#unexpected reunion trope

[wardenparker]

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 2

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila💖✨

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: Mentions of: divorce, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption. References to sex and attraction. Summary: Dual attempts by you and Marcus to avoid drinking alone lead to you drinking together. Notes: The tension is building bit by bit! Please enjoy this chapter with a dose of “Tequila” by Dan + Shay 🥃

If things at work are relatively normal after having talked to Silvia yesterday, they have gone haywire at home. You had ended up spilling the whole story to your sister on the phone last night when she called to catch up and finished the night with too much alcohol and too little to eat all over again. And if that wasn't bad enough? It culminated in every dream you had last night starring Marcus in different ways. Because of that, tonight you decided to take yourself out after work. Being the last to leave the office, you had grabbed your sweater and headed down to your favourite restaurant with weekly live music to see if you could snag a table. Proper 21 is always busy but tonight it's packed, leaving you to happily accept the small high-top table in the bar area where you can watch the live band play and enjoy some indulgent food - and not drink an entire bottle of wine just because no one is there to stop you. It's craft cocktails and gourmet eats, or as you like to call it: self-care.

Marcus sighs as he bellies up to the bar, his suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie loosed with the top two buttons blessedly undone. He doesn't want to go home just yet, the prospect of a lonely weekend not appealing. The dreams he's had for the past two days have been vivid. Making him plunge into the past and even pull out the album that had been carefully stored away in a box in his closet. Last night had been too much scotch and too many memories to make his couch a safe retreat. The live music and generally ready to greet the weekend atmosphere of the bar was just what he needed. The bartender walks up, lifting his chin in greeting as Marcus slides his card across the wood top to start a tab. "What'll you have?" He asks as he snaps up the card to input into the system. "Uh...give me a Blanton's on the rocks with an orange twist." Marcus decides as he looks over the options available. "Thanks."

"Sure." The bartender nods and moves away, only to get pulled aside by a waitress a second later. She whispers in his ear and points out the table she's taking care of, and he nods - returning to Marcus a minute later with the ordered bourbon as well as a shot of Don Julio with a slice of lime wedged expertly onto the rim. He sets both down in front of Marcus and offers the man a smile. "Can I get you something to eat?"

Marcus's mouth goes dry, the scent of the tequila invading his senses and he's instantly transported back to his favorite memory of you. Wearing nothing but your panties and that t-shirt. That gorgeously faded Chi Omega t-shirt that he had insisted you keep. His socks, large on your feet and pulled up high as you tilt the bottle back and take a healthy swing of Don Julio, straddling his waist as the two of you lay back in his bed at the frat house. "I'm sorry." Marcus shakes his head and pushes the shot back towards the bartender an inch. "I didn't order this."

"Lady did." The bartender tells him, nodding behind him to where you are sitting - alone at a table for two with your own shot of tequila beside your cocktail. It's an olive branch - or maybe an agave branch, except agave plants don't technically have branches. Either way, it's an offering. One that you couldn't resist sending when you saw him walk into the bar.

Sighing, Marcus nods at the bartender. The first damn woman to buy him a drink in two years and it has to be tequila. He picks up the shot, ready to turn around and bring it over to the lady for her to enjoy, to explain that he didn't drink tequila but he stops short when he sees that it's you. Pausing for a moment, he swallows and gives himself a small nod before he continues on to your table. "Second time in three days." He hums as he sets the shot down on the table in front of yours.

"I think I'm supposed to say something about gin joints, but I have to admit I never really developed a taste for gin at all." It seemed like fate to you when you saw him walk in the door. Like the universe was trying to let the two of you be as mature as Silvia had been when she walked into your office yesterday morning. Maybe if you got a little closure, you wouldn't be constantly looking over your shoulder any time you went out around the city. Waiting for the other shoe to drop could be exhausting. "Do you...maybe want to sit? We could have dinner together if that's not too weird for you."

Marcus loses the ability to speak for just a moment before he nods, turning back to get his whiskey and his jacket to bring over to your table since it makes more sense to not be at the bar. It's only a few steps, a few moments away from your presence but he's quickly back at your table. He pulls out his chair and sits down. "I have a confession to make."

"Well shit, alright, let's get down to the nitty gritty." What else can you say? You're the one who invited him to join you, after all. "What is it?"

Marcus shoots you a grin, appreciating the way you could always cut through the bullshit. "I was going to turn down this drink. I don't drink tequila anymore."

"Neither do I." You can admit that freely, only pausing when the waitress brings over a menu for Marcus and drops off the order of Poke Nachos that you had gotten for an appetizer. Once she's gone again, you shrug a little. "It reminds me too much of you. Too many memories."

"Same." He admits it readily. "Every time I see you." His finger toys with the shot glass before he picks it up. "To seeing you for real." He offers as he holds it up to touch to yours.

"As weird and unexpected as it is." Tapping your glass to his, you both down your shots and reach for your lime slices as if drinking tequila were comparable to riding a bike. "Well shit," you laugh, shaking your head at the sour bite of citrus on the end of the stinging liquor. It's delicious, and better for the fact that he's actually there. "I really forgot how good tequila is, I guess."

"I didn't." He murmurs softly, plopping the lime down into the empty shot glass and swallows as he looks back down at his other drink. He's never forgotten how good it was, just like he's never forgotten how fucking gorgeous you are. Seemingly even more so now.

"I don't know why I said that." You really don't, and you shake your head at yourself a little before reaching for your cocktail. "I haven't forgotten anything. I just..." A sigh-groan hybrid escapes your lips and you avert your eyes, barely able to look at him at this point. He had been positively dreamy as a young man, but now that he was grown and matured? Somehow he's gotten even more attractive. "I was hoping to make you smile, I guess."

It's surprising that you want him to smile, but your confession makes it happen. Warming him that you still care. It's slow and subtle as he watches you squirm slightly. "That's easy for you to do, sweetheart." The endearment comes easily and now it's his turn to squirm as he realizes it's not entirely appropriate anymore.

Sweetheart. Between that and the tequila, you're nineteen years old all over again. "So..." Nudging the plate of nachos toward him a little, you pick one up and try to pretend like this isn't the most unexpected meal you've had in your entire life. "How have you been, Marcus?"

He snorts and shakes his head, leaning forward and plucking a chip up and looking over at you. "I'm the Director of the Art Crimes division for the FBI, so professionally, I'm doing great." He tells with a proud smile. "But I don't have Doctor in front of my name like you do."

"Well, I liked school a lot more than you did." Marcus had never been a bad student, but you definitely enjoyed academics whereas he had merely tolerated them. "Art Crimes, huh? I guess you didn't hate that Art History class you took with me, after all." Director of an entire division, wow – and yet, of course Marcus would have succeeded when he put his mind to it. He was, and apparently still is, an unstoppable force.

"It's interesting." He gives a small shrug, as if it's no big deal. "I always did like paying attention to the details."

"Director of an entire division? I'd say you're very good at the little details." You shiver a little despite yourself and hope he doesn't notice - Marcus's attention to detail was relevant to everything in his life. Especially the bedroom.

He flashes you a grin, shrugging his shoulders again and only allowing himself to preen slightly at your praise. "I have my moments." His voice dips down slightly, remembering the times he had been very detail oriented with you. It had made for some very vocal nights. Vocal enough that he had been encouraged to move out of the frat house so the others didn't have to hear you scream his name.

"Your family's good?" His parents were sweethearts, always supportive of their kids even if they didn't necessarily agree with their choices, and that had definitely included his decision to marry you. They hadn't tried to talk the two of you out of it but they had counseled a long engagement, ultimately deciding to just go along with things when you and Marcus were too blinded by young love to wait. It was encouraging when they had finally embraced you fully, and his mother had turned out to be a good friend while you were together.

Marcus sighs slightly, picking up his drink and taking a large sip before he answers your question. “Dad had a stroke about five years ago.” He tells you. “He’s – they live in a community where they can help mom with him.” He feels guilty that he doesn’t visit as often as he probably should, but D.C. was closer to Florida than Texas.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry to hear that." The immediate instinct to feel like an idiot for asking has to be tamped down. This is basic catch-up stuff. Questions that have to be asked. It's not like all of your news to great stuff, either. "Your brother and sister?"

“Good. Mandy got married about six years ago.” It had been a bittersweet event for him, but he had plastered a smile on his face to keep everyone from bringing up his own failed marriage. “Already have a niece and nephew. Twins.”

"Congratulations." The two of you are slowly eating your way through the nacho plate when the waitress comes back to take your dinner orders. Once dinner is decided on, you take another sip of your drink and continue on. "My sister got married, too. Three years ago. My nieces are two years and six months." If he had managed to escape the comments and snide looks at his own sister's wedding, you'll be envious. You had months and months of passive aggressive crap and shitty comments whispered behind your back to deal with.

“I bet your mother was in fine form.” Your mother hadn’t cared for Marcus, or you getting married, but she hadn’t liked the idea of you divorcing more.

"She actually tried to talk Leah out of having me as a bridesmaid," you snort, rolling your eyes at the memory. "So that I wouldn't jinx my baby sister's marriage. Obviously Leah told her to go to hell, but that was an ugly series of conversations."

He rolls his eyes and snorts. “Well, if it makes you feel better, my mother still asks if I’ve heard from you when we talk.” He huffs. “I think she prefers you over me sometimes.”

"Well shit, next time she asks, you can actually say yes." Annie Pike was - despite any reservations she may have had - an absolutely lovely woman and the best mother-in-law you could have asked for. "Actually, will you tell her I said hi? I still make her cheesecake recipe a couple of times a year and it..." It was bittersweet, reminding you of such good times and making your heart hurt at the same time. "It's always a big hit."

He groans at the thought of your cheesecake. He would never admit it to his mother, but yours was better. “I will.” He promises, shooting you a grin. “She will ask how you’ve been. Want to know all the details.” He taps the table. “So for her sake— are you seeing anyone?”

"Ah...no, actually. The last guy ran for the hills about...eight or nine months ago?" Straight for the big guns, that was typical of Marcus even if he claimed to be collecting tidbits for his mother. "Let's see...after we...well, you know what happened. I came to DC for grad school. Then Paris for a few years to get my doctorate from the Sorbonne, and now I've been at the Smithsonian for about six years."

“Wow.” He shakes his head, surprised he hadn’t learned you were here. It had taken a lot of willpower to keep from misusing government resources to see what you were up to. “That’s amazing. I know you always wanted to study in France.”

"Yeah, it was—" Stunning. It was an absolutely beautiful experience that came with a freedom you had never felt before and gave you more confidence than you had ever known you were missing. And yet? Every single day, there was always something that reminded you of him. "It was pretty extraordinary. Y-you would love it there."

Marcus’s smile is bittersweet. “I was in Paris five months ago.” He admits. “A symposium for art crimes hosted by the Louvre.” It had been stunning and it had taken a lot of effort on his part not to think about you. He had chosen to focus on his failed relationship with Teresa. It was almost easier.

"So then you know." The number of times you had wandered the crowded galleries of the Louvre wishing he was beside you was too vast to count, but that was years ago. You had tried to convince yourself that you had moved on from all that. Apparently, you are an even bigger liar than you thought you were, but you keep the smile plastered on your face. "What else will Annie want to know?"

He chuckles and reaches for another nacho. “I don’t know, you tell me.” He doesn’t mention kids, knowing that if you didn’t have a boyfriend, it was unlikely you had changed your stance on kids.

"Let's see." Humming to yourself like you're pondering the secrets of the universe just hoping that he'll laugh at your overly serious expression, you're rewarded with a cracked grin and another soft chuckle. "I'm a much better cook than I used to be, she'll be glad about that. And from time to time I lecture at George Washington University." Your life is your work, and you did that fully intentionally. There's no use updating him on the random seasonal illnesses or the fact that you still wish you could have a dog. And there's really no point in talking about the change in how you look at relationships these days. Things are a lot different on the other side of thirty.

“It sounds like you have everything you want.” Marcus is proud that you’ve accomplished what you wanted. You have the life you imagined. The one that didn’t have a place for him in it. “She will be proud of you.” He hums, finishing his drink and when the server comes back over, he orders another.

Following his lead, you order another cocktail as well, and swallow a uniquely remorseful sigh. "I'm sorry about Silvia," you tell him honestly, wishing that second Aperol Spritz was already in your hands. "She told me what she decided to do."

Marcus shrugs, there was nothing he could do about it. “It’s fine.” He cracks a sardonic smile. “Just another page in the woe begotten tale I call my love life.” He jokes.

"I'm sorry." It's repetitious, but at least it's honest. Marcus only used to use that tone when he was particularly hurt about something and didn't want to show it. "If it makes you feel any better, my love life is in shambles, too. But for me I guess it's karma."

“No.” He shakes his head and wishes he had his drink in his hand. “You don’t have anything for karma to come back on you. Unless you were a bitch to the last guy? But I can’t see that happening.”

It shouldn't surprise you that he's still so nice even after you pretty much ripped his chest open with a divorce-papers-induced paper cut, but still you have to wonder at it a little. There's no one in the world like Marcus Pike - and no one knows that better than you. Since you're the asshole that let him go. "The last guy was military. Couldn't wrap his head around the fact that I wasn't willing to follow him base to base."

He snorts, his smile slightly brittle. “You’ve never been one to follow.” He reminds you, the arguments about ‘where to go from here’ seem like they were yesterday as the rose-colored glasses gave way to post graduate reality. It hadn’t mattered that Marcus had put his own dreams on hold for a year to get a job while you finished college, there wasn’t room for compromise on your future.

"Yeah." You huff, nearly snatching up your drink when the waitress comes over and sets it down along with your dinner and Marcus's refill and food. "Look where it's gotten me," you add, the hint of cynicism distinct in your voice.

“Thank you.” Marcus thanks the woman and turns back to you. “Yeah. Because being a director at the Smithsonian is nothing.” It’s slightly ironic that he’s arguing for your decisions, but he had always focused on the good. Maybe that was why things never worked out for him, but he can’t help who he is.

"It's about as nothing as being a director at the FBI." But the real nothing about it is that you go home alone every night to your apartment wishing that you didn't have a horrific habit of pushing away everyone who tried to get close to you. "I—I'm sorry. We can talk about something else. I'm sure you didn't plan on having dinner out tonight so that you could listen to your ex-wife wax philosophical."

Marcus snorts and picks up his glass. “To be honest, I was avoiding going home like the plague. It’s why I was here.”

"At least we match in something," you try for the joke, realizing secondarily that you also match in job titles. Director Pike and Director Pike. It's silly and it makes you chuckle under your breath.

He’s always liked your laugh, reminding him of the times he would hear it. Your leg wrapped around his hip, fingers brushing that sensitive spot just under your right breast. His cock twitches and he reminds himself that all of that ended years ago. He takes a bite of his dinner to ground himself, looking up at you again. “Hopefully Silvia didn’t scar you too much with her girl talk now that you know it was me she was seeing.”

“No.” The smiles come a bit easier as the two of you dig into your dinners. Some of the awkwardness has begun to dissipate and you’re left with a feeling of nostalgia and warmth in your chest. And a little bit between your legs, too. Because Silvia hadn’t held back on details. “You got rave reviews, by the way,” you tell him with a smirk. What you hadn’t told Silvia since the revelation of her beau’s identity was that most of those things that she loved were things you were around for the origin of. Most of…there were a couple of things mentioned that now have you intrigued.

Marcus flushes, feeling the heat creep up his cheeks and tries to tell himself that if his girlfriend - former girlfriend - had to gossip about how he performs in bed to his ex-wife, he can only be grateful that it was bragging. “I’m sure it was not as intriguing when you found out it was someone you’ve taught.” He huffs, still rolling his eyes at the irony.

“Technically I’ve taught both of you.” It makes you chuckle again, the breathy sound swallowed up by a grin when you glance up and see how red his cheeks are. Marcus could never really pull off a poker face when he was embarrassed - blushing gave him away. Twelve years later and it’s still cute as hell. “I mean, she was academic lectures in a classroom, but still.” You shrug as if it’s nothing, but can’t resist adding: “Besides, she definitely mentioned a couple of things that you must have picked up after me.”

Marcus bites his lip, the only thing preventing him from offering to show you those things. The two of you had always been very sexually compatible and he had never had a moment where he was uncomfortable in bed with you, even during the inevitable embarrassing moments that can happen. The two of you had just giggled like only those completely in love can and moved on. “Yeah, well….”

“Hey, no, I’m glad you’ve had good things in your life and made good memories.” It would be hypocritical and dumb to be jealous about. After all - you were the one who ended things. There’s no reason for the small pangs of jealousy in your gut right now. They’re there, even though they shouldn’t be. But thinking that all those years could have been filled with you and him makes you ache even more now that he’s right in front of you. “You deserve to be happy. Th-that’s half of why I did what I did.”

Marcus’s jaw clenches slightly, and he looked down at his plate. There’s a sarcastic retort on his tongue that, while you might deserve it, it would ruin the friendly atmosphere. Instead, he exhales slowly and flashes you a grin. “You know me, always happy.”

“Right.” Having dug your own hole, you can’t be upset that you no longer have the privilege of seeing into Marcus’s second layer of emotions. You gave up the right to being his confidante when you gave him back your rings. You did it to yourself. “They probably still tell stories of the Sunshine Frat Boy of Kappa Sigma.”

“Yeah.” He lets out an amused chuckle. “What other couple went into their divorce together?” He asks as he cuts another bite of his steak. “Or go home together for one last night before leaving?” There hadn’t been sex that last night, he couldn’t do it, but there had been a lot of hugs and reassurances. The false promises of staying friends, keeping in touch. Things that both of you had needed at that time.

“If I tell you something, can I ask you to be honest in how you reply and not just polite?” He had almost been honest with you, but you don’t know if you might have lost that privilege as well. Either way, you’re feeling the need to be extremely honest with him right now and you don’t exactly know how it’s going to go.

“Okay….” He’s slightly wary of this, but if you ask for honesty, he’s going to give it to you. Marcus isn’t deceptive by nature for the most part, but sometimes he doesn’t say what he’s thinking. Apparently that had been one of the issues you had with him towards the end. “Go for it.”

“I—” Pinching your eyes shut for just a moment, you look back up at the broad shouldered, gentle giant of a man that Marcus has grown into and sigh, nearly laugh at yourself for finally admitting it. Words you’ve never even said to your therapist, let alone to yourself or a friend. “I’ve really missed you. That’s all. I just want you to know that.”

He almost laughs, but he catches himself. Because your eyes are earnest and you would think he was laughing at you, instead of laughing because he’s felt the exact same damn way since the day you packed up your car and drove away. The morning after the papers were filed, the morning after you were no longer his wife. “I’ve missed you too.” He admits huskily. “I’ve had to— I’ve thought about looking you up several times, but I couldn’t do it.”

“Same.” It’s a goddamn relief to get off your chest, and hearing that he isn’t angry anymore is like a gift you don’t deserve, but it’s clear in his voice. “I figured you’d be remarried with a couple of kids by now and I didn’t want to interrupt your life.”

Marcus huffs and shakes his head. “Haven’t been too lucky. Was engaged about a year ago.” He confesses, thinking about the entire debacle with Teresa. Part of him – and his therapist – thinks it’s because he saw a lot of your spirit in her. “For a week and a half?” He nods. “Yeah.”

“A week and a half?” Your eyes open wide in surprise and you sink a little, feeling like you’re exactly what your mother always said – a jinx. “Fuck. I—I’m so sorry, Marc.”

"Not your fault." He shrugs, reaching for his whiskey glass. "I jumped in too far too fast like usual and ignored the neon light red flag that was being waved." He huffs to himself about everything he had talked over with his therapist. "She chose the guy she needed to be with and I came to D.C. Well, technically I was already here when I got the message."

“Any woman who lets you get away is an idiot.” You huff, sighing slightly. Full disclosure – complete honesty – was something you believed in wholeheartedly and always had. Marcus’s tendency to just leave out details so as not to upset people had been one of the only things that really bothered you in your marriage. Aside from the larger problem of realizing that you were far too young to settle down and give up your career dreams to start having kids. So tell the truth is exactly what you’re going to do now. If it’s the last chance you ever get to be honest with him, you want it to count. “Trust me, I’m the biggest idiot of all of them.”

"You were just doing what you thought you needed to." It's a defense he's used a thousand times to his family, to the friends that you had together when they found out that you had left him. Even as hurt and upset as he had been, he hadn't let anyone talk bad about you. Not around him. "As long as you're happy, that's what is important."

“You’re a good man.” He always had been, of course. Even as young as you were. But that doesn’t stop your heart from hurting knowing that you are your own worst enemy. You’re the reason you lost him, plain and simple. No one else to blame. “You always have been. I just hope you’re happy, that’s all. You deserve it.”

He snorts slightly. “Apparently not good enough.” He replies flippantly before he can stop himself. There’s a three second pause where he’s completely silent before he speaks again. “Sorry…. you don’t deserve that.” He offers, lifting his napkin out of his lap and wiping his mouth and setting it on the table. “I’m going to the bathroom before I manage to shove the rest of my foot in my mouth.” An embarrassed flush is on his cheeks as he stands up.

“I absolutely deserved that.” The correction is gentle, but you shrug when he stands up. There is nothing you deserve more than to be put in your place by the man you walked out on. “If you want to leave, I understand. You don’t have to excuse yourself politely and then slip out.”

“I’m not—” Marcus shakes his head, unable to put into words his feelings and simply turns and walks towards the bathrooms. His suit jacket is still on the back of his chair.

You sigh when he walks away, looking down at your plate and force yourself to eat. Looks like it’s going to be another bottle of wine alone with your feelings tonight and you should eat something before that happens.

In the bathroom, Marcus splashes water on his face, staring at the reflection in the mirror critically. “Fucking cut it out.” He hisses to himself. “She’s being polite.” The truth is, it hurt to see that while you had your career, that was it. That your job could satisfactorily replace the amazing relationship that he thought the two of you had back then. Shaking it off, he strides back out and sits back down quietly. “Sorry, I’m back.” He murmurs.

“I’m sorry I got sentimental.” It’s half-assed, and you hate yourself for it, but seeing him again has made you feel things you never thought possible. That you never let yourself think were possible.

"Nothing for you to be sorry about." Marcus ignores his whiskey and reaches for the wine glass filled with water. "I – it's issues with me."

“Who says people don’t get more fun after thirty?” It’s a horrible joke, but it’s all you’ve got right now if you’re going to do anything but still your guts to him at this table. It’s like you lost your filter somewhere along the way.

"Yeah." It's horrible, but he can't help but crack an ironic smile. "Heartburn, creaking joints, hangovers and the sinking realization that you will die alone." He takes a large gulp of his water. "Just a barrel of laughs."

“You’ll find someone.” He will, because it’s Marcus and he’s amazing. He’s sweet and handsome and genuinely a good man, and apparently really fantastic at his job If they went and made him director of a whole department. You, though? It’s relationship purgatory for you. Because you’ll never find anyone as good as Marcus Pike ever again and there’s no way he’ll ever take you back. So maybe it’s about time to get some plants and call it a day.

Marcus sighs and shakes his head. "I found someone." He knows he should shut the fuck up. You don't want to hear about his relationship woes, he needs to talk about this with his therapist. His sliver of rationale is that you opened this door when you admitted that you missed him. "I found her when I was fucking nineteen and I fucked it up and lost her." He looks up from his water to look into your eyes, his own shimmering with emotion.

“Well shit.” That takes the wind out of your sails in a way that nothing else really can and if you didn’t have a personal rule against crying in public you would probably be in instant tears. As it is, you kind of feel like you’re shaking a little, but you’re going to blame that on the chill in the air tonight even though you’re nowhere near the door of the restaurant. “I—d” Breathe, goddamit. “You didn’t fuck it up, Marc. I did.”

"No." Marcus shakes his head. "I must have fucked up. I must have made you feel like it had to be me or your dreams. Somehow. Because all I knew was that I was dreaming about our future together and you were dreaming of yours and it didn't include me." His voice cracks slightly and he swallows down the urge to ask you what he did. It's probably what he always does, move too fast – take over and make plans.

It’s a gut punch, and you absolutely more than deserve it. But that doesn’t stop you from wishing you could evaporate into thin air right here in the bar. “I didn’t—we were so young,” you murmur, eyes dropping to the table when you can’t even look him in the eye. “I heard you saying all these things you wanted and I just…I didn’t even know what I wanted. It was like I hit panic mode when you started talking about kids and I didn’t think I could have both.” As an adult in therapy, you’ve worked through a lot of your hang ups and misconceptions from growing up. Realized that you were wrong. That you hurt him and yourself because you didn’t have the emotional maturity to all the hard questions and only jumped ahead to incorrect conclusions. “You were dreaming, but I heard plans. And I just— I should have talked to you. So when I say it’s not your fault, I mean it.”

“I lied to you.” Marcus admits softly. “When you left—I told you I had plans to hang out with my frat brothers and shoot some pool.” He huffs slightly and picks up his drink. “I crawled inside a bottle of Don Julio for three days and had to delete your number so I didn’t call you to beg you to come back.”

“I pulled over on the drive to DC to cry so many times that I arrived in commuter traffic.” Your own voice is as quiet as his, since he knows exactly what that drive should have been. Three hours from the apartment you had shared outside the UPENN campus turned into more than seven on the road because you just couldn’t see two feet in front of you through the sheets of tears.

Marcus sighs and shakes his head, wondering why the hell you had even left if it had been so hard for both of you. "We make perfect sense." He jokes, wanting to make smile.

“At the risk of being incredibly cliched, do you want to get out of here?” You’ve finished your meals and most of your second drinks, and it’s obvious that this conversation is a lot more personal than just two people catching up after years apart. “I live pretty close, and…” Shrugging, you hope you can make it sound friendly instead of like you’re trying to get him alone. You’re hopeful, not delusional. “I have cheesecake in the fridge.”

"You know how I feel about cheesecake." He offers as he nods, reaching for his glass to drain the last swallow of Blanton's from it and set it down. "Let me pay, since you're providing dessert?" It might be old fashioned, but he wants to buy you dinner.

“Yes, but!” The smile on your face is small but glowing, feeling that forbidden hope somewhere in your chest that you know you don’t deserve but you can’t ever seem to banish. “If we survive tonight without deciding never to speak again, you have to let me pay for whatever we do next time. Deal?”

"If you insist." He can't help but grin as he pulls out his wallet so he can pay for the meal the two of you had managed to muddle through.

Outside on the street you stuff your hands in your sweater pockets and actually let yourself smile. “Did you drive? I can give you my address for your gps or you can follow me back. Whatever you prefer.”

"I—" Marcus rubs the back of his neck and looks around. "I took a cab." He admits with a grin. "I had planned on needing an Uber to get home if I'm honest."

“Ah.” He was planning on doing his heavy drinking out, while you had planned on doing yours at home. “In that case?” You nod to your left and turn in that direction. “My car is parked a block away.”

He gives you a small smirk and a half shoulder shrug. "I really didn't want to go home." He reminds you as he walks alongside you towards your car. It's gotten dark out, the streetlamps making it a pleasant walk along the sidewalks.

“I get it.” He’ll see the empty wine bottles in your recycling when you get back to the apartment so there’s no sense being coy about it. “What do you drown yourself in these days? Since it’s not Don Julio anymore?”

“Whiskey, red wine. Hell even champagne is fine, scotch on the rocks.” Marcus shoves his hands in his pockets. “I— fuck, I wrote a song about it.” He confesses.

“You did not?” Your head pops up from digging through your purse for your keys in surprise. “I—I didn’t know you were still with your band.” Those cheaply recorded CDs are still in the bottom of your Marcus Memory Box, neglected but not forgotten. He was an amazing musician, and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t contemplated popping up at a show several times over the years.

“Not anymore.” He doesn’t have time anymore, although he misses it. The song had been written on a whim, during one of those moments here he needed to get his feelings out and when he showed one of his frat brothers who had loved it enough to pass it along. The fact that it had become an actual track on an album was still surreal to him.

“That’s a shame. I know I’m biased, but I always thought you were great.” Coming up with your keys, you unlock the city-appropriate-sized forest green Mini Cooper a few feet ahead of you as you and Marcus walk side by side. “It’s a short drive. Only about fifteen minutes from here.”

“That’s convenient.” He walks around the car and opens the driver’s side door for you. Something that his father had taught him to do no matter who was driving or who the lady was to you. Old school manners that he enjoyed.

“Still a gentleman.” Not that you ever doubted it. Some things never changed – and this is just basic to who Marcus is as a person. You thank him and tuck into your little car, only having to wait a few seconds before he gets in beside you and you’re pulling into nighttime traffic with ease.

Marcus looks around your car, smiling at the necklace that is around the rear-view mirror. It had driven him crazy when you would do that because it would invite someone to break into your car, but you always insisted it was because you had forgotten to take it off.

“At least there’s no bumper stickers on this one,” you defend, smirking slightly when you see Marcus eyeing your necklace and trying not to laugh. He was a stickler for safety – and always insisted that the stickers gave away too much information about a car’s owner to potential criminals. He had given you so much grief about the huge amount of bumper stickers on the rear of your first car that you never put them on your second. And by the time you got your third - this one - you’d realized he was right. They really can give too much away unintentionally.

“Small steps then.” Marcus laughs and looks around the neighborhood, noticing that you aren’t too far away from his own. Only about twenty-five minutes away. “It’s an easy target.”

“Good thing my building has impeccable security, then.” Pointing it out before you turn into the side street, you immediately head into the underground parking for your building and punch in your unique renter code. There are a fair few government employees in this building, and you pay a decent premium for the extra security, but it’s worth it to feel safe.

“That’s good.” Marcus heartily approves of you making sure that you are safe. He had honestly worried about it when you two divorced but had realized it wasn’t his concern anymore. It hadn’t stopped him from putting pepper spray in your bag before you left. It hadn’t stopped him from worrying. From wanting to take care of you.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear 

tCIGtDYE: @missmarmaladeth  @afro-hispwriter  @rosmarinus @mythrielofsolitude @jxvipike @avaleineandafryingpan @hnt-escape @supernaturalgirl20 @scorpio-marionette @bobafvcker @midnightevermore @dinoflower   @pearl-aqua-tears @itsbaehyungbitch   @pepperminticedcoffee @anticipayosbot @girlofchaos @speedynana @loveslide @noisynaia @just-here-for-the-moment @goodgriefitsawildworld @curiouskeyboard @iarellanouus @mymistery09-blog @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thenightdreamsballad @pondsofravenclaw  @sherlock221b114679797 @pimmyxyone @theredwritingwitch @ghostinhours @timpletance @strawberryjamcheesecake @amb11 @a-little-shade-of-kiki @wildemaven @tuquoquebrute @supernaturalgirl @ellenmunn @iceclaw101 @toxicfrankenstein @catsandgeekyandnerd @missmarmaladeth   @theincredibleinkspitter @agiroflee98 @lyonessofnarnia @we-could-have-been @totostits @scorpio-marionette @kikis-writing-world @trappistmonksofthefuture @danichz  @88dragon06  @scorpionerd   myrealmofchaos @movievillainess721 @firekissed13 @qseomik   @acollectionofcells1 @captain-of-my-game1992 @alician87 @lovesbiggerthanpride @justgonewild @hiyorinatsuki   @pinkrosethorne @apocalypticwafflekitten @groovycass @rebel-fanfare   @d0cthunder @gooddaykate @purplerain04 @astridflowers @purplerain04

My Masterlist!  

[memetic-trigger-hazard]

Trope blender strikes again!

Since the formation of the Justice League Dark to deal with supernatural threats, Diana had been acting as the team's 'Superman' for lack of a better term.

It was, however, not a position she was entirely suited to, as ironically enough when engaging supernatural threats she was better suited to the same role that Batman played in the Justice League, engaging with superior training, tactics and specialised tools while also acting as battlefield tactical command.

With the lack of any other candidates however, she made do. But not for long.

Thanks to a wandering little girl, Diana had gained a new cousin and uncle who were refreshingly free of the hubris of the Greek pantheon, as well as an unexpected (and terrifying) meeting with her Grandfather who was far different from the stories, she supposed death and a few millennia would calm someone down. She was pleased however to add some paternal family members she could enjoy calm moments with.

Her Uncle was willing to help, however his backlog from the previous King in addition to the repairs and ongoing negotiations for reparations with the United States government made her feel guilt for placing further demands on him.

Her younger cousin however was more than happy to "get out of the house", her Father's comments about the expansiveness of a TARDIS castle completely ignored.

Ellie was already training with her old friend Pandora (So many happy reunions) so Diana was more than willing to take her to Themascerya for an initiation to the Sisterhood of Amazon's. Danny was ecstatic that his daughter was making friends.

Now Ellie as Banshee is JLD's front line fighter and Diana is the tactician, a dynamic duo of their own. Diana is so proud of her little cousin.

Which is why today was very..... Strange.

~

Basically the JLD have to head to the Watchtower for some threat, Ellie is super pumped because SPACE and Diana is excited to take her smol bean cousin to the Watchtower for the first time.

Batman and Co arrive and Drama TM occurs because "Holy shit that little girl looks like a Talia with blue eyes", Damian starts accusing and mouthing off, Ellie freaks because her Dad has warned her about the League of Assassins, so she freaks and bails.

Diana is explaining who Ellie is, how they're related when Uncanny Valley Danny in human form comes out of a portal in his "Royal Casual" work attire. Loose jeans,button up with vest, fluffy slippers with a coffee mug in hand. He's facing Diana, paying 0 attention to who else is there beyond "cool space station".

"Hey niece, why is my daughter running through my castle screaming about killer birds?"

"Ah, I believe she is referring to Robin being a former member of the League of Assassins." Diana replies.

Batman and the rest of the Justice League are tense, assessing this possible ally who RADIATES power and death. Anyone affected by death can feel it like static in their teeth during a lightning storm. Those who have been into the Lazarus Pits feel safe yet the overwhelming urge to KNEEL BEFORE YOUR KING.

"Well shit, someone actually escaped from the Fruit Loop Supreme? Anyone who gets away from my asshole grandfather is alright by me." Danny replies as he turns to look at the various heros, taking a sip from his mug.

"Danyal?" A faint hopeful whisper as Damian takes his mask off to look at his Brother (HOW, HOW? HE LOST HIM HE'S HERE HOW?) His dead twin somehow here and changed so much.

*Slurp*

"Well shit, didn't expect this."

This entire time Bruce's brain is making crunching noises.

It's not the extra son that's apparently God of the Afterlives. It's not the granddaughter.

Diana is his son's niece. Bruce had sex with his grand niece. Barbara is right, he needs therapy.

[brandileigh2003]

Raising Harry and/or teddy recs. I know I'm missing some so send me your faves or self rec ❤️❤️

-orange juice (i've been ready for you to come home for so long) by raggedypond get back together ft Chronic Illness

-my love, take care of yourself by @littleoldrachel ft mental health and chronic

-Anything that msalexwp writes that includes the trope is fantastic

Let's Play Pretend muggle fake dating real feelings

Second Generation get back together

-the sea is a good place to think of the future by peachyybabe get back together ft Chronic Illness @lavenderhaze

-Like Real People Do by thirdcrow: coffee shop, great disability rep

-An Infinte Ocean by orphan_account muggle get together

-We’ll Make It Out Alive by wolfstar_addict417: muggle texting kidfic

-Blue Moon Café by @lazuli-moon raising teddy coffee shop

-Forever Is a State of Mind -orphaned account ft deaf remus

-Of Bookshelves and Baby Carriers by @poppunkpadfoot

-the mayors of simpleton by @fruityindividual older wolfstar get back together ft blind remus

-Till We Have Arrived Home Again by prouvairing divergent

-Of Quiet Hearts And Thundering Dreams by @tracingpatternswrites

-Spare! by B1ackCatChatsBack muggle get together

-I didn’t sign up for this by Moonystoastandmarsbars get back together

-Of Protein Powders and PTAs by @squintclover and TracingPatterns magical divergent

-A Wolf, A Bear, A Dungeon Master, and Boy Wonder by @ratmom819 ft chronic illness

-Puppy Magic by @demonbanisher thefifthmarauder17 magical divergent

-what a wonder (what a waste) by peachyybabe mcd magical divergent ft trans remus, mental illness and

-Aging Gracelessly by orphan_account older wolfstar texting

-So I'll Take My) Good Fortune by orphan_account muggle uni

-The Molinete & the Media Luna by punkwolfstar ft disability

-beautiful boy (darling boy) by @impishtubist and roaming_the_greenwood1: magical divergent ft trans remus

-Multiplying Parents by @heartofspells harry wants to find Sirius a bf

-ten reasons (to go to michigan) by @greyeyedmonster-18 muggle au get together

-The Things I Did by Lolo_row divergent

-Of Memories and Milk Thievery by moonymoment older wolfstar get back together @mayescapade

-Basilisks, Boggarts and Boyfriends (oh my) by OptimisticDinosaur

-Of Caffeine Addictions and Nail Polish by BlueAzalea au pining and fluff

Check out my fandom wife lucigoo she has some wonderful ones

Common Woodbrown by @imochan

that’s the art of getting by sarewolf

----Self rec: parks and playdates ft disability plus trans and asexual remus

~~Others' recs ~~

-Wherever I am/ you will always be - BrigidFaye

(anon): Under Foot, Under Moon by sometimeswelose

-An unexpected reunion- r33sesPieces

Rhythm & Blues by lez_writes13

stealing harry by @copperbadge

-Blanket Fort by @samynnad102687 : Regulus, James, and Harry build a blanket fort.

-Trick-or-Treating by Samynnad102687: The Marauders, Regulus, and Lily take Harry Trick-or-Treating.

-Unbound by you by friendlyneighborhoodtrickster, TracingPatterns

-Moonless Nights by @sliebman10 Sirius is trying to rebuild his life after the fateful Halloween of 1981. He's struggling to come to terms with Remus's betrayal and his new role as Harry's guardian.

-Family Vacation by sliebman10: Sirius is skeptical that a family resort is where he wants to spend his first summer vacation with Harry there, but he comes to see its merits when he meets Remus and his family.

-All the soul and body scars by 1point21

-To build a family - secondsister

-Forever live and die - wolfpants

--feel free to check it my main rec list

Also - the wolfstar librarian has awesome collections for raising harry

[carolinahope]

One of the things I love about the Red, White & Royal Blue movie is that we could write a guide on romance tropes/tools just using scenes from it. For example:

Intimacy

Casual Intimacy

Love Making

Cheeky Visuals

Unexpected Kiss

Feelings Realization

Stronger Together

Visual Metaphors

Desperation

Giddy Reunion

Flirting

Sweet Interlude in a Crisis

Laughing Together

Alone in a Crowded Room

Comfort

Dick Measuring Contest

Vulnerability

Support

Banter

Only Have Eyes for You

Lost in Lust

And I'm sure there are many many more

[dreamermonica]

BLUE LOCK BOYS + ROMANCE TROPES

—includes isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser (sorry if this asshole's part is freakishly longer than the other boys' parts. favoritism exists in this blog, unfortunately.)

—fem pronouns are used, swearing cause it's me, major crack, fluff, messy attempt at humor, teenage pining and such, god help me t.t

ISAGI YOICHI is definitely childhood friend material. sworn friends ever since diapers, promises of being together till the very end, marriage proposals at the tender age of 6—all that type of cheesy stuff that would get you squealing and have your little feet kicking in the air out of giddiness. but as time goes on with him being set on football and you doing your own thing, the promise gradually gets left behind in your heads, slowly getting buried underneath all the pressure of being an adolescent. the once childish promise only resurfaces during an unexpected reunion—with both of you having achieved your dream careers. will your puppy love rise once more from the depths of your memories and perhaps turn into something...more serious? hah. what are you talking about? this old friend of yours should take you out for a proper dinner first, atleast.

BACHIRA MEGURU with the ugly duckling trope. no friends, seen as an outcast, too eccentric for his other classmates to comprehend—and there's you—the popular and extroverted individual loved and befriended by many others. you as the campus crush, who found an interest in the lonely bowl cut boy. though your curiosity is piqued at first, you were quite reluctant in actually befriending him. with rumors of him being a weirdo—most people often shy'd away from the idea of letting him inside their radars. but you aren't going to let that stop you from—wait, he's actually super sweet? and kind too? surprisingly a huge sweetheart? what kind of plot twist is this?! though the monster he speaks of kind of scares you, you're still terribly attracted like a fly to a light by his strong will to become the best striker in the foreign dimension of soccer. in the end he's just doing what he loves, a good-hearted boy who simply got misunderstood for his obsession with football—oh? why is your heart suddenly picking up its pace?

ITOSHI RIN with...*drum rolls*...quiet kid at the back of your class. 😐 not that surprising is it. anyways, this emo kid is obsessed with soccer, yet still able to keep up with his studies just fine. though he's mostly neutral with everybody, you sometimes fear the he might be plotting all your deaths with that unconventional stare of his that looks like he's constantly displeased. but you eventually come to a conclusion that that isn't the case. you both take the same bus home everyday, and you can confidently confirm that he really just looks like that. the stare only softens when he brings out his phone and starts playing granny or something. not to be a creepy stalker or anything—your field of view just always inconveniently contains him and the contents on his phone! he appears to have a knack for the genre of horror. games, movies, even tutorials. (this lil' cheat—) but of course, for this headcannon to work my way imma have to embarrass you in front of him for chemistry and relationship development purposes :p. so once upon a time, where you're tired as hell after some shit going down in school, you fail to remember your usual spot and slump down onto an open seat beside itoshi rin—who was on his phone paying you zero mind whatsoever, playing a horror game that you recognized to be some popular roblox game. you don't know if it's the tiredness that took over you, or the sole fact that seeing rin play so goddamn horrible on the game got on your nerves up to the point you couldn't hold in your thoughts anymore and outright told him what you'd come to regret in just a few moments—“what the hell, dude. you're terrible. you're supposed to get the key and then—” about to reach for the phone out of sheer frustration, you suddenly pause, realizing what you've just done. oh no. your eyes flicker to his expression and holy crap. rin itoshi is giving you the biggest, bombastic, judgemental, dehumanizing side eye you've ever seen in your life. actually, scratch that—he's full on staring at you like you've just directed 57 slurs at him. you feel like you've shrunk into a mere insect with how intense his stare is, mentally slowly melting into a puddle of shame as you stand up and profusely bow while spewing out pitiful apologies. after a few moments, you hear him heave a deep sigh, you slowly crane your neck up to look at him expectantly—only to find him and his absurdly gorgeous face challengingly raising a brow at you, “then what do you suppose i should do, miss i'm-so-good-at-the-game? please continue.” rin roblox kid confirmed.

ITOSHI SAE as the regular who has caught your eye trope. i really wanted to use childhood friends on this guy with the amount of angst it'd produce but isagi already got the trope so...'eye candy regular at the local coffee shop you work part-time at' trope it is. a bit specific but yeah you get what i mean :). it's hard not to notice this man whenever he comes in with that unfortunately charming blank face of his—so charming that in fact some girls from other nearby schools actually gather to seat themselves and wait for his appearance, shoot their shot with the guy and get immediately shut down with just one cold sweep of his indifferent stare. being pretty sure does have its downsides. you can still feel the shivers from when he full-on glared at a girl who was getting a bit too persistent. you've never really interacted with him aside from taking his regular order, but there's still the underlying fear that he'd cuss you out and embarrass you in front of teenage girls should you get his order wrong so now you have a note plastered onto the wall that always has his regular order tip up to the notch—with a highlighted nickname, “duckbutt james” since you never caught his name. but oh fuck, he sees it one uneventful day and raises a brow at you, nonchalantly and coolly saying that his name is “itoshi sae”. god. is this the part where you roll over and die in shame? why did you even think it was a good idea to put the note in point-blank range?! it's the same as basically shoving it in his face! you think you might pass out—but then suddenly—he smiles. he smiles. what. but it immediately disappears as fast as it came so now you're questioning if you're hallucinating or not. he takes his usual order and heads out once more, but as your head clears itself from the multiple stages of grief you experienced in one singular moment—you think of his name in wonder, finding it terribly familiar. itoshi sae. itoshi sae. itoshi...SAE?! WAIT—

MICHAEL KAISER is definitely enemies to lovers material, change my mind. a football hotshot who has to begrudgingly graduate first before officially signing a contract with the famous german world-wide football team—bastard münchen. at this point in life, he's basically already successful, so he literally just ignores and passes up all opportunities to actually study anything that isn't related to football. he's not a troublemaker perse, but you're convinced the entire faculty staff hates him due to the amount of unnecessary work his laziness spews out, but they would still have to pass him regardless of his lax attitude towards his studies due to the sole fact that the entirety of germany has their eyes on this genius of a prodigy. it was relatively obvious that failing him and delaying his awaited pro-debut would do no good for the name of the school, so he's now spared from the chains of corrupted education. despite being in the same class as him, kaiser was someone you've barely talked to—you both only interacted a grand total of two times. one was regarding a class project, and the other was that time you walked in on him getting confessed to for the what, thousandth time? needless to say, you're both barely acquainted, so being friends was out of the question. besides, it's not like you want to befriend him anyway (y/n moment)—you were both complete opposites. you were a study freak, and he was an infamous prodigy who had a passion for kicking a ball—he's the emperor who lived in a completely different world from your mundane life as a mere commoner in his story.

*rubs hands together* now it's time to get even more delusional, folks. it's just supposed to be a normal day but oh nooo, you're now both forced to fully acknowledge each other's presence after a teacher falsely accuses both of you and sends you to detention—highly biased should you add. it's one of those low teachers that act passive aggressively with his early success. it's bound to get people jealous, but shouldn't you be proud as a teacher? whatever. all that you know is that you're now both stuck in detention and you're blaming him now. you know very well you're both completely innocent so for what exactly are you blaming him? absolutely nothing. you're just bored and michael kaiser was your only source of entertainment in this bland and empty classroom. jabs are thrown around from across the room as you are unable to initiate conversation without you throwing an insult everytime he attempts to flirt with you. you asked him to be quiet? babe, he's going to do the exact opposite. you asked him to shut the fuck up? he'll say the typical 'make me'. your sanity is all but squeezed out of your entire being by the time your detention is over, finally being dismissed for the day until he stops you from actually leaving the room by holding your shoulder in place and asks for your number with a playful wink. you want to slap him, maybe kick his shins, roundhouse him in the face and run away but with the knowledge that you'll both still be meeting in your class the next day is a bitter reminder that you should atleast try to remain civil with this young and growing superstar if you want to survive the school year. albeit begrudgingly—you punch down your numbers into his phone (you put a random number in at first but he quickly confirms it to be false when your phone doesn't receive the message he sent just in-case. tsk.) and immediately leave the premises after he cracks a joke about seeing him tomorrow night for dinner.

unbeknownst to you, he was the one who put the anonymous tip in the school's online forum that falsely landed both of you in detention—all just to get some alone time with you and grab your number without attracting too much unnecessary attention because oh my lord he's genuinely interested in someone who isn't a part of his football kingdom?? wowowowowow

sae reawakened my duckbutt (sasuke) phase ong (also reader doesn't know what the world-class midfielder sae looks like, only his name so that's why she was shocked)

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

A Love Beyond Time.

fictober masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - this one is my personal favourite hence why i saved it for last, this is heavily tvd inspired so enjoy!

word count - 19.5k (core blimey…🫣)

in which, in 1864, a serene town was the canvas for your budding love story, as you joyfully prepared for a life together with your beloved husband. However, the tranquility shattered in one heart-wrenching moment during an unexpected town assault. Witnessing your husbands lifeless body crumple to the ground, your world came crashing down, forever altering the course of your existence. You were left haunted by that fateful day, struggling to piece together a life in the aftermath of the tragedy, while whispers of a supernatural twist and the possibility of a reunion with your once-lost love lingered on the edges of your consciousness, marking the passage of years and bringing an enigmatic undercurrent to your existence.

trigger warnings: vampires, mentions of death, blood, and panic attacks, and lots of flashbacks.

trope: vampire!harry

The year was 1864.

You were running through a dense forest, heart pounding with fear and determination. The moon casts an eerie glow, illuminating the path ahead as you desperately seek your husband.

The events that led you here began when your peaceful town of Holmes Chapel came under attack during the night. A sudden intrusion into your shared bedroom left you in shock as masked assailants dragged your husband away to defend the town.

With your lantern held tightly, you forge ahead, leaves crunching beneath your boots. The forest whispers with the secrets of the night, but your thoughts are solely on your husband's safety. The echoes of distant gunshots pierce the air, driving you to move faster.

Time blurs as you push deeper into the woods, clutching the locket he gave you on your wedding day. It's a beacon of hope in the darkness, a reminder of the love that propels you forward. Branches claw at your dress as if trying to halt your progress, but you press on.

The forest seems to come alive with eerie sounds, but you remain undeterred. Your mind races with memories of your life together. You recall the way he looked when he first kissed you, promising to always protect you. Now it's your turn to protect him.

The adrenaline was coursing through your veins is your only guiding light. The eerie shadows cast by moonlight make it difficult to see, and your heart is pounding with the urgency of finding your husband. With each step, you feel your breath quicken and the weight of worry pressing upon you.

Amidst the chaos of your pursuit, your foot suddenly catches on a hidden rock. Time slows for an instant as you stumble forward, unable to maintain your balance. You crash to the ground with a sharp gasp, and the pain in your knee shoots through your body like a lightning bolt.

The forest floor is unforgiving, and you scramble to your knees, wincing in pain. A searing sensation courses through your leg as you assess the damage. Moonlight reveals the crimson stain of your blood on your torn dress, a stark reminder of your fall. Your trembling fingers press against the wounded knee, and you hiss in pain.

Seated on the forest floor, the pain in your injured knee sends sharp jolts of agony through your body. The wound on your leg continues to bleed, a painful reminder of your fall. Breathing heavily, you clench your teeth to stifle the pain, still fixated on the task at hand—finding your husband.

In the oppressive silence of the night, a gunshot shatters the stillness, echoing through the trees.

Your head snaps in the direction of the sound, dread seizing your heart.

The forest seems to hold its breath, and in the pale moonlight, you catch a nightmarish glimpse of your husband's body falling to the ground in the distance.

Time itself seems to freeze as you watch in disbelief. Your heart, already heavy with fear and worry, now carries the unbearable weight of witnessing his lifeless form crumple to the forest floor.

A haunting numbness washes over you, and you can't believe what your eyes have just witnessed.

Your husband's stillness in the moonlight is a stark contrast to the vibrant and caring man you know.

He lies motionless, and you can't tear your eyes away from him. The forest, which once felt full of life, now feels like a desolate and eerie place, bearing witness to a tragedy.

Shock paralyzes you, keeping you rooted to the ground where you sit, knees trembling. The wound on your leg goes unnoticed as your mind grapples with the devastating reality that has unfolded before you.

Every moment feels like an eternity as you struggle to accept what you've seen, unable to comprehend the loss that has befallen you.

Tears well up in your eyes, but you can't bring yourself to move. Your mind races, emotions tangled in a web of grief and disbelief. The forest becomes a haunting backdrop to the pain that now consumes you, as you continue to stare in anguished shock at the lifeless body of the man you love.

As if jolted awake by a cruel nightmare, you suddenly snap out of your daze. The image of your husband's lifeless body lingers in your mind, but there's an urgency now, an unrelenting force pushing you to your feet. Ignoring the searing pain in your wounded knee, you rise unsteadily and turn away from the devastating scene.

Determination courses through you, propelling you forward into the heart of the forest. Every step, though painful, is infused with purpose. The leaves underfoot crunch with a mournful sound, like the breaking of your heart, while twigs snap like the fragile threads of your resolve.

Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly, dancing shadows that accompany you on your desperate journey. The night is filled with the symphony of the forest - the hushed whispers of the wind, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, and your own labored breaths.

You press on, driven by the need to understand what happened and to seek justice for your husband. The forest, once a place of serene beauty, has transformed into an ominous labyrinth of uncertainty. Each rustle in the underbrush keeps you on edge, as the sounds of the night seem to conspire against you.

Branches reach out to snatch at your dress, as if attempting to hold you back, but your determination allows no interference. The path you follow is shrouded in darkness, with only the faintest hint of the trail your husband might have taken. Your heart beats like a drum, echoing the urgency of your quest.

The forest around you is now a battleground, the cacophony of gunshots and cries of conflict growing louder as you approach your husband's lifeless form.

You cast aside the fear and pain, crouching down beside him, your hands trembling as they reach out to touch his still-warm cheek.

"H, it's me," you whisper, tears streaming down your face.

"I'm here, love. Everything's going to be okay. Help is coming. You'll be fine." Your voice wavers, but you try to sound strong for him, to provide him with the reassurance he needs.

His breaths are shallow, his eyes half-lidded, but they flicker open as he hears your voice. He manages a faint smile, bloodstained lips trembling as he reaches for your hand. His wedding band rubs against your fingers, a testament to the love you share, and it's a stark reminder of what's at stake.

"I love ‘ye," he rasps, the words barely audible over the chaos that surrounds you. His grip on your hand tightens, and you feel the fleeting warmth of his touch.

Your heart aches with love and grief as you squeeze his hand in response, your voice choked with emotion.

Tears blur your vision, but you lean in closer, desperate to make the most of the precious moments you have left together.

"I love you too, baby. More than anything in this world. We'll get through this together. Just hold on a little longer." Your voice trembles as you speak, your forehead touching his, a gesture of love and connection in this dire moment.

Around you, the battle rages on, but in this fragile bubble of time, it's just you and him. You whisper soothing words, your fingers tracing his cheek, brushing away blood-soaked hair from his forehead.

The forest, once a place of tranquillity, is now the setting of your heart-wrenching farewell.

Harry's breathing becomes more laboured, and his eyes lose focus, but he clings to your hand as if it were his lifeline. He musters a smile, his love and strength shining through even in the face of death.

You can see it in his eyes, in the way he gazes at you, that he's saying goodbye.

With trembling lips, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"You're my everything, Harry. I'll carry you with me always." Your words are tender, a declaration of love and a promise to cherish his memory.

His last breath escapes him, and his hand slowly falls from yours. Your world crumbles in that moment, and you're left alone with the lifeless body of the man you love, in a forest transformed by tragedy.

The forest, once echoing with the sounds of battle, falls silent as you let out a heart-wrenching scream of heartbreak. It's a primal, agonising sound that pierces the night, a cry of loss and despair. Your voice carries your pain to the heavens, but it's met with a cold, uncaring silence.

Tears flow uncontrollably as you lay your head on your husband's motionless torso. His body is still warm, but there's no life left in it. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest no more, and the reality of his absence bears down on you like a crushing weight.

Sobs wrack your body as you clutch his lifeless form, fingers tangled in his blood-stained shirt. The forest watches in mournful silence, the moonlight casting eerie shadows upon your anguished figure.

You sit alone in your dimly lit bedroom, the only source of light being the faint glow of the moon seeping through the curtains. Your eyes are fixed on the calendar hanging on the wall, its pages marked with the passage of time. It’s getting closer and closer to what would have been your husband's birthday, a day that used to be filled with joy and celebration, but now it's a painful reminder of what was lost.

As you trace your fingers over the date, your mind drifts back to that fateful day, fourteen months after your wedding.

Tears well up in your eyes as you remember his warm smile and the touch of his hand. He was your rock, your confidant, and your soulmate. The love you shared was profound and unbreakable, and his loss left a void that no one could fill.

But there's something different about you, something that sets you apart from the rest of humanity. It's the reason you sit here tonight, 159 years later, in a world that has long moved on without you. You hadn't died with your husband because of a twist of fate. It was a vampire's bite that had saved you from death's grasp that day, turning you into a creature of the night.

In the stillness of the night, you can feel the ancient power coursing through your veins. The thirst for blood is a constant reminder of your new existence, and the conflict between your longing for humanity and the supernatural urges that consume you is a torment that never fades. The isolation you've felt for over a century is crushing, but it's nothing compared to the loneliness of losing your beloved husband.

You reach for your left hand, where a delicate silver band still rests on your finger. It's your wedding ring, and you've worn it every day since that fateful day in 1864. The memories of your wedding day flood back—the vows you exchanged, the laughter, and the love that was so pure and genuine.

As you sit in the darkness, the anguish of your existence as an immortal being intensifies. The passing years have done nothing to ease the pain of your husband's absence. You've watched the world change, evolve, and progress, all while you remain locked in the past, bound by your unending love and grief.

The calendar on the wall stands as a cruel reminder of the passage of time, and each passing day only deepens the chasm in your heart. You know that you can never truly move on, but you continue to exist, trapped between two worlds, clinging to the memories of a life that was taken from you too soon.

you carefully pull out a small, weathered box from under the bed. It's where you've kept the cherished notes you and your husband used to exchange, fragile pieces of the past that still hold the warmth of his words.

The first note you pick up is a simple, heartfelt one.

It reads,

𝑀𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 (𝒴/𝒩),

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓂 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝓊𝓃𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈. 𝒜𝓁𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑜𝓇, 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝓊𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓈𝓂. 𝐼 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝑜𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝓌𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉, 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎.

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓉𝒽, 𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝒸𝓎 𝓋𝑜𝒾𝒹. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽. 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓅 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓊𝓈, 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓌𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹. 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓌𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓈.

𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝑔𝓊𝒾𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝓀𝓎.

𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈,

𝐻.

A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you remember the nights you spent wrapped in each other's embrace.

The next note brings back memories of a time when your husband fell ill. In his distinctive handwriting,

It reads,

𝑀𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 (𝒴/𝒩),

𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓈, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝐼 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓉𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝒹𝒶𝓎. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝑒, 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑔𝓊𝑒.

𝐼 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓋𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑒𝒹. 𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝑔𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔.

𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 ���𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓉𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁-𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒𝒹, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝑜 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓌𝒾𝒻𝓉𝓁𝓎, 𝓈𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒷𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽.

𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃, 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝒻𝒻𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓊𝓈.

𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒,

𝐻.

With a delicate touch, you unfold the last note, which is filled with affectionate words.

𝑀𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 (𝒴/𝒩),

𝒜𝓈 𝐼 𝓈𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝒻𝒻𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝐼 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁.

𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈. 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝑔𝒶𝓏𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈, 𝐼 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒶 𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎.

𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓈𝑜 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓊𝓃𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝓎 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒, 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒. 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝒾𝒸, 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉, 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝒻𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑒𝒾𝓋𝑒𝒹.

𝐼 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝑜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓉. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒.

𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓎, 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈. 𝑀𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒻𝓁𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈 𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎, 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓍𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓊𝒾𝓈𝒽. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉.

𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁,

𝐻.

The room is filled with a mixture of emotions as you read through these notes. You can almost hear his voice in your mind, feel his presence in the room, as though he's still with you. The memories of your time together, both the joyful and the challenging, flood your mind.

As you continue to flip through the notes, a sense of nostalgia washes over you. Each piece of paper tells a story of your love, a love that transcends time and space. These tangible remnants of your past are a lifeline to the happiness and connection you shared.

You can't help but hold the notes to your chest, as if doing so will bring him back, if only for a moment. The handwritten words become a connection to a love that remains eternally alive in your heart.

he room is filled with a mixture of emotions as you read through these notes. You can almost hear his voice in your mind, feel his presence in the room, as though he's still with you. The memories of your time together, both the joyful and the challenging, flood your mind.

As you continue to flip through the notes, a sense of nostalgia washes over you. Each piece of paper tells a story of your love, a love that transcends time and space. These tangible remnants of your past are a lifeline to the happiness and connection you shared.

You can't help but hold the notes to your chest, as if doing so will bring him back, if only for a moment. The handwritten words become a connection to a love that remains eternally alive in your heart.

As you are in your trance, the door to your bedroom creaks open. Your best friend, Zayn, your steadfast companion in this new world of immortality, enters the room.

His vampire senses allow him to sense your emotional state even before he takes in the scene.

Zayn's eyes meet yours, and he can see the raw emotions that you've been holding back. He knows that this time of year is always difficult for you, a reminder of the love and loss that defines your existence. Without a word, he moves closer and takes a seat beside you on the bed.

Gently, Zayn wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. His touch, cold yet reassuring, provides a sense of comfort that only someone who shares your immortal life can offer.

He doesn't need to speak, for he understands the depth of your pain and the heaviness of your heart.

Time seems to stand still as you both sit there, the only sound in the room being the soft rustle of the notes you're clutching. Zayn's presence is a soothing balm to your aching soul, a reminder that you're not alone in this eternity.

You lean into his embrace, finding solace in the silent companionship that has defined your centuries together.

The room is bathed in the soft, silvery glow of the moon, casting a gentle light upon the two of you. Zayn's immortal eyes reflect a profound empathy as he gazes at you.

He may not share your specific pain, but he comprehends the depth of your sorrow, and his unwavering support is a testament to the strength of your friendship.

You feel a sense of unity in this quiet moment, connected by the unspoken understanding of your shared existence. Zayn's presence, like the memories in those letters, is a constant in your life, a source of reassurance that you cling to when the weight of your solitude becomes unbearable.

Zayn's fingers brush gently against the back of your hand, an unspoken gesture of sympathy and empathy.

As the night unfolds around you, you find comfort in the silence, in the shared understanding between two immortals whose lives are forever marked by the passage of time and the enduring power of love.

The minutes tick by, but in the arms of your friend, time loses its urgency. You don't need words to communicate your pain, for Zayn's presence is a reminder that, in this unending night, you have someone who stands by your side, even when the memories of your husband's birthday bring waves of sorrow.

Zayn eventually breaks the stillness.

He clears his throat softly, turning his gaze to you, his vampire eyes expressing concern.

"Are you ready to get going soon?" he asks, his voice a gentle yet encouraging nudge.

You release a soft sigh, nodding your head slowly, and your voice trembles slightly as you reply, "Just a few more things to pack, and then I'll be ready."

Zayn senses the fragility of your emotions and offers his support, asking, "Can I help you with anything?"

He watches you idly fiddling with the bracelet around your wrist.

Noticing your restlessness, he reaches out to softly hold your hands, halting your nervous actions. Concern etched on his face, he asks, "What's wrong?"

Your eyes meet his, and you hesitate for a moment before finally voicing your uncertainty.

"Do we really have to go there today?" you inquire, your tone tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

Zayn's grip on your hand tightens, not in a romantic manner, but to convey his steadfast support.

In a comforting tone, he begins to explain, "You know we go every year. It's a tradition. It helps you remember and honour the past, and it always seems to make you feel better."

His words are laced with a sense of understanding, a reminder that he has been with you through many of these anniversaries.

You contemplate his words, the weight of your annual pilgrimage tugging at your heart. The place you're about to visit holds bittersweet memories, a reminder of the life you once shared with your husband.

Each year, you return there to pay your respects and keep his memory alive.

Zayn's grip on your hand offers reassurance, a silent pledge that he'll be there with you, providing the strength and support you need. The drive ahead is long, but it's a journey you make together, year after year, as a testament to your enduring bond.

As you begin to pack your belongings, you can't help but wonder about the emotional rollercoaster that lies ahead. The memories that await at your destination are a mix of joy, love, and sorrow, and you find solace in the fact that Zayn is there to accompany you on this annual journey.

The room slowly fills with the soft rustling of your belongings, a tangible representation of the steps you take to prepare for this day. Zayn doesn't need to say much more; his presence and unwavering support are all the encouragement you require.

In the year 1865, the world outside was marred by the horrors of war, but your own battle was one fought against a relentless adversary: cholera. It was a wretched disease that had laid its icy grip upon you, and the diagnosis had been grim.

You had been confined to your bed, frail and weak, under strict orders not to venture out. The days had blurred into one another, marked by the agonising pain that twisted your body.

As night descended upon your small, dimly lit room, you found yourself unable to bear the separation any longer.

Weak limbs, trembling with fever, carried you out of the house, driven by an insatiable yearning to be close to your husband's resting place.

He had been taken from you too soon, a victim of the brutality, and the thought of joining him beyond the mortal coil was a solace that beckoned you.

The moon's pale glow guided your unsteady steps as you stumbled through the darkness, clutching at the fragile shreds of your existence.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, mingling with the dirt on your face as you reached your husband's grave.

The earth beneath you was cold and unforgiving, much like your fate, and you could hardly breathe as your vision blurred.

In the silence of the night, you lay there, your life slipping away like grains of sand through your fingertips.

It was then that Zayn, a lone vampire with a heart that had not yet been completely hardened by the centuries, stumbled across your frail form. His immortal eyes, adapted to the darkness, were drawn to your prone figure, wracked with pain and suffering.

Zayn had seen countless lives extinguished by cholera, innocent humans who met a cruel fate. He couldn't stand the thought of witnessing yet another life claimed by the merciless disease.

The decision was made in an instant; he would not allow you to die alone in the dirt.

Biting into his wrist, he let his own blood flow freely, a crimson elixir that held the power to grant life beyond the brink of death. Gently, he brought his wrist to your lips, the metallic taste of his blood mixing with the dirt on your tongue.

As the tears continued to roll down your cheeks, you accepted the gift, and as your world faded to black, you knew that you would wake once more.

When you did awaken, it was with a newfound strength, but also with the realisation that you were no longer the same. You had been turned into a creature of the night, a vampire like Zayn.

You could feel the ancient power coursing through your veins, and you knew that you had been given a second chance at life.

Zayn, ever the silent guardian, watched over you as you adjusted to your new existence. He had saved you from the clutches of cholera and given you a gift that had bound you together for eternity.

The pain of your past remained, but it was now mingled with the promise of a future, one that would be marked by a different kind of immortality.

The moon that had witnessed your despair now bore witness to your rebirth, casting a silvery light upon the world. Your husband's grave, the place where you had once sought solace in death, became a reminder of the choices that had brought you back to life. In the embrace of the night, you and Zayn forged a bond that would endure through the ages, a bond forged in the crucible of darkness and the unyielding desire to protect a fragile, mortal soul.

The day of your husband's funeral is shrouded in a thick blanket of gray clouds, a reflection of the somber mood that hangs in the air.

You stand at the front of the gathering, holding the hands of your husband's sister, Gemma, and his mother, Anne. You are positioned in the center, a symbol of the family's strength, while the world grieves around you.

Harry, your husband, remains hidden in the shadows of a nearby bush, concealed by the dense foliage.

His heart aches as he watches the mourners, his loved ones, weeping for him. The weight of his decision to become a vampire bears down on him heavily, and guilt gnaws at his conscience.

He longs to step out from the darkness, to hold you in his arms and console his grieving family, but he knows the consequences would be dire.

The insatiable bloodlust that courses through him is a risk he can't take.

Liam, the one who turned Harry into a vampire, stands beside him, aware of Harry's internal turmoil. As the mourners begin to weep more openly, and your tears flow, Harry's eyes glisten with unshed tears.

He is desperate to be by your side, to share in your pain, to say his final goodbyes. But Liam knows that he's not ready to control his primal instincts, and he grabs Harry's arm, holding him back.

Harry's eyes lock with Liam's, and there's a silent understanding between them. Liam's grip tightens, and he speaks softly, a voice only Harry can hear.

"You can't go over there, Harry," Liam insists. "Your thirst will be uncontrollable. You need training, discipline. You're not ready to face them without putting them in danger."

Harry's heart aches with the truth of Liam's words. He knows he's not in control of his newfound vampiric instincts, and the potential harm he could cause to those he loves weighs heavily on his conscience. A tear escapes his eye, rolling down his cheek as he gazes at you and his family from the shadows.

In the distance, Gemma sobs quietly, her shoulders trembling. Anne clings to you, her grief profound and palpable. Harry's anguish deepens as he realizes he can't comfort them, can't wipe away their tears. He wants nothing more than to hold you all, to whisper words of love and reassurance, but the consequences of his presence are too dire.

Harry clenches his jaw and nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He understands that he must control the beast within him, no matter how much it pains him to stay away. He watches as the mourners continue to grieve, knowing that he must focus on his training to become a responsible vampire, even if it means sacrificing his desire to be with you one last time.

Harry's memories of those early days with you were etched into his heart, timeless and evergreen. The two of you had been young, so young that it felt like you both had the world at your feet.

It was the norm back then to marry young, and so you had, vowing to spend a lifetime together.

At the tender age of seventeen, the two of you had become husband and wife, and Harry had been just eighteen when he was taken from you.

The day you said your vows had been a blur of emotions, a whirlwind of love and promises.

The sun had shone brightly, casting a golden hue on the small chapel where you had gathered with their families and friends.

Harry couldn't have been more proud or more in love as he watched you walk down the aisle, a vision of grace and beauty.

The year that followed had been filled with joy, adventure, and love. You had faced the world hand in hand, growing together as you navigated the challenges and joys that life presented.

Harry's love for you had only deepened with time, and he couldn't imagine a life without you by his side.

The night he was dragged out of bed to defend the town had been a harrowing one.

The chaos of the attack had thrust him into the front lines, where he had fought valiantly to protect his home and loved ones.

In the midst of the battle, he had been taken from you leaving your heart with a void that could never be filled.

Harry found himself back in his hometown in the year 2023. It had been a long and winding journey that had brought him here, to the place where he and you had once shared a life together. The memories of your youth had been a bittersweet comfort, and he couldn't resist the pull of returning to the town you had both had once called home.

A year had passed since his return, and Harry had settled into the rhythm of everyday life in the town.

His immortality was a secret he guarded closely, and only told a certain group of people, but to fit in with the world around him, he had made the decision to attend the local high school.

His appearance, frozen in time, allowed him to blend in as an eighteen-year-old, a senior in high school.

The hallways of the school were bustling with youthful energy, and Harry navigated them with a sense of nostalgia. The students around him were so different from the world he had once known, but their dreams and aspirations remained the same. It was a peculiar feeling to be an immortal amidst those who still had their entire lives ahead of them.

Harry stood by his locker, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of the high school. He was in the process of organizing his books for his next lesson when he felt a presence approach.

Turning around, he was greeted by the smiling faces of his two closest friends, Sarah and Mitch, who were dating.

They had been his unwavering support since his return to this town, and they were among the few who knew his secret.

Sarah and Mitch shared an unbreakable bond, one that had grown even stronger with the knowledge of Harry's true nature. They had embraced him with open arms, offering friendship and a sense of belonging that he had desperately missed.

"Hey, Haz," Sarah chimed, her warm smile lighting up the hallway. "You coming to the Grove later?"

The Chapel Grove.

A local hangout spot for the families of Holmes Chapel, they sold food such as greasy burgers, loaded fries and even served drinks such as Milkshakes and of the alcoholic kind.

Mitch nodded in agreement, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Yeah, It was Ricky’s idea."

Harry, still playing with his books, shrugged his shoulders. He let out a sigh, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. "M’not sure, v’ got a ton of homework t’do. Y’know how it is."

His two friends exchanged knowing glances. They understood that Harry's commitment to his studies was both genuine and a cover for the reality of his existence. They respected his choices, knowing that the weight of his immortality was a burden he carried alone.

Sarah reached out and gently placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

He watched as Sarah and Mitch walked away, their laughter fading into the distance.

It was a bittersweet moment, a reminder of the normal life he had once shared with you and the sacrifices he now made to honour her memory.

Harry turned his attention back to his locker. As he opened the door, he was met with the image of a photograph hanging on the inside.

It was a picture of you, a snapshot taken in the year 1864, the year you had become his beloved wife.

The sepia-toned photograph had faded with time, but the memories it held were as vivid as ever.

Harry's fingers traced a delicate path along the edges of the photograph, a gesture born out of love and longing.

He couldn't help but marvel at your image, at the way your eyes sparkled with joy and your smile radiates warmth. It was a portrait of a life that had once been filled with hope, dreams, and love.

He was transported back in time, to the days when the two of you had been inseparable. The image before him held the essence of the happiness you had shared, a happiness that had been taken from him too soon.

As he gazed at your face, he fought to hold back the tears that threatened to escape.

The wedding ring he still wore on his finger served as a constant reminder of the love that had transcended time and space. He had never taken it off, a symbol of his eternal devotion to you.

As he looked at the photograph, his heart ached with the weight of your absence, a pain that had not diminished over the years.

In the hushed stillness of the hallway, Harry found himself caught in a silent moment of reflection.

He knew that you were gone, that he could never hold you again in the same way, but the photograph served as a lifeline to the love and memories that continued to endure.

With great care, he closed the locker door, leaving the photograph of you hanging there. It was a bittersweet reminder of the life he had once known, the life that had been stolen from him.

You're seated in Zayn's car, the soothing hum of the engine merging with the rhythmic patterns of the road.

It's been four long hours of cruising from London to Manchester, a journey you've made year after year, a pilgrimage to Holmes Chapel.

The miles seem to stretch on endlessly, and your thoughts are a chaotic whirlwind, just as they always are on this annual trip. Memories, emotions, and longings intermingle, creating a storm within your mind.

Traffic comes and goes, a constant ebb and flow of vehicles on the motorway. The occasional slowdowns test your patience, but you find solace in the companionship of Zayn and the knowledge that the destination is worth the journey.

Zayn pulls the car to the side of the road, when the two of you are driving through the last bit of the journey, through a nice little down adjacent to Holmes Chapel, the two of you hadn’t fed before leaving.

Rookie mistake on your part.

And now, your mouth was dry and you desperately needed something to refresh it.

The oblivious passerby, a stranger to you, continues on their path, unknowingly approaching the enigmatic pair standing by the roadside.

In a carefully orchestrated dance, you and Zayn approach the passerby, a swift and silent exchange between predator and prey, and walk with him to a secluded alleyway.

The "snack" begins, a feeding that is essential for your survival. Your senses sharpen as you draw from your chosen source, the warmth of their life pulsing beneath their skin.

The passerby remains blissfully unaware, their consciousness undisturbed as you and Zayn fulfil your needs.

You both take only what you require, leaving no lasting harm, and then compel them to forget the encounter.

And so, you continue your journey.

The landscape outside the car window changes gradually as you travel. The urban sprawl of London gives way to the open countryside.

Fields stretch to the horizon, painted in shades of green and gold. It's a serene contrast to the chaotic thoughts that whirl within your mind.

The journey continues, and the passing scenery carries with it a sense of nostalgia. The familiar landmarks along the way bring back memories of years gone by, each one tinged with the bittersweet remembrance of the life you once shared with your beloved.

As you approach Holmes Chapel, your heart quickens, and the sense of longing intensifies. The town's quaint streets and charming houses feel like a trip back in time, a reminder of the life you once knew.

The car glides into Holmes Chapel, and you can almost hear the echoes of your past. The weight of your annual pilgrimage rests heavily upon your shoulders, a testament to the enduring love that has never dimmed.

Zayn expertly guided the car into the driveway of the house that had once belonged to your parents back in 1864.

It was a place steeped in history, a relic of a time long past, and it had become yours after your parents' passing in 1895, after sneaking back into the town and compelling your way to be the owner.

For nearly 130 years, this house had been a silent witness to your existence, a sanctuary where you and Zayn retreated to every year.

The exterior of the house retained the charm of another era. It was a grand Victorian home, adorned with intricate wooden details and gabled roofs. The red brick façade bore the marks of time, and the lush ivy that crept up the walls had woven its own stories.

The front garden was a riot of colour , with flowers in full bloom. The fragrant scent of roses, lilacs, and lavender filled the air, a testament to the diligent care you had taken to preserve the beauty of the landscape.

The path leading to the front door was lined with cobblestones, their edges softened by the passage of countless seasons.

As the car came to a stop, the familiar sight of the house, with its large bay windows and wrought-iron balconies, stirred a sense of nostalgia within you.

The years had passed, but the house remained a time capsule, preserving the memories of a bygone era.

You and Zayn stepped out of the car, and the front porch welcomed you with open arms. The old oak door, with its ornate brass knocker, felt like an old friend.

You had kept everything inside the house unchanged, maintaining the decor of another centuryc and wanting to keep your parents' memories alive. The rooms were filled with antique furniture, tapestries, and framed photographs of family members long gone.

The fireplace in the living room, where you and Zayn had shared countless conversations, was a focal point. The mantel held a collection of aged books and trinkets, each with its own story to tell. The ticking of an antique clock on the wall served as a reminder that time had, in some ways, stood still here.

The past clung to the house's very walls, an unspoken testament to the enduring love and memories that you had carried throughout the ages. As you stepped inside, the echoes of your footsteps were met with a quiet sense of reverence, a recognition of the bond you shared with this place.

Within the house, amidst the antique furnishings and treasured memories, there was a room that held a special place in your heart. It was a room where time seemed to stand still, a room that honoured both the past and the present.

On one wall, there hung a meticulously painted portrait of you and Harry on your wedding day in 1864. The image captured a moment of pure happiness, the two of you standing side by side, radiating love and promise.

The colours were vivid, as if the artist had painstakingly tried to preserve the very essence of that day.

Beside it, you had placed a modern touch, a photograph of you and Zayn. It was a selfie taken during a visit to the Colosseum in Rome, a few years ago.

The picture was a snapshot of friendship, of laughter and shared experiences, and it served as a tribute to the bond you and Zayn had forged over the centuries.

The juxtaposition of the two images on the same wall was a reflection of the passage of time, a reminder that love and connection endured even as life moved forward.

The painted portrait of your wedding day was a testament to the love that had once defined your existence, while the photograph of you and Zayn symbolised the friendship that had evolved to fill the void left by Harry's untimely departure.

It was the very same house where Harry had asked you on your first date, a memory etched into the very walls of the building.

The familiarity of the place had been the perfect backdrop for that special moment. It was here, within the walls of this house, that Harry had shown the first signs of his affections for you.

The room, adorned with vintage decor and an antique chandelier, had been bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and romance.

You stood in the modest kitchen of your family home, the warm and comforting heart of the house. The scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the stew that simmered on the stove.

It was a simple yet fulfilling meal that you were preparing, a meal that would soon be shared by your mother, your father, and you.

The kitchen was a cosy space, with worn wooden counters and shelves lined with jars of preserved fruits and vegetables.

Sunlight streamed through the small, lace-curtained window, casting a soft, golden glow on the room. The sounds of your mother's apron softly brushing against her dress and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables filled the room.

You worked alongside your mother, your hands expertly kneading the dough for the bread. The flour dusted your fingers, creating a playful mess that made you both smile.

The warmth of the hearth, with its crackling fire, chased away the chill of the approaching winter.

The two of you shared a quiet understanding as you moved in synchrony, the bond between mother and child woven into the very fabric of the kitchen.

The wooden table, which had seen countless meals and conversations, stood as a witness to the love and care that went into each dish.

As you stirred the stew, the rich aroma filled your senses, a comforting reassurance that the family would soon be gathered around the table, sharing not only a meal but also the love and connection that made your home a sanctuary.

The rhythmic sound of chopping vegetables continued, the sharp knife slicing through them with precision.

The knock that sounded throughout the house was unexpected, and you glanced towards your mother as she wiped her flour-covered hands against the countertop, her footsteps echoing in the kitchen as she went to answer it.

You continued your culinary task, focused on the rhythmic motion of the knife, when your mother returned to the kitchen, a look of curiosity in her eyes.

"It's for you," she said, her voice carrying a hint of mystery.

She gestured towards the visitor waiting by the door, and you turned around to see Harry standing there.

Wiping your hands against your apron, you approached him, a smile spreading across your face. It was a pleasant surprise to see him, and you greeted him warmly. "Harry, what brings you here?"

He returned your smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of excitement and sincerity. "I was wondering if I could talk to you, if possible.”

You nodded and led Harry into the living room, explaining to your mother that you'd be back soon.

With you leading Harry into the living room, you both found a quiet corner, away from the bustling sounds of the kitchen. He looked at you with a hint of anticipation, and after a brief pause, he spoke, his words soft and filled with sincerity.

“So what did you want to talk about?” You question, head tilted to the side as you toyed with the strings on your apron.

There was a pregnant pause before he began speaking.

Harry's voice trembled as he gathered the courage to speak.

"S’wondering if, um... would y’possibly like t’go on a date one day this week?" His words were hesitant, and his hands shook with nervousness.

You met his gaze, your heart warmed by his vulnerability.

A soft smile formed on your lips, and you replied, "Yes, Harry, I'd love to."

His eyes widened in pleasant surprise, but his hands still trembled from the jitters.

"Really?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

You could see the genuine nervousness in his eyes, and you decided to ease his worries.

With a gentle touch, you reached out, taking his hands into yours, your fingers gently entwining with his. His hands stilled under your reassuring touch.

You leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

"Definitely," you whispered, your words carrying a promise.

After a long day at school, Harry's footsteps carried him up the driveway of the house he had called home for so many years.

It was a place where memories of you still lingered, the house that you had lived in during your one year of marriage, an old Victorian house with an enduring charm.

The memories within those walls were a bittersweet comfort.

He had invited Niall over after school, a friend who had practically been a brother to him since they had met in the early 1900s.

Their friendship had grown strong over the years, and they shared a bond that transcended time.

As he approached the front of the house, he couldn't help but notice a car parked in the driveway of what had once been your parents' house.

It was a sight he had expected, knowing that someone would eventually move in.

He sighed and shook his head, the changes around him a reminder of the passage of time.

His fingers instinctively brushed against the wedding ring on his finger, His friends, Niall included, didn't question his marital status, as they were all privy to his secret.

They had secrets of their own, secrets that bound them together.

Penny, Logan, Daniel, Toby, Ricky – they were all werewolves, their fates intertwined with the lunar cycles.

And Brooke was a witch, her magic a well-guarded treasure.

Their supernatural natures were shared with an unspoken understanding, a bond that went beyond the boundaries of the ordinary.

As he entered the house, with Niall by his side, the memories of the past and the secrets of the present coexisted in the space around them

You sit alone in the garden, the air tinged with the scents of flowers and the distant echoes of life in the town.

Your journal rests open on your lap, and the inked words spill onto the pages as you reflect on the passing of time and the season that has come around once more.

It's that time of year again, the time when you return to the town that has brought you so much misery and yet holds a powerful grip on your heart.

The memories of days long past and the ache of what was lost permeate your thoughts.

The garden, once vibrant and filled with life, now stands as a silent testament to the years that have passed.

The flowers you once tended with care bloom without your touch, a reminder that life continues, even in the face of heartache.

The journal in your hands is a chronicle of your existence, the pages filled with the hopes, dreams, and heartaches that have defined your immortal life.

It is a mirror to your soul, a place where you pour out the emotions that you can never truly share with anyone else.

As the pen moves across the pages, the memories of the town come rushing back. The streets, the houses, and the people who once filled your life with joy and sorrow, they are all here, etched in the recesses of your mind.

As you sit in the garden, tears silently cascade down your cheeks. The memories and emotions of this time of year have caught up to you, and you're trying your best to keep your crying from alerting Zayn inside the house.

You wipe away the tears, but more continue to fall, a relentless stream of anguish.

You know that if Zayn hears you sniffling, he'll be out in an instant, concerned for your well-being. And while you appreciate his care, you're not ready to discuss the depth of your sorrow.

Just when it feels like your heart can't bear any more, you notice a presence at the fence of the house next door.

A boy with vibrant blue eyes and blonde hair is leaning over, peering at you with a curious expression. It's someone you've never seen before, and the sight of a stranger surprises you.

He tilts his head to the side and gently drums his fingers against the fence, a gesture of concern.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with empathy.

You hastily wipe away the evidence of your tears and give him a small, trembling smile.

"Yeah, just feeling a bit emotional today," you admit, not wanting to go into too much detail with someone you've just met.

Niall nods his head in understanding, his eyes reflecting kindness.

"I'm live opposite, I’m not breaking into someone’s house, promise, this is me mates house, if you ever want to talk," he offers, his sincerity evident in his words. "I'm a good listener, and sometimes sharing with a stranger can help."

You appreciate his gesture and nod in response, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the presence of this kind-hearted stranger.

As Niall walks away, you find yourself leaning against the tree once more, your heart a little lighter with the knowledge that there's someone nearby who is willing to lend an understanding ear.

You and Harry found yourselves in the shade of the very same tree you now sat under, the same oak tree that had watched over the passage of time.

The leaves rustled in the gentle breeze, and the sunlight filtered through, casting dappled patterns on the grass below.

You were nestled comfortably in the crook of Harry's arm, your head resting in his lap.

He held a book in one hand, the pages filled with words that transported you to far-off places and into the world of imagination.

Harry's voice was a soft, melodic cadence as he read aloud, each word falling from his lips like a soothing lullaby.

His free hand played with a strand of your hair, his touch gentle and affectionate. The strands of your hair slipped through his fingers like silk, and he couldn't help but smile as he continued to read.

As you lay there, the world around you faded into the background.

The characters from the book came to life in your mind, and the only reality that mattered was the bond you shared with Harry.

His voice, the rhythm of his breathing, and the touch of his hand were the only things that existed in that moment.

The two of you had shared many quiet afternoons like this, escaping into the world of literature and into each other's presence.

It was a sanctuary, a place where time seemed to stand still, and the troubles of the world could not reach you.

February 1, 2023.

The next day, as the sun broke through the morning clouds and painted the world outside in hues of gold, Harry entered his classroom.

The usually vibrant features that adorned his face had now transformed into a pale, tired countenance.

His exhaustion was palpable, and the faint shadows beneath his eyes bespoke of a restless night.

For Harry, the morning had not begun like that of his fellow classmates. He hadn't woken up to the smell of breakfast, nor had he enjoyed a hearty meal with his family.

Instead, he had reluctantly skipped his morning feed, a vital part of his daily routine. The reason was simple: he had to make an early visit to the hospital to replenish his supply of blood bags, a ritual he had kept hidden from the people around him, only his close friends knew.

As he stepped into the classroom, he hoped to remain unnoticed, to blend into the sea of students and escape their inquisitive glances.

They were unaware of the struggles he faced each day to maintain his facade of normalcy. They didn't know the secret he carried, the very essence of his existence as a creature of the night.

Mr. Addams, the teacher, was a kind and observant man who had developed a certain fondness for Harry.

As Harry entered, Mr. Addams couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the bright morning sunlight and the dull pallor of Harry's skin.

Concern etched his features, and he couldn't ignore the evident weariness that clung to his student.

"Is everything okay, Harry?" Mr. Addams inquired, his voice laced with genuine worry.

His intuition was often a strength, and he couldn't ignore the visible signs of distress.

Harry's throat constricted, and he struggled to uphold the facade that he had carefully constructed.

"Jus’didn't get much sleep last night," he replied, his voice trembling as he stuck to his story.

He didn't want to reveal the true reason behind his tiredness, the missed morning feed, and the ensuing visit to the hospital to restock his supply of blood bags.

Mr. Addams, understanding and respecting Harry's privacy, nodded sympathetically.

"I hope you find some rest soon. If you need any help or have any questions, don't hesitate to ask," he offered, his words brimming with warmth and support.

Harry took a seat next to his friend, Daniel, whose knowing glance acknowledged the truth hidden beneath the surface.

Daniel was one of the few people who were privy to Harry's secret, and he leaned over, whispering softly, "You okay, mate? Need anything?"

Harry gave his friend a faint, grateful smile but shook his head, not wanting to involve Daniel further in his complex situation.

"I'll be fine, jus’a rough night," he murmured back.

After Mr. Addams had expressed his concern and Harry had responded with a somewhat convincing explanation, the teacher proceeded with the lesson.

He launched into the day's subject matter, his voice clear and engaging, filling the classroom with knowledge and enthusiasm.

Harry did his best to stay focused, his eyes fixed on the board as he diligently transcribed the notes.

With every stroke of the pen, he tried to divert his mind away from the gnawing hunger that simmered within him.

The lesson was essential, and he couldn't afford to let his cravings distract him from his studies, even though he had done the exact same lesson plenty of times before, he still liked to brush up on his knowledge.

As the minutes passed, the thirst grew more insistent, like a relentless drumbeat in the background.

Harry took frequent sips from his water bottle, the cool liquid helping to quell the ever-present desire. The sensation of quenching his thirst was a brief respite from the yearning for something more potent, for blood.

The classroom was filled with the rustle of paper and the scratch of pens on notebooks, the students engrossed in their work.

Harry, however, struggled to ignore the tantalising aroma of his classmates, the rhythmic beating of their hearts, and the temptation that surrounded him.

The battle within him was a quiet one, an internal struggle he had grown accustomed to over the years.

He knew that his need for blood could not be satisfied during the school day, and he was determined to endure until he could seek solace in the hospital.

In the midst of a history lesson, Mr. Addams posed a question to the class, inquiring if anyone knew the date of a particular historical event. There was a collective silence as the students exchanged glances, their minds drawing a blank.

Amid the hush that enveloped the classroom, Harry raised his hand, offering a tentative, “M’think I know, sir."

Mr. Addams, intrigued, nodded and invited Harry to share his answer.

Harry responded confidently, "The event y’referring t’happened in 1066, sir, the Battle of Hastings."

The teacher was impressed and decided to take it a step further.

"You have quite a knack for history, Harry," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "How about a quick quiz? Let's see if you can recall the years for a few more events."

With a twinkle of curiosity in his eye, Mr. Addams began to fire off random historical events, challenging Harry's memory and knowledge.

"The signing of the Magna Carta?"

"1215," Harry replied without hesitation.

"The American Declaration of Independence?"

"1776."

The classroom buzzed with admiration for Harry's extensive knowledge, and Mr. Addams continued to test him, event after event.

Harry answered each question with unwavering confidence and accuracy, displaying a remarkable understanding of history that fascinated both his classmates and teacher.

As Harry confidently and accurately answered each historical question, the class sat in collective astonishment.

Their eyes were wide, jaws slightly agape, as they gawked at him in disbelief. The room was filled with a sense of awe and wonder, a profound appreciation for the depth of Harry's knowledge.

Harry's classmates were left both amazed and somewhat envious of his remarkable grasp of history.

He sat there, a slight, knowing smirk gracing his lips, his expression a testament to the satisfaction he derived from outshining their expectations.

You walk into the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. Zayn leans against the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in his hand, his morning ritual.

The sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room, making it the perfect morning to go for a run.

You're dressed in exercise leggings and a cropped sports bra, even though your body shape will never change.

It's a habit that makes you feel better about yourself, a semblance of normalcy in an otherwise extraordinary existence.

Zayn looks up as you enter, his gaze lingering on your attire.

"Morning," he greets, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

You offer a warm smile and respond, "Hey. I thought I'd go for a run this morning."

He takes a sip of his coffee, nodding in understanding.

Zayn knows today is Harry's birthday, and he can sense that you're trying to distract yourself from the inevitable visit to Harry's grave. But he doesn't press the issue.

"Sounds like a good idea," he comments.

As you pour yourself a cup of coffee, Zayn leans against the island and says, "You know, it's okay to take some time for yourself today. If you want to go visit Harry's grave, I'll understand."

You appreciate his understanding and consider his words. "I know, Z. I just... I need this run right now. It helps clear my head."

He nods in agreement, his support unwavering. "Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you get back."

You nod your head in response to Zayn's understanding and head toward the fruit bowl, where your AirPods are nestled among the colourful array of fruit.

You pick them up and slip them into your ears, the familiar feeling of music bringing you comfort and distraction.

Walking out of the kitchen and through the front door, you take a deep breath of the fresh morning air.

The sun shines brightly, casting long shadows on the path ahead. As you begin to jog, the rhythm of your steps aligns with the beat of the music, creating a comforting synchrony.

Your run takes you past the old streets you once walked along to get home, streets that have seen a world of change since 1864.

The buildings have evolved, and the town has grown in ways you could never have imagined back then.

Though the surroundings have transformed, the nostalgia lingers. Memories of a bygone era rush back, and you can't help but reminisce as you jog past familiar landmarks.

The echoes of time blend with the music in your ears, and it feels like a journey through the pages of history.

The town that you once knew so well is a blend of the past and present, a testament to the inexorable march of time.

Your run becomes a meditative experience, allowing you to process your emotions and escape from the complexities of the day.

As you continue your jog, the music in your AirPods becomes the soundtrack to your thoughts.

The collision with the girl was unexpected, and even though your enhanced hearing usually keeps you aware of your surroundings, the soothing melodies have drawn you into your own world.

Turning a corner, you suddenly collide with the girl, her ginger hair and freckles prominent features that catch your eye.

The impact is swift, and you quickly come to a halt, the surprise evident on your face.

You offer a quick apology, realising that the music in your ears prevented you from hearing her approach.

The girl, on the other hand, is struck by recognition.

Her gaze locks onto your face, and her freckled cheeks flush with a mix of surprise and nervousness. It's clear she recognizes you, but she remains silent, her words stumbling as she tries to regain her composure.

She stammers, "Oh, s-sorry, I didn't mean to... I mean, it was my fault too."

Her voice quivers with a hint of unease.

You appreciate her acknowledgment, and when you see her favoring one ankle, you instinctively reach out to steady her.

You grab her arm gently, preventing her from toppling over from the sudden collision. In this moment, you connect in a way that goes beyond words.

That's when something extraordinary occurs. As you hold onto her, your connection seems to transcend the physical realm.

A vision unexpectedly floods your mind, and you're pulled back in time to the year 1864.

Her ancestor was someone you once knew.

Your head tilts back, and you're briefly lost within the vision.

A chilling night had fallen over the quiet town. Your husband had been dragged from your shared bed, called upon to defend the town against an unexpected attack.

As you lay in the dark, the weight of the situation pressing down on you, you couldn't bear to stay inside.

Quietly, you slipped out of your house, the wooden door creaking softly as you closed it behind you.

The dim moonlight illuminated the cobblestone streets, casting eerie shadows as you began your walk.

You needed the solace of the night air, the stars above providing the only comfort in these tumultuous times.

As you strolled through the quiet town, you noticed a familiar face watching from a window of the house opposite yours.

Jane, a neighbour you knew well, had her gaze fixed on you, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. She leaned out of the window and called out to you, her voice laced with worry.

"What are you doing, dear?" Jane's voice rang out in the still night.

You hesitated for a moment, her question hanging in the air. Then, you replied, "Just getting some fresh air."

Jane raised an eyebrow, scepticism written across her features. "Fresh air? When the town is under attack? You should be seeking shelter, not strolling the streets."

A sigh escaped your lips, your shoulders deflating under the weight of her words. You continued walking, ignoring her pleas for you to return to the safety of your home.

You choose not to reveal the contents of the vision to the girl.

Instead, you offer her a sheepish smile, releasing your grip on her arm, allowing her to regain her balance.

For a brief moment, you both stand there, the connection between you now a complex tapestry of unspoken understanding.

Your thoughts are filled with the vision you've just witnessed, and it lingers in your mind, a fragment of a distant past that somehow intertwines with the present.

With a polite nod and a brief farewell, you resume your jog.

You cast a final glance over your shoulder, curious to find the girl still standing there, her eyes following you.

As the bell for the end of the lesson rang, the classroom filled with the collective sound of chairs scraping against the floor and students shuffling in their seats.

Harry, like the rest of his classmates, gathered up his books and swiftly began to place them into his backpack.

The air in the room was filled with an anticipatory energy as students prepared to leave the classroom.

Harry's movements were efficient, his hands deftly organising his materials. He carefully slid his textbooks into the main compartment of his backpack, the pages neatly aligned. His notebooks followed suit, each fitting perfectly into their designated space.

With a practised ease, Harry zipped up his backpack, ensuring that everything was secure.

He slung the bag over his shoulder, feeling the weight of the books against his back.

As he stood up from his desk, he joined the stream of students heading for the exit, ready to move on to the next part of the day.

As the two friends, Harry and Logan, walked out of the classroom together, they joined the bustling flow of students in the hallway.

All around them, people were coming out of their own classes, talking and laughing as they headed to their lockers to prepare for the next lesson.

The school day was in full swing, and the energy in the hallway was palpable.

Logan, genuinely curious, turned to Harry. "Mate, what's the plan for your birthday tonight?"

Harry's response was a nonchalant shrug. "Not much, Lo. S’just another day, really."

Logan, determined to see his friend enjoy his special day, was relentless. "Come on, Haz, you can't just let it pass by like any other day."

Harry's smile was a mixture of sarcasm and resignation. "Logan, birthdays stopped mattering to me a long time ago."

Unwilling to give up, Logan clasped a hand on Harry's shoulder, his voice earnest. "We want to make it matter, Haz. We want to see you happy."

Harry let out a sigh, his gaze focused on the linoleum floor. "V’not been truly happy since 1864."

With genuine concern, Logan gave Harry's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

He met his friend's eyes and spoke with conviction. "That's why we're having a small get-together at Chapel Grove later. We really want you to be there."

As they navigated the hallway's hustle and bustle, the invitation hung in the air, a chance for Harry to embrace a moment of joy and connection with his friends.

The vibrant energy of the school seemed to underscore the significance of the celebration, offering a glimmer of hope amid the weight of Harry's long, complex existence.

Harry, although deeply touched by his friend's determination, couldn't help but maintain a sense of reservation. "M’appreciate it, Lo, I really do. But birthdays ‘ave just become another reminder f’how much time ‘as passed."

Logan's expression softened with empathy as they reached the entrance to the boys' bathroom.

He leaned against the tiled wall, still focused on his friend. "We understand, Haz, but that doesn't mean we should stop celebrating your existence. You mean a lot to all of us."

Harry, while genuinely grateful for his friends' loyalty, couldn't help but express the unspoken burdens he bore. "Logan, y’guys mean the world t’me. I just... sometimes s’hard t’feel like I belong."

Logan nodded in understanding, offering a warm smile. "You'll always belong with us, mate. Your past doesn't define who you are now. We're your family."

Harry's eyes met Logan's, a complex blend of emotions within them. "I'll think about it, Lo. Maybe I'll stop by f’a little while."

Logan's face brightened with hope, and he clapped Harry on the shoulder. "That's all we're asking for, mate. It'll be good to see you there."

As they stood by their lockers and went about their business, the weight of the invitation and the potential for a night of camaraderie hung in the air.

Harry and Logan stood side by side at their lockers, an everyday occurrence in their high school lives.

The lockers were nestled close together, their shared space where they stored their books, sports equipment, and the remnants of their shared experiences.

Logan, while absentmindedly organising his books, couldn't help but steal glances at the photo Harry kept inside his locker.

His friend had positioned the photograph with utmost care, the image of you from a time long past.

He stared at the frozen moment in time, where happiness radiated from the smiles on both of your faces.

A sigh escaped Logan's lips as he realised the depth of Harry's love for you. It was a love that had spanned generations, enduring through hardships and transcending the boundaries of life and death.

Logan knew that your absence weighed heavily on Harry's heart, and he understood the profound sense of loss that his friend carried with him.

Harry, unaware of Logan's quiet reflection, continued to look at the photo, lost in his thoughts.

He traced his fingers over the image, his eyes filled with a longing that Logan knew all too well. It was in this moment, by their lockers, that Logan recognized the magnitude of Harry's enduring love for you.

A profound sadness settled over Logan as he realised that, perhaps, his friend might never truly find happiness again.

The love that bound Harry to you was a force of nature, a connection that had persisted through centuries and across lifetimes.

Logan couldn't help but wonder if anyone could truly fill the void left by your absence in Harry's life.

With a heavy heart, Logan closed his locker, the weight of his friend's unending love and the complex emotions it carried lingering in the air.

He was determined to be the support that Harry needed, but he also knew that some wounds were so deep that they might never fully heal.

Two weeks after you and Harry had exchanged your vows and embarked on your journey as a married couple, a photograph was taken that would forever capture the warmth of your love.

The setting was the quaint parlour room of your shared house, a cosy and intimate space where the walls bore witness to your growing bond.

Harry, the ever-doting husband, stood behind a large wooden camera, his steady hands adjusting the focus and angle.

He was a man of few words but abundant actions, and his choice to capture this moment was a testament to his enduring affection for you.

You, the picture of grace and elegance, sat on a plush, tufted sofa, your wedding attire still adorned as a symbol of the promises you'd made to each other.

Your eyes sparkled with the thrill of your new life together, and your radiant smile spoke volumes about the happiness that had taken root in your heart.

The room was bathed in soft, diffused light from the lace-curtained windows, casting a gentle glow upon your features.

The flickering flames in the fireplace added an inviting warmth to the scene, illuminating the tender connection you shared.

As Harry focused the camera and adjusted the settings, the two of you communicated without words, a silent understanding that transcended the need for speech.

The air was filled with love, tenderness, and a profound sense of commitment that emanated from the very core of your beings.

As the camera's shutter clicked and captured the image for posterity, you and Harry tried valiantly to maintain an air of stoicism, a facade of solemnity befitting a formal photograph.

But the sheer absurdity of the situation, sitting so still and holding expressions that were foreign to your otherwise joyful selves, proved too much to bear.

Your eyes met, and the spark of laughter that had been simmering beneath the surface suddenly bubbled up.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and the restrained giggles escaped from both of you.

"Y’doing great, m’sun," Harry said, his voice laced with a hint of mirth.

Your response was a chuckle, the sound bursting forth like a long-held secret. "And you, my love, look positively dashing in your stern photographer pose."

Harry's own laughter joined yours, filling the room with a joyous sound that mirrored the happiness you both felt. The absurdity of the moment, the irony of trying to remain composed when you were anything but, was simply too amusing to resist.

"Alrigh’, one more time," Harry declared, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he prepared to take another shot.

You nodded, still unable to suppress your laughter.

It was a shared, spontaneous moment of pure delight, a testament to the deep connection you shared and the unwavering happiness that had bloomed in your hearts since the day you said "I do."

You walk into The Chapel Grove, your steps reluctant as Zayn had practically pulled you out of the house.

He insisted that you shouldn't be a loner, especially on a day like this. The town had seen so many changes over the years, and you had watched it all from the shadows.

As you step inside the cosy establishment, the familiar scent of aged wood and warm hearth greets you.

The patrons seated around the room, sipping on their drinks and engaging in quiet conversations, all turn their heads to look at the two of you.

Your arrival, so unexpected in a town that rarely saw newcomers, had drawn their attention.

Their stares bore into you, curious and contemplative. They weren't used to strangers in Holmes Chapel, especially those who had an air of mystery about them.

You can feel the weight of their collective gaze as you navigate the room, trying to remain composed despite the discomfort of being the centre of attention.

The ambiance of The Chapel Grove is timeless, much like the town itself. The worn wooden tables and antique décor create an atmosphere steeped in history, a place where stories were told and secrets were shared.

You can't help but feel like an intruder in a world that was so familiar to its regular patrons.

You turn to Zayn and offer a half-hearted smile, your voice low as you speak. "I just need to use the bathroom. I won't be long."

He nods in understanding, sensing your unease. "Take your time. I'll be right here."

As you step into the dimly lit bathroom, you immediately head for a stall, your hands trembling as you lock the door behind you.

The walls seem to close in around you, and the weight of the unfamiliar world outside becomes almost suffocating. In moments like these, you realise just how much you relied on your husband in the past to help you navigate such situations.

You sit on the closed toilet lid, attempting to regulate your emotions. The sound of your own breathing fills the small space, each inhale and exhale a reminder of the isolation you feel. It's not that you don't have Zayn; he's a dear friend and confidant.

But he's not Harry, the one person who could always get into your head and reassure you that everything would be okay.

The pressure of the unfamiliar world outside bears down on you, and your chest tightens with anxiety.

You remember how, in the past, you would lean into Harry's comforting presence, his calm words of reassurance soothing your troubled soul.

Now, you find yourself yearning for that same sense of security and understanding that only he could provide.

Your home was filled with tension. You and Harry had found yourselves entangled in a heated argument, the kind that made your hearts ache and your words sting.

"Harry, I hardly ever see you anymore," you lamented, your voice fraught with loneliness. "You're always cooped up in that office, and it feels like you've forgotten about me."

He shot back, his own voice rising in frustration, "Well, maybe I would ‘ave more time if I didn't ‘ave t’ come home t’constant nagging!"

The argument had been building for days, fueled by your sense of abandonment and his feeling of being trapped by responsibility.

Harry's harsh words were like a dagger through your heart, and he instantly regretted them when he saw your face pale.

His anger was replaced with regret, and he stammered, "I didn't mean that, (Y/N). M’jus’ overwhelmed lately, and I took it out on ye’. M’sorry."

But in that heated moment, you weren't ready to hear apologies. Hurt and vulnerable, you turned away, unable to hold back the tears.

His regret was genuine, but the pain was still raw.

As the argument reached its peak, his temper flared, and he stormed out of the living room, his heavy footsteps thudding up the stairs.

You, lost in the heat of the moment, believed he had gone outside, that he had actually left you, not realising he had gone upstairs.

"Harry!" you cried out, running to the door. But he was nowhere to be found, and the anguish of thinking he had left you alone in the house was almost unbearable.

As the echoes of the argument with Harry still resounded in your mind, you sank down onto the floor, your back against the wall.

Your heart raced, and panic set in, a suffocating sensation that tightened its grip on your chest.

The world around you seemed to blur, and your breaths grew rapid and shallow.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision, as the fear of Harry actually leaving overwhelmed you.

The room felt like it was closing in, and the walls seemed to press closer. It was the fear of abandonment, the thought of being left behind, that haunted your thoughts.

Every second felt like an eternity, as you clutched at your chest, trying to slow the pounding of your heart.

Your mind raced with scenarios, none of them comforting. The idea that he might never come back hung heavy in the air.

Your throat constricted, and your sobs grew more pronounced as you battled with the intensity of the panic attack. It was a storm of emotions that had been building over time, now unleashed in a torrent of tears and despair.

But deep down, a part of you still held on to hope, a hope that Harry's anger and frustration would pass, and he would come back to you. You clung to that hope, a flicker of light in the overwhelming darkness of your panic.

As you sat on the floor, vulnerable and scared, you whispered to yourself,

"He'll come back, he has to."

It was the lifeline you desperately needed in that moment of despair, the belief that your love was stronger than any argument.

In the throes of your panic attack, your trembling hands reached out, inadvertently knocking a small vase from a nearby table. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the room, intensifying your fear and confusion.

Upstairs, Harry had heard the crash, and his heart sank. He assumed you had escalated your anger to smashing things in frustration. He rushed downstairs, fear and worry gnawing at him.

Instead, the sight that met him was you, huddled on the floor, overwhelmed by your panic.

"God, S’happened?" Harry exclaimed, his initial worry turning into a desperate concern. He approached you cautiously, uncertain about the best way to help.

You, lost in your panic, barely noticed his arrival. Your voice trembled as you repeated, "Don't leave me, Harry. Please, don't leave me."

His heart ached at your words, and he knelt beside you, his voice gentle and reassuring. "M’right ‘ere, m’sun. M’not going anywhere. I promise. Y’safe."

But in the grip of your panic, it was hard to believe those words. You stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, as if questioning his presence.

"Look at me, (Y/N)," Harry implored, his voice unwavering. "M’not leaving ye’. We'll get through this together, okay? Just focus on y’breathing."

His hands gently touched your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. The warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes began to break through the layers of your panic.

As you slowly locked eyes with him, his face came into focus, and the realisation that he was indeed there with you started to sink in.

"Harry?" you whispered, your voice still shaky.

He nodded, offering a small, reassuring smile. "S’right. M’right ‘ere."

With his comforting presence, the grip of panic began to loosen. Your breathing gradually steadied, and your sobs turned into quiet sniffles.

Harry continued to speak softly, "Y’doing great, (Y/N) Jus’keep taking deep breaths. M’not going anywhere, I promise."

As the minutes passed, the chaos in your mind began to subside. The shattered vase remained on the floor, forgotten for the moment, as your focus shifted to the security of Harry's embrace and the reassurance that he wasn't leaving you, not now, not ever.

Through whispered words and steady embraces, the panic attack slowly lost its grip, and the room filled with a sense of calm. You clung to Harry, grateful for his unwavering support during your darkest moments.

In the present moment, you snapped out of your daze, realising that you were still inside the bathroom.

You flushed the toilet, an attempt to cover the time you'd spent in silent reflection. The sound of rushing water filled the room momentarily.

Moving to the sink, you stared at your reflection in the dimly lit bathroom mirror. The exhaustion in your eyes was evident, a testament to the emotional turmoil you had experienced earlier.

It was a stark reminder of the weight of your past, a past that felt both distant and eternally present.

You turned on the tap, allowing the water to flow over your hands. The cool liquid was refreshing, and you splashed some onto your face, hoping it would wash away the lingering traces of anxiety and sadness.

It was a brief respite, a moment of self-care in a life that often felt too long.

As you dried your face, you couldn't ignore the gnawing hunger that had been growing within you. It was a reminder of your unending need for sustenance.

The reality of your existence as a creature of the night was undeniable, and your hunt for sustenance was a constant, ever-present part of your life.

You walked out of the dimly lit bathroom and made your way back to the bar where Zayn was still seated.

With a subtle nod, you leaned in close to him and muttered,

"I'm going outside for a smoke."

It was your secret code, a discreet way to convey that you were heading out to satisfy your unique appetite.

Zayn, who understood the hidden meaning behind your words, simply nodded in acknowledgment, concern etched in his expression.

He knew that this part of your existence was both a necessity and a burden, and he respected your privacy.

As you turned to leave, he called after you,

"What drink do you want?" His voice was gentle, and it carried an underlying understanding of your needs.

You paused, glancing back at him, a hint of gratitude in your eyes.

"Malibu and Coke," you replied, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

Zayn signalled to the bartender, ordering the drink you'd requested, before turning his attention back to the bar.

You stepped out of Chapel Grove, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows on the street. Leaning against a nearby wall, you scanned the area, looking for the perfect taste tester.

The hunger gnawed at you, urging you to satisfy your insatiable appetite.

As you observed the passing crowd, your eyes fell on a perky girl with obviously dyed green hair. She seemed carefree and lost in her own world, the daylight concealing your supernatural nature. It was the perfect opportunity.

With quiet determination, you approached her, your eyes locking onto hers.

Compelling her to follow your commands, you exerted your supernatural influence, making her believe that following you was the most natural thing in the world.

Her gaze glazed over, and she nodded obediently as you led her away from the bustling street, into a secluded corner where no one would witness the act that was about to unfold.

In a soft, persuasive tone, you said, "Come with me. You trust me completely."

The girl replied in a trance, "I trust you completely."

In that quiet corner, you could feel your fangs elongate, your senses sharpening as the anticipation grew.

With a quick, fluid motion, you bit into her neck, and she murmured, "I trust you."

As you fed, your eyes closed in ecstasy, the taste of her blood unlike anything else. It was a mixture of fear and excitement, vulnerability and surrender.

It was a dark pleasure, a forbidden indulgence that coursed through your veins.

The girl in your grasp remained lost in a trance, her voice murmuring softly, "I trust you."

But even as you indulged in this dark act, a sense of guilt gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

You were a creature of the night, bound by your need for blood, but it came at the cost of another's innocence.

Finally, you pulled away, your lips stained with crimson.

The girl remained in a trance, her memory clouded. She gazed at you, her voice still murmuring, "I trust you."

As you watched her stumble away, you felt the weight of your existence, the eternal struggle between your nature and your humanity.

The hunger had been momentarily sated, but the guilt and the darkness that came with it lingered, a constant reminder of the price you paid for immortality in the afternoon sun.

You headed back inside Chapel Grove and spotted Zayn seated at a table next to a group of high schoolers.

With a nod of acknowledgment, you walked over and took the seat opposite him. The dim lighting of the place masked the remnants of your recent escapade.

Zayn glanced at you, a knowing look in his eyes.

"How was your smoke?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

You let out a small laugh and picked up your drink.

"Oh, it hit the spot," you replied, taking a sip and savouring the familiar taste of your Malibu and Coke.

As you settled into the conversation, Zayn asked, "What's on your mind, my friend? Anything special you'd like to do when we get back to London?"

You leaned back in your chair, considering the options.

"Well, I've been thinking about that new art exhibition at the Tate Modern," you said thoughtfully. "I've heard it's incredible, and I wouldn't mind spending an afternoon exploring the world of art."

Zayn nodded, intrigued. "That sounds fantastic. Art has a way of stirring the soul. Anything else on your list?"

You tapped your fingers on the table, pondering. "How about a night at that jazz club we used to frequent? The live music there always hits the right notes."

Zayn's eyes sparkled with anticipation, and he smiled. "I'm in. A bit of jazz, good company, and some fine wine. It's a perfect plan."

You paused for a moment and then said, "Actually, I was thinking, what if we took a little holiday? Maybe Spain? It's meant to be really nice this time of year."

Zayn's eyes widened in excitement. "Spain? That sounds incredible! I'm in immediately. A holiday is just what we need."

As the conversation about Spain continued, you both delved into the details of the trip. The destinations, the activities, the relaxation.

Planning a getaway rekindled a sense of adventure that had been somewhat dormant.

"I've always wanted to explore the historic streets of Seville," you mentioned. "And then there's the beauty of Barcelona, the beaches in Costa del Sol, and the vibrant culture of Madrid."

Zayn nodded eagerly. "All of that sounds amazing. Let's make sure to experience it all. It's been too long since we had a proper adventure."

Zayn mentioned, "We should also talk about when you'd like to visit the grave."

You glanced at your watch and replied, "I'll head there right after this. It's his birthday, and I want to pay my respects."

Zayn had been trying his best to be a comforting presence for you, offering distractions and support as you dealt with the emotional weight of the day. He brought you out for a quick drink to help you focus on something other than the memories of your late husband's birthday.

Zayn nodded, understanding the significance of the day. "Of course, I'll be here if you need anything. Just take your time, and when you're ready, you can head over to the grave."

He never came with you, he always wanted you to go by yourself, so the two of you could have a moment together.

You offered a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Z. Your support means the world to me."

As you continued your conversation, you took comfort in the presence of your friend, appreciating how he had been trying to distract you from the weight of your late husband's birthday. The evening offered a brief respite from the emotions that had been haunting you.

As you engaged in conversation with Zayn about your upcoming plans, you couldn't help but notice the group of high schoolers at the adjacent table.

Their curious glances and hushed whispers did not go unnoticed, thanks to your keen vampire hearing. You exchanged a quick, amused look with Zayn, acknowledging the attention.

The teenagers were clearly intrigued by your presence, and their chatter focused on you, not Zayn. Your enhanced senses allowed you to catch snippets of their conversation.

They speculated about your age, your appearance, and what might have brought you to Chapel Grove.

Zayn, who was well aware of the situation, tried to steer the conversation back to your holiday plans. However, you couldn't help but be amused by the curiosity of the young onlookers.

You exchanged a playful grin with Zayn and decided to let them wonder a bit longer.

As the group of high schoolers continued to whisper and speculate about you, their curious glances and hushed remarks grew increasingly irritating. You were trying to enjoy your evening out and discuss your plans with Zayn, and their relentless scrutiny was getting on your nerves.

Feeling the frustration building, you couldn't help but let out a small, exasperated sigh. You turned your attention toward them and asked with a hint of annoyance, "Is there something you're all looking at?"

For a moment, they remained silent, their expressions frozen in surprise. It was only when you glanced closer that you recognized one of the girls – the same ginger-haired one you had accidentally bumped into during your run earlier in the day.

A hush fell over their group as they realised you had noticed their focus. It didn't take long for you to piece together the reason behind their stares.

They recognized you from the picture of you in Harry's house, the same photo that they had seen when visiting with Harry.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, unimpressed by their attention.

You exchanged a knowing look with Zayn, who had been aware of the situation all along. It was clear that these young locals had discovered your connection to Harry and were now watching you with a mix of curiosity and recognition.

With a final, dismissive glance at the group, you decided it was time to leave. Downing the remainder of your drink, you stood up from the table, Zayn following suit.

You didn't want to engage with strangers who were more interested in your past than the enjoyable evening you had planned.

Together, you and Zayn walked out of Chapel Grove, leaving the high schoolers behind in their hushed discussions.

Walking away from the restaurant, you were deep in conversation about your plans for the future, oblivious to the door on the other side of the establishment.

On the other side of the door, Harry and Niall entered the restaurant, their timing almost perfectly synchronised.

Harry, had been hesitant about going out in, but Niall had convinced him to join for a brief visit.

If he had arrived just a second earlier, your paths would have crossed, and you would have seen each other.

Harry made his way to the table where his friends were gathered, the anticipation of their usual camaraderie evident on his face.

He looked forward to spending his evening with his closest companions, especially on his birthday, he may have been reluctant to come but now that he was here he was in the celebrating spirit.

As he approached the table, however, he immediately sensed that something was amiss. The atmosphere was heavy with tension, and his friends' expressions were not as cheerful as he had expected.

Harry stood next to Toby, a sense of unease gnawing at him.

Normally, on his birthday, they would greet him with cheerful exclamations of "Happy Birthday!" and share a toast in his honour.

But this time, there was a palpable awkwardness in the air, as if they were all tiptoeing around a subject they were hesitant to broach.

Harry couldn't help but feel that there was something unsaid, a looming question that hung in the air.

Harry's growing impatience was evident as he looked around at his friends, who all appeared rather sheepish.

He couldn't understand why their usual camaraderie had taken such an awkward turn on his birthday.

His curiosity and concern had reached a tipping point, and he finally blurted out, "S’the matter, guys? S’everyone acting so strange tonight?"

A silence settled over the table, and Harry's friends exchanged hesitant glances.

Growing increasingly impatient and concerned about his friends' strange behavior, Harry couldn't contain himself any longer.

He leaned forward, looked at each of them, and asked once more, "Seriously, S’wrong, guys? Y’acting like something big s’going on. Y’can't keep m’in the dark like this."

The awkward silence at the table continued, and his friends exchanged nervous glances. Harry was determined to get to the bottom of this sudden change in atmosphere, and he wasn't going to let it ruin what was supposed to be a celebratory evening.

The girl in their group who Harry was closest to, Penny, apart from Niall and Logan, finally broke the silence.

She met Harry's gaze with a mixture of sympathy and apprehension. She took a deep breath and said, "Harry, you might want to sit down for this."

Harry's heart began to race as he listened to her words. His friends had always been open and supportive, and this sudden change in their demeanour had him genuinely worried. He quickly found an empty seat, his mind racing with all the possible scenarios for the unexpected revelation that was about to come.

She chose her words carefully, looking into Harry's eyes, and said, "Harry, something... something has come up, and it's not easy for us to say. It's about... well, it's about her."

Penny continued, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and concern, "Harry, we were sitting at the table right next to ours, and we're one hundred percent sure it was her. Everyone here recognized her, and there's no mistaking it."

Harry's confusion deepened, and he shook his head in disbelief. He exhaled heavily and said, "S’impossible, Pen. She... she died over a hundred years ago. S’no way it could ‘ave been ‘er sitting there."

The news was so baffling and contradictory to everything he knew that Harry couldn't wrap his mind around it. He looked at his friends, hoping they would provide some clarification or a reasonable explanation for the impossible scenario they were describing.

Penny saw the disbelief in Harry's eyes and realized that her words were hard to digest. She took a deep breath and elaborated further, "Harry, I know it sounds impossible, but we're all certain. She was sitting there, just a few feet away. It was her face, her eyes... Even the way she moved, it was like... like you were seeing a ghost."

The gravity of the situation began to sink in for Harry, and he leaned in, his brow furrowing as he asked, "Y’absolutely sure it was ‘er? S’no way it could ‘ave been someone who jus’ looks remarkably like ‘er?"

Penny nodded, her voice resolute, "Harry, I wish it was that simple, but there's no mistaking it. It was her. The way she looked, her expressions, everything. It was as if she'd walked straight out of the past and into this bar. "

Harry couldn't deny the unease that crept over him. It defied all logic and reason. The love of his life had died over a century ago, and now, he was confronted with the inexplicable notion that she had reappeared in this world.

Brooke let out a heavy sigh and further perplexed Harry by adding, "I even saw her earlier today on my way to school. She was jogging, and I accidentally bumped into her. She probably didn't even notice me, but it was definitely her."

Harry's confusion deepened even more. The last time he had been in your presence was when he had silently entered your bedroom, a week after his "death," to see you one last time before leaving for good.

The circumstances surrounding their separation had been heartbreaking, and the notion of seeing you once more was something he could never have expected.

He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling within him. The situation was surreal, and he couldn't fathom how you could possibly be here, in this town, in this century.

With silent steps, he entered your bedroom, and there you were, asleep, lost in dreams that he could never share with you again. Harry approached your bed, his heart heavy, and sat down on the edge. He gazed upon your peaceful face, the face he had once woken up to every morning.

In a hushed voice, he began to speak to your sleeping form, as if you could hear him in your dreams.

"M’wish I could hold y’one more time, m’sun," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "M’wish I could tell y’how much I love ‘ye and how much it pains m’t’leave. But this is the only way, the only way t’protect ‘ye."

He reached out and tenderly brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers tracing the contours of your features, memorizing every detail. "Y’the most beautiful thing in m’life, and I'll carry y’with me in m’heart, always. I just hope you can find happiness and peace without me."

He continued to pour out his heart, knowing this would be the last time he could express his love for you. "M’never thought I'd have t’say goodbye like this, m’dearest. But I promise, even though M’not by y’side, I'll always watch over ‘ye, protect y’from the shadows, and love y’with all m’being."

The room was bathed in a soft, warm glow from the moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Harry's voice was barely above a whisper as he confessed, "I wish we could have had more time together, more days f’laughter, and more nights f’love. But fate ‘as different plans, and I must follow s’path."

He traced the outline of your lips with his fingertip, almost expecting a response, a sign that you could hear his words in your dreams. "I'll carry the memory of y’smile with me, and I'll cherish every moment we spent together, every stolen kiss, and every shared secret."

Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill onto your pillow. "I don't know when, or if, we'll ever meet again, but know that I'll be waiting for that day. Until then, m’sun, be happy, be safe, and know that y’were the best part of m’life."

Harry leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead once more, as he whispered his final goodbye. "Goodbye, m’sun. I'll always love ‘ye, no matter where I am or what time separates us."

With that, he silently left the room, leaving you to your dreams, unaware of his tearful farewell.

Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of agitation. He turned to Brooke, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration, and asked, "Y’were with me at lunch, and y’didn't even mention anything? Y’knew it was her, and y’kept it to yourself?"

Brooke shifted uncomfortably in her seat, realizing the implications of her silence. She stammered, "I... I didn't know what to say. It was just so bizarre. I mean, how could it be her, right?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, trying to wrap his head around the situation. "Brooke, she's supposed t’be long gone, over a century ago. If S’really ‘er, I need to find out how this is possible. I need to know."

He couldn't hide the urgency in his voice.

Ricky spoke up, "I did see her wearing a wedding ring. Toby's right; there's a high chance that it was her. If you want to find her, you'll likely find her at the cemetery."

Harry's heart raced, his emotions spiralling into chaos. The thought of seeing you, after all these years, overwhelmed him. He knew he needed to find you, but the uncertainty of what to say or how you would react left him paralyzed.

Toby's voice was gentle as he offered his advice. "Harry, if it's really her, just tell her that you love her. She must have so many questions as well, and love is a good place to start."

Harry nodded, his mind a whirlwind of emotions and doubts.

As Niall returned with the drinks, Harry's face was a mix of turmoil and disbelief. Without a word, he abruptly pushed his chair back and bolted from the table.

His friends watched in surprise as he dashed out of The Chapel Grove, leaving them all bewildered.

Niall’s eyes widened and his mouth was agape as he stared at his friends body that had just ran out of the door.

Penny let out a heavy sigh and leaned back in her chair. "It's a long story,"

You walk through the ornate iron gates of the cemetery, your steps slow and measured, as if each one carries the weight of a lifetime.

In your hand, you cradle a bouquet of geraniums, their vivid hues contrasting with the sombre surroundings.

These were Harry's favourite flowers, the ones you picked for him on your very first date all those years ago.

The geraniums are fresh, plucked from your garden this very morning. For 159 years, you've nurtured these vibrant blooms, tending to them year-round.

They've become a symbol of your love, a living reminder of the bond you shared.

And every time you visit this place, they grace his final resting place, an offering of love from a heart that can never forget.

The graveyard is serene, bathed in a soft, golden glow of the setting sun. The world seems to stand still here, as if time itself hesitates to intrude on the sacredness of this space.

Your presence here is a ritual, a pilgrimage to the past that you continue year after year.

The gravestones stand tall and silent, each one a marker of stories untold. As you navigate the narrow paths, you eventually reach the familiar spot, marked by a weathered headstone.

The engraved letters spell out his name and the years he walked this Earth.

𝙸𝙽 ���𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚁𝚈

𝙾𝙵

𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝚈 𝙴𝙳𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝚂𝚃𝚈𝙻𝙴𝚂

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙳𝙴𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝟸𝟻. 𝚂𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟷𝟾𝟼𝟺.

𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝟷𝟾 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂.

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝙳𝙴𝚂𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳

𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚈𝙻𝙴𝚂,

𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵 (𝚈/𝙽).

Standing before his grave, your emotions surge like a relentless tide.

The floodgates of grief open, and tears well up in your eyes, betraying the ache in your heart. The weight of memories and longing bears down on you, just as it does every year when you come here.

The tombstone before you remains steadfast, an enduring monument to the love you once shared.

The chiselled letters and numbers on the stone serve as a stark reminder of time's passage, a relentless march that has left you on this side of the grave.

The world around you fades into insignificance, and it's just you and the memory of him.

His laughter, his smile, the touch of his hand, they all come flooding back, as vivid and poignant as if they happened yesterday.

The breeze stirs the flowers in your hand, the geraniums swaying gently as if to offer solace. In this sacred space, you're allowed to mourn, to let your grief wash over you like a cleansing rain, purging the pain of his absence.

You stand before his grave, your voice quivering as you whisper, "Happy birthday, Harry."

Although, he wasn’t just Harry to her.

He was her sunshine, her darling boy, her angel sent from heaven, he was her everything and more.

The words hang in the air, heavy with emotion. The bouquet of geraniums trembles in your hands as you continue, the tears welling up in your eyes.

"I miss you more with each passing day," you confess, your voice choked with sorrow. "Every moment, every heartbeat, it's all filled with thoughts of you."

The weight of your grief becomes palpable, pressing down on you as you speak to the headstone before you.

"Life moves on, but I can't help but feel stuck in this moment, in this longing for you," you admit, the tears streaming down your cheeks. "There's a void in my heart that will never be filled. It's as if you took a piece of me with you, and it can never be replaced."

As you share your feelings, you feel a connection to him, as if he can hear your words from beyond.

It's a bittersweet solace, knowing that even though he's gone, you can still speak to him, even if only in your heart.

With your birthday wishes and your confessions hanging in the air, you take a deep breath, as if sharing your pain has lightened the burden, if only just a little.

Your voice trembles with emotion as you share your words, tears streaming down your face.

"I miss you more with each passing day," you manage to say before your voice breaks, your sobbing making it impossible to continue.

The weight of your grief bears down on you, and you lean forward to place the geraniums gently on his grave.

With your fingers, you press a loving kiss to his name engraved on the stone.

It's a silent declaration of your undying love and an unspoken promise that, even in death, you will remain connected.

The sobs shake your body, and you find solace in the simple act of being here, in this moment of remembrance.

The cemetery is quiet, and your heartache reverberates through the stillness.

Harry's heart raced as he sprinted through the gates of the cemetery.

His friends had told him you'd be here, and he couldn't bear the thought of missing the chance to see you.

He kept his pace steady, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention.

The graves of countless people passed by him as he ran, their stories and lives unknown to him. The cemetery was a place of quiet reflection, a sanctuary for the departed, but today it held a special significance for him.

His mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. He didn't know what to expect when he saw you, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

He had fantasised this moment countless times.

As Harry ran past the silent graves, his mind was filled with thoughts of what he might say to you. He pondered on the possibility that you might be there, that this wasn't a dream or a figment of his imagination.

What if you were really there?

His heart raced with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

After all, he hadn't seen you in over a century, and time had changed them both in many ways.

He wondered if you would recognize him, if you'd even remember the promise he had made to you all those years ago.

The weight of his emotions pressed on him, but he couldn't afford to hesitate. He was determined to reach you and, if it truly was you, to let you know that he was here, that he had come back to the place where it all began.

With each step, his resolve grew stronger, and he whispered to himself the words he had rehearsed for this moment, words of love and longing, words he hoped would reach you if you were indeed there.

Harry came to a stop a few metres behind you, his heart aching as he saw your shoulders shake with the weight of your grief.

He watched in silence, as you stood in front of his grave.

Your tears fell freely as you whispered words of love and longing, words that were meant for him but felt distant and unreachable.

His own emotions swirled within him, an overwhelming mix of joy at seeing you and pain at the knowledge that he couldn't comfort you in the way he wanted to.

“(Y/N)?”

Harry couldn't contain his overwhelming desire to reach out to you any longer. He called out your name, his voice trembling with a mix of love and sorrow.

But when you heard your name on the wind, you froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

A part of you wanted to believe it was real, that Harry was truly here, but another part feared that it might be a cruel trick of your imagination, a manifestation of your grief.

Your feet felt heavy as you dared not turn around, as if doing so might shatter the fragile hope that had ignited within you.

At the sound of his voice calling your name, you snapped your head around, not daring to believe your ears.

And there he was, standing just a few metres away, tears glistening in his eyes as he looked at you with an intensity that reached deep into your soul.

The shock, the joy, the disbelief, all of it hit you like a tidal wave, and your legs could no longer support your quivering body.

You sank to your knees on the dirt-covered ground of the cemetery, your heart pounding as tears flowed freely from your eyes.

It was a moment of pure, unadulterated emotion, as you wept tears of joy and sorrow, the pain of separation, and the sheer happiness of seeing him again.

The second he saw you crumble to your knees, his heart ached in sympathy, and without a second thought, he surged toward you with the swiftness of a vampire.

He wrapped his arms around you as you both sat on the gritty cemetery ground. His arms held you with the same tenderness and longing he'd felt for hundreds of years, as if he was never willing to let you go again.

Both of you were now shedding tears, the emotions too overwhelming to contain.

As you wept, you inhaled the familiar scent of vanilla that had always clung to him, and he, in turn, breathed in your delicate lavender scent, a fragrance etched into his memory.

The world around you faded into obscurity, and the reality of your reunion enveloped you like a protective cocoon. It was a moment of reconnection, an embrace that transcended time itself.

You didn't need words to express the depth of your feelings; the tears streaming from your eyes were eloquent enough.

Harry's hand gently cradled your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears as if to erase the years of sorrow that had separated you.

You leaned into his touch, absorbing the warmth and reassurance it offered.

You and Harry sat in the very same spot that was now a cemetery. Back then, it had been a lush flower field, vibrant colours stretching as far as the eye could see.

You'd decided to celebrate your first wedding anniversary amid this picturesque beauty. It was the perfect setting for a picnic, and the Geraniums you'd gathered were scattered around you.

Sitting side by side, you were dressed in a white lace dress, your hair crowned with a simple wreath of wildflowers.

Harry, in his best suit, looked at you with the same adoration he held in his eyes now, though both of you were just a year into your marriage.

Amid the colourful blooms, you shared a simple meal, strawberries and a loaf of bread. You fed each other, laughing at the sweetness of the berries, your hands touching with affection.

The bright sun bathed you in a warm, golden glow. You leaned against Harry's shoulder as he read poetry to you. The verses sounded like music as they filled the air, mingling with the scent of the wildflowers that surrounded you.

Harry's hand played with a strand of your hair as he recited lines of love. The gentle touch and the softness of your laughter mingled with the harmonious symphony of your hearts.

You marvelled at your incredible fortune in having found such a deep connection, an everlasting love.

Harry took your hand in his and looked into your eyes with a loving smile.

"Y’know," he began, his voice tender, "M’can't wait f’the day we start a family f’our own."

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of children, and your eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh, H, I can't wait either. I imagine our children playing in fields like this, laughing, and picking flowers."

Harry's thumb gently brushed against your hand as he nodded. "And I can see us growing old together, watching them grow and flourish."

You shared a dreamy smile, leaning in closer. "I can't imagine a more beautiful future, Harry. I just want us to always be together, no matter what life throws our way."

He pulled you into a warm, affectionate embrace. "Together, forever. We'll build our family, create our memories, and keep celebrating our love."

Harry's fingers gently toyed with a strand of your hair.

Your tears still fell, the overwhelming emotions of the past colliding with the present.

With a trembling voice, Harry asked, "Are y’real?"

You nodded your head against his, your tears landing on his shoulder as silent sobs racked your body.

Harry dared not let his thoughts drift too far. Instead, he reached for your left hand, his fingers gently brushing over your wedding ring, a small smile tugging at his lips.

The familiar band, a symbol of your love, was still there, as if time had stood still.

You, in turn, took his left hand, your thumb tracing the contours of his wedding ring.

The smooth metal beneath your touch was a testament to the love you shared, a love that had transcended the boundaries of time.

Harry's gaze never wavered from your tear-filled eyes. The years apart had only deepened the connection between you. He gently whispered,

"Can I kiss ‘ye?"

You let out a tender sniffle, the raw emotions still swirling within you.

With a soft smile, you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

He leaned in, and as your lips met, it was as if the world had melted away.

The kiss was a testament to the love that time had only fortified.

Your heart swelled as the moment lingered, filled with warmth and affection. In that simple yet profound gesture, you both found solace and a renewed sense of hope.

Time had played its tricks, but love had prevailed.

The two of you shared a soft, tender kiss, surrounded by the serenity of the cemetery and the golden leaves that fluttered around you.

“M’love you, m’sun.”

That nickname. The only pet name he had ever called you, it was a nickname only you would allow him to call you.

You were his sun, and he was your light.

You played with the peach fuzz at the back of his neck, locking eyes with his green eyes that you had wished to see for 178 years.

And now that has finally come true, the puzzle pieces of your heart had finally been fixed and you felt like you could finally breath again.

“I love you, my light, always and forever.”

Your love really was A Love Beyond Time.

[invalidstories]

Masterlist

Coming soon: the title is blue ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤNew(came out in the past week):🌱 next to it

Hero x Villain:

Moonlit Bonds: Villain notices the Hero doesn't look well and takes care of them.

Unexpected: Villain has a soft spot for children.

Unity: Hero finds an injured Villain on their doorstep.

Forbidden Love: Forbidden attraction between a hero and a villain.

Villain's Lair (Part 1, Part 2): Roaming through the villain's lair, the hero finds many unexpected things.

Betrayal: Once friends became enemies.

One Bed: One-bed trope.

Shadows of Justice (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3): Villain uncovers the truth about Hero.

Beneath the Mask: Hero learns about Villain's trauma.

Elevator Blackout: Hero and Villain get stuck in an elevator together.

Masquerade Ball: Hero and Villain at a masquerade ball with forbidden attraction.

Enemies at the Café: A suicidal hero, and a villain who wants to help.

Camp Counselors: Hero and Villain are forced to be camp counselors.

Memories: Supervillain is jealous of Villain and Hero's love and erases their memories.

Movie Date: Villain brings Hero to a date.

Dramatic Hero (Prompt 1): Hero tricks the Villain.

Acts of Kindness: Villain had a rough day and Hero cheers them up.

Drunk Hero (Prompt 2): Villain encounters a drunk Hero, and takes care of them.

Palette of Fate (Part 1, Part 2): Civilian is kidnapped by a lovesick dangerous villain.

Love's Betrayal (Prompt 3): Hero betrays Villain. Once lovers turn enemies.

Puzzle (Prompt 4): Villain needs help with a puzzle (+ pinned Hero)

Enemies to Lovers Dialogue Prompts: Dialogue Prompts

Familiar Face: Hero trips Villain

Angst Dialogues Prompts

Misplaced Trust: Hero trusted the wrong person

Reunion After Suffering Dialogue Prompts

The Price of Defiance: Villain has captured Hero 🌱

Captured Villain (Prompt 5) 🌱

Other Writing:

Quote: "...everything takes time and I'll be fine"

Be Curious Passage

Book Quote: "I hope you have the courage to..."

"We are all born so beautiful, the greatest tragedy is"

"Speak to people in a way that if they died the next day..."

"Some wars help us bloom"

Being brave doesn't mean you're never afraid, it means...

"Be the reason someone feels..."

"...Don't tell me my worth when you haven't seen like from my eyes."

"...regret is stronger than gratitude."

"I wonder what is a greater wish..."

FanFictions:

Lunar Reverie (Part 1, Part 2): Rumors about the queen spread around, and The Rapion Crew loses trust.

Art:

Digital Forest Art

Candle Flame Painting

Castle Painting

Waterfall

[aeth-eris]

Synastry Placements as Love Tropes #2

Childhood Friends to Lovers: Venus in harmonious aspect (trine or sextile) to Jupiter. Reflecting the innocence and genuine affection that underpins childhood friendships, this configuration symbolizes the gradual transition from youthful camaraderie to blossoming romance, often depicted in heartwarming friends-to-lovers narratives.

Reunion Romance: Mars in harmonious aspect (trine or sextile) to Pluto. Signifying the intense passion and transformative dynamics characteristic of reunion romance plots, this configuration embodies the profound emotional reawakening and magnetic pull between characters who rediscover their love amidst tumultuous circumstances and personal growth.

Age Gap Romance: Saturn in hard aspect (square or opposition) to Venus. This planetary alignment represents the obstacles and societal challenges inherent in age gap romance stories, capturing the themes of maturity, wisdom, and unconventional love that unfold amid the complexities of generational differences and societal expectations.

Mutual Healing: Chiron in close aspect (conjunction) to the Moon. Reflecting the profound emotional bond and transformative healing central to mutual healing narratives, this configuration embodies the journey of characters who find solace and emotional restoration through their shared vulnerabilities and mutual support, fostering a deep and profound connection.

Mysterious Stranger: Uranus in hard aspect (square or opposition) to Neptune. Symbolizing the enigmatic and elusive nature of the mysterious stranger trope, this planetary configuration captures the elements of intrigue, illusion, and hidden depths that often characterize the intense and transformative relationships between characters shrouded in mystery and unpredictability.

Rebellious Love: Venus in hard aspect (square or opposition) to Mars. Reflecting the fiery passion and emotional intensity of rebellious love narratives, this configuration embodies the themes of defiance, passion, and emotional turbulence that often define the tumultuous relationships between characters who challenge societal norms and expectations in the name of love.

Fated Encounters: Sun in close aspect (conjunction) to Uranus. Signifying the unexpected and life-altering nature of fated encounters, this celestial alignment embodies the themes of sudden upheaval, profound change, and destined connections that often drive the intense and transformative relationships portrayed in fated encounter love stories.

[sjax001]

When Guilliman and the Lion finally reunite in the story; how do you think that'll go? Do you propose it'll be like your comic - a series of misunderstandings seeded by Chaos to pit them against each other? Or perhaps one shall swoop in to pull off a valiant rescue for the other?

Personally, I wouldn't mind a callback to Unremembered Empire but on the opposite side. The Macragge's Honour translates into a system, a heavily fortified system, bombarded by challenges of every possible kind by ships we later learn are Dark Angels. Maybe its because I've been watching the 2004 Battlestar Galactica series lately, but I have the vibe of when Galactica meets the Pegasus.

I anticipate the reunion between Guilliman and the Lion to be a multifaceted affair. I don't think it will follow the common trope of misunderstandings and tragic conflicts, as seen in my comic, nor do I expect a simple, heartwarming reunion. Instead, I hope for a narrative that delves deep into their individual characters and the ways they have evolved. I envision a scenario where their initial joy at being reunited is tempered by growing tensions arising from their differing personalities and approaches. However, I believe they will ultimately find a way to reconcile these differences.There’s a Chinese saying, “相濡以沫（xiang ru yi mo)”Imagine two fish trapped in a drying puddle. If these two fish lived in the sea, their relationship would become distant and cold, or even become enemies.But now, to survive, they lick each other to stay moist.I think that applies to Guilliman and the Lion. Given their personalities, it’s inevitable that they’ll clash. In a different situation, they might never have been able to get along. But now, as the only family and brothers they have left, they need to learn to support and depend on each other.

The reunion, I believe, will begin with a dramatic and unexpected event. I've seen many fan creations where Guilliman is in danger and the Lion swoops in to save him😂 but I find this too predictable. I know Guilliman isn't as skilled in close combat as his brothers, but this plotline makes him seem more like a damsel in distress.While a plot like that could be exciting, I'm hoping for something that truly surprises me.

That said, the Battlestar Galactica and Pegasus-style reunion would also be a powerful and hopeful moment! Even if the two brothers don't meet face-to-face, simply knowing that the other is alive and nearby, perhaps on their ancient Gloriana-class battleships or just a glimpse across the battlefield, would be a beacon of hope and warmth in a this grimdark future.

[puffin-smoke]

hi my brain is going a mile a minute right now and the world needs to know so

Here are Puffin's vaguely organised thoughts about Lovely x Treasure :DDD

They've been friends since high-school, they're basically attached at the hip at this point, you can't get one without the other

You invite Treasure somewhere? Lovely is coming for moral support. You invite Lovely somewhere? Treasure is being dragged along.

Lovely is Treasure's scary dog privilege. Habitually threatens to slash the tires of anyone who hurts them. "I just want to talk to them-" "Love, last time you "talked" to someone you ended up in the ICU."

Everyone Treasure dates has to get through Lovely first. It's like meeting your partner's parents. Almost nobody gets their approval

Now, why are they doing all this? Because they have feelings for Treasure, but won't act on them. Lovely has fully resigned themself to the idea that they're not good enough for them, so they're trying to find someone who is. Who can treat them right, who can be what Lovely can't.

Lovely is convinced it would never work out; eventually Treasure would figure out they're too good for them. Where Lovely is brash Treasure is calm and collected. Where Lovely acts without thinking, Treasure never stops thinking. They're convinced it would be oil and water.

MEANWHILE, Treasure has liked Lovely since the day they first met, but thinks that Lovely doesn't feel the same way because they keep trying to set them up with people.

They actually start to think that Lovely already knows about their feelings for them and is trying to let them down the easy way. Which honestly just hurts more than outright rejection.

miscommunication trope my beloved.

requited unrequited love my other beloved

So they both repress their feelings and eventually drift apart.

Until they meet again at the Vampire Summit (the fact that Treasure didn't go originally is a CRIME)

Vincent sat Lovely and Treasure next to each other without knowing they had a past together. Neither of them knew the other would be there, so the reunion was incredibly unexpected

They get to catching up, and Treasure can feel all their old feelings resurfacing the more they learn about who Lovely has become. Vampire Royalty is just their type apparently

Same goes for Lovely, who's missed them for so long. They regret ever letting them drift out of their life but still can't bring themself to tell them how they feel. And also they look hot as shit in their summit outfit.

And then things start going to shit, as the Summit does. Lovely sticks by Treasure's side throughout it, knowing how terrifying this must be for them. They planned to give Porter a talking to as soon as this was all over, and probably a repeat of their famous right rook. At this point they'd firmly decided that he was nowhere near good enough for Treasure. Internally they are keying his car.

Things are going well, as well as can be expected, up until the trial. The verdict is cast and Christopher is beheaded. And Lovely freaks out, immediately reminded of Adam's death.

So Treasure watches the strongest person they know, the person who defended them through thick and thin, who never showed even a sliver of weakness, run from the venue as though they had seen a ghost. And finds them hyperventilating on a bench in the cold.

They run to sit by them and coach them through the panic, holding their hands in theirs.

All Lovely can think about is how warm Treasure is.

When they begin to breath normally again, the pair just sit in silence for a while. Lovely is the first to speak.

"One hell of a party."

Treasure laughs. "The appetisers were pretty damn good."

"So's the company." Lovely smiles, and leans their head on Treasure's shoulder, soaking up their warmth. "I missed you."

In that moment, all Treasure wanted was to kiss them. To grab their chin and press their lips to theirs and steal back all the time they'd wasted. But instead they just lean into the touch as much as they'll let themself, and close their eyes. "Me too."

and that's all for now BYE

[wardenparker]

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 3

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila 💖✨

Rating: E for Explicit. 18+ only! Word Count: 9.2k Warnings: **Permanent fic tags for divorce, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption.) Tipsy decision making (consent is sexy), biting, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, protected sex, rough sex, reunion sex, fluff, SO MANY feelings! Summary: The night takes an unexpected and intimate turn when Marcus ends up back at your place after your impromptu dinner together. Notes: Back from covid-induced hiatus and better than ever! Thank you again to everyone for being so incredibly patient during my recovery, but it’s time to get this baby off the ground. Sorry if I missed any typos in the editing stage. Covid brain is still very real. 🧡💛✨

From underground parking to the elevator to the fifth-floor hallway of your building, you and Marcus are relatively quiet. It’s not until you open your front door that you open your mouth again. “Sorry it’s messy,” you mumble. “I wasn’t expecting to have company.”

Marcus grins. When you two lived together you called yourself ‘artistically messy’. It was mostly Marcus that kept the small apartment clean, as his own ‘nice nasty’ tendencies as his grandma would call them, came out to play. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure you weren’t expecting your ex-husband.”

“Not even in my wildest dreams,” you admit, setting your purse on the table beside the door and locking the door behind the two of you as he steps inside.

He hums, shucking the suit jacket again and folding it over his arm. “Don’t worry, I’m not judging you.”

“Living room straight ahead, kitchen to the right, bathroom and everything else to the left.” The second bedroom is now an office that has a pull-out couch in case anyone you know needs a place to crash. But for now, you’re headed for the kitchen. “Coffee with your cheesecake or something else?”

“Coffee is good, unless…” he pauses and shakes his head. Continuing to drink wouldn’t be a good idea. It’s not like you invited him back for a nightcap. This isn’t a date, no matter how much he might wistfully hope. That time was long past.

“Unless lives in the corner of the living room.” The large wood and brass bar cabinet you hauled here from your last place stands guard against the far wall of the living room on the other side of the little bistro table where you eat your breakfast every morning. “Pour whatever you want, but pour two.” It’s just…a kind of comfort you didn’t expect, to have him nearby and so willing to spend his time with you. You could almost trick yourself into believing that not so much had changed between you.

“Okay.” Marcus puts his jacket down and walks over the bar, interested to see that like him, there’s no tequila. He picks up a bottle of red wine and looks at the label with interest. It seems that you have a good bottle here. “How about wine?” He calls towards the kitchen.

“That will work!” You call back, pulling the small cherry cheesecake you made out of the fridge. Plates and forks and a knife come out of their hiding places in your kitchen and you cut two reasonably sized slices. If he wants more, you’ll gladly let him have it. “Want to sit on the couch or at the table?”

"Wherever you want." Marcus wants you to be comfortable first and foremost, but he does want to sit next to you. He finds the corkscrew and opens the bottle before pouring two glasses.

“Couch.” Appearing in the archway between the kitchen and living room a second later with two plates in hand, you nod toward the big plush sofa that faces your tv and smile. He looks good puttering around your apartment. Almost like he’s supposed to be here.

There's something intimate about the way you've kicked off your heels and you are bringing over the plates to the couch in your bare feet. It makes him wish for those days that you wandered around the apartment you shared with nothing but your panties and a tank top on. Or when you would wear his fraternity sweatshirt and socks. He loved that look.

“So, it’s cherry chocolate.” Setting the plates down on the coffee table, you slip out of your own suit jacket to sit down beside him. It’s nearly intimate, and twists like guilt in your gut. “I’m going to test out a pumpkin spice version with gingerbread crust for Thanksgiving this year. Leah’s husband loves pumpkin spice.”

His head cocks slightly as he thinks about that. "It would be fantastic." He's always been a sucker for gingerbread cookies. Soft, chewy gingerbread, not the hard shit they tried to pass off as gingerbread.

“Volunteering to be my taste tester?” The two of you sit side by side, mostly facing each other, as you start in on your dessert.

You want him to be around, to come around again. Marcus pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth before he nods. "Yeah, I guess I am." He tells you with a grin. "I'll make sure to put in extra time at the gym."

The gym. You nearly sigh, burying the sound in taking a sip of wine. Marcus at the gym had been a thing to admire when he was younger - an absolute snack, you had called him unapologetically and teasingly bitten his arm or shoulder to make him laugh. But Marcus now is a whole goddamn three course meal. Stop ogling your ex-husband, you moron. “So what does Marcus Pike do on the weekends these days?” You ask, desperate to change the subject.

Marcus chuckles and shakes his head. “Would you be terribly disappointed to learn that I enjoy sleeping in, sometimes going to the farmer’s market they set up over on Dupont Circle? Or walk around the Mall? Find a new restaurant?” He shrugs. “I’m old and boring now.”

“It’s not like I’m partying until three a.m. and going to work at six anymore,” you laugh, shrugging a little. You would never survive Greek life and a waitressing job these days. Never. “The highlights of my weekend are live bands at Parlor on Fridays and trivia brunches with the girls from the office on Sunday. Except…” Flashing him a grin, you chuckle a little. The little things in life mean a lot more now. “I go to the Palisades farmer’s market when I can drag myself out of bed on Saturdays.”

"It sounds like you have a routine." He approves of it, nodding and reaching for his wine glass. "Nothing like being able to spend a few hours in bed just relaxing. Even worth missing the farmer's market."

“I’d rather spend a couple of hours in bed for other reasons.” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, and the look of absolute mortification on your face a second later is unmistakable. What the hell did you just go and say a thing like that for?!

He nearly chokes on his wine but he manages to swallow it. Bringing the cup down and setting it on the coffee table along with his cheesecake. "I remember." He promises you, eyes darkening when he thinks about the weekends when you wouldn't leave the bed unless it was to finally try to rehydrate or eat something quickly. There's enough alcohol in his system to make him feel like he had that first time he saw you. He inches closer to you, his hand along the back of the sofa and he leans in slightly. "Is that why I'm here?" He asks, eyes dropping down to your lips and then back up to meet your gaze.

Jesus Christ - it wasn’t before but it definitely fucking is now. With your throat running so dry that you can barely swallow and Marcus looking at you like that you feel like you’re about to implode where you sit, just praying to whatever is out there that this doesn’t completely backfire on both of you. “D—do you want it to be?”

Marcus flashes you a grin, small but powerful. "I have to admit something, sweetheart." He bites his lip and leans in a little closer. "I've never wanted something more."

He’s always felt like wildfire under your fingertips, and your hand hovers over his forearm on the back of the couch for just a second while you force yourself to breathe. You’ve both been drinking, and it’s been a weird week and you don’t want to do this unless he’s fully aware of what he’s saying. “Marc…” Despite your commitment to not leaping forward and straddling his lap, you have definitely leaned in, and you can hear your own breathing quicken. “Are you drunk?”

"No." He knows he's not. He's had two whiskeys and a shot during the nearly two hours at the restaurant and now the couple of sips of wine here. He wonders if you are regretting bringing him to your apartment and are trying to pump the brakes on this. "I could pass a field sobriety test with flying colors." He swallows, wondering if he should back off. You aren't the carefree teenager that he met so many years ago and there is history between you. Still he doesn't move back, just stares at you while he waits for you to say something.

“Neither am I.” When you put your hand down, connecting skin to skin for the first time in thirteen years, it’s more than wildfire. It’s a fucking volcano. And before you can even blink, you’re pressing into his space to crush your lips against his like it’s Welcome Night at Kappa Sigma all over again.

You taste like red wine and cherry cheesecake but it's the best taste in the world. The second you make the move, Marcus is wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer and opening up so he can dip inside your mouth to taste you better.

The few seconds it takes for him to haul you against him are the same ones you need to plant your knees on either side of his hips, letting the kiss deepen without hesitation. Marcus has a place in your heart that will never fade, you have accepted that, but you never thought with any kind of realism that he would ever forgive you even if you did see him again. This? His enormous hands spread over your sides and your arms around his neck as you brazenly lick into each other’s eager mouths? Is better than you could ever have dreamt.

It's like time has faded away and he's back in his early twenties with you. The way you feel against him is like a magical balm to the hurt and heartaches he's had over the past decade. His tongue slides against yours with a needy moan and he doesn't hesitate to slide a hand down your back and squeeze your ass just like he had a million times before when you were in his lap.

Too much and not enough all at once, you’re sure this is just a dream you’ll wake up from any second. But it’s too good. Your daydreams never let Marcus be this solid underneath you. They don’t quite capture the way his fingertips dig into you when he grips your side or squeezes your ass. Your imagination has never quite been able to replicate the exact tremor of Marcus’s moan as it vibrates through your body. It’s so perfect you could just break right down and cry from relief and joy — and you might later on, but right now your focus is entirely on him.

He's dreamed of kissing your skin a million times during those nights when your memory haunts him. He had tried to banish you from his thoughts but his subconscious betrayed him. Now though, he breaks away from your lips and hungrily trials kisses down your jaw and along your neck, determined to cover every inch of your skin with his lips and then do it all over again.

The best decision you’ve ever made in your life was putting on a button-down shirt this morning. Well, second best. Second, after bringing Marcus home with you tonight. There’s no one quite like him, in absolutely any way, and when you whimper into the crook of his neck you can feel him grip you just a little bit tighter.

It’s addictive, like being drunk on you. His fingers tearing at the little seed pearl buttons of your blouse, probably ripping some off but he doesn’t care. Frantic to feel more of you, kiss more of you, as if he’s on a time limit for gorging himself on you.

"Marc." There's no use denying it, you'd let him have you right on your goddamn sofa if that's what he wanted tonight. Your hands tearing at his shirt to untuck it from his pants are proof.

He fucking loves when you whine his name like that. Pulling open your shirt to expose the lacy bra, he groans and dips his head, kissing along your sternum and over the swells of your breasts.

Trying to tear him away from you long enough to get his own shirt off is nearly impossible, just because he refuses to detach from your skin for longer than anything but a breath. "Fuck, Marc," you toss away your own shirt when he won't let you undress him, and reach behind you to unclasp your bra and reject that as well. If tonight is the only time you get to be with him like this again, you don't want to hold anything back.

Marcus groans, immediately kisses down the slope of your breast so he can take your nipple in his mouth. Biting down on it before laving it with his tongue and tugging on it with the hot suction of his mouth.

"Fuck," you pant the word again, never taking your eyes off the gorgeous sight of him exploring your skin. It's like a time machine has rolled you both back fifteen years and everything is good again as you drag the fingers of one hand through his hair. "Baby..." It takes a second, but you finally manage to drag his eyes up to yours. "Do you want to move this down the hall?"

The way his cock twitches under you should give you the answer that you want, he’s already hard and aching to sink into you again. “Yes.” He rasps out, fingers digging into your hips as he lifts his hips so you can feel every inch of his interest.

Diving into a deep kiss is grounding for you. The rest of your body may be impatient - hips rolling down to meet Marcus’s and skin that is on fire everywhere he has touched - but your heart knows that this is so much more than sex for you. If it isn’t for him then you’ll have to live with that, but Marcus Pike has never been a Love Em And Leave Em sort of man. You carefully step back, climbing out of his lap but making no moves to retrieve your clothes or tidy up. That can wait. The only thing in the world that matters right now is the way Marcus accepts your outstretched hand as he gets up. He clings to you as much as you do to him, and for a moment you can pretend that this is just the first of many nights to come.

There is no universe in which Marcus wouldn’t go with you. Not when this is what he’s wanted, unknowingly, since he saw you sitting in that office. He’s always wanted you, whether he will admit it or not. Searching for you in the women he’s been with since you. Getting up, he kisses the back of your hand. “Show me the way, sweetheart.”

It could have been frantic - clothing tossed aside along the hallway that leads to your bedroom - but it’s surprisingly calm. With his hand in yours you flip off the few lights that are on in the apartment and only turn on the lamp beside your bed once you get there. But there’s a sort of muscle memory at play, or at least it feels that way, when you put your arms around him next to your bed and angle your head up to ask for a kiss while you start to undress him.

Marcus groans, the scent that fills your bedroom has changed but the underlying scent of you is still there. That musky aroma that he could recognize anywhere that just screams you. His kiss is gentle, giving you yet another chance to change your mind.

Just a minute is all you need. All it takes to have the layers of the day stripped away so that the two of you are just you. Bare again for the three thousandth time, pouring your hearts into a kiss so tender it can only be described in one word that you refuse to say. You’re not going to ruin this by presuming anything. You nudge Marcus backward, his legs hitting the edge of your bed with a dull thump, and you giggle softly at the sound. “I missed you.” Those are the words you go with, whispered in the moonlight after you shut off the lamp you needed only for a second.

He huffs slightly, pulling you close and slotting his mouth against your while he rolls the two of you around in the bed, pinning you under him. It’s probably the most understated thing you can say. “Missed you too.” He answers, starting his exploration of you all over again now that he has you spread out.

Marcus was never weak by any means but something about how broad he is now makes him feel stronger, and if it’s an illusion you don’t care for a second. The feeling of his hands and lips and tongue trailing down your body is far more intoxicating than anything you drank tonight, pulling whimpers and moans from you that fill the cool night air with a kind of unexpected enchantment. Well, if it is, this is a magic spell you’ll happily fall under all over again.

A kiss here, a nip of his teeth there. The closer Marcus gets to his destination the more ravenous he’s becoming. It should be infuriating that you cloud his mind, that you so easily take over his senses and make everyone else pale in comparison. He should be furious because you will hurt him again. Instead, he’s determined. Determined to show you why leaving was a mistake. To make you feel him for days when he’s done with you.

If you only say his name for the entire time he’s in your bed it still won’t be enough. The noises that drip from your lips start somewhere in your chest and seem to just bubble over, punctuated only by “Marcus” and “Baby” and plaintive additions of “Oh fuck” as he settles in the valley of your thighs to place kisses everywhere but where you want him most. In his most playful moods he used to make you wait like this, lingering on the edge of madness while you begged for him, but tonight there’s a thoroughness to it that almost feels desperate. Determined. Like he’s afraid you’ll only let him in once so he’s going to make sure it’s goddamn worth it.

You’ve grown out your hair. He remembers when you were adamant that you were waxed or shaved before he would be allowed to put his mouth on you. Huffing when you would pull yourself out of his arms and leave him with a hard cock while you jumped in the shower to scrape the hair from your vagina like it was offensive. He could never convince you he didn’t care but now he presses his nose against the springy curls and inhales your scent, groaning and latching onto your clit to suck it into his mouth.

“I’m not wasting time tonight,” you huff, thinking the same thing he is. Even now you’d rather be clean for a partner, but you refuse to waste even a second tonight. For the split second before he wraps his lips around your swollen nub you almost think he’s going to tease you about it, but his focus is elsewhere. It’s on making you gasp, keening into the moonlight when he moans into your dripping pussy.

He sucks on your clit before he flicks his tongue against it, dragging it up and down the sensitive folds of your pussy. Thick fingers spreading your lips wide as he plunges his tongue into your soaked walls.

“Fuck, Marc—” When his tongue curls up he takes your entire back with it, arching you off the bed and making you cry out in that way that only Marcus can. For all the lovers you’ve taken to bed over the years, no one ever learned your body the way he did. No one ever melted into you the same way. No one was ever as good as Marcus - to you or for you.

He loves the way you sound, the way you cry out his name. Curling and flicking his tongue up into your fluttering walls and pushing as deep as he can with his nose pushing against your clit.

The things he can do with that mouth are so good they should be criminal, and your fingers tugging sharply in his hair are pure encouragement. You’re eighteen and inexperienced all over again, chasing that first explosive orgasm together in his tiny bed at the frat house — and it’s amazing. The molten slick that pours from your slit was addictive so many years ago and he’s delighted to find that it’s still the case. Groaning and determined to make you cum before the next minute passes on the nightstand clock.

Blissfully unaware of the challenge he has set for himself, all you know is that the coil of pleasure tightening inside you is firmly wrapped around Marcus’s fingers and if he pulls just right it will snap and scatter you in a thousand pieces right there underneath him. His fingers take over for his tongue, sinking three into you and curling them up while he sucks your clit back into his mouth. Eyes fixed on you while he waits for the ticking time bomb to explode.

The cry that he pulls from you is so loud you couldn’t stop it if you tried - and tonight you are definitely not trying to be silent. Marcus should know exactly how devastating his fingers and mouth are to the few threads left holding you together, and the way that he snaps the connection on each of those threads is enough to have you moaning his name into the cool autumn night. The first orgasm you’ve had in months at someone else’s hands was always going to be fantastic, but Marcus can pull orgasms out of you like it’s as easy as breathing.

He's greedy, wanting more. Needing more. It's been so long since he's felt your pussy clench around his fingers, tasted your cum on his tongue. He's drunk now, drunk on you and he moans into your flesh while he works you through the peak and pushes you towards another with his fingers buried knuckle deep in your walls.

The buildup is enough to have you clawing at the sheets with one hand and scraping Marcus’s scalp with the other, and you know that the old couple above you keeps their windows open at night and is hearing all of this but you just can’t yourself to care when he’s wrenching that second beautiful orgasm out of you almost effortlessly. Only when you soak his fingers for the second time does he pull them out of you. Replacing them with his tongue and lapping up every drop you have to give him, slurping your release down like it's the finest wine.

“Fucking hell, Marc,” you whimper when overstimulation hits, but you’ll be damned if you’re going to make him stop for any reason. You’d rather be overstimulated and full of him than ever be without him again.

When he pulls back, he smacks his lips with a slight smirk on his face. "Missed doing that." He coos, kissing your inner thigh and sucking on your skin harshly. He wants to break the capillaries under your skin and leave a mark for you to feel when you get dressed over the next few days.

“You’re so much better at eating pussy than like… anyone.” It makes you laugh, breathless and joyful, and you thump backward on your own pillow with a grin.

"You broke me in." He reminds you. It wasn't that he hadn't had girlfriends before you, he hadn't been a virgin. But you had been his wife, and he had taken making sure you were completely satisfied very seriously. "My skills were tailored to your pussy." He winks and kisses up your hip, dipping his tongue into your belly button before he shuffles to the side and looks down at you fondly.

“Just like my blow job skills are tailored to you.” It’s beyond your restraint not to kiss him, pulling him in and urging him to crowd you into the mattress.

"God I loved your blow jobs." He groans into your mouth playfully. He's not joking but he grins at you as he kisses you again, and shifts to his elbows as your legs fall open for him to slot himself between.

“You can have as many as you want.” It’s a promise, and from now on you’re keeping every single promise you make to him come hell or high water. “But right now I need to feel you, baby.”

He groans, the promise of your mouth around his cock is almost perfect but he closes his eyes. Knowing that it might not be anything more than your mouthy, post-orgasmic mouth running. Instead he kisses your forehead and pulls away. "Need a condom." He grunts, knowing that he has been safe but he's also slept with someone else less than a week ago.

“Nightstand.” His arms are longer than yours and he reaches the lone drawer in your nightstand much more easily than you would from the center of your bed. The flash of disappointment in not getting to feel his bare cock is worth it to be safe but you’re going to very nicely ask him to get tested again asap so he can go without. He’s perfect on his own.

He opens the drawer with a pang of slight jealousy. Wondering how many men have opened this same drawer, but he shoves the feeling down. It's not his place to feel possessive over your sex life after he was no longer your husband. Instead of dwelling on it, he grabs a foil packet and kneels between your thighs, ripping it open and concentrating on rolling it down his length.

His concentration gives you a moment to just be. Just absorb what is happening for all the magic that it actually holds. The coincidences and little accidents that led up to having him here - in your bed - so many years after it should have been made impossible. When he finally looks back up at you from the cradle between your legs, you feel so light you could nearly cry. “God you’re even more handsome somehow…” you murmur, leaving a dusting of kisses across his face that ends at his lone dimple. That boyish mark of good looks that he’ll carry forever was always one of your favorite little things.

It's impossible not to preen when your ex-wife compliments you like that. Marcus hums and reaches out to caress your breast, sliding his hand down to push under your back while he takes himself in hand. "You look like you did the day I met you." He tells you, believing every word of it. You are still gorgeously youthful.

It’s impossibly sweet - Marcus level sweet - but you still chuckle just a little and shake your head. “If you say so, baby.” He has improved with age, without a doubt, and for just a second as he leans down over you and you feel the blunt head of his cock at the entrance to your pussy, you let yourself imagine again what growing old with him could be like.

It's sad the way he reacts to you calling him baby. The quiver of his skin, shuddering under your fingertips as he pushes the first inch of him inside your pussy for the first time in nearly twelve years. "Fuck." He pants out, his hand letting go of his hand and bracing his weight beside your body as his hips roll forward as steadily as he can muster.

“Goddamn.” You’re panting, legs hitching up on hips as he slowly buries himself inside you. It’s just sex, you would have told yourself with anyone else. Just sex. Not a fucking spiritual experience. But this is Marcus — and sex with Marcus has always been as close to heaven as anyone on earth could ever hope to get.

"Still so–so dirty in bed." He huffs, groaning when he is buried to the root inside you. Your mouth was always filthy in bed and he loved it.

“‘M out of practice,” you admit, carefully choosing a place to nip and suck on on his shoulder that will be easily covered by his clothes.

"Impossible." Marcus huffs, leaning down and groaning in your ear as he starts to pull his hips back. "Are the men in D.C. blind? They should–should be lining up to feel this–this perfect pussy." He twitches when he slides back into you smoothly and bottoms out again.

“Turns out I’m picky.” Even with him inside you, you feel the heat of embarrassment in your cheeks when you softly press your lips to his. “None of them were as good as my husband.”

He growls, the next thrust nothing but a sharp snap of his hips. Feeling possessive and wanting to completely claim you. Make sure you remember why no one was as good as he was.

“Fuck!” It takes you off guard when he doubles down, but you end up with your eyes practically rolling back in your head as you hold onto him for dear life.

His pace is rougher than it was when you were together. More confident and self assured as he continuously snaps his hips forward and fills you again and again. Grunting and hissing through his teeth as he sets a harsh tempo.

Each time the headboard hits the wall you want to add another curse to the list, every filthy thought piling up in your head until they're spilling out of your mouth with reckless abandon. If Marcus misses your filthy mouth then you're going to give it to him, letting out a torrent of curses and praises and encouragements that would make anyone blush.

It's loud, fuck it's loud, and Marcus half expects someone to start beating on the wall. Not that he gives a fuck. He would just fuck you even harder if someone started complaining. Obsessed with the way that you are keening for him, your body bucking every time his hips slam into yours. "Fuuuuuuck baby."

Cumming this time is like an out of body experience. The fully realized home porno that the two of you have become tonight is on par with the some of the neediest, most demanding nights you have ever had together and if your voice is hoarse tomorrow then it is a badge of honor that you will wear proudly. Marcus is battering your g-spot like it's a punching bag at the gym and your cries turn silent as you clench down on him and grip his shoulders tightly in the throes of that third orgasm.

He hisses, sliding his hand around your throat and presses his thumb around your windpipe, watching your eyes widen while he grabs your leg with his other hand and pushes it back. Changing the angle and groaning when you manage to get even wetter.

This is new, is the first thought in your head, but at the same time it's so gloriously dirty that when you whimper it's pure pleasure. You're split open with his cock spearing into you at a pace that has him sweating, and all you can really do is continue giving him extremely vocal approval as he keeps you pinned to the mattress with your tits bouncing on every thrust.

His hand looks good against your neck, adjusting the pressure of his thumb with the thrust of his cock. Making sure that he is shredding up into you as hard as he can push his hips. "Fuck baby, you're–you're so good."

Your responding groan is entirely meant to tell him that he is the good one, and you whimper when his hips stutter and his rhythm starts to falter. Marcus is a goddamn work of art when he cums, and you can't wait to see that masterpiece in real life again.

His mouth drops open and he lets out a low groan of your name. Pushing deep one last, desperate thrust, Marcus falls over the edge. Panting as his cock throbs, filling the condom as he hovers over you, trembling in pleasure.

Your arms wrap around him without hesitation, offering him the place cradled against your chest to lay himself down and find his breath back. "Choking, huh?" You giggle, grinning at him unrepentantly.

"You didn't like it?" He asks, twisting his head and looking up at you with a skeptical look. "It felt like you liked it from the way that you clamped down on my cock."

"No, I loved it." It's not like you're going to deny it. That would be both useless and a little dumb at this point. "I just didn't expect it. You've picked up a few new tricks."

He hums, reaching down and gripping the base of the condom so he can pull out of you. "Twelve years will do that." He shuffles off the bed and moves towards the bathroom so he can dispose of the condom and grab you a washrag.

He's right, of course, but it stings. It's a blessing that he's walked off for a second and doesn't see the unmistakable way your face falls. It gives you time to recompose yourself before he comes back. You have no one to blame but yourself, so you can't exactly get upset with him for pointing out the truth.

Even if the comment hadn't meant to highlight how long you had been apart, Marcus still takes a moment in the bathroom. Wishing you weren't so glib about everything. He wonders if this is some kind of wish fulfillment for you. Sleep with the ex for old time's sake. He wets a washcloth and brings it back so he can clean you up. Or let you do it if you want. You had always decided after the fact and so he offers it to you first.

"Would you...?" He always preferred to do it himself. That gentlemanly streak extended even to post-sex clean up. For you it was simply something practical that had to get done, but for Marcus aftercare was something that he always took very seriously. Could you do it yourself in under five seconds? Of course. But Marcus has a way of making things mean more just by being there for them.

"Of course." He is happy that you are letting him do this. Those last few months before you asked for a divorce you would disappear into the bathroom right after sex. It had made him feel like he was doing something wrong, which apparently he had been. You spread your legs wider and he kneels back on the bed and gently slides the cloth over your folds so he can clean you up.

You're both quiet, and the awkwardness seeping into the air between you is nearly making you feel sick by the time he tosses the messy cloth into your laundry basket across the room. Shifting over, you move the blanket down to offer him a place in bed beside you and swallow the fear that he might want to leave. That this might have been one time only and he was done now that he had gotten closure or whatever it was he was seeking in your bed.

He pauses for a moment, wondering if you are genuinely offering for him to climb back in the bed with you or just being nice because you think that you should. He looks from the spot to where you are watching him and he thinks he sees apprehension in your eyes, whether it's for him to stay or for him to go, he doesn't know. But it makes him move toward the bed to slip under the covers beside you.

Despite the fact that he was inside of you less than five minutes ago, you still hesitate before inching closer to him. You can't tell if he actually wants to stay or if he's being nice, and the idea that he might not be there in the morning is so devastating that you have to make yourself stop and breathe so you don't break out into anxious tears. "W–we should talk about it?" It's more of a question than a statement, and you hate yourself a little for not being more confident about all of this. But how can you, when he would be completely within his rights to just walk out on you like you walked out on him?

"If you want." Marcus is hesitant because he doesn't want to hear that this was some sort of itch for you to scratch. That it was just a good time. He opens his arms and invites you to curl into him. Needing the comfort of you close to him before you break his heart again.

"Do you not want to talk?" It makes the fear seize in your heart in a very real way, but you still go to him like a magnet.

"Not if it's going to–" He breaks off what he was going to say and sighs. "We need to." He agrees softly, knowing that it would be cowardly to not talk about it. You were both adults and he knew that he could get hurt when he came home with you tonight.

"I–" Reminding yourself to breathe - to be honest - you exhale slowly and find his eyes in the moonlight. "I don't want this to just be a one time thing. Or a meaningless thing. But if this was just...closure for you, or whatever...I'll respect that." It would break your heart, but you would never force him to be with you. That might actually be worse than having him walk away.

Through lots and lots of therapy over the past year, Marcus has learned that he can’t just jump in. He tries to curb the instinct now, taking a moment to absorb your words and make sure he understands. Relief floods his entire system, happy that you feel that way. “And what exactly is it that you do want?” He asks, making sure that his arm is curled around your shoulders, his fingers stroking your skin softly.

"Not more than will make you happy." The answer is him. You want him back, but if he doesn't want to be with you again you aren't going to make him. After all, twelve years is a long fucking time to be apart and he might want different things in a partner now.

“That’s not an answer.” He hums, aware that you are seemingly walking on eggshells around him right now and he doesn’t like it. Deflection and refusing to be honest is what landed you here where you are.

You sigh softly, squeezing your eyes shut before opening them again to find him studying you carefully. "I am afraid to ask whether or not you would want to keep seeing me," you admit, letting your head hit the pillow again softly. "Because I don't think I deserve a second chance even though I want one."

It’s what he needs to hear, turning on his side and reaching up to cup your cheek and gently swipe his thumb over your cheek bone. “Do you think I would have gone home with you if I didn’t want to see you again?” He asks softly, wanting to make sure you know that he’s not that type of man.

"I hoped not." That, at least, you can admit freely. The warmth of his calloused hand on your face makes you shiver slightly, but not at all in a bad way. It's more like...disbelief. "But I would have deserved it if you decided to walk out on me after we were finished."

“I didn’t want the divorce.” He admits, although he’s sure you know that. He hadn’t fought you on it, but he also hadn’t been happy about it. “I wanted to spend my life with you.”

You nod, eyes falling shut again momentarily as you swallow down years and years of guilt. You know he didn't want the divorce, but when he didn't fight you, you tricked yourself into believing that you were freeing him to find a better life. That he must have known a better life was possible, since he didn't protest. "I'm so, so sorry." The words nearly break you, tears brimming in your eyes and the tightening in your chest making it hard to take a breath for longer than you're proud of. "It was my fault. All of it."

“Stop.” Marcus chides you softly, shaking his head and urging your chin up slightly where it’s fallen. “Baby– look at me.”

The thing that mostly gets you to comply is hearing him call you baby, feeling like you don't deserve even that small amount of affection. But you wipe the tears from under your eyes fiercely, forcing yourself to look up.

He sighs softly, hating the tears that are in your eyes. “I loved you enough to let you go.” He murmurs quietly, his thumb moving down and he rubs it over your lips. “You told me that your future wasn’t yours with me, so I knew that you had to do what you needed to do alone. That if I tried to force you to stay, you would hate me for it. So I said yes when you asked for a divorce.” The words had been like a knife to his heart, but he had realized what they meant later on.

"I was an idiot." When he opens his mouth to protest you shake your head, insisting that he let you elaborate. "I should have talked to you. Had the tough conversations instead of thinking that compromise didn't exist. So it was my fault. It just took a hell of a lot of therapy to realize where I went wrong."

“And I should have known that maybe you weren’t ready to plan out every detail of our lives.” He chuckles. “Lots of therapy for me too.” He bites his lip. “I would have gone with you.” He confesses. “If you had told me what you needed, what you wanted, I would have gone with you.”

"I didn't really know, though." It's your own confession. That even if he had given you the reins to choose what direction your future was going to go in, you wouldn't have known where to lead him. "I changed my focus at George Washington twice before settling on my masters and then the Sorbonne happened because one of my professors was taking her sabbatical in France and knew of a spot in the program there. It was a whirlwind. And you..." Your eyes search his face, seeing the softness there that makes your heart ache. "The FBI, baby? If you had come to France with me you never would have found such an amazing career."

“So I would have learned to speak French instead of using handcuffs.” It’s all reflective now, the past is just that– the past. But he needs you to know that he would have given everything up for you.

"I'm sorry." It's quieter this time, more ashamed, but you know you can't change what you did. "If I could take it back, I would."

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” Marcus rushes out, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours. “Please don’t beat yourself up. I just–I’ve realized something that I knew but I couldn’t acknowledge until I saw you again.”

"You have?" If he can hear your heartbeat speed up, he doesn't show it. But you can't possibly believe that the blood pounding in your ears isn't loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah.” He flashes you a soft smile, opening his eyes and pulling back so he can look at you fully. “I never stopped loving you, sweetheart.” He confesses. “You’re it for me.”

For a second you swear your heart has stopped beating all together, until it feels like all the blood that was just pounding in your ears has rushed to your face to fill your cheeks and all the air leaves your lungs all at once in a sound like a strangled, disbelieving gasp. The tears are next - hot, grateful, ecstatic, and still disbelieving. But in the last milliseconds of that second where you seem to react to everything all at once, you’re pressing into his space to kiss him over and over and over again. Ten thousand tiny little kisses that bleed into one long one as you cling to him and desperately try to stop shaking in his arms because you can’t believe you could ever be so lucky as to have another chance with him. “I love you.” The words have been stuck in your throat for god only knows how long but they tumble out now, against his lips. “I love you so much, Marcus. I swear I’ll make it alright this time if you let me.”

Marcus sighs in relief, in disbelief and hope, his arms becoming steel bands around you as he happily takes the kisses and refuses to let your mouth pull back more than a fraction of an inch. You love him. That cycles through his mind on a loop and he wonders how the hell it took twelve years to get back to this moment.

It takes longer than you’re proud of to recompose yourself, but when you do it’s like the heavy weight that you’ve been carrying on your shoulders for years is finally starting to dissipate. “I know it’s not as easy as a magical fix,” you tell him, words still muffled by his skin as he keeps you close. “But we’re not kids anymore. I think if we try, we can do it.”

"I think we should take it slow." Marcus admits, rolling his eyes at himself since within forty-eight hours of seeing you again, he's back in bed with you. "Slow for us, I guess." He huffs, conceding that it's better than the first time you met. You had slept together that very first night and that had just been it. There hadn't been anyone else for him until well after you had driven off into the sunset, your wedding band laying on the kitchen counter with your house key.

“What’s that?” You joke, unable to resist even though you’re already nodding in agreement. “I’m not saying let’s go get remarried tomorrow. Or even at all, if you don’t want to. I just…” Sighing in his arms again feels like a gift. “Slow is good. We just have to stick to it.”

"You still have my last name." He's slightly smug about that. Every time he's almost typed your name into the FBI database, it's been with your maiden name. He had incorrectly assumed that you would go back to it after you got settled. You had even petitioned in the divorce to change your name.

“Yeah…” It’s not like you can deny it. It’s a fact, right there on paper. “I decided that even though I wasn’t running around broadcasting being divorced, I wasn’t going to pretend like it didn’t happen.”

"I like that." He admits, nose brushing against your cheek as he leaves another kiss against your skin. "Always liked you having my last name." He had been so fucking proud when you had changed your school ID, your license and social security number to Pike. It might be slightly caveman-ish, but he was human after all.

"So I guess..." You crack a grin, fingers brushing along his jaw and feeling light for the first time in ages. "Do you want to go out on a real date tomorrow? Something a little more intentional than us randomly ending up in the same bar for dinner?"

“I think we should.” Marcus agrees with a grin of his own. “We’ve changed a lot over the past decade and I–I want to make sure that it’s not nostalgia for either of us.”

"That's fair." Leaning forward lets you leave a kiss on his nose and you grin. "Maybe we can do something that we've never done before?"

“Hmmmm do you have something in mind?” The idea of even leaving this bed isn’t one that Marcus wants but he knows he can’t just stay in bed with you.

"I'm sure we can come up with something." The only thought in your mind right now is him and it's clouding everything else, but you would be lying if you said that you minded too much. The fact that he's here with you and wants to stay is still overwhelming in the best way.

Marcus shoots you a grin and then chuckles. “Jesus, I cannot believe that we are here right now.” He sighs, leaning back and closing his eyes as his hand drifts up and down your back.

"It's a little surreal, right?" Lying back in his arms is fully surreal, not just a little, but you wouldn't trade it for the world. "I'm still waiting for somebody to come bang on the door and yell at us for fucking too loud."

He snorts, his chest jostling you slightly. “Let them.” He grins and slides his hand down to your ass. “I’ll just make sure you’re louder the next time.”

"I fully believe you will." It wouldn't be the first time he'd taken a comment as a challenge, although he'd been nineteen then and much more competitive.

Marcus sighs softly, his hand sliding back up and he pulls you closer, smiling at you. “Hi.” He hums goofily.

"Hi," you hum right back, placing kisses on his nose and lips as you grin at him.

“Have to admit, this is not where I saw my Friday night going.” Marcus jokes. “I imagined drowning myself in too many whiskeys and wallowing in the fact that you still look so fucking good.”

"I felt like I was going to die when you walked into my office." Now, with him beside you and things looking so much brighter than they did even a few hours ago, you can laugh about it. "Of all the different ways I ever dreamt of seeing you again, dating one of my team members was not on the list."

“God.” His own awkward laugh answers yours and he swipes his free hand down his face. “All I could think about was the fact that I had seen both of you naked. And honestly? Wonder how the hell she didn’t make the connection in last names before. It’s not like Pike is common.”

"It's not that uncommon, though." You shrug slightly but still laugh. "Maybe her hometown has four different Pike families? Who knows."

“And was it just me, or did you want to melt like the Wicked Witch when she asked if we were siblings?” Marcus asks, rolling his eyes in pure embarrassment.

"I'm going to want to melt on Sunday when I tell her we're seeing each other again." It might end up being an incredibly uncomfortable conversation, but you would rather have it outside of work, and Sunday brunch trivia is the next time you'll see Silvia.

“You can wait if you want.” Marcus offers, not wanting to put you into an awkward position with your friend and employee. “If it makes it easier for you.”

"I feel like it could get complicated if I wait," you admit. "It would seem like we're hiding it from her, and I don't–I don't want to hide this at all. I'm proud that you would even consider giving me a second chance."

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks you softly, “I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life since I was nineteen.”

Not wanting to cry again - even happy tears - you tuck yourself in even closer to his side and exhale deeply. "I knew we said slow, but I want you to know that that's where my mind is, Marc. The rest of our lives. Just like we always said."

He gets emotional himself, closing his eyes for a moment so he can compose himself and not bawl like a baby. Although his hold on you turns ironclad for a moment before he relaxes it. “I-I like the sound of that.” He manages after he’s opened his eyes again.

"There's plenty to talk about. Things to work through. But..." You blow out a sigh and manage an honest smile in the light of the moon. "But I have literally dreamed of having a chance to make things right with you more times than I can count."

“We don’t have to work out all the details tonight.” He kisses your forehead and smiles at the irony. He would have wanted to plan everything out years ago. “I just want to be with you.”

"We should try to get some sleep." Now that things are a little more secure, the fear of waking up and finding him gone has completely left your mind. Replaced by wanting to spend the weekend together and start to rekindle the relationship that you've been missing for over a decade.

“We should, but–” He shuffles slightly and gently moves out from under you. “I’m going to go get us some water.” He tells you, not wanting you to think he’s changing his mind. “That way we don’t have to worry about getting it in the middle of the night.”

"There's glasses in the cabinet next to the refrigerator." Your kitchen cabinets might be the only thing in the entire apartment that stay consistently organized, and the idea of Marcus puttering around your space freely makes you smile broadly all over again.

Marcus smirks and there is a slight leer to his gaze as he rakes it over your body. “Go pee, sweetheart. I know you have to.” He orders before he walks out of the room, still naked and comfortable with it.

Five minutes later you're both crawling back in bed, glasses of water sitting ready on your nightstand after both taking a few painkillers to preempt any small hangover you might have in the morning. After all, you did have a bit to drink even if neither of you was actually drunk. You settle into his side again and sigh as you both wrap your arms around each other, ready to drift off to sleep. It's more than comfortable. It's like coming home.

“I love you.” He murmurs into your hair, kissing your head and closing his eyes. If this is a dream, a drunken fantasy, then he doesn’t want to wake up.

"I love you, too." It's gentle, and almost ethereal, and all you can do is trust that it's real, because you're drifting off quickly in the comfort of his arms.

------ 

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason

tCIGtDYE: @missmarmaladeth  @afro-hispwriter  @rosmarinus @mythrielofsolitude @jxvipike @avaleineandafryingpan @hnt-escape @supernaturalgirl20 @scorpio-marionette @bobafvcker @midnightevermore @dinoflower   @pearl-aqua-tears @itsbaehyungbitch   @pepperminticedcoffee @anticipayosbot @girlofchaos @speedynana @loveslide @noisynaia @just-here-for-the-moment @goodgriefitsawildworld @curiouskeyboard @iarellanouus @mymistery09-blog @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thenightdreamsballad @pondsofravenclaw  @sherlock221b114679797 @pimmyxyone @theredwritingwitch @ghostinhours @timpletance @strawberryjamcheesecake @amb11 @a-little-shade-of-kiki @wildemaven @tuquoquebrute @supernaturalgirl @ellenmunn @iceclaw101 @toxicfrankenstein @catsandgeekyandnerd @missmarmaladeth   @theincredibleinkspitter @agiroflee98 @lyonessofnarnia @we-could-have-been @totostits @scorpio-marionette @kikis-writing-world @trappistmonksofthefuture @danichz  @88dragon06  @scorpionerd @myrealmofchaos @movievillainess721 @firekissed13 @qseomik @acollectionofcells1 @captain-of-my-game1992 @alician87 @lovesbiggerthanpride @justgonewild @hiyorinatsuki   @pinkrosethorne @apocalypticwafflekitten @groovycass @rebel-fanfare    @d0cthunder @gooddaykate @purplerain04 @astridflowers @purplerain04

My Masterlist!  

[aesthet]

⋆˚࿔ 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂tober 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

Hi hi! this is my first time participating in Kinktober. I hope you'll have a fun time reading this, and of course feedbacks are very much welcome! For the 31st, let me know what y'all wanna see

(the update on the list might be long because, I'm quite busy)

Happy reading~!

-nia.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

Day 1

A Painter's Drug 𓍢ִ໋🀦

˚˖𓍢ִ໋`.𖤣𖥧:✧˚.🎨🖌⋆𖧧₊⁺

tags: [Rafayel LaDs x fem!reader], [switch!rafayel], [aphrodisiac], [experimenting on unknown plants], [fingering], [p in v], [desperate Rafayel], [whiny Rafayel], [2 rounds], [petname: pretty boy], [begging], [bulging kink], [big cawk]

Summary: Rafayel is having an art block and decided to scroll on his social media and that's when he came across a particular plant thought it would make a good paint, so after finding the plant, he brought it home. Little did he know the effects he'll get if he experiments with the plant.

https://www.tumblr.com/aesthet/764020923067252736/a-painters-drug?source=share

‌Day 2

A Moving Memory [◉¯]

˙✧˖°📷 ⋆｡˚꩜

tags: [Gojo Satoru x fem!reader], [childhood best friends to lovers], [fantasizing], [confession], [downbad!Gojo], [downbad!reader], [unexpected reunion], [p in v], [subby!reader], [flashback], [tipsy sex], [nipple play], [pussydrunk!gojo], [gojo has cuteness aggression towards the reader]

Summary: Gojo and you were childhood bestfriends, both of you parted ways. And after years, the both of you have grown up and finally came across each other’s path. How is my childhood best friend so hot? they asked themselves.

https://www.tumblr.com/aesthet/765141473636335616/a-moving-memory?source=share

‌Day 3

Coquettish Kinda Gal (｡- .•) ᵎᵎ

𖧷₊˚˖𓍢ִ💕✧˚.🫦⋆ﾟ＊

tags: [Nanami Kento x fem!reader], [flirty!reader x flustered!nanami] to [flirty!nanami x flustered!fem!reader], [p in v], [teasing], [tables turned], [pent up], [brat taming], [blindfold], [co-workers to lovers]

Summary: Your stoic co-worker is just so irresistible!. Polite, caring, and not to mention hotter than Lucifer’s anus after 69 rounds with his sinners. But there’s just one teensy tiny problem, he keeps dodging your flirty comments like how a dead beat dad avoids child support. Guess you’ll have to keep pushing his buttons until he cracks.

Day 4

Wild Card 🃁๋ ๋࣭⭑

⊹ ࣪ ˖🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺⋆⭒˚.⋆

tags: [Sylus LaDS x fem!reader], [bet], [strip card game], [tease], a little bit of [spit roast], [brat taming], [bratty!reader], [brat tamer!sylus], [p in v]

Summary: The day was slower than usual, the both of you aren’t busy. And the both of you are vey bored and don't know what to do, why not come up with different ways to spice up the simple Kitty card game?

‌Day 5

Damn You On The Edge Of The Bed, You 'boutta Fall Off 🛏⁺˚₊‧

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆🛏️⭑.ᐟ

tags: [one bed trope], [timid!neuvillette], [bold!reader], [subby!neuvillette], [inexperienced!neuvillette], [praise], [gentle], [vanilla], [p in v], [teaching neuvillette]

tags: Being Neuvillette’s assistant requires you to be by his side at any given moment, even on business trips. So on a trip to Liyue to discuss some cultural exchange events, the both of you decided to stop and take a rest at the famous Wangsuu Inn and uh-oh! there’s only one room left with one king sized bed, the both of you had no choice but to share a room and a bed.

‌Day 6

Wave of Warmth 🕯🌡

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡♨️. 🌡️⊹ ◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑

tags: [huddle for warmth trope], [Geto Suguru x fem!reader], [near a fireplace], [cockwarming], [teasing], [bratty!reader], [degradation], [p in v], [overstimulation], [brat tamer!geto]

Summary: The Winter season in Tokyo have been really brutal these days, so of course you prepared and ordered a kotatsu for the both of you. But turns out the shipment is delayed by three days due to the snow that fell earlier than usual and this caused a lot of roads, and buildings to be blocked by ice and snow. The both of you are huddled together in front of the fireplace. But the heat from the fire isn’t enough. You need something warmer, to warm you from inside and out.

‌Day 7

Flustered Jester♠️✶⋆.˚

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🤹⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

tags: [Alhaitham x fem!reader], [jokester!reader], [𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂!reader], [flirty, bold!reader] to [flustered!reader], [p in v]

Summary: Some people have called you a clown, because of the limitless jokes or innuendos that come out of your mouth. Making people laugh like royalty, except one. The Scribe of the Akademiya who is very stoic and strict, but you see him as a challenge. There are many times where he would seem impressed by the flirty jokes you threw at him and you want to see this man react differently than a scoff or a smirk.

‌Day 8

A Tight Case ˖⌕ ۫ . ˖

⋆˚｡⋆🕵🏻‍♂️.°⛧

tags: [rivals to lovers], [Shikanoin Heizou x fem!reader], [detectives], [working together], [spit roast], [bickering], [flirty!heizou], [switch!heizou], [switch!reader], [degradation], [p in v], [cnc]

Summary: It’s a tough competition in the detective world, where reputation plays a big role. And Shikanoin Heizou is your biggest enemy, the cocky and smug detective keeps getting away with everything and sometimes even solving cases you’ve been on for awhile. One day a strange case had your brain fried, your manager offered to work with one of the best detectives in the city, Shikanoin Heizou.

‌Day 9

It Takes Two To Tango 𓀤𓀥

♪⋆⭒˚💃🏻🕺🏽*.⋆♪

tags: [Jing Yuan x fem!reader], [undercover agents], [ambiguity], [fancy party], [reward], [downbad!Jing Yuan], [downbad!reader], [fighting together], [p in v]

Summary: “He’s a white haired guy with a buff build- you know what you’ll know him when you see him-” are the last words you hear from your teammate who got his connection cut the moment you enter the party, looking for the man that is supposedly there to help you with retrieving the stolen artifact. But how on earth am i going to find a guy like that in a crowd with old people who have white hair?!

‌Day 10

His Favorite Flower❀˖°

༘⋆✿˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌼˚˖𓍢ִ˚.۶ৎ

tags: [Zayne LaDS x fem!reader], [florist!zayne], [softdom!zayne], [flower enthusiast!reader], [praise], [inexperienced!reader], [experienced!zayne], [p in v], [fingering]

Summary: For as long as you live, you've been more interested and fascinated by the flora instead of the fauna. Even though you love bith of them, but with your schedule and living space, you can't adopt a pet so you resulted in plants. And recently there is a new flower shop that opened up and you've overheard multiple times that the owner is really handsome. So you decided to check it out one day.

Day 11

‌The Sweetest Fruit In The Garden 🥭⋆˙⟡

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍇 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

tags: [Kaeya Alberich x fem!reader], [Rosaria cameo], [reader is Rosaria's sister]. [sister's best friend]. [home alone], [flirty kaeya], [fingering], [teasing], [praise]

Summary:  It’s no secret that Kaeya and Rosaria are best friends, they hung out at the bar, parties and sometimes even go to concerts. It is also no secret that Rosaria has a little sister who’s just the sweetest thing Kaeya had ever laid his eyes on. And ever since you moved into a new space, Rosaria would often stay in your place and that caused Kaeya to see you almost every time. What happens when Rosaria leaves to do some errands, leaving the two of you alone?

Day 12

Salt and Pepper ☯︎˚⊹

⁺˚⋆｡°🧂₊🫙°｡⋆˚⁺

tags: [CEO!ratio], [assistant!reader], [sun & moon], [right-brained!reader], [left-brained!ratio], [stress relief], [cnc], [Topaz, Aventurine cameo], [rough], [spanking], [degradation], [edging], [overstimulation]

Summary: Salt and Pepper, two completely different flavors and yet they work so well together. Just like you and the Dr. Veritas Ratio himself, a man who runs on logical thinking, a same and familiar flavor like salt and you who runs on thinking outside of the box, a bit of surprise when it comes to the amount like pepper. But what happens when one day, you did something so unexpected that it can’t help but completely frustrate the Doctor, causing him to snap and take his frustrations out of you.

Day 13

A Mechanic's Hyperfixation 🛠∘˙

✮ ⋆˚｡🦾⋆｡°✩

tags: [mechanic!reader], [boothill is under maintenance], [oblivious!reader], [smug!boothill], [robot body parts], [downbad!boothill], [sex w/robot ;]

Summary: Though you’re a new and young mechanic in Penacony, you have quite the skills. Being skilled in fixing just about anything until you met a cyborg who has a complete robot body except for his head, who came to you after he noticed some of his gears aren’t working. Seeing the man, you can’t help but gawk at his inner workings and he quickly becomes your new hyperfixation.

Day 14

Nasty Dog 𓃡⋆.˚

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁⋆˚🐾˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

tags: [reader is wrio's right hand], [Wriothesley x fem!reader], [reader is called madame], [flirty!wrio], [cocky!wrio], [uptight!reader], [switch!reader], [inexperienced!reader], [scary but an actual softie duo]

Summary: “Dude, how much are you willing to bet that they fuck?” “On my life- it’s so obvious! The tension is so thick” “They look like they’re about to just take off their clothes and-” *Ahem* “Y-your Grace! ah- Madame-!”. Although that interaction happened half an hour ago, you can’t help but to think, is it true?

Day 15

Closed Gaps 🗄.ᐟ

🗝️⋆｡ 𖦹°‧★

tags: [Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader], [forced proximity], [toji and reader are secret agents], [sneaking], [teasing], [dilf!toji], [sniper!reader], [staying quiet], [edging], [rough]

Summary: You and Toji are two of the best assassins in your branch. One day, the both of you are tasked to kill a minister and his secretary, there is security in almost every corner. The both of you had no choice but to hide often even in small and tight spaces and even squeezing into not just a locker.

Day 16

Wasted Drive ⛐

⋆ ༺ 𓆩🚗𓆪 ༻ ⋆

tags: [police officer! Xavier LaDS], [passenger!reader], [reader's friend is drunk], [pulled over], [car sex], [teasing], [inexperienced!reader]

Summary: You thought it'd be a good idea to let your drunk friend drive for a bit, after she basically tells you to lrt her drive for a three minutes. And to nobody's surprise the both of you got pulled over, and since you're the owner of the car. The handsome officer would like to speak a word or two with you.

Day 17

‌Rediscovered Tension （ꐦ𝅒_𝅒）

˚₊‧꒰ა 💢 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tags: [Kamisato Ayato x fem!reader], [old enemies], [hate sex], [two faced!ayato], [riled up], [cnc], [clan leader! reader], [mean!ayato]

Summary: Being the only daughter and heir in the Suda clan that’s known to teach martial arts, it comes to no surprise that a lot of samurais from Inazuma are from your clan. But due to old age, your father couldn’t take on the role of being a clan leader, making you return to Inazuma to complete your duties as the clan leader. But you didn’t know that your old enemy had become the head of the Kamisato clan. Making the extinguished fire that was once inside you, re-lit.

Day 18

Eclipse Wings 𖤍

˚ ༘`🪽 ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

tags: [angel!reader x demon!sukuna], [cocky!sukuna], [pervert!sukuna], [full nelson], [cnc], [oblivious!reader], [innocent!reader], [trueform!sukuna], [improper use of sukuna's 4 arms], [overstimulation], [corruption], [hair puling], [spanking], [double stuffed]

Summary: Both winged creatures, yet different reputations and mindset. An angel decided to wander off too far and reached the border between the realms of the angels and demons. And there at the gate, she saw a four armed demon with markings and pink hair, smoking a cigarette that he almost dropped seeing your glowing figure, as he smirks as he thinks it’s his lucky day.

Day 19

A Tongue Tied Kitty ᨐฅ .ᐟ

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆🐈‍⬛ ྀི.✧˚

tags: [Sampo Koski x fem!reader], [dude in distress], [teasing], [tied up], [stuck], [sub!sampo], [femdom!reader], [handjob], [blowjob], [edging], [nipple play] 

Summary: Being a skilled trickster comes with many risks, and today Sampo realized that actions do have consequences and on that same day he had also brought you along with him. But when you finally found him, he’s tied up in an alleyway and has not made any progress in breaking free. As much as you’d like to free him, you can’t help but to realize how pretty he looked, being all tied up like this.

Day 20

Caretaker ❣︎۶ৎ

𓂃 ࣪˖ 👩🏻‍🍼.ᐟ ₊˚⊹꒷

tags: [Thoma x fem!reader], [nanny!thoma], [softdom!thoma], [servicetop!thoma], [praise], [fingering], [squirting], [overstimulation], [face sitting], [single mother!reader], [ayato mentioned]

Summary: A single mom who works two jobs, that mom being you. Being a the founder of a company and an artist, is not an easy thing. So you decided to seek out for a nanny to take care of your 5 year old daughter, Morie. And your friend introduced his other friend who is willing to do chores, look after Morie AND even do errands. So of course with that offer, you couldn’t refuse.

Day 21

Wired Odd Date ☏

˙✧˖° 🤳 ༘ ⋆｡˚

tags: [blind date], [Gallagher x fem!reader], [shy!reader], [experienced!gallagher], [softdom!gallagher], [overstimulation], [full nelson], [cock drunk!reader], [squirting], [nipple play], [biting], [fingering]

Summary: Looking for your special someone is harder than looking for men who don’t text you with a “U Up?” text, and having countless tries with friends, friend of a friend, cousin’s friend. You grew tired and decided to look for someone older, and hearing this your friend sets you up on a blind date with one of her co-worker’s friend that is also in the same situation as you. But what you didn’t know is that he would be a literal dilf, but would you complain though?

Day 22

At Each Other's Throats ☺☺

ོ༘₊⁺🔗₊⁺⋆.˚

tags: [Kaveh x fem!reader], [competitive!reader], [competitive!kaveh], [perfectionists], [bickering], [reward], [bratty top!kaveh], [spanking], [cockdrunk!reader], [pussydrunk!kaveh], [69], [overstimulation], [alhaitham cameo]

Summary: The architect industry is tougher than what people imagined, especially when you have someone who is also fighting for the spot you’ve been dreaming of, Kaveh. Though the two of you are considered as the best architects in Sumeru, you can’t help but want to reach higher and beat the blonde man. But what happens when the Akademiya themselves commissioned the both of you to work on the same project, who would be the first to crack?

Day 23

Patchin' and Fixin' ☤

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 🩹⋆

tags: [childe x fem!reader], [injured!childe], [2AM], [patching him up], [riled up], [blowjob], [teasing], [sub!childe], [whiny!childe], [hairpulling]

Summary: Don’t you just love it when your tired and injured co-worker shows up at your doorstep, drenched because of the rain at 2AM? Of course being the good comrade you are, you brought him inside to clean and patch up his wounds. For someone who is badly injured, he sure does look hot

Day 24

Cute And Handsome To Boot ༝༚༝༚ᵕ̈

༘⋆₊ ⊹🎀 ⭑⋆｡˚

tags: [besties], [oblivious!choso], [Choso Kamo x fem!reader], [inexperienced!choso], [experienced!reader], [teasing], [very subby!choso], [softdom!reader], [shy!choso] to [loud!choso], [dacryphilia], [blowjob], [handjob], [overstimulation]

Summary: Being Choso’s only best friend, there is no doubt that there are people who starts to shipthe both of you. And after spending years with him, you really can’t tell if he’s messing with you or not. Because everyone can see that you're into him and have been trying to hint at him. But since you’re his best friend, he can’t possibly break the friendship and get 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, right?

Day 25

Frilled Brains 𖡎

⋆˙𓍊₊ ⊹˚🧠*ੈ✩‧₊˚

tags: [Alhaitham x fem!reader x Kaveh], [stress relief], [threesome], [full nelson], [manhandling], [meandom!alhaitham], [softdom!kaveh], [p p in v], [anal], [creampie], [overstimulation], [nasty and downbad kavetham], [cunnilingus], [cockdrunk!reader], [pussydrunk!reader], [blowjob]

Summary: The Interdarshan championship is coming up, and Alhaitham and Kaveh are tasked to be the event organizers. But who knew they would have so much work load being dumped on to them and not to mention the people that are tasked to help them are also busy with their papers and upcoming tests. So when you, their good friend offered to help their poor little souls, they said yes in a heartbeat. But you didn’t know that you were there to help them with their stress.

Day 26

Cream(ed) crackered ‎𐂐―

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🥧༄⋆⭒˚｡⋆

tags: [Gojo Satoru x fem!reader x Gojo Satoru], [threesome], [creampie], [overstimulation], [cockdrunk1reader], [pussydrunk!satosugu], [fingering], [double stuffed], [blowjob], [handjob], [dacryphilia], [degradation], [praise], [full nelson]

Summary: Cream crackered is a perfect slang to describe your state now. Because of the upcoming test, you decided to pull an all nighter and play it safe than waking up with 70% of your knowledge being stolen by the dream eater. But you’re having trouble staying awake, you’ve tried washing your face, eating candy and even coffee but to no avail. Luckily for you, your two roommates are awake playing games and being loud. Perhaps you can ask them for tips?

Day 27

The Pretty Doll 𖠋₊˚⊹

˖⁺‧₊˚🪆˚₊‧⁺˖

tags: [Kamisato Ayato x fem!reader x Thoma], [threesome], [overstimulation], [reader is being spoiled], [softdom!thomato], [eating out], [nipple play], [fingering], [squirting]

Summary: Being taken in by the Kamisato clan because of your amazing skills in combat, and arts. You’ve become a valuable asset to the clan. But giving you a place to stay, fancy clothes, delicious food isn’t enough for both Thoma and Ayato. So one night after a long and very boring meeting, the both of you decided to give their long awaited gift for you.

Day 28

What're The Odds ඞ

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ﾟ｡⋆

tags: [Sukuna Ryomen x fem!reader x Nanami Kento], [threesome], [softdom!nanami], [meandom!sukuna], [full nelson], [doggystyle], [facefuck], [cunnilingus], [downbad!thukuna], [whiney!nanami]

Summary: One’s a boxer and one’s an office worker, the three of you met in a bar and somehow hit it off pretty well. They’re very different in terms of style, their tastes, however there is one taste that they agreed on, that taste being you.

Day 29

Tag, You're It ☠︎⸸

・┆✦ʚ🎭ɞ✦ ┆・

tags: [Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader x Choso Kamo], [primal play],[threesome], [messy], [creampie], [anal], [p in v], [overstimulation], [dacryphilia], [face fuck], [handjob], [full nelson], [vibrator], [clit sucking], [manhandling], [needy!choso], [meandom!toji]

Summary: It started as a silly thought that you blurted out while spacing out after eating a bowl of ramen that the three of you ordered, the thought being "I wanna try primal prey stuff". And here you are now, running away from the two big men that are hunting their prey being you.

Day 30

Body Inspection (ㅅ)

𓍯𓂃𓏧🦵🏻✧₊⁺

tags: [Childe x fem!reader x Pantalone], [threesome], [sussy body inspection], [spy!reader], [fingering], [cnc], [cunnilingus], [p in v], [brattydom!childe], [meandom!pantalone], [spanking], [degrading], [praise], [tied hands]

Summary: You were a spy that was sent by a group of people in Snezhnaya who rebeled against the Fatui after finding out their motives. Things have been going on smoothly and you were assigned to the 11th harbinger, on your third week he asked you to come with him to his meeting with the ninth of the fatui harbinger. You thought this was a perfect opportunity to get some intel, but all of this was an elaborate trap made just for you, the little doll who was sent to spy on them. They’ll have you know that, that action won’t come without a punishment.

Day 31

(vote, tell me what you guys want)

𓁹‿𓁹

[sataara]

Fanfic Recs! pt. 1

Hello hello! For yall that don't know me, I'm Billy or Sataara, either is fine, and I read a lot of submas fics so I decided to make a list of some recommendations that I have! A few things about me is that I can't deal with unhappy endings, heavy angst and/or any pairings where both brothers are with someone else (also no bl/nkship), so if you're looking for any of these types of fics, I'm sorry but you won't find it here :/

That aside, I'll make more than one post since this was getting kind of long, this first one are just multi-chapter fics! Most of these are either reunion fics or Ingo living after getting back from Hisui, with some exceptions! Gonna leave the actual description under the link with small personal notes on my opinion about them!

edit: added a few more!

Combūrere by Anonymous

Emmet doesn’t appreciate hearing his brother is dead. But if it takes everyone treating him like glass to let him fistfight a god, so be it. He’s an over-pressured steam boiler, waiting to explode. He’s already set up all the pieces, lined all his matchsticks one by one. The only thing left to do is set himself ablaze. In which Emmet becomes a vengeful spirit, reunites with Ingo, travels to an alternate universe, and fights a god. Just. Not in that order.

Words: 140,000 Chapters: 28/28

This fic got me hooked from start to finish, I was up until 5am at one point because I just couldn't put it down. Reunion with a lot of bumps in the road that only make the story more interesting and flashbacks that only add context making the fic more robust.

Last Train Home by StellarCoachman

Ingo arrived in Hisui far too early, settling in and making a life for himself there. Akari, his daughter, grows up alongside him and Lady Sneasler in the Highlands, developing a strong bond with Pokemon that serves her well when she decides to join the Galaxy Team Survey Corp. There, she meets an odd boy named Rei and takes part in the events that shape the history of the region itself. An unexpected encounter leaves her lost in an unfamiliar world. Meanwhile, Emmet has long since grown to accept his brother's presumed death, but still struggles on occasion. When he gets proof that his brother may actually be alive, he rushes off to see for himself, but he's not prepared for what he finds instead.

Words: 90,307 Chapters: 12/12

One of the many fics I'll share from this author, love their works very much and I really enjoy their different takes on their reunion! As a warning, though, this one can be very sad and it made me cry a few times too </3

Legends, ponderances, and then some. by An_Ephemeral_Walk

Of all the lands, all the regions, all the timelines, it was Unova that was chosen. It was Unova that was the first to lose someone to a mythical being outside the domain of Truth and Ideals. It was Unova that fell victim to the being already tormenting both the Sinnoh of now, and the Hisui of then. While it wouldn't be Truth or Ideals that would ultimately lead Giratina to regretting going along with Volo, it would learn the taste of regret and defeat all the same in many flavors. Stealing the partner of a fiery ghost is a lesson not learned yet, but it will be. Oh, it will be.

Words: 85,049 Chapters: 10/10

This one is a very interesting and enjoyable read, a lot of introspection, different hcs for how the characters met, just, really nice all around.

Elevated Railways by FluentInFangirl12

I'm a sucker for wingfics and I'm surprised that in all my submas fics, I haven't written one yet. This was inspired by @manchasma's wing au on tumble dot com and this specific post by @fang-tasmal (https://fang-tasmal.tumblr.com/post/682901862855426048/wing-au-time-i-like-the-traditional-wings-on-back) but im changing the lore and stuff a bit.

Words: 71,987 Chapters: 28/28

Wingfic! This one has a lot of uncle Ingo content, it's a really fun read and nice exploration of the setting with the "but what if wings?" trope added to that <3 Also, another author that has a bunch of fics I enjoy!

Ingo in Wonderland by PerpetuallySleepy

Falling for the second time, Ingo finds himself in a strange land… a strange wonderland. Well, it appears that there’s quite an adventure ahead of him. A weird and wacky one! All aboard!

Words: 71,058 Chapters: 30/30

This one I actually avoided for sometime thinking it wouldn't be something I enjoyed, but oh, I'm so glad I gave it a chance! What a fascinating and fun story! Its heart wrenching and different, I loved it all the way through!

Give Not In To Sorrow by Hare_Brained_Scheme

Something strange is going on in Hisui. There are reports of a man in white roaming the wildlands while leading a pack of Pokemon . Some say they're a mix of Pokemon, some claim they're a pack of zoroarks. Some swear that the man is none other than the amnesiac warden of the Pearl Clan. One thing is certain. Those who meet the man in white all report the same thing: He is looking for his brother. And he will not rest until he finds him.

Words: 70,551 Chapters: 12/12

This one I can not recommend enough, beautifully crafted story, completely gut wrenching, I've read it twice not counting the times I reread my favorite parts and cried a lot, mind the tags but do read it if you haven't already.

We Are Derailing by william_pkmn

Lucas is sent on a mission to investigate a sacred site to the Diamond clan. As added backup, he takes Ingo with and inadvertently unlocks his memories, deepening the mystery they have to solve together.

Words: 49,451 Chapters: 10/10

Another really interesting one! Following Ingo and Lucas as they look for clues about Ingo's past, the promise that things will work out by the end, the road to get there, it's worth the read!

A Rather Dramatic Displacement by NanixErka

Arceus grants the wish of the two heroes displaced in time However, perhaps they should have consulted Dialga with the time portion of this 10 years isn't too far off for humans, right? the scowling 5 year old didn't think so.

Words: 44,258 Chapters: 12/12

Really fun fic with Ingo and Akari being de aged and sent to the wrong time! Tons of shenanigans and also cute moments with dad Ingo <3

Autistic Elopement (if it sucks, hit the bricks) by Alienea, Juan_Pujol_Garcia

Stuck in the past? Textures suck? Tastes bad? Horribly understimulated? Just walk out! Hit the bricks! Leave through a portal with a kid you met a few months ago! What could go wrong?

Words: 42,008 Chapters: 6/6

Loooooove this one! Ingo relearning and slowly remembering his present time, while Emmet has to deal with everything that comes with Ingo being back but with no memories.

to the rift that tore us apart (and brought us together again) by Gibberish_Sorcerer

A distortion appears at a certain Unovan subway station, taking away Ingo to a different land. Emmet sees everything firsthand. (Emmet goes through a rift to Hisui, keeps his memories, and just sorta hangs out with Ingo. Also the entire plot of PLA happens with the twins going along for the ride.)

Words: 31,911 Chapters: 15/15

This one is really good! Such an interesting idea to explore with Emmet also in Hisui and now everyone has to deal with the fact that there's two of them kjdbsjakbvkjb

I Came Back For You by Elithesia_Autem_Danguarde

Upon experiencing a mysterious connection to another time and space, Warden Ingo regains his memories and makes the choice to return home to Unova where he belongs. However, he has to deal with not only his own emotions about being in Hisui for over a year, but how his absence impacted those that loved him. Settling back home isn't easy, but there are always people who stand behind him, particularly his precious little brother who missed him so dearly.

Words: 30,295 Chapters: 5/5

The care and love in this fic is so heartwarming but also a bit sad at times, I really enjoyed the concept and how the different conflicts were worked through!

A Change in Conductors by CuzReasons

Warden Ingo wakes up in a place he doesn't recognize. Subway Boss Ingo wakes up in a place he's only read about. Neither are where they should be.

Words: 23,654 Chapters: 9/9

This author is currently my favorite and I love their concepts and how they work through their stories and ideas, I recommend looking through their entire pokemon tag if you're looking for reunions and sibling antics! But talking about this fic in specific, the concept uses a common trope but the way it's used is fresh and so intriguing! I kept reading each chapter as soon as I got the notification, I cried happy tears reading it.

I am not there, I do not sleep. by digitalpen

How does it feel to be a dead man walking? The Pearl Clan found the body of a man in the icelands. His lips were blue and he had no pulse. When no one else in Hisui could identify him, his body was given to a blessed pokemon in lieu of a funeral. And yet, his spirit is seen walking about days later. Ingo haunts the highlands as a ghost. He has no home, no family, no memories, no life. What comes next?

Words: 20,249 Chapters: 5/5

This one messed me up and made me happy all over again, mind the tags and don't forget the promised happy ending!

The Warden, The Girl, & The Fox by Elithesia_Autem_Danguarde

While freely roaming Hisui, Akari stumbles upon a mysterious man in the Alabaster Icelands with a familiar face. As the two begin to form a friendship, Akari begins to realize there might be much more to this new man's presence than what it initially seems, as well as being the key to unlocking the lost memories of her friend, Warden Ingo.

Words: 68,621 Chapters: 15/15

Another one by Elithesia! I do love this one and their reunion is bittersweet at first but so comforting as it goes! The focus on this one is way more on Akari, but the brothers are the main point of the story!

Let It Simmer by EVTrainingUniversity

Having returned to the future, Ingo finds himself stumped on just who he was before Hisui as his memories still haven't returned. As such, until he can find his way back to his home station he must spend some time in the modern-day Sinnoh. Left sitting around for the most part while the investigators do their work, he decides to put a gift given to him by his friends in the past to good use by making a food recipe blog of traditional Hisuian dishes. It's by complete happenstance that Emmet stumbles upon his blog, having taken on cooking as a hobby during Ingo's absence.

Words: 6,538 Chapters: 4/4

This one is very special to me, food as a love language, as a healing tool, as a bonding experience, it's everything to me

Fear Not the Descent by ImpossibleJedi4

Some coping mechanisms formed in wake of a tragedy are healthy, some are unhealthy, and some are a mixture of the two. Emmet finds peace when he travels far below the surface of the earth, but then, at long last, someone finds him in return.

Words: 2,316 Chapters: 2/2

Very short one but it's so touching... Please do mind the tags if any of those concepts might make you uncomfortable, better safe than sorry

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Help with Sylus's one-shot

Hey guys! So I'm going to post ToF's next chapter tomorrow, but I need a bit of help concerning my "tropes" series. I'm not 100% sure if I like Sylus's trope being "fake dating", so I came up with a few more that I could do instead and I'd really like your help in choosing which yall would like to see!

The name of it is going to be "Eros(ive) Love", so Eros meaning "a romantic and passionate love" and erosive "worn away/down by friction", if that helps sway your decisions at all!

I'll explain them first and then post the poll!

So, for the "fake dating" trope, I had a few ideas. There's a highschool reunion coming up and your ex and his girlfriend (who is your ex best friend, who he cheated on you with) are going to be there. You don't want to look like you're still not over him, so you want to find someone to be your boyfriend without actually dating you. So you either go to a bar, get drunk, and ask the first hot guy you see (who is Sylus and you wake up in his bed the next morning– you didn't have sex yet, you were just black out drunk) and you learn he's actually a CEO for a publishing company. So very rich and you have no idea why he said yes to your stupid plan. (He could be someone who had a crush on you in highschool, idk I didn't think this far–). Or you ask your best friend Sylus to go with you and he agrees, having a one-sided crush on you. (I'm not really feeling this idea much anymore tbh)

The other trope I had in mind was a mix of "co-star romance" and "rekindled romance" so exes working together in a movie and having to act out scenes as a couple. This could be a regular movie or a high quality porn set!

The third and final trope I had was "one night stand", but add a dash of "unexpected pregnancy". The idea behind this one would be that either you're a stripper and Sylus is a wealthy customer or you're at a strip club for the first time and stripper! Sylus catches your eye. Either way, a one night stand ensues and you get pregnant. Maybe it flashes forward to a few years later, you have your little baby who has Sylus's hair or eye colour (not both bc you're also the mother) and now the trope turns into "that's my baby" "...no it's not." (Note; I could cut out the accidental pregnancy entirely and have it just be a pregnancy scare bc I really don't want kids lmao but I wanna write about a cute little baby girl so idk tbh. I'd probably name her Mephi and she'd have Sylus's hair and your eyes).

Anyways, to the polls!

[anyasathenaeum]

Anya's Athenaeum - Masterlist

Here is the masterlist of all my works!

❤️ - NSFW (minors DNI)

💯 - Anya's 100 follower event

(Last updated: 18/08/2024)

Trigun Stampede

Vash the Stampede

"There's Only One Bed" Trope

Chubby!reader who doesn't eat in front of others headcanons

Unexpected pregnancy headcanons (afab!reader)

Jealousy headcanons

Constellations on Your Skin

Vash as a dad headcanons

Locked In With You (follow-up to jealousy headcanons)

Bound To You (optional part 2 to 'Locked In With You')

Reader on a restrictive diet headcanons

Medic!Reader who is secretly a good fighter (blurbs)

Reader colouring on Vash and Wolfwood headcanons

Across Time and Space (Eriks!Vash) - (Part 1), (Part 2)

In The End (Part 1) (Part 2) (optional epilogue to 'Across Time and Space')

Reader has a nightmare that Vash left

Giving them flowers headcanons

Reader is Meryl's sibling headcanons

Reader on their period headcanons

Reader needs Vash to save them

NSFW Headcanons❤️

Worshiping Vash Headcanons ❤️

Reader with joint pain headcanons

Reunion Sex with Eriks!Vash ❤️

Reader goes feral when the Trigun boys get hurt 💯

Reader has a secret admirer (Vash) 💯

Reader nearly dies after protecting Vash 💯

Reader mends Vash's wounds 💯

Pregnant sex with Vash ❤️

Not Fair

Elysium (Dad!Vash fic, ONGOING) - (Chapter 1), (Chapter 2), (Chapter 3 - AO3 only), (Chapter 4 - AO3 only)

Home

Cherish You ❤️

Vash distracts reader with kisses

Needy!Vash Thoughts ❤️

I Need Some Sleep

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

"There's Only One Bed" Trope

Chubby!reader who doesn't eat in front of others headcanons

Unexpected pregnancy headcanons (afab!reader)

Jealousy headcanons

Mine, And Only Mine

Reader on a restrictive diet headcanons

Medic!Reader who is secretly a good fighter

Reader colouring on Vash and Wolfwood headcanons

Wolfwood as a dad headcanons

Giving them flowers headcanons

Platonic cuddling headcanons

Reader on their period headcanons

NSFW Headcanons❤️

Wolfwood processing a crush on a strong reader

Reader with joint pain headcanons

Reader goes feral when the Trigun boys get hurt 💯

Reader steals Wolfwood's shirt 💯

Reader gets hurt and Wolfwood confesses

Our Father, Who Art In Heaven (98!WW)❤️

Millions Knives (Nai)

Knives goes feral when reader gets hurt 💯

Unhinged!Reader tells Knives they slept with Vash ❤️

Virgin!Knives ❤️

Meryl Stryfe

Reader nearly dies after protecting Meryl 💯

Milly Thompson

Reader with joint pain headcanons

Milly has a secret admirer (reader) 💯

Jujutsu Kaisen

Nanami Kento

Lover ❤️

Choso Kamo

Guide (Inexperienced!Choso) ❤️

Inexperienced!Choso Thoughts ❤️

[stellar-haikyuu]

WELCOME TO STELLAR'S STATIONERY

Get your special gift bundle! Limited slots only!

Hi, everyone! I just finished my pediatric rotation. In celebration, I will write 12 fics about the Karasuno members!

These are all x reader fics, ranging from ~0.5 to 1.5k words. I also hope to write more fics with happy endings, hence the chosen style/prompts/tropes.

The event will close once all 12 slots have been taken!

Step 1: Pick your writing instruments. Feel free to be as specific and detailed as you want about these styles! You can pick more than one if you wish.

Pencils - hurt/comfort Pens - fluff Markers - silly/crack

Step 2: Choose some coloring materials. Feel free to be as specific and detailed as you want about these tropes! Please specify if you want a romantic/platonic relationship.

Crayons - enemies to friends/lovers Colored Pencils - childhood friends (to lovers) Colored Markers - mutual friends (to best friends/lovers) Glitter Glue - best friends (to lovers) Highlighter - strangers to friends/lovers Oil Pastels - platonic/romantic soulmates Watercolor - accidental friends/lovers

Step 3: Other supplies you'd like to add? Feel free to be as specific and detailed as you want about these prompts! You can pick more than one if you wish.

Tape - forced proximity Stapler - giving each other support Glue - first kiss Sticky Tack - first meeting Paperclip - fake relationship Ruler - mutual pining Index Card - learning something new about the other Stamp - making promises Yarn - date/hangout Sticker Set - making something their own Rubber Band - unexpected reunion Magnets - opposites attract Sticky Note - taking care of a sick character Pad Paper - going on errands together  Eraser - comfort after a long day Correction Tape - making up after a fight Scissors - misunderstandings/miscommunication

Step 4: Who are you gifting this to? Pick the name of the Karasuno member you'd like to give this stationery bundle to. We'll write it on a card. (Taken names will be crossed out):

Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, Ennoshita, Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Yachi, Kiyoko

Step 5: Head on to the cashier! Double-check your basket! If there's something you want that we don't have in stock, let us know! (Feel free to add other customizations to your request that aren't listed here, such as quotes, more specific scenarios, etc.)

Once you're all good, go place your order here. You may choose to remain anonymous, if you wish. Track the progress of your request down below!

📒 Some reminders and notes!

Feel free to message me/send an ask if you have any questions or clarifications.

There's no specific format for requesting! But for convenience, you can group the chosen stationery items at the start and leave a longer explanation at the bottom.

By default, I will be writing in the second person, with a gender-neutral reader. Please specify if you'd like any modifications to these.

You can specify if you’d like a timeskip!scenario too. Otherwise, I’m assuming we’re going the high school route.

Please understand that I am in my senior year and undergoing clinical internship. I only get to write in my free time, and I mainly do this for my mental health and enjoyment!

I reserve the right to decline writing requests that are uncomfortable to write. I am open to modifications, if ever.

📝 Event Masterlist:

☆ 01: ☆ 02: ☆ 03: ☆ 04: ☆ 05: ☆ 06: ☆ 07: ☆ 08: ☆ 09: ☆ 10: ☆ 11: ☆ 12:

✍🏼 Progress:

Request Received: ☆ Nishinoya (markers, watercolor, magnets, sticky tack) Currently Writing: ☆ Sugawara (pens, colored pencil, glue, magnets)

stellar's masterlist