Valentine Stone (Fairytale Green Fanfic)

"To live without you, only that would be torture."

𓆙D R I Z E L L A S T O N E𓆙

I missed my husband.

I wanted to be in his arms, I wanted to listen the erratic beating of his heart and I wanted to torment him until he finally cracked a smile.

I missed my Stone, my Lurch, my husband.

The moment I exited our home I felt like a piece of me was missing, a huge, grumbling piece of me.

I had told him that I needed to do this alone, that I didn't want to have any distractions. But I regret that very very much.

The walls of the publishing house felt like they were closing in on me, it's walls threatening to make me crumble under the pressure that lies within them.

I needed him here with me, my anxiety was creeping through my skin like the deadliest disease and I desperately needed for him to calm me down.

My mood instantly brightened when my husband's name flashed onto the screen, the realisation that he just knew that I needed him making my skin burn up.

"Hi, Lurch." I taunt, even though I'm scared shitless right now.

"What is wrong?" He immediately grumbles, sensing the lack of confidence in my tone.

"Nothing is wrong." I lie. "I just needed to hear your voice."

"Ella."

"What if it doesn't go well?" I sigh, my voice bringing with it the pre-warning for the fast jumble of words about to leave me. "I mean, yeah I had the success of the first book, but what if people don't like this one? What if—"

"Ella." He grumbles unapprovingly, the harshness of his tone making me see the scowl that paints his face even through the restriction of my phone. "Don't you dare ever say that shit again, you hear me?"

"But—"

"Drizella Stone. You are the best writer ever to exist, I swear to fuck if anyone thinks otherwise they are a dead man." He says, pronouncing each syllable precisely as if reciting our vows. "Now you get your ass in there and knock 'em dead, okay?"

"Okay." I mumble, even though the biggest grin coats my face.

He grumbles something incoherent to himself, his tone disapproving and in disbelief as he utters the words that I cannot hear.

"How's the painting going?" I sigh, needing any distraction I can get.

There's a silence on the other end, a long, lingering silence that echoes through the bland walls of the publishing office.

"Uh." He says before clearing his throat. "Good."

"Stone." I drag out, hearing a rough sigh on the other end of the call.

I can tell he is lying, out of all the years of knowing each other I had gotten a firm grasp of knowing when he was lying to me, mainly because he is incapable of such.

"I am in the parking lot."

"What?" I smile, my previous nerves entirely vanished.