my favorites! She’s been killing it this year with the release of her highly anticipated debut album which led to her two Grammy noms tonight. Performing from her personal studio, here’s Y/N.”

The piano softly plays in the background as the camera focuses on you perched on a wooden bar stool. Pulling the sleeves of your pullover sweater over your hands, you take a quick deep breath as your cue to start approaches.

It's like you got superpowers

Turn my minutes into hours

You got more than 20/20, babe

Made of glass, the way you see through me

You know me better than I do

Can't seem to keep nothing from you

How you touch my soul from the outside

Permeate my ego and my pride

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me

The way that you trust me

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Glancing over at Chris in his backwards cap, grey tank, and sweats a small smile forms on your lips watching his fingers delicately press against each key. He could feel your eyes as he looked up with a smile himself winking at you and making you innocently giggle.

I'm gеtting used to receiving

Still gеtting good at not leaving

I'ma love you even though I'm scared

Learnin' to be grateful for myself

You love my lips 'cause they say the

Things we've always been afraid of

I can feel it startin' to subside

Learnin' to believe in what is mine

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me

The way that you trust me

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Standing from your seat, you slowly make your way beside him on the bench resting your head on his shoulder while the camera pans around to catch your cute exchange.

I couldn't believe it or see it for myself

Know I be impatient

But now I'm out here, fallin', fallin'

Frozen, slowly thawing, got me right

I won't keep you waitin', waitin'

All my baggage fadin' safely

And if my eyes deceive me

Won't let them stray too far away

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me, ooh

The way that you trust me, baby

'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

As he plays his last few notes, your arms gently wrap around his bicep and your chin rests on his shoulder before you peck the corner of his mouth. His lips twitch into that adorable smile you love so much after mouthing “I love you” and all those around cheer with claps and whistles.

“You did amazing honey,” he whispers cupping your cheek with his warm hand.

“Thank you, and you too Mozart.”

“Nope, we’re not making that a thing. We both know I literally could never,” he replies making you both laugh before being startled by Gina’s squeals.

“Girl you won best new artist!”

“Wait what?”

“You won! They just told me so you can go ahead and make your acceptance speech! They’ll play it when the category comes up.”

You have to be nudged by a chuckling Chris being in such a state of shock. Oh course you hoped and wished you’d win, but you didn’t expect it to actually happen. Returning to your barstool, you try to collect yourself as the signal is given that the camera was rolling.

“Wow, um hi everybody! I honestly didn’t think this would happen,” you nervously laugh. “Um first off thank you mom and dad for your support even though I was probably really annoying singing all over the house all hours of the day. Thank you to the fans, of course, for your support as well from streaming to buying my music and all the other ways you guys have been so amazing to me. I may not be able to respond to every single post, tweet, or DM but I see you guys and from the bottom of my heart I truly thank every single one of you. My friends and my team, I love y’all so much and appreciate all that you guys do to help and keep me sane.”

“And to the one who inspired the song that helped me get this award,” you sigh peering past the camera to see a glossy eyed Chris leaning against the wall. “Thank you for being exactly what I need when I need it, whether it’s a cuddle buddy, a partner in crime for late night food runs, or a friend to remind me to love myself when I’m doing the opposite. I love you and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Rotating the silver band on your ring finger, you hold up your hand with a shy smile to reveal a sparkling princess cut diamond making everyone around beam with excitement, and surely those who would be watching at home.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

#chrisxblackreader #chrisxwoc #chrisxreader #chris evans

56 notes · View notes

rokutouxei · 4 years ago

Text

only this wonder remains

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark isaac newton/reader | gen | 2948 | [ao3]

or: the 5 times isaac tried to understand, and the one time he realized he didn’t have to.

for my beloved friend @pathofcomets!

happiest, happiest, happiest birthday to the absolute kindest and most loving and most encouraging person i have ever met in my entire life! i may or may not have reread your isaac fics a billion times to get him quite like you like, and if i missed, at least enjoy the fact that um, i’m having apples today in (the both of) your honor? te iubesc, mama: thank you for joining me in this stupid crazy journey that is 19th century france with vampires.

(one)

isaac newton likes things set into order.

math, math is great—math is numbers and patterns and those things make sense and the order is there. physics too: everything in the universe has a set structure, and it’s all just figuring out what that structure is and what it entails. isaac newton likes things in neat rows in color-coded, labeled, square boxes in his mind.

and that is everything you aren’t.

which is why isaac doesn’t quite understand how he’s fallen in love with you so fast. emotionally, yes, sure, emotions, are, he supposes, a thing, but rationally? he doesn’t understand it. where he likes predictability, you are anything but. you are new dishes being served during dinners. you are excited squealing as you’re reading a book. you are catching his hedgehog (very nervously) from its hiding nook, after it was chased by the exponentially larger dogs. you are songs he’s never heard, songs from centuries in the future. you are wide eyes and open arms and isaac doesn’t understand.

but he adores it.

appreciates it.

the day after you’d decided to stay in the mansion, and the door had stayed shut throughout the rest of the fateful, crescent-moon night, vincent takes home with him a basketful of apple strudels, gifted to him by the lovely baker downtown.

you aren’t able to get one before dinner, but just right around midnight, you remember they are there. with a sudden burst of excitement, you pull at isaac’s sleeve until he accompanies you downstairs. your eyes shine like crystals in the kitchen light as you bite into the sweet bread—and isaac… isaac doesn’t know what to do with the warmth that fills him at the sight of it.

you turn to him quickly, offering him a bite. “you like apples, don’t you?”

the sound of dazai’s and arthur’s voices compound in his head, every single apple joke thrown at his direction over the past what-feels-like-a-million-years echoing in the caverns of his skull, taunting him.

but he doesn’t mind.

he doesn’t know why he doesn’t mind being unfolded like this, but he doesn’t.

he takes a bite of the strudel and sighs at the sweetness.

“it’s delicious.”

(two)

he tries, he absolutely tries his damnedest to sound nonchalant, but he fails. rather miserably, too. he’s still standing at the doorway of your room, hesitating to enter even when you’d already opened the door for him.

“where are you going?”

you finish twirling a lock of hair into place, before turning away from the mirror and toward him. “ah, comte’s taking me out dress shopping.”

again, he hears you nearly say; but then why are you still going? “don’t you have enough clothes?”

securing your earrings into place, you sit up from your dresser chair to approach him. “‘the most important of the labours of a high society woman in this late 19th century,’” you begin, “‘is to look beautiful.’ … that’s what le comte always tells me.”

“labours that you already fulfil,” isaac notes. the sudden admission makes you flush, so you pull him by the wrist and guide him toward the bed. now seated next to each other, you entangle your fingers with his.

“we’ll be back before dusk,” you try to appease him. “i’ll ask comte if we can do a detour at that bakery with the strudels we like.”

for a moment, isaac is silent; his hand twitches in yours as he considers. of course, he knows that comte means no harm. if anything, the worst is that comte is quite overbearing with how gracious he is at times. there’s no reason to be feeling this way, to be even doubting, he just wanted to ask if you wanted to come with him to the university library—he has to pick up a book he forgot to borrow, and maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of a picnic while you’re already out in the city, that’s all, you can always do that some time else, and so why is he—

he groans. by jove, why is this so hard. he turns and presses his face into the junction of your shoulder and neck; the fabric of your dress is in the way of the thrum of your pulse, but not quite thick enough so he still feels your warmth.

you laugh like it tickles, and he’s about to straighten up when you take his face in your small hands, holding him at eye level to you, your gaze so beautifully clear and bright. it’s as if no matter how hard he tries, with you he is see-through.

“i’ll make it up to you,” you say, pressing a little kiss at the corner of his lip, “…tonight.”

all at once, he doesn’t understand why the sour, sour feeling in his chest suddenly tastes so sweet.

(three)

you were radiant.

that was, to say the least. isaac wasn’t knowledgeable about fashion, not a bit. sure, he can vaguely tell what an “average” outfit is (cue the several lengthy discussions to alleviate confusion when sebastian had kindly gifted you with a few items of clothing to wear around the mansion that were, say, anachronistic) but trends and styles are beyond him. to him, if the clothes can protect him from the elements, they are enough, and doing their job.

but seeing you out there in the ball room? made him realize that maybe… maybe that wasn’t the only point after all.

he’s wearing the most fashionable get-up for the night (because, alas, comte would not let a single one of his residents leave without the best of suits) and yet he feels so… underdressed, looking at you.

which is probably just about right, considering this is the party to celebrate your first year spent at the mansion.

(the first of many, he hopes.)

isaac returns to memorizing the details of your outfit. a beautiful silk gown in this sort of matte gold, embellished with swathes of intricate lace. the cut of the dress is made to accentuate your best features, and oh, the low scoop of the neckline, revealing your shoulders, emphasizing the milky skin beneath, maybe, a place to sink his teeth…

you’re off to a corner of the ballroom across him, engaged in discussion with mozart and theo while you’re holding a glass of alcohol. (he knows you enough to be nearly entirely sure it’s probably a non-alcoholic drink in your glass, just the right shade to seem like so.) mozart says something that makes you laugh, hand flying to your mouth.

(isaac seethes inwardly, wonders what the pianist could have said.)

theo makes eye contact with isaac across the room, and isaac quickly turns away from the man’s pointed smile. and because he does, he doesn’t get to prepare himself for when you inevitably approach him—having been goaded by theo—bumping isaac’s shoulders lightly.

he takes half a second to curse that wily little brother-obsessed man.

“won’t the great professor ayscough honor me with a dance?”

he doesn’t understand why, doesn’t understand why allows this—for him to be tossed and turned in a surge of emotions and thoughts and things he really hadn’t bothered to consider in the past, for him to be oh so irrevocably twined around your finger.

“what makes you think you can do this to my poor heart?” he whispers, and your laugh—oh, your laugh, fills him to the very core.

(four)

a part of him curses napoleon for saying it; another part of him thanks him.

the three of you were on your way back to the mansion after an afternoon teaching the kids in the city at the usual spot when napoleon had—rather absentmindedly, almost as if off-handedly—mentioned that the kids seemed to be more… obedient when you were around. you’d raised an eyebrow at him, explaining that you’re actually rather, say, awkward with kids. napoleon had shrugged the comment off, going on a tangent that they seemed to be more likely to follow instructions when it was you who’d call them out, as compared to him and isaac.

and then, the heaviest words in the world.

“maybe it’s because you’re like a mother to them.”

it was too early. you and isaac had never thought of kids and—you’d never really thought of anything, rather. there was only the now, and isaac found himself rather enjoying the pace. should he have discussed this with you already? was this of utmost importance? what if you didn’t want kids with him? what if you did? what does it mean—to do that? what changes? what stays? what—

“pfft,” you chuckle. “that’s only because the two of you are more like cheeky older brothers than teachers, you brats.”

after the corresponding laughter, the conversation soon swerved to other things. but isaac couldn’t leave it at that. instead, it lingered and clawed at his brain for the following days to no end, always making its presence known at the back of his mind whenever he’s thought it’s past him. he hadn’t thought of bringing it up to you because, again, it seemed like you’d taken the entire thing in stride, as you always do, with the grace and wisdom of someone literally beyond his time…

but most importantly, because he didn’t feel like he was ready to hear the answer quite yet.

alas, the universe does not wait for one to be ready for things.

the next time the three of you are downtown, you’re humming as you produce a little jar full of homemade candy as a reward for the children’s hard work of studying. (isaac huffs a little; it’s just calculus, it’s not so bad.) the enthusiastic children rush toward you, and you gently get to their level, squatting down and handing them two candies each.

isaac… is stuck into place, watching intently as you greet each child; you know them by name, know their nicknames; you match the candy appropriately to their favorite flavors, pat them on the head, ruffle their hair, pinch their cheek gently. you compliment the little flowers the girl has put in her hair, enthuse about how the three rag-tag boys look stronger than ever.

and isaac—well, he doesn’t understand why he knows but he knows: this, this is what happiness is.

your smile, the star-like shimmer in your eyes, the sound of your laughter intermingling with those of the children the both of you (!) are raising to be dreamers and thinkers of the future.

isaac is helpless; no science can explain this; unable to do anything but allow you to knock him to his knees like a beam of sunlight shot through the prism of his heart.

flooding his world in a spectrum of colors.

(five)

on one night you don’t feel entirely upright, you confide your deepest fears to isaac. these were fears he’d thought were to be expected—fears that made sense—but he hadn’t realized were actually hiding in your shadows. worries and frets about the uprooting from home, the time and the place of your existence. the weight of the knowledge of what comes in the future, the foresight of it. the instability—the unsureness.

isaac does not know what to do with all this. he cradles every word in his hands, holds them so carefully like they will shatter, feels each shaky intake of your breath sink underneath his skin like some sort of warning, some sort of premonition.

of the one day you might have to let her go.

of the one day you might have to do the right thing.

of the one day it will hurt.

of the one day. and you will never understand why.

but isaac is no longer afraid of them.

(he doesn’t know why yet, but he will soon.)

instead, he holds you in his arms in the silver glow of the moonlight, until your shaking stops. until you feel gravity settle you back onto the bed, just like all that isaac had written of it. until you press your face into his chest and sigh deeply. until your exhales feel lighter, like you’ve expelled all the thick fog that rested between your bones.

and isaac… isaac doesn’t know if he should ask, if he has the right to ask, if asking will make a difference, but the part of him that constantly wants to be able to understand things makes him, so he asks—

“what made you stay?”

and the answer is so simple, it’s rather silly how he doesn’t understand.

“because i have you.”

(+ one)

long before he had met saint-germain and had hidden away in the count’s mansion for silence, isaac newton was, ultimately, just a mere human: one that tried to make sense of the world around him, set them into categories and definitions that were easy to understand, and thus use. but a human nonetheless. and hundreds of years back, long before the turn of the century in paris, france, in the arms of the only woman he feels like he has ever truly known to really love, there was a little fairy tale he believed in: one that they’d called the philosopher’s stone.

a stone of ridiculous, preposterous qualities. it could turn simple metals into gold and silver. it could heal all and any sort of illness. it could make someone live longer. it could turn crystals into precious stones. it could revive the dead. it could make you immortal.

just by its mere existence, it could give someone the power to turn one thing into something entirely different.

and now, with the scientific development of the late 19th century—and even further, far into the future where you’ve come (he’d asked)—there is still no philosopher’s stone. the facts are in: it is not real, and centuries spent attempting to create this enchanted thing have led to not a single step toward proving its existence. it’s a powerful thing that is too great, it just isn’t allowed to exist.

that was what isaac thought, except as of late.

because maybe… maybe the power is already in human hands.

after all, what else would have given you the ability to make him like this? how else to explain all the miracles you’ve done: to fill the parts of him that used to be hollow; to heal him of the wounds he’d been putting aside; to revive the portions of his heart that he thought—and he’d kept—long dead?

to turn him into gold?

it is morning now, just past sunrise of september 1st, and you’re lying next to him on his bed, still fast asleep. just the sound of your even breathing fills him with a breathless joy it makes him feel rather stupid. the sheer fabric of your nightgown is not enough to hide the pink, red parts where he’d kissed and marked you last night. he wants to run his fingers through your hair, but doesn’t, lest he wakes you up.

he’d pledged his humanity aside for silence, and a space to think, and oh, have you given it to him.

this is what peace feels like, he thinks.

gently, he takes out of its hiding spot a rectangular box. opens it and takes out its contents: a pair of earrings (which he’ll give you later), and a lovely golden necklace studded with pearls; little flowers and suns down to the middle, where a hefty ruby glimmers deep blood red.

just like a philosopher’s stone.

he tries not to wake you, when he strings his little gift around your neck, but the movements jostle you, and just as he clasps it closed at your nape, you wake.

you turn to face your lover with “good morning” halfway out your lips when you feel the cool of the necklace on your bare skin. you look down at the intricate piece of jewelry, the smile uncontrollable on your sweet, still sleep-hazy face.

“isaac—”

“la mulţi ani,” he says—or, well, tries to say, as his tongue curves awkwardly around the words. he does sound rather close though: he must have practiced, and practiced, and practiced.

“thank you,” you say, sitting up to face him properly. “it’s beautiful. i’ll treasure this.”

isaac’s brain is on high speed—i’m glad she liked it, i was worrying, what if she didn’t like the design, then what about the earrings, should i have given her a ring instead? no a ring is too early, this necklace is just right, also fashionable for the times. i asked comte about it—it was so damned embarrassing but i asked him, and—but he silences it, quiets it down by taking her hand in his, presses a kiss on the knuckles gently with his lips.

and, as he always has been, and always is, and always will be—he stumbles for words, clumsily trying to make sense of the thunder-lightning rumbling in his chest, how he’s supposed to say thank you for all that you have given him, all that you have made him.

so instead, he presses your hand against his warm cheek that is a fresh apple red.

“my favorite merișor,” you tease, brushing the stray hair off his face before pulling him into a gentle, warm embrace. and, well, he’d wanted to ask what that meant, but he quickly realizes it doesn’t matter, as he tucks the unfamiliar syllables of your language in his heart.

it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t understand.

and maybe, just maybe, there are things that he never will really comprehend.

but it’s okay.

he can be that merișor.

as long as he is yours, he can be anything.

--------

[title came from could i love you any more by jason mraz & reneé dominique]

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp isaac newton #ikevamp isaac #ikevam isaac #ikevam isaac newton #uwus #only this wonder remains

53 notes · View notes

wlmoe · 3 years ago

Text

Brenda was born on June 3, 1925 in Calgary, Alberta. Her father, Ivan Halliday, was born in Myanmar and raised in Dumfriesshire, Scotland. Her mother, Winifred Ortmans, was born in London and raised in Buckinghamshire, UK. They met on board a ship taking them to Montreal, he to a bank position in Red Deer and she as companion to a woman and her young daughter. After their marriage they moved to Cloverdale where they bought a farm and began raising chickens.

As a child, Brenda struggled with severe asthma and found the long climb up to the local school very difficult. In the end, concerned family members in England made the decision to fund her admission to a boarding school in Vancouver. She was enrolled at Taunton House School for about ten years, graduating in 1943.

Sadly, her father died around this time and soon after, they sold the farm and moved to Vancouver. Brenda helped out in a kindergarten, worked at Birks jewelry store and took a tailoring course among other things until, in the late 1940s, she met Stan Moe through a family member. Brenda and Stan were married on October 11, 1950 in Vancouver. Christopher Eric was born September 7, 1953 and Wendy Louise followed on March 15, 1956.

They began their married life in a Kitsilano apartment, then bought their first house on Belmont Street near Spanish Banks. In 1957, they moved to Kelowna where Stan had family and a job opportunity. They moved back to Vancouver in 1961 and settled into a rented house on Elm Street in Kerrisdale. In 1968, they bought what would be their last home on 38th Avenue, which became a hub of sorts for family occasions and visiting relations.

After Stan passed away in 1991, Brenda continued to live in the house, happily self-sufficient, until 2007, when it seemed the right time for Wendy to join her there. For the next few years, along with Chris and his wife, Elaine, they continued to host family and friends for birthdays, Christmases and holiday visits. And Brenda, who was held in great affection by her neighbours on 38th, kept an equally affectionate eye on all of them from her chair on the front porch. Growing up during the depression, when looking out for your rural neighbours could mean the difference between thriving and failing, she had a warm sense of responsibility for everyone’s welfare and enjoyed a good chat as well.

Brenda loved gardening and plants of all kinds. She also enjoyed puttering around the house rearranging furniture and decorations just to keep things interesting. In our younger days we would often come home from school to find our bedrooms transformed or all the paintings switched out. She was hilariously funny and infamous for her puns, going all the way back to her school days when she was dubbed “the girl most likely to pun” at her graduation. She enjoyed getting out to the country on a Sunday drive and loved our many trips back to Kelowna, where she swore she’d seen the Ogopogo.

She had many pets throughout her life, beginning with a pair of rabbits she named Gizzard and Guts, followed by a Scottish Terrier named Joey. She was allergic to cats but managed to own two of them over the years, along with Sparky, the cocker spaniel and Willie, the corgi-spaniel mix. More recently she adored Piper, who came to us for puppy-sitting while her human was at work during the day. There were also various mice, hamsters, turtles and, of course, chickens.

At nine, on a visit to England with her mother, Brenda was given the opportunity to attend a singing class with Princess Elizabeth. A friend knew the instructor, who made the arrangements, and she was seated next to Elizabeth, who was told that, “This little girl has come all the way from Canada just to see you.” Apparently Elizabeth was wearing a yellow dress and they all sang The Skye Boat Song.

Early days in Cloverdale also included local dances during World War II. Young soldiers would drive around the neighbourhood picking up the girls and whisk them off to a nearby aeroplane hangar for an evening of much needed frivolity. Her 21st birthday was celebrated at the old Panorama Roof restaurant in the Hotel Vancouver. Brenda was a very beautiful, vibrant young woman and received several proposals of marriage, once from a man named Edwin Twaddle.

Music of many kinds, but especially classical, were one of Brenda’s greatest joys. PBS, Knowledge Network and the CBC were in constant play, and she knew most of the pieces by heart. Among her favourites were Mozart, Chopin and Brahms, Itzhak Perlman, Joshua Bell and Leontyne Price.

Brenda was also a devout Anglican with a strong faith; she kept a Bible beside her bed and found comfort in daily prayer. She attended St. Mary’s Kerrisdale Church for decades, always happy to help with the annual rummage sale and other parish activities.

Although life wasn’t easy for Brenda over the last few years, she accepted her limitations and was deeply grateful to be in her own house, in a beautiful neighbourhood with family and friends close by. She celebrated her 96th birthday on June 3rd and passed away peacefully at home on June 19th.

Brenda was very much loved and will be very much missed by everyone who knew her. She will be remembered for her humour, kindness and cheerful, common sense approach to life. She approached her death in the same spirit, had made her peace and was ready to go.

A memorial will be planned for a later date and we will contact you with the information.

We extend our deepest gratitude to Dr. Conrad Rusnak and his team, the nurses and staff of the Pacific Spirit Community Health Centre and the Evergreen Community Health Centre, the “Lift Assist” Firefighters and all our family, friends and neighbours for their compassionate support and care during this time. We appreciate you all more than we can say.

1 note · View note

getalittleclosey · 5 years ago

Text

100k+ larry fic rec

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 10k

under 25k

under 50k

under 100k

☆ with a whimper by kitundercover 133k

Dystopian AU. Louis has been alone for too long to remember how not to be, and Harry has too much to worry about to deal with a scrawny, wild, stranger. ---

The man grips his arm tightly. “You’re not going to say anything.” It’s not a question.

Louis shakes his head, his body twitching.

“Fine.” Large green eyes survey him before letting go. “It’s cold. Take this. Wear it.”

Louis can’t help another flinch as the man’s long scarf is wrapped around his tender neck, it’s still warm. He touches the soft material. “Thank you.”

The man bears his teeth. “Don’t thank me. Don’t ever thank me.”

☆ never be by cherrystreet 118k

Monica: You've got to see her again. Ross: And why do you care so much? Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy! Ross: You had fantasies about Emily? Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

☆ that sounds fake but okay by dancingontheceiling 113k

Harry Styles is a rookie journalist forced to work the gossip desk at a major New York magazine. Louis Tomlinson is the A-list actor who doesn't appreciate Harry or his articles.

☆ if it kills me by you_explode 111k

Harry and Louis have worked together in a difficult office environment for six years. They're best friends; Louis is the bright spot of all of Harry's days. But Louis is in love with Harry, and Harry's engaged to someone else. And that's only the beginning.

The Office AU. More or less follows the first five seasons. A lot of pining and misunderstanding the depth of feelings and rejection and angst, until there isn’t.

☆ shake me down by agreatperhaps12 209k

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

☆ love is a rebellious bird by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews 135k

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

note: i fucking love this one. my current car is named thunder because of it (all the cars i’ve leased over the last 9 years have been named after vague larry fic references)

☆ one more time again by orphan_account 232k

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

note: there’s a 15k second part

☆ soft hands, fast feet, can’t lose by dolce_piccante 113k

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

note: there’s a 5k second part to this

extra note: idk if this is an unpopular opinion but i’ve always preferred this over escapade or rntm

☆ paint me in a million dreams by green_feelings 113k

Harry's one of Hollywood's biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There's just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry's in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood's biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese's next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity?

In short, Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

☆ walk that mile by purpledaisy 150k

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

☆ landslide by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (lucy_and_ramona) 143k

The year is 1976. In November, Jimmy Carter will take control of the White House. Americans are meeting Laverne & Shirley at their apartment in Milwaukee. Hotel California diverges from the reign of Kool & the Gang. And the FBI is still reeling from the repercussions of Watergate, the tragedy at Wounded Knee, Operation Family Secrets, and the strategic terrors of the anti-cult movement.

That's what Special Agent Harry Styles has been told is the basis of his mission to an abandoned farmhouse in rural New Hampshire.

With his hair grown out long and his shirt untucked, he's going undercover to do reconnaissance on suspected cult leader Louis Tomlinson, who has led a group of people out into the middle of nowhere, leaving no record of the life he'd had before. All Harry knows is what the agency gave him: Tomlinson's name, and instructions to figure out what he's doing with the eleven people he brought with him.

In the year that Harry spends undercover and under Louis Tomlinson's wing, he learns more than he ever expected.

note: i will rep this fic until the day i die. even my mom knows how much i love landslide

#fic rec #one direction #larry stylinson #mine #longgggg fics #11 of these!#fic masterpost

61 notes · View notes

nickysurfer28 · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Chris wants an official date with you. Will you say yes? And what happens during your newest dream with him?

Word count:over 1k

Warning ⚠️: 18+only smut,sex,group action,etc.

Characters: Dr.Nicky Ransom x Chris Evans , Denise Ames (cousin),Tim,Judith.

Chapter 10:

You wake in an unfamiliar room, and it takes you a moment to get your bearings.

Right. I fell asleep at Chris’s house. He must have put me to bed. It’s no surprise a house this size has a guest room.

You cast your eyes around the elegantly furnished room.

This is.. gorgeous. My interior design skills place in comparison!

Images from last nights dream flood your mind , and a fresh pang of arousal makes you gasp. You stare up at the ceiling, your body throbbing with frustrated desire.

I’m in Chris’s house. In Chris’s bed.

You slide a hand down your body, your skin tingling deliciously in its wake.

It wouldn’t be so wrong to give myself a little relief, would it? I should... pick up where my dream left off.

You slip your fingers between your legs, finding yourself slick and swollen.

That was a hell of a dream...

You close your eyes, remembering the feel of Chris’s mouth on you.

“Mmm...” Nicky moaned.

You circle your fingers faster, plucking at a nipple with your other hand.

So close...so close..

You piston two fingers inside yourself, then a third, imagining Chris’s hard cockiness their place.

“Oh!” Nicky squealed.

Climax surges through your body like an electrical current. Fully spent, you lay back against the pillows, panting.

And I’ll totally be thinking about that next time I see Chris. Great idea, self.

You slip out bed with a sigh. Your legs warble as you stand, your head swimming dizzily.

Ugh. Guess that’s what I get for staying up late. I’d do it all over again, though.

You look down at yourself and laugh.

And it’s no wonder my brain conjured a ball as I slept!

You straighten yourself up as a best you can, and you see a pair of shorts, and a man’s shirt laid out for you.

Chris is really thoughtful, huh.

After you change ,you head out into the hallway.

All right. Let’s see...

Doors lead off on either side of the hall. You try each in turn, revealing a series of rooms that look to have been rarely if ever used. You head back into the study.

We had a drink, we danced, I fell asleep, and he put me to bed. Nothing else happened between us last night. Certainly nothing sexual.

Your ears pick up the faint strains of music, and you follow it into an elegant parlor. Chris sits at a grand piano, his fingers moving gracefully over the keys. He looks up as you enter.

“Good morning.” Chris answered warmly.

“Good morning to you,too.” Nicky answered.

You watch him play for a moment.

“Wow, you’re .. very talented.” Nicky answered.

“Thank you.” Chris answered.

He chuckles, his fingers effortlessly gliding over the keys even as he speaks to you.

The song he’s playing sounds familiar.

“Apologies. I know classical music isn’t always everyone’s favorite.” Chris answered.

“No, it’s beautiful. You play so well.” Nicky answered.

“You’re too kind. Many don’t particularly appreciate this music nowadays.” Chris answered.

Chris smiles sadly as he plays.

Wait, the song is on the tip of my tongue.

“Well, Mozart is pretty palatable for anyone.” Nicky answered.

Chris smiles, his eyes alight with surprise and happiness.

“You know the piece?” Chris answered.

“Yeah. That’s his Sonata in B-flat major, right?” Nicky answered.

“It is.” Chris answered.

His lifting, hypnotic voice lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Very impressive.” Chris answered with a smile.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, but you smile back.

“Not as impressive as your playing.” Nicky answered.

“I take it you like classical music?” Chris answers.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Nicky answered. “So... who’s your favorite classical composer?”.

“Chopin. Definitely.” Chris answered.

Chris smiles, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. It’s the same smile Chris of you dream wore as he pushed your skirt up around your hips. Your pulse races.

“Ah. You slept well, I hope?” Chris answered.

“Um.”Nicky answered. Focus, Nicky! I have to...keep my cool.

You take a calming breath.

“I slept great. The bed was crazy comfortable.” Nicky answered. “Your guest room is beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you had a restful sleep.” Chris answered.

You have no idea.

“I did.” Nicky answered.

Chris nods.

“I’m glad. I’m afraid that room doesn’t see much use. And I’m sorry about your costume.” Chris answered. “I can’t imagine it was comfortable to sleep in, but I thought it best to- ah- leave it on you. I hope that was the right decision.”

An unwelcome tingle of arousal makes you shiver.

“Definitely the right decision.” Nicky answered.

Is the man trying to kill me?

You clear you throat , shaking the sexy thoughts from your mind.

“Sorry I just kind of ... fell asleep on you last night.” Nicky answered.

Chris laughs.

“You clearly have no head for drink.” Chris answered.

“It’s more a factor of usually being in bed well before midnight!” Nicky answered.

“Ah. I fear I can’t relate. I’ve always been a bit of an insomniac myself.” Chris answered.

“Have you spoken to your primary physician about that?” Nicky answered.

Chris arches an elegant brow.

“Right. None of my doctory beeswax.” Nicky answered.

“No. But I’m touched that you care.” Chris answered.

“I’m....glad you think so. Because I know it can be kind of annoying.”Nicky answered.

“It’s not.” Chris answered. “It’s nice having you here. I don’t usually have company in the mornings.”

Your eyes flick over to the heavy drapes blocking out the morning sun.

Poor Chris . I hate that I have to rush out on him.

“Thank you for having me, but...I should get going. It’s a workday for me. I need to get home and get ready for my appointments.” Nicky answered.

Chris raises from the piano.

“Won’t you stay just a bit longer?” Chris answered.

“Chris...”Nicky answered.

“Just a cup of coffee. What do you say?” Chris answered.

You go over your morning schedule in your head.

Coffee wouldn’t take long. I could spend a little more time with Chris and still get ready in time for work.

“I have time for coffee.” Nicky answered.

You let out a laugh of surprise as Chris pulls you into abrupt hug and then follow him into the kitchen.

The room is just as dim grey as it was before, but it seems less gloomy with Chris inside. He bypasses the coffee pot and pulls a French press out of an otherwise empty cabinet.

“You would be that bougie!” Nicky answered with a smile.

“A man needs to have standards.” Chris answered.

You drink your coffee slowly, talking about nothing in particular and enjoying each other’s company.

Is this what dating Chris would be like? Spending every morning with a sweet, gorgeous man who makes me fancy coffee? That doesn’t sound bad at all.

The time passes quickly, and soon you really do have to go.

You summon a ride, and Chris escorts you to the front door as the driver approaches.

“Thank you for spending the morning with me, Nicky.” Chris answered.

“We should do it again sometime.” Nicky answers.

You press a soft kiss to Chris’s cheek.

“Goodbye, Chris . I’ll see you around.” Nicky answers.

He takes your hand before you can open the door.

“Can we do it again?” Chris answered. “After spending last night chasing donations, I feel like I owe you a real date. Only if you’d be interested, of course. I wouldn’t want to presume-“.

“Chris... I’d love to go on a real date with you.” Nicky answered. “Later this week?”.

He smiles , and you feel a rush of lightheadedness that has nothing to do with your lack of sleep.

“That would be perfect.” Chris answered with a smile.

You reach for the door again,

“Wait!” Chris answered.

“Chris, I really have to-“ Nicky answered. The words are muffled as Chris presses his lips to yours. His kiss is chaste, but desire courses through your veins all the same. You wind you arms around his neck, kissing him fervently. His tongue plays at the seam of your lips, and you part them eagerly for him, greeting his tongue with your own.

“Mmm..”Nicky moaned.

He holds you close, his body flush against yours as he kisses you hungrily. You moan, content for the moment to stretch on forever... and jump as a horn blast communicates your ride’s impatience. You step out of Chris’s arms, your cheeks burning.

“You make it hard to leave, I’ll give you that.” Nicky answered.

“Then don’t leave.” Chris answered.

“I have to. See you soon?”Nicky answered.

Chris nods resignedly, and you give him one last kiss before slipping out the door.

After your final appointment that afternoon, a sudden burst of motivation carries you to your storage room.

This is where I’ve kept all of Clare’s things since she died. It hurts too much to look at them.

Now you unpack box after box, examining the priceless treasures within.

Clare’s sketchbooks. Her paintings . Her high school yearbooks....

You open a photo album to a shot of you, Clare, and Denise looking happy and carefree, and you smile wistfully.

If only .... I’d been old enough to help Clare. I didn’t understand at the time just how vulnerable she was. If I had , maybe I could have saved her from Adrian.

And you think of the man who ruined at all. Clare’s boyfriend . The love of her life, supposedly.

Adrian. His name was Adrian.

For a man you never met, Adrian has cast a long shadow over your life.

He took Clare from us, and he became my symbol for everything to avoid in life: dependency, need, lack of control... it’s why all my relationships have been so superficial. But now, with Chris...

Your cheeks warm as you remember the kiss this morning.

He’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. Clare’s art should never have been gathering dust in here. It should be displayed all through the house to honor her memory.

You select a dozen canvases, and set them aside to take to a framer. Your phone vibrates with a text from Denise .

*text messages*

“Huge portrait exhibit at the museum this weekend! Wanna come with me and Tim?” Denise text.

“That sounds...fun.” Nicky text.

“I haven’t been to the museum in ages. Count me in.” Nicky text.

“YAAAAYY! Denise text.

“You should invite Chris, too. Art museums can be romantic..;). “ Denise text.

It sounds like Denise been spending too much time with Judith.

“You know what? That sounds like a great idea.” Nicky text.

*end of text messages*

You agree on a time and shoot a message to Chris.

It’s time to focus on the future.

A future that might just include a relationship with Chris Evans.

When you’re done with work on Friday, you feel utterly exhausted.

I’m excited to go to a museum with everyone..especially Chris.

That thought clings to you as drift off to sleep.

*dream sequence **

You’re in a museum, full of statues depicting knights in shining armor in battle.

I’m lucid dreaming again.

You walk up to one of the suits of armor.

“Hello there.” Nicky answered.

The knight tilts his head at you in acknowledgment.

“Oh, wow.” Nicky answered in shock.

Then, you notice all the knights shift to look at you.

“This is strange... but I’m not frightened.” Nicky answered.

“Is that wise.” Chris answered.

With a gasp, you whirl around to face the voice.

“Chris! What are you doing here? Our date isn’t until tomorrow.” Nicky answered in shock.

He steps closer to you and reaches out, stroking your cheek.

Then, everything shifts.

“A battlefield?”Nicky answered.

You turn around and see Chris dressed in knight’s clothing. Shadows of the knights close in on you, and Chris draws a sword.

“Give us the girl.” Knight answered.

“Never.” Chris answers.

Chris swings his sword and fights them off, moving smoothly and gracefully, almost like a dance.

“Chris! Watch out!” Nicky yelled.

He heads your warning, easily dodging around the knights. The battle stills, and Chris turns back to you.

“Are you frightened, Nicky?” Chris answered.

You barely need to think about the question.

“No.” Nicky answered. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He drops his sword and strides over to you. The defeated knights circle in, keeping their distance as they watch you both.

“You should be.” Chris answered.

Chris strokes your face with his hand, smearing mud across your cheek.

“Too bad for you.” Nicky answered.

He growls, wrapping an arm around your waist and hugging you close to his body. The force of it sends a thrill through you. Then, he claims your mouth in a heated, possessive kiss. You surrender to him easily, melting into his touch.

“Nicky...” Chris answered.

You feel the muddied ground on your feet, but you don’t care. You tug him closer, and he begins to lower you to the ground. Dirt and mud surround you as he claims your mouth with an animalistic want.

“The knights are still watching us.” Nicky answered.

“Does that bother you, Nicky?” Chris answered. “Does it bother you that I want to take you here, for all of them to see?”

“...yes.” Nicky answered blushing. “It... it does. It’s embarrassing.

Chris smiles fondly.

“Adorable.” Chris answered.

He pushes you further into the mud and you feel it cushion you, wet and filthy.

“I want you, Nicky.” Chris answered. “I want them all to see us.”

Desire courses through you, filling every inch of your body.

“What do you want, Nicky?” Chris answered.

You swallow, feeling the mud in hair, dirtying your clothes. The knights look on.

“Chris...I want you to fuck me here for all to see.” Nicky answered.

Chris growls, crashing his mouth to yours. You moan into him, and he takes advantage of your open mouth to plunge his tongue inside you. He explores your mouth like a man starved.

“Too many clothes..” Nicky answered.

He grunts and tears your clothes off as if they were made of paper. You gasp, your nipples hardening as they meet the cold air.

“C-Chris....” Nicky whispers.

“Are they watching, Nicky?” Chris answered.

You look to the side and see the knights are even closer than before, watching every move.

“Y-yes.” Nicky answered.

“Good.” Chris answered.

Chris takes his cock out and rubs it over your exposed, wet entrance.

“Oh, God.” Nicky squealed.

“So wet, Nicky.” Chris answered.

Then, without ceremony, he plunges into you. Groaning, he takes you roughly, his thrusts fast and hard as he pumps his cock in and out of you. Frantically, you move your hips to meet his hard thrusts, desperate for more friction.

“God, Nicky.” Chris answered

You moan, looking around to see the knights around you, their cocks hard in their trousers.

“They’re watching, Chris.” Nicky answered.

“I want them to see more of you.” Chris answered.

He pulls out of you and you whimper.

“I want you on your hands and knees, Nicky. I want them to see your face as I take you.” Chris answered.

“Chris...take me from behind.” Nicky answers.

Chris flips you over easily, exposing your ass to him. Mud is everywhere, wet and squelching. You look up, seeing the knights stroking their cocks as they watch.

“Look how beautiful you are, Nicky. They can’t help themselves.” Chris answered.

He pushes you into the mud so your ass is up in air, his thrusts just as merciless as before. Then he plunges into you again, and you scream in pleasure. The knights watch as they stroke themselves, faster and faster.

“Are you going to come, Nicky?”Chris answered.

“Y-yes. Oh, God, yes.” Nicky answered.

“Come, then.” Chris answered.

He thrusts harder, faster , until all you can do is scream his name.

“Chris...Chris!” Nicky answered.

And just like that, you come undone.

“Nicky....” Chris answered.

The knights around you all finished just as Chris comes inside you, spilling his hot seed everywhere. You collapse on the ground, and he lays himself on top of you. You’re both panting,exhausted and sated. You both lay there in the mud, filthy and sated.

“You did beautifully, Nicky.” Chris answered.

Chris kisses your neck gently, and you moan.

“You deserve to be treated like a princess after that.” Chris answered.”which is exactly what we’ll do.”

“What do you mean?” Nicky answered.

And just like that, the mud and dirty battleground disappear. You find yourself pristine,dressed like royalty.

“What?” Nicky answered in shock.

And then Chris appears, dressed like a gentleman.

“Hello, your highness.” Chris answered.

He gives you a bow, and then you see them. A second Chris, identically gorgeous.

“Are you ready to be treated like a princess?” Chris answered.

*end of dream sequence *

@denisemarieangelina @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @daliaevans @waywardodysseys @pine-fresh-kirk @jtargaryen18 @et-lesailes @patzammit @katiew1973 @thatgirly81 @mizcaptainphoenix @deidrashouseofpain @ohmy-captain @what-is-your-plan-today @star-spangled-beard-burn @worksby-d @wintrcaptn @captain-rogers-beard @comebackandhauntme21 @jms358 @captainchrisstan @captainchrisfics @branflakes82 @nbarnes @amazonx @americasass91 @thatsxamericasxass @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @enigma2112 @bellaireland1981 @brilliantkey @trishevans @littlefiercequeen @princess-evans-addict @shellbilee @nomadevans82 @artemisrogersbarnes @artisticrogers1972 @kellyn1604 @kelbabyblue @kailyndavillier @bit-of-a-timelord @southerngracela @denissjmaddox @whiskey-cokenfanfic @kayteewritessteve @imanuglywombat @mery-be @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @shadowcatsworld

#reblog #chris evans #princeofdreams chrisevansfanfic

29 notes · View notes

onestowatch · 5 years ago

Text

The Best Anime to Watch If You Love Music

Quarantine has brought with it an unprecedented amount of free time. And with all those extra hours in the day, people have turned to making exorbitant amounts of bread and turning up their thermostats to get the most out of their online hot yoga classes. What have I been doing instead of learning a hobby or terraforming my Animal Crossing island you ask? Well, binge-watching anime of course.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Japanese animation genre, it is cool now I guess? Everyone from Kanye West, Kim Kardashian, Michael B. Jordan, and more have expressed their love for anime at one point or another. Luxury fashion brand Coach even has a collection inspired by the world of Naruto and the aforementioned Jordan.

With Hollywood making live adaptations of cult anime to Hulu and Netflix realizing the potential of investing in original anime and simulcasts, it has never been a better time to be an anime fan. Especially an anime fan who also loves music. So, whether you’re a seasoned binge-watching fansub veteran or a newcomer to the genre, these are the best to anime to watch if you love music.

FLCL

youtube

In all honest disclosure, FLCL may have been the very first anime I ever watched. And yet, the soundtrack is still one I find myself coming back to all these years later. Containing one of the best soundtracks of any anime to date–thanks to the pillows–the surreal six-episode sci-fi coming-of-age story is a shining example of anime's inherent ability to tell out-of-this-world stories, while still finding the space to explore the humdrum realities associated with growing up.

Regularly aired as a marathon on Adult Swim’s Toonami in the early 2000s, FLCL revolves around 12-year-old Naota Nandaba, who is suddenly hit in the head by a vintage blue Rickenbacker 4001 bass guitar. Thus, kicks off our story of robots, aliens, shady corporations plotting to destroy the world from a small countryside town, and growing up. The entire ludicrous affair is scored by Japanese indie rock band the pillows, who deliver a performance you will not be forgetting any time soon.

Watch on Hulu

Carole & Tuesday

youtube

Carole & Tuesday may not just be the best music-related anime I’ve ever seen, but the best music-related show I’ve ever seen, period. Directed by the legendary Shinichirō Watanabe, the man responsible for Cowboy Bebop and Samurai Champloo (more on that in a moment) Carole & Tuesday tells the story of the titular duo striving to make music in a near-future where nearly all music is created by artificial intelligence.

The breathtaking beauty of Carole & Tuesday lies in how much care and attention was taken to both the world of the show itself and the music that brings it all to life. From nods to Pitchfork, SXSW, and Vogue’s 73 Questions series to fully-produced tracks that span genres ranging from French pop, EDM, neo soul, trap opera, and everywhere in between, never before has a show so expertly captured the vast spectrum that is music appreciation.

Watch on Netflix

Samurai Champloo

youtube

Arguably, no anime has been more influential on today’s music landscape than the lofi hip-hop musings of Samurai Champloo. Another Watanabe classic, it almost pains me not to mention the blues and jazz stylings that scored his space western epic Cowboy Bebop. However, the soundtrack done by Tsutchie, Fat Jon, Force of Nature, and the late Nujabes informed a generation of kids that stayed up watching Adult Swim and would later go on to host and frequent 24/7 lofi hip-hop YouTube live streams.

The story itself tells the story of a young girl named Fuu and two samurai, Mugen and Jin, who set across feudal Japan in an attempt to find the “samurai who smells of sunflowers.” The critically-acclaimed series revels in mixing genres, from the occasional Western sports drama to horror, all set to an anachronistic hip-hop backdrop that never falters.

Watch on Hulu

Kids on the Slope

youtube

If Watanabe is a name you are not readily familiar with by now, well, friend, you are missing out. Directed by none other than Watanabe, Kids on the Slope tells a coming-of-age story wrapped up in drama, self-discovery, and most notably, jazz.

Set in 1966 Japan, Kids on the Slope follows Kaoru Nishimi, who, due to his father’s job situation, moves to the small seaside town of Sasebo. A typical honor student, it is not until he sparks up a connection with notorious delinquent Sentarō Kawabuchi that he finds an escape in the free-form and rebellious nature of jazz. Featuring renditions of Chet Baker, Duke Ellington, Billie Holiday, Nina Simone, Bill Evans, John Coltrane, and more, Kids on the Slope is a crash course in the empathic power of jazz.

Watch on Crunchyroll

Beck: Mongolian Chop Squad

youtube

Beck: Mongolian Chop Squad is the story of up-and-coming rock band Beck. While not the Beck of “Odelay” fame, the 2005 cult anime is an engaging look at the trials and tribulations of an indie band trying to make it big stateside.

Built around a pronounced interest in Western rock music, the series sees our main character, “Koyuki,” going from learning complex chords, playing small festival stages, to carve out his own path while touring across the United States. As much a story about finding your place in the world through music as it a story of the harsh realities it often takes to fulfills your dreams, Beck: Mongolian Chop Squad is a bittersweet ode to those small moments where all your hard work falls into place.

Your Lie in April

youtube

If classical music is more you fare, Your Lie in April is the show for you. The romantic coming-of-age drama revolves around piano prodigy Kōsei Arima, violinist Kaori Miyazono, and their group of friends. The story of Arima, a once award-winning child prodigy, rediscovering the love and pain of the creative passion he abandoned strikes an emotional chord, whether or not you’re a particularly huge fan of classical music.

Told through eye-catching pastels and breathtaking violin-accompanied piano feats, Your Lie in April is a tried-and-true teen drama. One that is poised to leave you teary-eyed, even if the only classical composers you know are Beethoven and Mozart.

Watch on Netflix

K-On!

youtube

K-On captures the thrill of wanting to form a band with your friends in such straightforward fashion that it is little surprise the show was an instant breakout hit in Japan. The lighthearted slice-of-life show follows four high school girls who join their light music club in the hopes of saving it from disbanding.

The series captures every middle and high school dream of forming your first rock band with friends, from picking out your first guitar, spending countless hours learning how to play, to performing live for the first time at the school talent show. Well in this case, the cultural festival. K-On! is the perfect bit of bite-sized of escapism and nostalgia scored by some genuinely great J-rock and J-pop.

Watch on Netflix or Hulu

#anime #music #flcl #carole & tuesday #carole and tuesday #samurai champloo #kids on the slope #beck mongolian chop squad #your lie in april #k-on

39 notes · View notes

vangoddamn · 5 years ago

Text

Lemon world

Warning: none :) fluffy and soft Van!!

Prompt: the reader is introverted and enjoys classical music and those calm stuffs while Van is extroverted and had a taste completely different from hers, and that they are trying hard to like each other taste?? @steveproblems

--------

People always were confused by our pairing. In all honesty so was I, Van was perfect in every way. He loved people and crowds and had a passion for a busy life and an energetic profession. However you, an introverted English teacher, with a love for the arts and the classics, were not. You had a soft spot for Mozart's Sonata in C and unfortunately Van ever since your long life friend Bob introduced you both.

You'd always tried to relate and enjoy his interests and you could tell he did too. That was why you were sat in your shared living room reading little women and listening to Miles Davis on vinyl to calm your nerves. The band were having a party at our apartment tonight and to say you were on edge was an understatement and a half.

"Baby, I'm gonna go get some more drinks, you comin?" Van asked me, walking up to where I was snuggled up stroking my cheek with his finger, relaxing me finally.

"sure" replying with a kiss to his hand. He could probably tell I was nervous for tonight, so he lifted me up walking me out of our flat. It was late afternoon, around rush hour so as we walked away from the roads into the park path I could finally hear myself think again. It was October so the air was chilled making you glad you had the trench coat Van had gifted you for you birthday.

"so, what can I do to make tonight easier for you" His hand squeezed mine a little tighter as he spoke and it made my heart ache a little. I couldn't help wish I was what he wanted.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, it's just nerves, honest." I tried to persuade him.

"hey, next week I'll take you to that gallery you wanted to see"

"you don't need to do that" I laughed half-heartedly, knowing full well he'd hate every second of it.

-----

The music was loud and the drink in my hand wasn't really strong enough to weaken my anxieties. I knew it wouldn't last forever so I swallowed it down, walking over to Bob hoping to have a conversation that may just calm me dow.

He was with Benji and a couple people a vaguely recognised from tours. I sat myself in the corner of the sofa next to Bob smiling when he acknowledged me. I'd met Van through Bob, being mates with him for years before the band, he was the only one who wasn't surprised that I fell for him.

"heya, your enjoying the party then" he teased resting an arm round my shoulders, calming me down like old times.

"you have no idea" before I knew the conversation was involving many people and I forgot my anxieties for a moment and joined in. It might've partially been due to my tipsy state, but mostly down to the fact their conversation including the subject of Van someone I'd never get tired of hearing about

It became apparent early on that we really were very different people, but then again sometimes we weren't. It was the way that behind closed doors he was so tender and careful not to hurt me, as if I was precious to him. And the feeling was reciprocated, we appreciated each others passions and although they were on slightly different scale he appreciated it none the less. Something I'd never found in a partner before.

He was always trying to take an interest in me and what I was doing even if I knew he wouldn't understand, or just wouldn't relate. His gentle ways and tender love made me addicted to him in every way and now far down in the relationship I even enjoy some of his music taste. It may not be Bach's sixth symphony, but I could indulge in the odd 'the kooks' track and was slightly partial to 'the national'.

On Sunday evenings he might even slip next to me and duet on the piano in our shared music room. And sometimes, listening in on him in the shower I'd occasionally hear him hum along to Debussy's 'clare de lune'. The fact was that we tried for each other and most of the time it paid off.

"y/n, are you ok?" Benji was knelt in front of me passing a drink into my hand rubbing my arm.

"sorry, wow I think I just spaced out there" I laughed off, it was a regular occurrence when I was drunk to became lovelorn over Van, even before I'd plucked up the courage to profess my undying love towards him.

Benji pulled me towards the middle of the room where people were dancing, twirling me around and dancing. Well that's what we'd have called it, but it was now where near strictly come dancing level, or even club standard in our state.

Vans mates where always very understanding, and after many tours with them, they knew how to calm me down. See I wasn't an uptight person, not snooty or even proud. It was always just hard to completely relax sometimes, especially with people I didn't know.

So me and Benji danced the night away, until Van found us half way through stealing me away from his grasp. Everything was dying down now, being two in the morning, most people had left. The people that did remain were either passed out on the floor or were awaiting a taxi.

The mix of alcohol and Vans arms wrapped around your waste in a slow dance made you calm. When you breathed his musty smell of cigarettes and alcohol it made you feel fuzzy inside and melt like butter.it made you glad he had a tight grasp of your body, holding you tight against his chest.

You were now slightly rethinking the whole party situation, see if there was no party you wouldn't be listening to Van hum along to lemon world in the middle of your kitchen.

"maybe parties aren't all that bad.." my head was securely nestled in his neck and I could feel his smile radiate through me as I mumbled I to him.

"that mean I don't have to go to that gallery" he laughed half heartedly, knowing it would wind me up, causing me to wack his chest. "Only jokin sweets, I couldn't of anything more exciting..."

I pulled away scowling firmly before he shocked me further "sexy, right, you looking at paintings.." he looked out into the distance behind me pulling a face in-between mocking and concentration as if he were trying to imagine it.

"your a dirty liar, and I hate you" I grumbled after snuggling back to his embrace, with which he let out a small laugh and squeezed me tighter.

"you love me really"

And I did.

"ugh, you wish"

A/n: I really hope this was ok, it took me a while to figure out how to do this and I still don't know if it did your request justice! Anyway hope it was enjoyable my lovelies xx Em

#van mccann x reader #van x reader #van mccann #vanfic #van #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #catfish and the bottlemen #catb #catfish

24 notes · View notes

abedinthemorning · 4 years ago

Text

Hadyn

Last night, I’m driving home from my writing partner’s house. We had a long night that was kind of a socially distant screening of the movie Flash Gordon in his awesome studio on a projected screen.

It’s a great way to see this landmark of a film. But ya, he didn’t really appreciate it the way I did when I was 7. I mean ya, it’s cheesy, it’s goofy, it’s also badly thrown to a conclusion at the end, with what you think will be a giant face off of good guy vs. Bad guy and ends up with a spaceship driven through Ming. Who, by the way might be one of the greatest on screen performances of a bad guy ever in film. Ya, that other guy is good but remember it was two, it was a voice and a body.

Now, this isn’t going to be about Flash Gordon. Course not, I mean I could go on and on about how much that movie means to me. But this is about Hadyn, the composer.

Joseph Hadyn. Last night on my drive home, I was listening to the classical radio station. I often do this late at night if I’m driving to get a whiff of inspiration that doesn’t come from modern music. Classical is a style of music, I need to really gorge myself on. I need to swallow the fruits of Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, Handel. I mean I already love Georges Bizet and Ravel. Both I’ve spent some time with their works. And Debussy of course. However this isn’t about any of them. Almost magically like the dj knew I might be listening, he goes on about Hadyn. He is a fan and he talks about the bio pic in this day and age and that more people are watching them. Of course we all know the most famous one. Amadeus. A masterpiece. But not many composers lend themselves to an engaging bio pic. The other great one is Immortal Beloved with Gary Oldman playing Beethoven. Definitely need to watch that one again. It sits on my shelf staring back at me. I need to revisit that one. Love when he’s a kid and runs away from his abusive father to Beethoven’s 5th. Which, let’s face it has earned quite a bad rep due to Kubrick’s Clockwork Orange.

I’m not gonna say that’s a bad thing, it just doesn’t really suit a good recollection if you hear the song at Wal Mart.

So, this Dj brings up how someone needs to write a bio pic based on Hadyn’s life. He said it’s not the most interesting life. But I don’t know, I saw this as a weird challenge. So I started my research, needing a new script to write. I got to work.

Hadyn. Joseph Hadyn. Not James Bond but then again, who is?

1 note · View note

monikafilefan · 5 years ago

Text

Dinner and Desire

This was written for the Easter exchange @gaycrouton set up. I never posted it myself so here is the first section just in case you might be interested in reading the rest. Tagging @today-in-fic @cultureisdarkbeer @peacenik0 for the beta!

“‘If I could reach the stars, I’d give them all to you…’” Mulder sang under his breath for quite possibly the 50th time within the last three days, and Cher wasn’t the only woman’s voice that he consistently heard swirling through his mind.

Scully had been stuck at Quantico since Tuesday, where she sliced and diced exactly 36 miles away from where he tossed balled up paper across the office. He heard her sighing his name over the phone as she cut open John Doe Number Three. He listened to the echo of her neck popping in the morgue as she stared through the microscope at John Doe Number Five’s freshly removed tissue. He heard her breathy laugh tickle his ear as he covered her computer monitor with sticky notes while repeating the inappropriate joke he was told in the elevator that day. He even grinned like a fool when he heard her whisper how much she missed him before hastily ending his last call.

Mulder was left to his own unproductive devices for the last 72 hours as Scully’s agile fingers spent their time searching for missing clues within chest cavities. All the while, Mulder itched to search for that special spot just under her breasts that made her shiver.

He loosened his tie as he walked through her hallway and realized that he hadn’t been to her apartment in nearly two weeks. The last time they had spent time here together was after he had finally recovered from his lung surgery, and he couldn’t wait to be surrounded by her things again.

The mouthwatering smell of Italian spices that wafted through the cracks of the door had his empty stomach rumbling in anticipation.

As he stopped at the door of apartment number five, he heard the muffled sounds of the mixed CD Scully had been listening to on an endless loop since they’d finally solidified their relationship. He’d never admit to it, but her choice in music had grown on him. The reoccurring voice of Cher making him Believe was proof. Years of relinquishing the radio during long car rides even had him unconsciously singing “Hotel California” and humming the beats to Mozart’s greatest hits as he soaped up his body in motel showers.

Knocking three times, he leaned against the door frame, and instantly his smile grew tenfold when he locked onto the captivating blue eyes of his grinning Scully. His eyes skimmed down her body slowly, taking in her relaxed appearance. The slender lines of her throat, her delicate collar bones peeking through her blue, low cut, cotton sweater that clung to her every curve had him languidly dragging his eyes all the way past her snug leggings to end at her bare, nude painted toes.

Scully waved Mulder in and stepped aside. She felt her heart rate rise just looking at him.

“Hey,” Scully breathed out while she openly stared at her partner. She attempted to bite her lip as her eyes wandered over his disheveled end-of-workday appearance, but her wide smile wouldn’t allow it. God, she hadn’t realized how much she appreciated that look until she’d been denied seeing it. “Long time no see.”

“Way too long,” he agreed and stepped into her to place a meaningful kiss to her lips. He reluctantly pulled back only to place a lingering one between her brows. “Mm, smells amazing.”

Her eyes fluttered back open as he shut the door. “Thanks,” she rasped. Just one kiss and her body tingled. Her fingers were clutching at his moss green dress shirt and her heart skipped a beat knowing his eyes, which were currently studying her face, were an exact match. “It’s lasagna.”

Mulder chuckled as he slid off his black Oxfords, flexing his feet along the rug. “I wasn’t talking about the food. Although, that does get my mouth watering almost as much.”

Scully’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ and felt a flush quickly forming along the edges of her V-necked sweater. She grabbed his tie and jerked him down to firmly claim his mouth with her own, passionately leaving his lips with an audible pop after what seemed like minutes later.

“Good answer, Mulder,” she smirked and lovingly pushed her finger up under his chin to close his slackened jaw.

Her eyes flicked down to the plastic bag tapping at her leg. “What’s in the bag?”

“Had to stop for gas and I picked up a couple drinks for later,” he explained. Mulder shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on the couch as he walked into the kitchen. “You know, in case we work up a thirst.”

He was slinging his usual innuendo her way and she responded with an appropriate eye roll the way she usually did. Some things would never change just because they were loving each other with their bodies now, and not just their souls. There was comfort in that.

Although it had been several days since they worked up anything remotely like that, she still provoked him in return. “Subtle, and not you’re best material.” She pointed to the bag he sat on the counter and smiled. “If there’s iced tea in that bag, could be love.”

Mulder grinned and gave her a wink at the perfectly placed momento. He slowly reached in and pulled out two, bottle necked root beers.

“I knew it,” she teased. “Stick those in the fridge and make yourself useful pouring the wine while I finish up the lasagna.”

Grabbing the wine bottle and popping the cork with ease, he added, “Which really does smells delicious by the way.”

“Thanks. I just hope it tastes as good as it smells or we’ll be filling up on mixed salad, buttered rolls, and alcohol.”

“Either way, I don’t see a problem with that plan as long as you’re left satisfied in the end,” he said with a lilt, his double entendre not going unnoticed by the quiet laugh coming from Scully. He filled two glasses of white wine to the brim and immediately took a long swig after the sultry sound was still thrumming in his ears. Every little thing she did seemed to turn him on lately.

Was it getting hot in here? he caught himself wondering. Going almost four days of no physical contact with Scully had him tugging at his collar and rolling up his sleeves.

Scully donned an oven mitt shaped like a lobster and poked a knife at the center of the dish. Mulder stood three feet from her and cocked his head as she bent over. Jesus, he would never get use to her wearing leggings, and his dick twitching away in his pants fully supported that sentiment.

Scully cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away from his zipper. “Mulder, can you go change the music to something more… calming?” She stared at him with her head half into the oven, wearing a tight lipped smile and knowing glint in her eye.

Sheepishly, Mulder rubbed the back of his neck and did as he was told. On his way through the living room, Mulder grabbed a lighter and lit several candles and switched off the only other light near the doorway.

He was setting the mood. “Just a normal dinner date,” was what she had told him on the phone this morning. Scully had mentioned her family was flying in from California tonight, and he had in turn, mentioned how he couldn’t wait until after they left to see her again. So, she excitedly offered to cook him dinner where they could share a normal meal with a romantic undertone. A perfectly simple request for a very complicated couple. Mulder was eager to please and wasn’t about to disappoint her.

They were new at this romancing part of their relationship. Years of deep-seated love and undeniable sexual tension permeating their atmospheric bubble: not new. Romancing one another with the explicit intention of stripping one another naked: very new. Adding romance to their blossoming amorous relationship was uncharted territory for Mr. and Mrs. Spooky.

To him, it was romantic when she told him that she only trusted him. When she showed up in the middle of the night just to press the back of her hand against his burning forehead and force feed him fever reducer. When she shot him to save him from himself and carted his bleeding body across the country in search of the truth. When she saved and supported his ass over and over again on not only a professional level, but on a personal one, too. When she flew across the world to push aside her skepticism and decipher an unearthed UFO, literally saving his life in turn… His Scully was magnificent.

In the end, he only ever needed her.

He meandered over to the CD player and switched the disk to something he’d been listening to often as of late. The gentle cadence of Moby sounded throughout room and Mulder took the opportunity to look through Scully’s movie collection.

Whenever they had their annual movie night, it almost always took place with them sitting side by side on his couch, sharing butterless popcorn with their feet propped up while they bantered on about the plot line.

Scully watched Mulder shuffle through her things on the shelf as she sat their wine on the table. Brushing crumbs off the tablecloth, her heart fluttered at the significance of using it with Mulder tonight. Her mother would be so proud.

Scully licked her lips at the sound of the rather meaningful song he’d chosen to play and blushed at the sudden ache between her thighs as she gawked at his shimmying hips. She then thought back to their hasty goodbye in the office on Monday evening before she was to report to Quantico for the remainder of the week. That same song drifted through the office when she leaned down to kiss Mulder before she’d attempted to leave...

Not long after she had explained the need the VCU had for her to autopsy the recent victims to him, Mulder had his jacket torn off, his tie flipped over his shoulder, and her ass propped up on the desk. One high heel had slid off her stocking foot while his fingers plucked at the hooks of her bra as his mouth aptly worshipped the bared expanse of her chest. Her moans echoed carelessly throughout the basement, and Scully found herself appalled that she hadn’t at all regretted shedding one article of clothing while on the clock. Hoo boy!

Yes, sex with Mulder had definitely been worth the wait.

His snort of amusement brought her back to the present.

“Three movies, Scully? I know we rent a lot, but you only own three?” He turned and tossed her a boyish look of astonishment.

“Don’t mock my movie collection. I enjoy a wide range of genres, Mulder. Just none that consist of ‘Busty Brunettes Vol. 4,’ and the ‘Blondes Blow Best’ trilogy pack.”

“Hey now, I gave those to Frohike last year. And to be honest, I relied heavily on my own personal highlight reel of beautiful, skeptical redheads anyway,” he winked and she had to work hard not to gift him with an overly satisfied smile.

Mulder relished in the rush of color along her cheeks. “You say you own a range of genres, yet you have ‘Exploring The Unknown: The Exciting World Of Behind The Scenes Autopsies,’ nestled between, ‘Steel Magnolias,’ and ‘Mystic Pizza,”’ he smirked. “Walking on the wild side I see, Scully.”

“Mulder,” she feigned annoyance, folding her arms over her chest. “I get enough wild just being your partner. I don’t need to add any extra suspense to my life.”

“Is that so?” he playfully mimicked her irritation and followed her back into the kitchen, watching the exaggerated sway of her hips as she went.

Scully stood near the sink and tried to hide the fact that she was fanning her face with the potholder. The attempt to cool her Mulder-induced flush was failing miserably.

“What’s on the dessert menu?” Mulder stood behind her, the hard planes of his chest brushing along the blades of her shoulders.

She nearly moaned right then and there. “Me, if you play your cards right.” She’d been restraining herself from shoving Mulder’s pants down and releasing that coil of sexual tension between them since she’d opened the door.

Mulder groaned and swept tendrils of hair from the nape of her neck. “G-woman, I always play my cards right.”

“You bluff right you mean,” she corrected, goading him on for her own pleasure.

“I rarely bluff, Scully,” he nuzzled his nose along the back of her neck, sending a thrill down her spine as his fingers wisped across her spandex covered pelvis.

“Mmm… Mulder…” Just this feeling—this well-practiced teasing of her body that Mulder now mastered to a fine art had her practically shaking with anticipation. His physical foreplay was an amazing, torturous gift that always left her begging for more. Yet, one she never needed to receive in order to fall in love with him.

Foreplay for her was listening to him passionately explain how he went to the ends of the Earth to save her from the icy bowels of an UFO. Heatedly arguing about the existence of Mexican goat suckers, Fluke Men, 1939 luxury liner ghost ships, and aliens birthing themselves from their human hosts. Exchanging light hearted banter across their basement office. Discussing life validating Moby Dick metaphors while stuck on a rock. And not to forget, sharing too many intense moments of gazing and brushing against one another’s bodies to count over the last seven years. It had all been a fierce, slow burning culmination between the skeptic and the believer.

Mulder growled as his long fingers gently dipped beneath the waistband of her leggings. Her head lolled back when she knew what he would find there, or lack thereof.

“You’re planning to kill me, aren’t you?” he panted against her temple. “Wearing nothing beneath these very thin, very form fitting… sexy pants, Scully?”

She gasped and covered his hand with hers, ending up urging instead of stilling his fingers as they slipped between the lips of her sex. “We haven’t even eaten yet,” she moaned as his fingertip swirled her blooming arousal around her clit.

Soft lips brushed across her ear. “What about an appetizer?” he groaned and she sucked in her bottom lip. His mouth moved to pluck hungrily at her neck.

Her eyes fluttered shut against her will, and she trailed her fingers up across his wrist to massage his skin as he did the same within the sleek heat of her. “You should save your strength,” she quipped only to tilt her head, offering the length of her neck to his nibbling mouth.

He grunted along the column of her throat. “I’ve been saving it for years, Scully.”

“Mul—”

Her poor, insincere attempt at protesting further was stifled immediately at the feel of Mulder’s rock solid erection pressing deeply into the softness of her ass cheek. She felt him buck, thick and hot against her and she wanted to mewl at the resulting wetness that rushed through her like a surging wave.

“That feels so...” Scully sighed as she reached her free hand up behind her to scrape her fingers through the soft hairs along the back of his head. “So so good.”

The shrill sound of the oven timer jolted them apart and Scully whimpered at the sudden loss of Mulder’s toe curling ministrations.

“Dinner’s ready,” Mulder rasped into her hair and palmed her triangle of curls. He quickly inhaled her fresh shower scent of coconut and vanilla shampoo as he fought to rein in his rapidly growing need to pleasure her where they stood.

Scully lifted the back of her head from his shoulder and exhaled. “Yeah, you should go sit.” The gravely tone of her voice begged to differ.

Mulder grinned and released his hold on her hip to pat her hand that currently had a death grip around his wrist. “Okay, but you're not making this easy for me, Scully. Unfortunately, I do need my hand back,” he teased.

“Oh!” She winced slightly as his wonderful fingers and the warmth of his hand left the confines of her pants. Straightening her shirt and neatly tucking her hair behind her ears, she elbowed him and reiterated that it was time to eat.

Even though Scully wanted nothing more than to make love to Mulder right then and there, satisfying their obvious desires would just have to wait until after they ate the meal she’d been planning for far longer than Mulder realized. She had wanted to surprise him before they finally slept together with his favorite home cooked meal, and maybe even a heady makeout session with how incredible he was after Pfaster tainted her home, leaving her with another internal scar. Her heart swelled when Mulder had placed a tender kiss to the cuts and bruises that littered her face, promising to hold her hand until her inner abrasions were healed too.

Scully loving Mulder was never the issue. Their timing, however, was another story.

——

68 notes · View notes