#day of the wedding her crew just-got up there and stood with her

[descendantofthesparrow]

Gil is the best man, maid of honor, AND officiant

Mans is busy

exactly also, love how you assumed he's also the best man, which is correct, he's all three. he is Harry and Uma's best friend, you best believe he gets the best roles in the house. he gets to marry his best friends and be by their sides on their most important day (so far)

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON) - CHAPTER ONE: CLOSURE

“IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME, AND SEEING THE SHAPE OF YOUR NAME STILL SPELLS OUT PAIN.”

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol consumption, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.1K+

☆ A/N: this will make a whole lot more sense if you've already read the one shot that this entire series is based upon! and thank you to @fracturedarkness and @munson-blurbs for beta-reading <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

It had taken nearly two hours, and even as the aerial platform is finally lowered from scaling the side of the building, there are still remnants of the graffiti paint scattered across the crumbling brick. 

You’d watched the workers scrub at the rusted shades for ages, ignoring the new emails beginning to pile up in your inbox on the screen, only to be left completely dissatisfied. You hadn’t really thought the graffiti was ugly so to speak – it was just there. It was blatant and something that demanded to be seen, a stain on that stretch of wall that made up your desk’s entire viewpoint each and every day. And it wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t pretty. 

You’d even been a little excited when you saw the cleaning crew. A little hopeful. 

But the hope had been wasted, as it always was, as you watch the crew give up the battle and the paint win the war. Go figure. Another day and another stain that can’t be erased. 

“You know, I’ve heard of dreadfully boring people watching paint dry, but never seen someone look so enticed by paint being removed.” 

You look up quickly from where your dead stare had zeroed in, a chipping splash of vibrant scarlet that hardly stood out against tired and faded red-turned-pink bricks, to face your coworker. 

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan, spinning your office chair so your entire body now faced her, “Have you ever considered a career change, Romina? Maybe you’re better off a comedian rather than an event planner.” 

Romina, your coworker, only smiles brightly at the monotone joke. She holds a mug of coffee in her hand as she rests her hip against the edge of your desk, lips pursed as she takes a slow sip from her steaming cup. The sharp, bitter scent of the coffee wafts across the space before she lowers the mug right onto your desk – completely disregarding the coaster available. 

Sure to leave behind a stain; a ring of light brown on your pristine desk. You can’t help but cringe. 

“Apparently they sent out an email about that new secretive project,” Romina continues on without addressing your sarcasm, “Said whoever’s got the account has been notified.”

“Awesome.”

“I didn’t get an email.”

“I’m sorry?”

Romina sighs, realizing you weren’t going to take the bait. “Have you received an email?”

You shrug in a silent succession of, probably not. 

Your pessimism keeps your hand from reaching out and wiggling your mouse as an attempt to wake your desktop computer back up. You highly doubt you were the one to be elected for this new project that had the entire office buzzing. You’d only been working here for a little over a year, hardly earning any attention with the small weddings and local business grand openings you had taken on during that time. 

And that was fine.

You were fine flying under the radar for the time being. It’s not that you weren’t good at your job — you were excellent at it, even — but whatever this top secret project was was the farthest thing from your expertise.

You didn’t do secretive projects. You did simple. You did small. The exact opposite of what you’d heard about this elusive opportunity. 

“Have you even checked?” Romina presses, leaning down and tapping your space bar herself, making the screen come to life before you could protest, “C’mon, babe! Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?” 

Another honest shrug. “Truthfully? Not at all.” 

She makes no move to grab her coffee cup as she pushes herself off your desk, standing over the screen now with intent and focus. All you can really think about is that damn faded ring that’s going to be left behind.

You really wish she would have used the coaster.

The login screen stops her in her mission, making her take a step back and wave you forward, pointing excitedly at your keyboard, “You know, I heard it might have something to do with a very popular band. One rumored to be dropping an album soon. Possibly the album release party. Doesn’t that sound dreamy?” 

Your stomach drops.

Romina is all wistful sighs and dreamy eyes as she says it, still pushing that keyboard closer to you as she looks out the window you had been before her arrival. It’s clear she’s looking right past that stained wall. She probably doesn’t even notice the evidence of graffiti that was left behind. The marks are lost on her eyes; but she hadn’t spent hours waiting for it to all be cleaned away, to be fair. No, it’s clear the only thing on her mind is this popular band.

And you know which band it is. It’s not just the prospect of a larger project that has kept you out of this rumor mill — it’s the prospect of the client.

Everyone knew you didn’t care for the band. Or at least, you said you didn’t care for the band.

Nearly a year ago, several coworkers had invited you to a sold out show. They had an extra ticket, and had so kindly extended it to you. A flag of friendship billowing in the wind, outstretched to you in such a welcoming manner. And you’d shot them down — you’d lied, and you’d said you had plans before you’d spent the entire night throwing your own personal pity party.

“I don’t think I’d be the first choice for an album release party, Ro,” you murmur as you finally tug your chair in closer to your desk. You ignore the knots forming in your stomach, that heavy weight that presses into your chest. There was no way you’d be assigned the project. You’d simply log in, show Romina, and then maybe she’d leave you alone, “I usually just take on weddings. That’s my forte. Not arranging open bars and booking rooftops for some shitty band.” 

Romina scoffs, “Some shitty band? I know you don’t like them, but Corroded Coffin is not just some shitty band.”

Corroded Coffin. The weight makes your ribs creak, makes your lungs ache. 

You swear she’ll notice the way you freeze in your typing. The mere mention of them, of him, curls around your body and easily triggers your fight or flight response. 

Well, fight or flight or freeze. A new option, a new and drifting cold, has made itself clear as ice keeps your knuckles from continuing to type in your password. 

It’s funny. You used to fight for them, then you’d flown as far away from him as your pathetic diner wages could get you. Clearly, only moving across a city you once thought to be so vast wasn’t far enough. You could move across oceans, and something in your gut tells you his ghost would only be a few steps behind. 

“You know, I still don’t get your issue with them, by the way. Are you just not big on rock music?” she asks, and you can imagine his offense and correction that it was metal, not just rock, “I get it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I don’t know. Just seems a little personal, the way you avoid them like the plague.”

It is personal.

Your vendetta is so, so very personal when it comes to Corroded Coffin. 

When it comes to Eddie Munson.

His name echoing in your mind finally has your fingertips slamming keys again, suddenly eager to bring up your email and prove Romina wrong. To get her as far from your desk as possible and end this conversation before you can spiral.

“I’ve never been a fan of that type of music,” you lie through your teeth. You had been. You had been their goddamn number one fan once upon a time. 

Your work email can’t load fast enough when she continues on, “I’d argue they have at least one song for everyone. You just gotta give them a chance.” 

No, the voice in your head screams. I do not need to give them a chance. I gave him a chance, and he blew it. 

“I’m sure there is,” you grit out, those knots in your stomach wound so tightly they might just snap, “But not for me.” 

Never for me.

They don’t know. No one in your life now knew about your past, about your ex, about the truth between you and Corroded Coffin. 

They didn’t know that you’d been their first fan, standing in that stuffy garage at the Emerson’s residency through the scalding Hawkins’ summers. They didn’t know how you’d spent every Tuesday and Thursday night occupying a stool at the Hideout that had all but your name engraved into it. They didn’t know the way you’d packed up your entire life, the way you’d only moved to this cursed concrete jungle to see all of their wildest dreams come true. They were unaware that Corroded Coffin had nearly turned down the tour that triggered their breakout for you. All because their leading rockstar hadn’t wanted to leave you behind.

Funny how life works out.

Romina is unaware of your discomfort as she leans down over your shoulder to peer at the list of new emails you’d received this morning, “Oh, oh! That one! Click that one!” 

Her long, blood-red stiletto nail taps at the screen excitedly, pointing out an email from your boss with an eye catching subject line.

Meeting at Noon — New Project Assignment. 

“Holy shit!” Ro exclaims, getting ahead of herself before you’ve even clicked on the email. You can’t click on it. You’re petrified. “Oh, holy shit! You definitely got the project! Are you fucking kidding me?” 

For a moment, you’re silent, staring at the screen in buzzing shock. It rings in your ears and it blurs the edges of your vision, the weight of the possibility finally causing the first snap within your chest. 

No. No, no, no. 

You don’t want this project. Not the rumored client, and certainly not the attention that it has attracted from all your peers. No.

“We don’t even know if it’s going to be what everyone says it will be,” you choke out, white knuckling your mouse. Romina can’t see your face — she can’t see the year of practiced indifference crumbling so easily, “It- It probably won’t be Corroded Coffin, Ro. It can’t be. They wouldn’t assign me something so huge. Th-They probably just have another wedding for me. Maybe another bakery opening up in town — I think I heard about one on Third Street-“ 

Ro’s hands come down on your shoulders, giving what should be a reassuring squeeze, but it only smothers you during your breathless rant.

“Babe,” she emphasizes, “This is a good thing.” 

It’s not. It’s really, really not. 

But you don’t know if the project is what everyone has been murmuring about. You don’t know for sure that the email has anything to do with it. The contents of what your boss had written to you have little to no specifics; nothing more than a request to come to her office at noon to properly discuss the details of this assignment. So you convince yourself it’ll be fine, that it really is just about that bakery opening up on third street. You convince yourself to shake away any thoughts of chestnut curls and honey brown eyes. You convince yourself to untense your shoulders and smile up at your coworker, faking enough enthusiasm to satiate her until she’s walking away from your desk giddily, taking her coffee cup with her. 

Your eyes avert to the expected coffee mark that had formed a perfect ring on your stark white desk. 

Stained. What a pesky thing to become. 

—

“I’m not going out tonight,” you repeat yourself for the millionth time over the line, pinching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you opened your fridge to dig around for whatever leftovers you might be able to salvage into a dinner for the night, “I don’t feel well.” 

“But we need to hear about the new project!” Ro’s chirp comes over the line. You can hear the buzzing of a bar in the background. Glasses clinking, strangers chatting. Hell, you could probably pinpoint the song playing lowly if you focused hard enough.

You weren’t focusing on the call, though. It was the last thing you wanted to offer up your dwindling attention to, desperate to get off the line and resume your very exciting night of cold pasta with a side of whatever sitcom was running old episodes on the television. 

The phone nearly slips from your half assed attempt to keep it against your cheek as you sigh, “It went fine. I already told you guys it did. Nothing exciting, okay? It was the bakery on Third that’s opening up, just like I thought it would be.” 

A lie.

The meeting went anything but fine. Your boss, Lydia, has just been plain secretive. And normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but it meant your worst fears were coming true. 

The bakery on third wouldn’t have needed such secrecy, and they sure as Hell wouldn’t have insisted on you signing an NDA prior to even meeting and discussing the event you’d be planning. 

“It’s all just precautions,” Lydia had insisted as she slid that damn paperwork over to you, “Just to protect the client. They’re a bigger name than we’re used to dealing with. If you sign, we’ll have a proper meeting with them tomorrow and dig into all the nitty gritty.” 

“You phrase it like I have a choice,” you had muttered before picking up the pen.

You knew you didn’t. And Lydia’s smile had confirmed it. 

Romina continues on with more convincing, but you’ve stopped listening. There’s not a single thing she could really say now that your mind was made up — you were staying in tonight. 

“Ro,” you finally snatch the phone back up into your hand, straightening out as you pick out a random tupperware that you think holds chicken parm from that fancy lunch date you’d gone on over the weekend, “I’m not coming out. I’m sorry.” 

Complete silence on her end. You worry for a moment that you had been too harsh. 

“Okay,” she finally gives up.

“Okay?���

“Okay,” the word continues to echo back and forth between you two, “That’s fine. I’ll just have to bother you about it tomorrow. At work. Where you can’t use bullshit excuses to escape me.” 

You consider snapping back about how you absolutely still could, until you consider the fact that you have a real excuse, “Good luck with that. I have a very real meeting with… with a client.”  

You don’t even know the name of the client, technically. You can only guess. 

You still hope you’re wrong.

“Right,” she laughs over the line, “See you tomorrow, babe.” 

“See you tomorrow,” you repeat back, staring at your now closed fridge before you’re relieved by the sound of a dial tone, signaling that she’s finally hung up. 

What you should do now is plate the leftovers, arrange yourself on your sofa, and numb your mind with The Office reruns. What you should do is leave well enough alone and continue in your delusion. 

You don’t. 

It starts innocently; you do transfer the cold chicken parm onto a plate and you do curl up on your sofa before flicking on the television. You do set the channel to the reruns. You do – and you swear you do it all with the best intentions. 

But then your mind wanders. 

As you stare straight ahead at the television, you’re not processing a single image that flashes across the screen. Your thoughts are a bit preoccupied with different images, movies and snippets from a point in your life that now feels like a lifetime ago. Conspicuous dimples making an appearance from across the room at a joke you had made, unkempt curls flying recklessly in the driver’s seat beside you on late night drives with the windows down, wild eyes shining like sunlight through a whiskey bottle as he catches your gaze from a stage much smaller than what he must be used to now. 

Everything from before. Before the not-fight, before the fame, before the move. Images of when Eddie had been yours and only yours, not yet a precious gem to have to share with the world. 

“Are you busy tonight?” 

Your locker had been slammed shut by a hand that didn’t belong to you, knuckles adorned with familiar rings and distinct callouses along the fingertips. 

“Hello to you, too, Eddie,” you smiled as you clutched one of the unnecessarily heavy textbooks to your chest, turning to face the boy who stood impatiently at your side. He was all jitters, rocking on his heels and nearly incapable of standing still as his body buzzed with excitement.

It rolled off him in waves, contagious as he leaned into you, “Yes, yes. Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?” you opened your mouth to answer him, but Eddie comically steamrolled right on, hands waving erratically, “Good? Good! Excellent! Now, are you busy tonight?”

“I was planning to study for O’Donnel’s test-“

“So you don’t have plans!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as one of the annoying warning bells chimed. He may have been in an interruptive mood, but he knew you hated being late to class — less about being anal about punctuality, and more about the stares you’d practically burn under from the attention of other students when you’d barge in on the teacher mid-sentence, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. In that case, I have fantastic news!” 

You allowed him to guide you amongst the bustling student bodies, only gaining a few stares from fellow peers, “You do, do you?” 

He nodded before he reached out and snatched that heavy textbook out of your arms, “Here, let me carry that for you, darling.” 

“Darling?” your nose scrunched, “Oh, no. You’re trying to sweeten me up. What did you do?” 

“Nothing!”

Liar. The crack in his voice would have given him away if his hyperactive energy hadn’t already done so.

“Oh, really? Then what’s your fantastic news, rockstar?” 

His grin that broke at your nickname for him could have destroyed the Earth you walked on just as easily as it could have mended it. Something groundbreaking, something to churn the dirt and raise the dead. Something made of pure sunshine and static happiness. But the only thing that cracked was your chest as it tried to contain the residual joy it felt for him in that moment. 

“Well…” he trailed off, leaving just enough room for a suspenseful pause that could have suffocated the room without that damn grin on his face, “Let’s just say you’re looking at the frontman of the Hideout’s newest Thursday night entertainment.” 

You took a moment to catch on, Eddie keeping you pressed closely to his side as the two of you stopped outside of your next class. 

“Thursday nights?” you questioned, brain working overtime to piece together what he’d just said, “Wait, I thought you guys only played Tuesda-“

When you had processed what he had meant, all that animated elation that had been consuming him became shared. Every jitter in his bones became your own, your own lips speedily spreading into a proud smile to challenge his own.

“Oh, holy shit,” you gasped, “You guys got the gig.”

One more bounce of his heels, curls quivering with the movement as his arms fell from you and the two of you faced one another.

“We got the gig.”

“You got the gig!” 

People had been staring more obviously at the sudden rise in volume from you, but you hadn’t cared. Because in that moment, all you focused on was the eager boy in front of you, and the way your broken chest mended from the same grin that had burst it wide open, only for it to swell with inexplicable pride.

“We got the fuckin’ gig!” he shouted right back, laughter slipping from between his lips that started to echo your own. 

You were the one bouncing then, hands instinctively reaching out to press on his shoulders in gentle slapping motions, unable to contain or conventionally express this pounding excitement. 

“You got the fuckin’ gig!” you were just parroting each other now, but you were just as delirious as he was as that final bell signaling you were late rang out. That certain embarrassment you were sure to have to face had become a distant memory.

Eddie had wanted this for a while. He’d been bugging the owner of the bar on the edge of town about Corroded Coffin earning a second night of residency for months, only taking the repeated rejections as encouragement to ramp up his convincing charm. You’d seriously doubted it would work, but had never voiced the concern aloud to Eddie. You’d always figured that the worst that could have happened would be another no, fuck off, kid. But the best that could have happened had been this — he would be told yes and secure his band two weekly performances at the Hideout rather than just the single one they played before. 

You didn’t know it then, but it was the first step down the path that would lead to inevitable heartbreak. 

“I haven’t even told the guys yet,” Eddie admitted once the two of you calmed down to the best of your abilities, “I… Uh, I wanted to tell them after school today. Was wondering if you might, I don’t know, maybe- do you wanna be there when I do?” 

And that made sense. Eddie inviting you made sense when you attended every single band practice in Gareth’s garage as religiously as he did. When you knew every word to their whole three original songs even better than him at times. 

He wanted you there. You were important to him, to the band, and he wanted you there. 

“I- Is that even a question?” you stared at him in disbelief, “Of course I wanna be there, you fuckin’ idiot. I can’t believe you told me before you told them, honestly.” 

His demeanor softened, the ghost of his exuberance still stubbornly lingering. But your eyes were on him, glowing with such high regard that it was impossible to not let it creep beneath his skin and trigger a blush across the bridge of his nose. All that love, all that pride. So genuine it could have made him cry. 

“Of course I told you first,” he whispered in a finally empty hallway, “You’re always the first person I tell any good news to, sweetheart.” 

When had you stopped being the first person he shared his forthcomings with? 

Probably the day you had decided to leave him, leave the entire life you two had built together, under the guise of best intentions. 

The TV continues to play as you stare at the wall, mind and heart alike locked up with nostalgia. The plate of leftovers has long since been sat down on the coffee table. 

You hadn’t let yourself reminisce like this since the very first night you had spent in your apartment. That first night, you’d allowed yourself to wallow. You had sat on this very same sofa, the entire apartment pitch black as you weren’t brave enough to turn on a single light and face yourself, and told yourself that any and all tears or regrets had to be purged that night. A funeral for all that you had lost, a single night to mourn all that you had left behind. 

Clearly, one night was never enough to let go of years of memories – of love. 

You don’t shut off the TV as you impulsively grab your phone, not thinking the action through before you do the one thing you had forbidden yourself from over the last few years; you’re going to Google search Eddie Munson. You’d created the rule as a make-believe step in the right direction. You told yourself if you didn’t google him, if you didn’t track down his every move after you’d left behind the damage done, then you could move on easier. 

From the first headline, you realize that it might have never been about moving on. 

FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN? HAS EDDIE MUNSON, LEAD SINGER OF CORRODED COFFIN, FINALLY GONE TOO FAR?

EDDIE MUNSON — ARRESTED AGAIN?

HOTEL COMES FORWARD ABOUT DAMAGES DONE BY ROWDY ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON

HOW TO BURY A CAREER: A DETAILED TIMELINE OF CORRODED COFFIN’S EDDIE MUNSON’S DOWNFALL

“EDDIE MUNSON GAVE ME A CONCUSSION” - VICTIMS OF THE ROCKSTAR’S CLUB TANTRUM COME FORWARD.

Each headline sends your head reeling, eyes widening impossibly without even clicking on the stories. 

The boy you had known wouldn’t have done half of the things these accusations stated. Violence, trashing hotel rooms, public temper tantrums taken too far — it doesn’t feel as though you’re reading about someone you once knew, someone you once loved. The man in these paparazzi photos is a stranger, completely unrecognizable with his red eyes and middle fingers held high. 

A particular photo catches your attention. He’s standing outside what you assume is a club, in handcuffs. His hands are locked behind his back, an officer not far behind and his face bathed in glows of blue and red lights flashing from a car half blocking the camera’s view of him, and he’s grinning with dead eyes squinted to the sky. It almost looks as if he’s midlaugh — as if the entire scene was funny to him.

The one time he’d nearly been caught while pedaling drugs for Reefer Rick back home in Hawkins when you’d still known him, he had nearly burst into tears. Had panicked as he scrambled to shove everything, even just the weed, into every possible hiding place within his van. He hadn’t laughed in the officer’s face; he had been petrified, face transforming to that of a terrified little boy as you had told him to calm down and play it cool. 

You should stop scrolling. But you can’t.

Another photo, one that makes your chest echo with another hollow pang. It was clearly taken without him realizing it, the quality atrocious as the camera had attempted to focus in on him through a balcony sliding door of what must be a hotel. But despite the terrible blur, you can clearly pick out the details that were meant to be exposed. 

A speckle of white coating the ring of his nostril. Made even more obvious by that midday sun shining in on him. 

It was clearly the middle of the afternoon, and Eddie had clearly been caught snorting cocaine.

It’s a bit much. You haven’t even scrolled far enough to catch sight of all the pap photos of him with different women, or the photos of him clearly inebriated at major events that had been meant to celebrate him and the band’s success. You lock your phone, you set it down on the table with the screen facing down. You hardly recognize him. 

The reality is you had never googled Eddie for the same reason most won’t look at the corpse of loved one’s at open casket funerals – you wanted to remember him when things had been good. You had wanted to convince yourself that you still knew him, some version of him, and that he hadn’t become a total stranger.

But, really, you’d known the moment you had walked out of that once shared apartment that you had lost the privilege of knowing him. Of loving him. The moment he had stopped telling you that he loved you, you had known something between the two of you had died. Losing Eddie hadn’t been a sudden thing — it had been a long, painful, torturous process. When all that love and all that promise had died, it hadn’t gone down without a fight. He had smothered it, but you had provided the extinguisher. You had pushed him to chase after his dreams, and you should have never been surprised when he did exactly that.

You should have never been surprised that one day, the space you’d claimed residency in in Eddie’s heart would become nothing more than an annoying prick to him. A thorn in his side, sharp and threatening all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

So you’d left. You’d left, told yourself it was for the best, and exited with more love for the memory of a man than the tangible person on the other end of that terribly lonely dial tone – on the rare occasions he did call. 

You didn’t know him. It’s a truth you should have long since swallowed, but hadn’t. Not yet. Not in the last two years.

Your appetite is gone as you stand from the couch and grab the leftovers, only pausing on your way to the kitchen to scrape the waste off into the trash can. What a waste. As you put away the plate into the sink, not bothering to wash or even rinse away the crumbs, you immediately grab one of your few wine glasses and set it on the counter. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea, but your body has begun to move on autopilot. And it seems convinced that feeling the buzz from alcohol would be better than the feeling of nothing at all. 

You didn’t know him anymore. And the space you’d still let him occupy in your memories, whether you’d wanted to admit it or not, was now hollow.

You turn your back on the glass, still numb and still reeling as you open the fridge and pull out a half empty bottle of merlot, cork half peeking out the top of the bottle. You can see that stained bottom half, almost half hidden in a weak attempt to preserve the wine inside. Maroon. Deep, deep maroon bleeds up and feathers at the edges of that cork as you pull it out fairly aggressively, carelessly tossing it onto the white countertop and not watching it bounce as you pour yourself a drink. 

In your hollow staring off into the distance, you don’t realize you’ve missed the glass in your pouring until the chilled liquid splashes at your knuckles – until it’s too late. You panic, grabbing at paper towels and rinsing off your hand in the same breath, but it’s clear that it’s a useless battle in cleaning up the mess you’ve made. 

The damage is already done. As you soak up the wine and swipe away, a pink-tinged blotch is still left behind. 

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @conquerwhatliesahead92

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain

[matchadobo]

Can I request Kid x reader (established relationship) where he and the crew find out the reader is a run away princess beacuse she was arranged to get married to a prince who was awful? You can expand on this concept as much as u want!!

KIDD; runaway princess

wc: 2003

warning/s: none, very fluff, kidd's being violent tho

"snap at me when you've taken down more than half of what i had done, cutie." he taunted, pinning down enemies one after the other that almost got to you. "so i don't gotta watch your back all the time."

"i'll point the gun at you instead, numbskull."

once the lot of you had reached a quiet alley, you all settled down. some had got a hold of their knees, sat on the ground with their backs on the cold, bricked walls, or face flat on the asphalt trying to catch their breaths.

but you were too occupied with thinking if you should out yourself because you are overflowing with guilt. some of your men have been injured but thankfully enough no one died. while some of your mates tended to their wounds, you couldn't take all the guilt so you stepped up.

"why are you standin' like that?" kidd looked at you funny. he stood tall with his back against the wall, his arms crossed, a puzzled expression on his face.

"i... have something to confess to you guys." you said with your head hung low, fists balled up. the others figured that it was serious, so everyone stopped lousing around and had their eyes on you. you took your time gathering your thoughts and words and they anticipated patiently.

"out with it, love." kidd nudged you, placing his human arm on your shoulder. he donned a gentle smile which cheered you on. a smile only known to you and for you.

"the real reason why we're being chased by the royal guards of my village is not just because we're pirates. it's mostly because i-i'm the lost princess who ran away on her wedding day." you spat bitterly, bile rising across your throat.

you pulled out a bounty poster of you that you snatched from the pub you lot were drinking at earlier. "i colored and grew out my hair so i wouldn't be recognized." you placed the poster side by side. the utter astonishment in their eyes as even the littlest resemblance was not evident. you got too careless that your hair later grew out and your roots were showing. even with the make up, the people from your village were able to recognize you.

you took a look at them and they all had the same expression, jaws dropped on the floor. but you especially took a long glance at kidd, his face was unparalleled and you couldn't read him. was he angry? shocked? sad? amused?

he sucked in his teeth and tsked, "sounds like my little rockstar." he looked at you, eye-to-eye as he watched how tears pooled by your eyes. "kinda figured you're somewhat of a princess though, you're too damn pretty to be in my world."

"yeah?" you placed your hand above his which was clutching your cheeks. "i-i'm sorry i lied... i was... scared."

in a millisecond, kidd pulled you to his grasp by the back of your neck. he stroked at the back of your head, combing his fingers through your locks. "that ain't a problem, alright? i'm more than happy to take you away whatever reason you got going on." he pledged by your ear, his embrace tightening. "you better tell me all about it though, aye?"

"i'm really sorry, this is all my fault you guys got hurt." you sobbed silently yet you don't even think deserve to cry. "i-i'll just surrender so you guys can get off the hook-"

"name, no! what?!"

"now that's going too far, name!"

"don't even think about it, name! as if we'd let you!"

"what the hell do you think you're talking about?!" kidd fumed, eyes furious alternating between your glassy ones. "you do realize that when you became part of the crew, you're stuck with us, aye? whatever bullshit you're planning, get it the fuck outta your mind." he kicked a lone rock by the asphalt before turning his back to you. "don't go dropping shit like that like it's some normal fuckin' thing. think about what you really want, and maybe consider my goddamn feelings along the way, why don'tcha." kidd strutted deeper into the alley, with each click of his heel you felt guilt boring through your soul. you couldn't see it but his eyeliner was starting to fuck up because of the forming tears.

you fell to your knees, frustrated. some of the crew members gave you a hug as you started crying your heart out, remembering all the excruciating days of royalty. it was tormenting. but you wanted your crew to go free. if it means to save them, you'd do anything. so you made your way to consult your lover by the corner.

"if you want to surrender. you're just being selfish at this point, name." kidd said through gritted teeth, bitter words making your heart break. "you don't even think about what we want? what i fuckin' want? i know for goddamn sure that you don't want that, why else would you run away then? so let me ask you, what do you really want?" he looked you in the eye, both hands on your shoulders.

"i-i want to be with you. i feel the most free when i'm with you. i want you to be the one i marry. i don't want to be shackled by these posh shit, i want to sail the seas with you. i want to celebrate every birthday with the crew. i want to see everyone reach their dreams, especially you. i want to be with you every step along the way. i-i want to have that, b-but if this princess thing-"

"no buts, i heard you loud and clear, baby." he interrupted with a kiss on the forehead. "you wanna settle this the kidd pirate's way or what?" he suggested with the most manic grin against your ear. "i'm tempted to hunt down that moron prince who had the nerve to marry you. gotta teach 'em to not meddle with someone else's treasure."

"don't tell me you're burning the whole village down..." you looked up at him, though there was no shred of empathy in your eyes. seems like he and the crew had rubbed off on you.

"you bet i will."

hiii thanks for the request! very sporadic updates bc i'll have exams in a week 😞

[portagas-chan]

Yours Forever and Ever : Part 4

Yandere Katakuri x Isekai Reader

Everyone was staring at her and Katakuri. After all, who wouldn't? The strongest sweet commander of the Big Mom Pirates, Charlotte Katakuri was known for his stoic and cold demeanor. That same Katakuri came to the wedding with [Y/n] from the Strawhat Crew holding her hand.

"I wonder if they are going to announce another wedding soon! This is big news!" Big News Morgan laughed as he snapped pictures.

Katakuri walked towards where Big Mom sat and pulled a chair for [Y/n] to sit. After he saw that [Y/n] was seated, he sat beside her with Vinsmoke Judge between him and Big Mom.

"Mamama! I'm happy to see the two of you together!" Big Mom laughed and I forced a smile.

"[Y/n], I want to see that ring on your finger," Big Mom leaned down and waited.

She showed her the ring and smiled, "Is this what you wanted to see?"

"Yes! It's so pretty, Mamama! So this means you quit the Strawhats and joined our crew, right?" Big Mom gave her a menacing look.

[Y/n] furrowed her eyebrows at her words. She looked down at her thigh when she felt Katakuri placed his hand on it and squeezed it.

'Don't do anything stupid.'

She wanted to refuse her so bad but knew that if she did she would just ruin the plan and it would be her fault. She didn't want that. It was okay. She didn't mean what she said after all.

"Yes," [Y/n] forced the word out of her mouth. Big Mom happily laughed, "Good, good! Then I will announce your engagement with Katakuri to everyone."

Big Mom stood up from her chair and cleared her throat. Her actions caught the attention of all the guests present as they turned to look at her.

"I have an announcement to make. As you all may be confused when you saw my favorite son Katakuri walking in holding hands with [Y/n] here, I will explain what's happening. My son Katakuri is engaged with [Y/n] from the Strawhats. However, as of today, she is no longer apart of the Strawhat crew. Their wedding will be held three days after Pudding's wedding! I hope everyone look forward to it! Mamama!"

The guests erupted into cheers and congrats.

"Congratulations Katakuri-sama!"

"I can't wait to attend your wedding, Katakuri-sama!"

"You are a lucky woman, [Y/n]-sama!"

Although [Y/n] kept a smile on her face, she was very annoyed inside. Everything was done without her say. It was like her opinion and feelings were not important. It didn't matter to them at all. She couldn't believe Katakuri would force her into marrying her. She thought he would at least be considerate but that wasn't the case.

Katakuri leaned down and whispered to her, "Are you enjoying the wedding?"

[Y/n] frowned glancing at him from the corner of her eye, "No!" She said as she angrily munched away the cake on the table.

Katakuri smiled under his scarf, 'She's cute even when pouting.'

[Y/n] noticed that Sanji was going to make his entrance when the sky suddenly went dark and fireworks exploded.

'Sanji is a good actor,' She thought when she his expression.

[Timeskip]

Chaos everywhere. Everyone was distracted. Big Mom finally started screaming and I put on my earplugs. I quickly ran to where Luffy and the others were.

Bege and his crewmembers launched the KX launcher but just when it was about to hit Big Mom, her scream got stronger and it exploded.

Katakuri made earplugs from mochi for his siblings.

Bege looked at his allies, 'Everyone, retreat to the mirror.'

We all nodded and just as I expected, the mirror shattered into pieces.

We looked back at the Charlottes with Katakuri at the front marching towards us with an intent to kill.

'This is honestly more terrifying in real life.'

Bege built a huge castle with his devil fruit ability to which he call it 'Big Father'. I was running together with Nami and Chopper to get to the entrance.

"[Y/n]! Nami! Hurry up!" Luffy shouted.

[Y/n] ran as fast as her legs could take to get to the entrance. Luffy extended his hand towards her to which she quickly grabbed.

However, when Luffy was about to pull her back, he couldn't. [Y/n] wouldn't budge.

She looked down to see mochi? It was Katakuri.

[Y/n] looked at Luffy in shock. She was this close to being together with her captain again and now she was going to be separated by him again.

"Luffy!" she shouted.

Luffy tried to pull her but right now, Katakuri was stronger. Katakuri retracted his hand and she was met with Katakuri who looked down at her.

"Katakuri, let go of me," [Y/n] glared at him.

Katakuri ignored her and wrapped her with mochi so she wouldn't be able to move.

"[Y/n]!" She heard Luffy shout from a far.

"Luffy! Don't worry about me! He won't hurt me! I will meet with you later!" [Y/n] shouted back as she tried to reassure her worried captain.

"You better promise me then!" Luffy said.

"Yes! I promise!" She shouted, a small smile curling up her lips.

Katakuri noticed this and glared at Luffy in jealousy. Why is he making you smile? What's so good about him?

It took quite some time for them to finally come out as Bege shrinks with Germa 66 protecting the Strawhats. Katakuri had no choice but to let me out of his sight as he stopped Ceaser from leaving the castle. But before he could leave, [Y/n] stopped him.

"Katakuri! Get rid of your mochi, please!" She pleaded but he shook his head.

"If I did that then you would run away from me. That can't happen," Katakuri said before walking away.

Sanji took this opportunity to splash water on the mochi melting it.

"Thank you, Sanji-kun!" She smiled at him to which he returned. "No problem, [Y/n]-chan!"

They were interrupted by Big Mom who got in the way. Luffy being Luffy, he didn't back down and decided to fight her.

"[Y/n]-chan, you should go ahead," Sanji said telling her to run away while the Charlottes were not paying attention to her. [Y/n] nodded and did as he said.

Suddenly, there was an explosion which made the Whole Cake Chateau collapse. [Y/n] widened her eyes when she felt herself slowly getting dragged to the edge close to falling.

She held on tight to whatever she could grab on but they weren't strong enough as she fell off the Chateau.

[Y/n] lost hope. There was no way Sanji or Luffy could help her. Or did they even know that she was falling? Maybe not. They probably thought she caught up with Bege and was safe again.

She was going to die.

Instead of falling to her doom, she felt herself freeze mid-air. She snapped her eyes open to be met with a pair of familiar crimson eyes. "Katakuri?!"

Katakuri had one of his hands stretched holding onto the Whole Cake Chateau while his free hand caught [Y/n] so she wouldn't fall. His eyebrows were knitted together as he looked at [Y/n] in his arm.

"[Y/n], I will never let you die. Never! And you know why?"

[Y/n] looked at him surprised but stayed silent as she waited for him to continue.

"It's because I love you. And I will never let you leave me even if I have to use force."

[Y/n] was shocked because she never thought he would say those words to her. She knew he was feeling that way towards her but he never openly confessed to her.

He continued, "[Y/n], even if you may not have such feelings for me, I will make it happen. I will make you fall for me so please don't leave me. I don't think I can live without you."

"Katakuri..." She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to say except for his name. She didn't know what to do. Why was she hesitating now? She was sure she made her decision to leave him and stay with the strawhats so why?

Why was she hesitating?

What was it about Katakuri that made her hesitate?

[bloodwrittenballad]

Rotten Work | Izzy Hands x Reader

Summary: You never break a promise

Warnings: Swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood and injuries, established relationship, reader is gender neutral, not proofread!! first time writing for the ol’ wet rat man, i love him

Izzy didn’t want to be seen.

Scratch that, he just didn’t want to be seen by you.

After the “incident” with Blackbeard and losing his toe, there was a shift. A major one. You could see it, the pain on his face and in his soul. Though he hid his emotions well, you could still read him like the back of your hand. You two were married, after all.

That wasn’t all though, course it wasn’t. Even after all these years spent together, going to literal hell and back you still managed to pull through every time. This time, however, it felt like Izzy was giving up. Not just on you and your relationship, but himself, as well.

It pained you greatly, knowing that the man you loved more than life itself was going through the unimaginable and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Because Blackbeard wouldn’t allow it.

Because Izzy wouldn’t accept it.

Time after time you tried to get him to let you in, to let you help him, countless nights spent outside his door - the cabin you once shared, before Blackbeard decided to ruin that. He forbid you from even being near Izzy. The closest you could get to him now was to sleep in the hallway, and having to put up with hearing as his soft snores turned into hushed cries when he woke up from yet another nightmare.

You couldn’t do this any longer. He, couldn’t do this any longer. Your time with Izzy had already been cut short due to being forced away from one another, and now you were worried it was going to happen permanently.

Izzy was strong, you knew that, course you did. But what would be the straw that broke the camels back? One person can only endure so much before it all becomes too much, so what would that be?

And when?

After another near sleepless night, you had to fight tooth and nail to make sure you were on deck before Blackbeard decided to make himself present for the day. And god, when he did, well… you just wished he hadn’t. Apparently the last few days you and the crew spent raiding and slaughtering any ship you could find wasn’t enough, because Blackbeard wanted more.

Hasn’t he taken enough?

To mark the matters of the day worse, the ship you raided just so happened to be a wedding. The already impossibly tight knots in your stomach worsened, as you were forced to play a pawn in his little game and tear apart what should’ve been a special day for the newlyweds. Soon, white became splattered with red as you cruelly and savagely sliced apart the bride.

And even when it was all over, you could still hear her soul shattering screams as she cried out for her lover.

You felt sick, not being able to stomach the thought of eating right now. Blackbeard decided to take the cake, now seemingly kind enough to divvy out some for the crew. No one ate any, all too tired and burnt out from the countless other slaughters from the day before. This just seemed like over kill. Heh. Literally.

The others tried making idle conversation, wanting to lighten up the atmosphere, but what could be said right now? It was all so, so… poisonous. At least, that’s how Jim put it. Yeah, was a good word for it. Man, if only you knew how badly those words would bite you in the ass later on.

Word got back to Blackbeard, as it always did.

He wasn’t too happy in what was said. Now, as you all stood before him on the deck, desperately trying not to break when he waved his gun around at the crew when he made them all go around and state that the atmosphere wasn’t poison, it was your turn.

“And you, dear little y/n Handsssss,” he dragged on your last name teasingly. So much malice, so much madness in his eyes. “Do you think the atmosphere on this ship is poison?” Gun pointed at your head, a man you once trusted behind it, the man you loved standing behind him. Izzy. Your eyes, tearful and pained, found his pleading ones. “No,” you let out a gasp, closing your eyes and letting a stray tear fall.

It felt like ages before Blackbeard got through the whole crew, but he wasn’t done yet. When you opened your eyes again, you were met with the sight of him now holding the gun up to his own chin. You looked at Izzy, who refused to look back at you.

Until he did, a fire inside of them that you hadn’t seen in a while. “Fucking end!” he yelled, and that’s when all hell broke loose. The gun went off, so loud and so deafening. Damning. Haunting. Red, a color you began to hate so deeply, starting to stain the wooden floor beneath you. And Izzy… oh, Izzy.

Oh god, you couldn’t breathe. Izzy, now laying on the deck, screaming in pain and bleeding, so close and yet so far from you. The next few moments of your life went by in a blur, and yet you felt like you were moving in slow motion.

You’re not sure who helped you down below deck, you just remembered someone gently scooping you up into their arms as they followed where Izzy was taken to.

And that’s where you where now, where you have been for what felt like days now. His hand was tightly clutched in yours, the grip you had never wavering, even when Izzy was in and out of consciousness, muttering widely and thrashing about.

Your presence and loyalty never wavered, either. Not even when he finally came to, for real, and wouldn’t look you in the eye. Too afraid to find judgement or resentment in your eyes, but those are feelings you would never know how to feel towards him, anyways.

“Iz, please,” you tried to plea. Over and over. You needed him to talk to you, needed to hear his voice. But he just… wouldn’t. He couldn’t. It was bad enough that you had to see him like this, so how the hell was he supposed to keep himself composed and not break into pieces if he trusted himself to talk?

“Izzy, please, just… talk to me.” your voice was so quiet, so gentle, but the pain was there. He couldn’t just hear it, he could feel it too. Your pain was his pain, and his pain yours. The both of you were hurting, for reasons both the same and not.

Hell, Izzy realizes. He’s putting you through hell.

“My love, please. Please,” you cried. The grip you had was beginning to falter, showing him just how tired you really were. He kept his eyes down, off and away from you. His chest rose up and down, tense with the words he wanted to say but didn’t know how. Maybe you’ll get so fed and and just leave him there to rot, as he deserved. He put you all through this mess, you didn’t need to be the one cleaning it up…

But you, being you, stubborn and hardheaded as always, weren’t going to give up so easily. He thought maybe you were, when you released your hand from his, standing up in the meantime. He closed his eyes, thinking this is it. You were going to walk out that door, where you’d never enter from again, leaving him alone to hide in the guilt and shame he felt.

Instead, gentle but firm hands cupped his cheeks, the warmth of them making Izzy open his eyes and meet yours. Finally. You looked down at your, with love and worry and… fire. “Now, you listen here, Izzy Hands. I know, okay, I know it hurts. But it’s me, you can trust me. You have to trust me, Iz. I’m here, I’m here and I love you and I’m not going to leave, even if you want me to. I am here, and so are you… and god damn it, it’s been forever since it’s been just the two of us. We’re safe, we’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe, I promise. I’ll take care of you, I just… I need you to let me. Let me take care of you, please.”

Izzy lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes never once leaving yours as he replays the words, “you’re safe,” and “i’ll take care of you.” that was supposed to be his job, he was supposed to say that to you. Yes, you were married and yes it was a promise you both made, but he was Izzy fucking Hands, he was supposed to be the protector.

“Izzy,” you stated again, your voice still gentle but firm. Izzy’s tired, teary eyes met yours. He looked so fragile, even more so as you placed your hand on his. “I’ll take care of you,” you promised. Izzy whimpered, “you shouldn’t have to, its rotten work.” he all but whimpered, his face heavy and scrunched in pain. A part of your heart cracked upon hearing the words, because he sounded so defeated.

You shook your head, stroking his hand with your thumb. “Not to me,” you said with finality in your voice. “not if it’s you…”

Izzy’s eyes found yours once more, hating the way your voice cracked when you said that. The walls Izzy began to build up high were slowly but surely coming down, his reluctancy to let you aid him diminishing by the second. “okay,” he said softly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. A smile meet yours as well, “okay.” you nod, hand still in his as you raise it to your lips in a gentle kiss.

“We will get through this, Izzy. I promise. I meant it when I said in sickness and health.”

“I know.” Izzy replied, “and you never break a promise.”

[queen-shiba]

I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH CAN WE HAVE THE ROYAL WEDDING PLS PLS PLS

Now and Forever

@killersweetie @leonistic

Author's note: I did take a few liberties [more than a few because google is fucking useless]... I hope it's worth the read

Today was the day! The day everyone was waiting for...

4 years ago, Leona found his one and only.

Now, you two were sealing the deal.

Imani, Falena's wife.. You two got along quite well. So well, you asked her to be the maid of honor!

She accepted, of course, and was proud to be there with you and help you with your dress.

Everyone was so excited!

You and Leona had agreed on the color being yellow for the wedding crew.

Sunset colors were being set up for this big event!

Today, you were so very excited to see Leona, but alas, you had to wait.

As did he.

Now he stood in the dressing room, adorned in gold and all sorts of lovely colors.

Falena, surprisingly enough, was chosen as the best man, considering he helped Leona through the first stage.

Leona couldn't be more thankful to his older brother for this...

He stood behind him, wearing a yellow suit, clearly very happy for his little brother.

"Are you excited?" Falena asked, watching Leona practically shake with joy.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He smiled softly.

Nothing condescending... not smug...

A genuine smile.

Truly, this was an amazing day for him.

Falena was happy for Leona!

He finally found someone to love... and someone who loved him just as much.

"I'm glad. And proud of you, little brother." Falena pulled him into a hug, resisting the urge to tear up.

There were so many unexplainable emotions he felt...

One was certainly pride... seeing his brother shine so bright...

It was something to be proud of.

Leona returned the hug with a chuckle, "Don't go getting all sappy on me. Save that for the event."

Falena could only nod, finally pulling back, "Right.." He beamed at him as Cheka came rushing in, "Mjomba! Baba! It's almost time!" He smiled, "Come on! Everyone is waiting!"

He pulled the two men along, careful not to mess up anyone's outfits.

Leona was positioned outside under a great big tree in the Savanah off to the side, standing across from where you'd be.

He could only imagine how beautiful you'd look....

He was excited to see you in your dress...

Just you in general..

The crowd of people stood extatically, awaiting your entrance.

The steady beat of a drum went off, and your bride's maids came in, dancing, making quite the entrance for you, clearing the way as you came down that isle.

You looked... beautiful... gold, colorful fabrics.. everything was just perfect...

You were perfect.

Leona had to keep himself together. Don't jump. Don't scream. Try not to cry..

Kifaji smiled softly, watching as Leona tried to get a hold of his emotions.

He'd truly come a long way...

He was glad he got to see it.

Now, you stood face to face with your lover, taking him in.

He was breath taking...

Everything you could ever ask for..

There you were, ready to tie the knot and be together forever..

It was time.

You couldn't control your smile, and neither could he as the music died down, and you finally got to vow your loyalty to one another.

Food and drinks were brought out, and music started right back up with guests cheering and singing your praises.

You danced all evening, up to midnight.

Eating and drinking, you both were focused on each other.

You could only stare into those deep green pools that you'd fallen in love with all those years ago.

You would dedicate everything to him, and he would do the same for you.

This, you could be sure of.

As the festivities came to a close, you and your newly wed husband held one another close.

"Ninashukuru kupata kutumia maisha yangu na wewe..." He buried his face in your hair, with a smile, holding you by your waist as if you might fade if he let go.

"We'll stay together, now and forever..." You reciprocated his affections.

This would last forever...

The End!

[austinswh0re]

Confidential.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Wife!reader

Warnings: Smut!!! so please if you’re not into that do not continue reading!, fluff, Angry Chris?

This is my first time posting any sort of writing on here so please don’t come for me💀 I’m hoping this comes out as well as it is in my head lmao. Enjoy! Also! i’m aware Endgame did not come out in 2021, im switching up the timeline a little bit lol

Y/n gets ask a question she had been preparing to answer, but when it gets asked she doesn’t know how to feel about it. Chris keeps in everything he wants to say until later that night.

(The gif is making me scream)

…………………………………………

Press conferences. I always had a love hate relationship with them. I loved answering questions and being with all my friends at once but what i didn’t enjoy so much were the extremely personal questions. Such as mine and Chris’ private life.

Chris and I got engaged late 2020, we planned our wedding for July 2021, we wanted a summer wedding, getting engaged in December didn’t really give us much time to plan, but one thing we knew for sure was that we would not wait a whole year before we were married. It was a small wedding, we got married on the beach with all our closest friends and family. We went on our dream honeymoon to Hawaii, and once we came home it was time for a premier.

Filming Endgame was definitely filled with tons of emotion. It was mine a his last Marvel movie together and everyone was aware of this. After we had filmed the last scene tears were shed from almost the entire cast and crew. We still had the premiere, which I will forever be grateful for. We hadn’t posted that we had gotten married on any social media platform, well up until the night I posted a photo of us and my username had changed. I didn’t think much of it considering us being engaged was very much public, but many people were still shocked by the name change.

y/nEvans

“your favorite couple has arrived:) So extremely proud of this guy right here, I love you infinitely.”

1,234,536 likes

ChrisEvans: Thank you honey, I love you more than you know❤️

robertdowneyjr: Love these two!!

tomholland2013: I think you guys come in a close second to me and z

Y/nEvans: replying to tomholland2013: yeah yeah

user1256: sobbing. her username is y/nEvans.

user1437: Shut up. I cant do this rn. im so happy for them🥹

^^^^^^ the post in question*

We also had the press conference which gave me a few extra days with the people i love the most. We both knew the risk of having personal questions asked was high but that didn’t make it any less jarring.

Upon our arrival to the hotel we had been informed that we only had one bed in our room, which considering we were married wasn’t an issue. Although everyone else wasn’t to happy about this.

“Chris, can you come here please?” I called out from the bathroom slightly out of breath from struggling to zip my dress. “What’s up?” he said as he made his way through the door. “Could you please help me zip this dress, i can only get it halfway” “yeah of course baby”

He slipped behind me and slowly began zipping up the dress. Once he had finally zipped it all the way up he slid his hands around my hips and kissed the exposed skin on my shoulder and neck. “Chris we don’t have ti-“ “shh, I know, just trying to make a mental note of what’s happening when we get back” as if I hadn’t been turned on enough by the way his hands were roaming my body, the heat pooling in my underwear just grew more and more as he stood behind me and stared at us in the mirror.

Once we finally broke apart from each other and left the room, we made our way out to the limousine where many of our friends were sat waiting for us. “took you two long enough” Robert said as Chris climed and shut the door behind him. small talk was made amongst the group during the short ride to the event. The dress I was wearing was beautiful, and matched the green felt pants Chris had on

I had went for a felt dress as well, just so the colors would be a closer match.

Halfway there, Chris tapped on my thigh and pointed towards my phone. When i picked it up, I saw multiple messages from Chris all displaying the plans he had made for later that night.

“The way your body looks in that dress is making it hard for me to not take you right here in this car”

“you’re in for it when we get back, I can’t wait to taste you, hear those sweet noises you always make for me”

My eyes widened as I quickly turn the brightness down hoping no one was nosey enough to read the text. I shoot Chris a glare, one that says “seriously?” and he responds with his  signature smirk.

Finally, after what had felt like forever, we arrived to the conference, the second we stepped out of the car Chris grabbed my hand and gave it a light squeeze, reassuring me it’s okay. This wasn’t my first, but I still have quite a bit of nerves every time. We make our way into the building after tons of pictures and quick “i love you” glances to one another. We both took our seats, which luckily were right beside each other. Eventually the question began and the small pool of anxiety grew.

“This next one is for y/n, we heard you two got married, congratulations!” I slightly adjusted in my chair and crossed my legs towards Chris before replying “yes, we did, thank you!” “Of course, now this may be some what personal-“ great. I glanced at Chris and could tell he was focused on the person asking and he didn’t look to happy about it. “So many people have been wondering, how is he in bed? We’re sure he’s fantastic but we want to hear it from the one who gets to experience it.” There it was. The dreaded question of how he was in bed. Although he was fantastic and you thoroughly enjoyed sex with Chris, it wasn’t something you cared to share with the public.

“well, listen I don’t want to come off as rude by saying this but i’m not sure that’s really any of yours, or anyone else’s business besides ours.” Chris was furious, his eyes had slightly darkened and his jaw was clenched keeping him from losing his mind. “Can we please move on?” my voice came out slightly smaller than I had wanted but at the moment I felt uncomfortable and upset.

Chris on the other hand was pissed. He hated how uncomfortable the question made you feel and wanted to beat the shit out of the man who asked it. Instead, he looked at you with a sympathetic look and you responded by mouthing “it’s okay”, because you knew if you didn’t, Chris would kill this guy.

Once everyone had asked their questions, and many laughs had been shared, the group made their way back to the hotel. Chris and you were the first people out of the car and after sharing your goodbyes, he grabbed you by the hand and the two of you stormed up to your room. Before a word could be spoken between you and him he had you pinned against the door. His lips were on yours in seconds. The kiss was hot and sloppy, but you didn’t care at all. “Chris” you breathlessly moaned his name out. he responded with a hmm and continued to work his lips against yours.

He pulled away, his lips red, puffy, and stained with your lipstick. “We need to get this thing off if you” was the first words he said, spinning you around and unzipping the dress painfully slow. “Could you go any slower?” you questioned, usually you would be patient, but on this specific night you were extremely horny and needed him more than ever. “If you keep having that attitude i’ll go even slower” once the dress was off of you, Chris picked you up bridal style and dropped you on the bed. “You are the only woman who gets to know how I am in bed, fuck everyone else” he began kissing down your body. He pulled you up slightly, bringing his hands up the clasp of your bra and undoing it. His hands began to grasp and squeeze every part of you that was exposed.

“Chris please” you begged, your tone was needy but you didn’t care. “please what sweetheart?” He teased, “I need you” “what do you need? use your words” he continued to tease you through your underwear. “Fuck Chris just fuck me already” That was all he needed to hear. He quickly undid his belt and dropped him pants and his boxers, exposing his hard dick, already leaking with precum. He pulled down your panties taking in the sight of you. “you’re so beautiful, and all mine” he said as he stroked himself a few times. He parted your legs and began to tease your entrance with his tip. “Chris, I swear if you don’t-“ he leaned down and kissed your lips, hard and rough as he slid into you. both of you moaning into each others mouths. “that’s it, good girl” he grunted as he stared to slowly move in and out of you “Please, faster” you moaned making him fasten his movements. The noises coming from the two of you were all you could hear, and you were sure everyone else on the floor could hear it too. “oh my god Chris” “Oh fuck i’m close baby” He grunted in your ear “you’re taking my cock so well, taking all of me, fuck you’re so tight” That only made you squeeze around him, moaning his name as if it was the only word you knew. “Chris please don’t stop, i’m so close” you moaned “cum for me, come on baby” he said as he slid his hand between the two of you and began rubbing circles on your clit. “This. This is confidential. No one gets to know what I do to you” “oh yeah, that’s it sweet girl, cum for me i know you want to” was all he said and it sent you over the edge. You were a moaning screaming mess as you and him finished at the same time. His body rolling off of yours as you both steady your breathing

“That was , that was amazing” you breathed out turning over to look at him “only the best for you my love. I love you” He said pulling you into him “I love you more” was the last thing you said before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

[chronicowboy]

every atom of me was made for you | 3.6k

Eddie hates it when his and Buck's shifts don't line up. It's a rare occurrence these days, but every now and then the scheduling gods frown upon them. And, look, Eddie knows he and Buck might be a little co-dependent, but that's not the reason he hates being separated from his partner on the job. He can get through his own Buck-less shifts fine. Sure, he'd prefer having Buck at his back, never wavering in his trust for the person at the other end of the line, never having to look over his shoulder in a burning building, never waiting for more than a few seconds for the right tool to be pressed into his hand. But he can handle a shift with people he knows at a professional level. It's when Buck is the one at the firehouse with an alien crew that Eddie can't handle being apart.

B-shift is a few people down after a pretty bad three-alarm fire downtown took three firefighters out with varying levels of severity—Santiago got a concussion from a falling beam, George broke a few ribs when she fell through the floor, Kent's ankle is fractured from an unfortunately timed crumbling wall—so there's a scramble to cover the absences. Normally, Eddie would volunteer immediately, needing the extra money to pay for Christopher's camp this summer. But camp is a week away, and he only has a few more days to soak up his son before he leaves him for two whole weeks. So, he lets himself be selfish.

Buck, of course, does no such thing. Eddie shouldn't have expected it, but he'd kind of thought Buck would decline the offer too—after all, he's spent the past month complaining about Christopher's impending departure too. So, Buck volunteers to cover along with Hen who takes any opportunity for more money with her new little girl at home and Chimney who has a wedding looming on the horizon. And Eddie feels a little better about Buck having two very capable and trustworthy people with him.

But the uneasiness doesn't fade completely. It never does. Ever since the lightning—and realising he's madly, deeply in love with Evan Buckley—Eddie has had a difficult time settling whenever he can't see Buck. It's wholly irrational, and he's working through it with Frank, but it doesn't stop him from turning nauseous with worry every time it takes Buck more than a few seconds to reply to his texts or pick up the phone. It's ten times worse when Buck is at the firehouse without him. Eddie spends the whole shift waiting for Bobby's name to light up his phone screen with some terribly life-altering news. But that doesn't happen. Instead, it's Buck's name flashing on his screen above a text containing a random fact, or a call about the ridiculous scene they'd just wrapped up or a FaceTime to prove that Eddie does in fact own an extensive collection of DVDs in this day and age.

(Each time he sees Buck's name, there's still the lingering fear that it will be a goodbye of some sort; a hastily typed text, a voice message, a shaky phone call.)

He's getting better at handling it, but he doesn't think he'll ever be able to stop worrying about Buck like this. It's just part of loving someone so much. So, he does his best to keep himself distracted until Buck texts him at the end of his shift to let him know he got back to the loft—not home—safe. Except today, when Christopher is actually asleep in bed and not playing Zelda under his blanket, there's a knock on the door that has Eddie's hackles rising instantly.

It's a trembling breath that carries him to the front door, a thousand reasonable scenarios of what could be waiting for him on the other side forming in his head. And then, he finds a haggard Bobby stood on his porch, Captain's truck parked just behind his truck, and all reason flies out the fucking window.

"Bobby, what—"

"I'm sorry, I know it's late," he sighs apologetically, a furrow to his brows as his eyes drift off somewhere to his side.

"Bobby," Eddie pleads, heart contorting in his chest. "Bobby, Buck, is he—"

"Oh, Eddie, no." Bobby's face turns a little sheepish as he reaches off to the side. "He's fine." Bobby drags an unsteady Buck into the doorway, and Eddie takes in a gasping breath of ice cold relief. 

(OR: buck head injury fic #1 where eddie spends his day off worrying about buck and buck doesn't think that best friends worry about each other the way they do)

@danielsousa @binickmiller @jamietarts @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @buddstiel @organizedstardust @theoneandonlypigeon @anatargmova @alyxmastershipper @buckley-diaz-rules @blazeturbo102 @panbuckley @slowlyfoggydestiny @thatnamewill-probably-change @compactdiscmp3 @batgrldes @scattered-winter @prince-buck-diaz @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy

[dailyreverie]

The wedding party

@flufftober - Day 2 Family, Friends, Loved Ones

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem. reader

Word count: 755

CW: Alcohol consumption, everyone is drunk.

Flufftober masterlist

When Steve looked around the room, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He’s drunk enough to laugh even when he didn’t hear the joke since he was too busy looking at the faces of the people that surrounded him, but not so drunk that he'd forget this precious moment when he woke up the next day. He’s sure he’s never been happier, or that he will ever be as much.

The mid-priced champagne that had your usual crew drunk on the floor of your tiny living room matched the shine of the ring he so carefully slid on your finger a week ago; it shined from where your hand rested on his thigh, making his eyes get constantly lost in it. It was the reason everyone was there, telling stories of how Steve had been head over heels for you from day one. He didn’t care, they could laugh all they wanted, he had finally got his girl after all.

Before your modest gathering, there had been an evening of greeting relatives and hugging people both of you hadn’t seen in ages: aunts, uncles and cousins from both your families that you had to invite to the party, after all, Steve's parents had graciously offered their house for the official engagement celebration, for the grand, showy affair. However, both of you had secretly longed for an intimate gathering afterward with the only people in the world you truly wanted to celebrate with.

“It’s obviously Robin who’s gonna be the maid of honor,” Max confirmed to a conversation that Steve had not been paying attention to before, only then catching the way the girl’s words were slurring. “I’m happy to just be invited, honestly.”

“Well, yes, Robin will be my maid of honor, but you’re insane if you think you and El are not gonna be one of my bridesmaids, whether you like it or not young lady.” Your statement made Max’s eyes shine, her tough demeanor crumbling by such a simple act of your pure adoration for her. Robin’s pride didn’t go unnoticed by either Steve or you, as she raised her glass to you and you responded to the gesture with your own.

“Okay but who’s going to be your best man, Harrington?” Dustin interrupts the sweet moment, his tone more urgent than expected.

“You gotta be careful with the Harrington now, she’s gonna be Harrington too now soon.” Steve nudged his shoulder with yours, his future wife, and the sweet words made a high-pitched chorus of “aww” ‘s  from Robin, Max, Will, and El. At the same time, though you noticed the less-than-impressed expressions on the faces of your other guests.

“Cut the crap, Steve.” Lucas chimes in.

“Yeah, who’s it gonna be?” Mike adds. Steve grunts, and you try to reassure him with a squeeze to his leg.

“Do we really have to do this right now? You’re all drunk.” Your fiancée tries to calm them down, but their state only heightened their emotions.

“Yes, we have to do this right now! They already did it!” Dustin speaks again, referring to the bridal party that was so peacefully put together in a matter of seconds. “What’s it gonna take? You want me to fight them?”

Eddie, who was pretty much just happy to be there, opens his eyes in shock and turns to look at him. “I’m not gonna fight anyone for the position, it was already mine.” With a huff Steve covered his face, he really should have seen it coming.

The younger men stood up with wounded expressions, spiraling into a debate filled with accusations of "How dare you?" and "What's wrong with you?". Their bickering mixed with the girlish giggles from you and your future bridesmaids, which made the evening much more amusing.

“What a family we’ve chosen, huh?” You whispered close to his ear, giving a kiss to his cheek right after, Both of you shared a laugh as you watched the spectacle unfold.

“And we’re the only ones to blame” He joked back. You wrapped your arms around his waist, nestling comfortably against him as you found yourself in his warm embrace, taking it all in. As their fight kept going, Steve suddenly realized that they were arguing over who knew him better and who loved him more.

"I wouldn't change it for the world," he admitted.

"Neither would I," you replied, placing another sweet kiss on his cheek. All with the occasional chaos, you treasured this chosen family with every beat of your now-combined hearts.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[smolwritingchick]

Smol Brainstorm: Would You Stay With Me In Korea?

Author's Note: Anotha smol oneshot/brainstorm. I found this in the old documents. This will take place in BTS Bon Voyage Season 3! The scene where the cute little boy went up to Jungkook and shook his hand. When I saw the scene this idea popped into my head and I wrote about it. It made me think of Jungkook wondering about the future with him and Jennie. Wondering if she'd stay with him in Korea and marry him one day.

I may add onto this when I officially get to this chapter but enjoy the cheese! (I still have yet to watch Season 3 but when I get to the chapter, I will! Val got a lot to cover lol.)

-----

Looking at his phone while holding her hand, Jungkook tried to figure out where they were supposed to be going. Meanwhile, Jennie happily observed the scenery of Malta in the evening as the camera crew followed them. The couple had gotten so used to the cameras filming their moments together that it was like they didn't even notice anymore.

“Okay, I feel like we’ve been walking in circles. You sure you know where we’re going? I can always just look at the phone.” she suggested.

“I got it…I think.” he stopped walking and released her hand, scrolling through the map.

Laughing, she took his phone to figure out what the problem was. Periodically, she glanced at her surroundings while he stood next to her, watching what she was doing.

“This isn’t the right way,” she confirmed.

“What?” he whined. “How?”

“Kookie, just admit that you got us lost and you got too confident.”

“I-I was not!”

“That whole I’m the Golden Maknae speech from earlier is kinda funny now after finding out you were taking us the wrong way.”

“Or I did it on purpose so we can spend more time alone before we have to meet up with the rest of the hyungs,” he admitted.

“Which I enjoyed! But you could have just told me.” she playfully bumped into him while a bright smile came across his face.

Once he received his phone back, he then noticed a figure running their way and turned, looking down to see a little black boy staring at them curiously. Jennie glanced at her boyfriend, about to ask what he was looking at but then saw the kid. The boy was smiling at them and it made her heart flutter when Jungkook stuck out his hand for him to shake. After the child cutely ran off, looking back at them occasionally, Jungkook laughed softly and said that the boy was cute.

Before Jennie could comment on how adorable of a scene she had witnessed, Jungkook spoke up, again.

“Ah…I bet our kids will be just as cute as him.” he thought out loud.

Her heart began to race at his statement while Jungkook looked shooked when he realized he blurted it out loud. The camera crew filming them thought it was adorable while she looked down shyly with her face on fire.

Did he really mean that?

And just when she was about to reply, the little boy and his parents approached the couple and greeted them, introducing themselves.

Jennie gushed over how adorable the boy was and was able to see his cute smile up close and personal. She gave him a hug when she kneeled to his level and enjoyed his adorable answers to her questions as she asked him if he was enjoying himself and what he did for fun, today.

“Are you from here?” The mom asked once Jennie stood up.

“No, ma’am, my boyfriend and I are vacationing with our friends. It’s a beautiful place.”

“Wow, how long have you two been dating?”

“A couple of years, now.” she proudly said with a smile.

“Ah, young love. You remind me of my husband and I during our college years. Well, I hope for many more years to come. With the way you are with our son, I can see you’re good with children.”

“Me? You think so?”

“Yes, indeed. I bet you will be a great mom, one day.”

“Really? Wow, thank you. I hope so, too.” she grinned and laughed cutely, making Jungkook smile. “How long have you two been married?”

“We are actually celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary.”

“Wow, 12 years? What a blessing! I am so happy for you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. This man drives me off the wall sometimes but I love him.”

After a nice conversation with the family and saying goodbye, Jungkook walked with Jennie to their destination.

“Me as a mom? I get so nervous when someone brings something like that up. Do you really think I’ll be a good parent?” she started to ramble.

“I thought about it, actually,”

That took her by surprise but she thought he was joking and playfully hit him in response.

“Don’t joke like that!”

“Who said I was, Mrs. Jeon?” he giggled, looking at her lovingly while her heart skipped a beat.

“Stop playing with me.”

Kissing the top of her head, he wrapped an arm around her as they continued to walk. 

He thought about it often. The thought of marrying her and having children with her in the future. He couldn't see himself with anyone else but her. These years of being together have been filled with amazing memories and he couldn't wait to create more with her. 

For a while, he had started thinking that she was the one whom he wanted to settle down with. But he wondered if she would want to permanently be with him in Korea. Would she leave America and live with him in Korea?

With his mind deep in thought, he decided to ask what was on his mind as he removed his arm from her and continued holding her hand.

“Jagi?”

“Yes?”

With butterflies in his stomach, as he thought about the future with her, he asked softly, “Would you...would you want to stay in Korea with me?”

Jennie stopped walking which made him stop, too as she made him face her. Standing on her toes, she grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him close for a sweet kiss as he held her in his arms.

Pulling away, she smiled. “Yes, I would.”

[soap-lady]

A Wild Chapter Appears!

Hey everyone!

So I used to post a chapter every month of Worthy Opponent but eh...I kinda fell in with a bad crowd or a new fandom. I'll finish this story I promise but I don't have the same motivation I used to.

@arylace Is the best co-writer I could ask for and y'all have her to thank for this being finished.

@fantasiame, @g-arya, @lavenderjunes, @charlietheepic7, @ahenix, @delectablycoolscientist, @kaseykay17, @vio-march-0327, @mewwitch, @vixen-uchiha, @coolspidermanmusicflower, @lady-bee-fechin, @raeuberprinzessin, @symwinter, @frieddonutsweets, @seraphkitty, @friendsofthefairies, @nickristus-dreamer, @khneltea, @jumpingjoy82, @fan-written, @woe-is-me0,@corporeal-terrestrial, @queenmjean, @theymakeupfairies, @dorkus-minimus, @idk-j-go-with-it

Worthy Opponent 26

All of the crucial “will you go to the ball with me?” scenes were filmed and the crew was galvanized into action. Notre Dame Les Oiseaux was about to start classes again so they couldn’t use the theater. So instead they decided to create their own ballroom on a soundstage.

The set dressers and designers went all out, taking inspiration from an actual castle ballroom and adding a few of their own touches. Blue and gold damask wallpaper decorated the walls and they recreated the look of a marble inlaid floor with vinyl laminate. Statues of Greek maidens stood in little alcoves (they were only plaster, but the audience wouldn’t be able to tell.) and genuine glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Amelie arranged for a tiny stage for a string ensemble to perform live music and a dining area with a buffet table. Mme. Jennings insisted all the chairs be covered with satin slipcovers to prevent damaging the expensive costumes.

The younger cast was very excited to be showing off their dance moves but the crew tried not to groan when they thought of all the building and painting involved. Fortunately they were able to find a discount wedding supply store that had some lovely banquet chairs and already made slipcovers. Some were blue and the rest were gold. That was once less headache, courtesy of the mayor’s daughter, who was now using her connections for good. Or at least convenience. Amelie arranged for on-set massage therapists and chiropractors to help the crew after a few incredibly long and stressful days.

The Wardrobe Department was so busy Marinette had to be excused from filming to help sew and Mme. Jennings recruited a few additional seamstresses. It was rumored she’d recruited her cousins from Scotland but the women rarely spoke so no one really knew. They worked at a furious pace and soon costumes for the principal cast and most of the secondary were done.

Everyone was tired and stressed so Amelie declared the weekend before they shot the ballroom scene to be free time and arranged for a team movie night and a takeaway dinner for everyone who wanted it. Some elected to just catch up on their sleep.

Work wasn’t quite done for Marinette, Felix and Luka. She had two costumes to finish and fit and they had to try on their costumes to see if any adjustments needed to be made.

Luka practically bounced down the hall. Marinette wanted to see him alone! Well, she wanted to see him alone to see how well his ball costume fit and whether or not she needed to make any adjustments but still, any time alone with her lately was precious and hard to find.

He told himself he wasn’t jealous of Marinette’s new friendships with the cast. Being an actress could net her some excellent contacts and he’d eat his Jagged Stone guitar pic if Mme. Amelie and Allegra didn’t contact Marinette after the movie to make dresses for them.

It was also good she got along with Allen and Claude. He loved to hear her laugh and their stories of past movie shoots and pranks they played on each other on-set made Marinette giggle and helped keep her anxiety down. Plus, Luka didn’t get the chance to play with musicians who weren’t friends or family and Allen was as talented as he was smart and good looking.

He hadn’t spent a lot of time with Chloe. She barely spoke to him although he’d caught her looking him over once or twice in appreciation. Most of what he knew about her came from what his sister had told him about and it wasn’t flattering. For the last four years she had been bullying the formerly passive Marinette and his shy sister. She’d used her father’s position as Mayor to avoid punishment. Until this year when she suddenly stopped. Perhaps she was too busy trying to survive lycee without her usual enabling teacher and an education staff who told her “Daddy” had no power over them, only the Ministry of Education.

Felix…on the other hand…well, that was complicated.

Felix’s resemblance to his cousin was eerily similar and Marinette did appear to have a type. While Luka was relatively sure she was over Adrien and moving on, he had no guarantee she would move on to him. That was…fine. He’d told her he’d be happy for her no matter who she chose. He’d meant it; he’d back off and leave her alone to make her own choices, even if the person she chose wasn’t him.

That being said, even if he accepted her decisions, he didn’t have to like or agree with them. He’d smile and congratulate her but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt. He might even be a little bit angry. He was allowed to be jealous, wasn’t he? He was allowed to be frustrated.

Luka couldn’t blame Marinette if she was attracted to Felix, looks aside. Felix was smart, charming, talented and confident. He was good-looking and aware of it, even if he didn’t exploit it. Watching the way Felix interacted with his mother and his friends, Luka felt he’d be loyal and respectful if he ever chose a romantic partner. Luka genuinely liked him and wanted to be friends, to hang out and laugh together. Maybe Felix played an instrument too. He should suggest the three of them spend more time learning about each other.

If Luka was honest with himself, he was getting sick of letting go of people he cared about with a smile and a wish for their happiness. He wanted to fight, to prove he was worthy, the better choice.

He wanted to be selfish, just once in his life. He deserved to be someone’s first choice and he wanted that someone to be Marinette.

Luka shook his head as his thoughts continued in loops: love, jealousy, longing, frustration. He couldn’t think that way, not in Paris.

He stopped outside the dressing room door that Marinette told him she’d be in. He took several deep breaths and mentally reminded himself to do some meditation and mindfulness exercises later.

*****

Luka raised his fist to the door and rapped with his knuckles. He didn’t have to wait long before hearing her call out “come in!” and he smiled before opening the door.

Chloe wasn’t sitting in the corner waiting to take pictures of him in costume and he asked Marinette why.

She just shrugged. “She said she had plans with Allen and told me she would get pictures of you in your Founders’ Ball costume when we shot the scene.”

He closed the door behind him. “So, we’re alone?”

Marinette smiled. “It’s been awhile hasn’t it? It seems all we do lately is work work work with hardly any downtime.” She sighed, sounding tired.

Luka grinned. “It’s worth it, isn’t it?”

She laughed, delighting him when her eyes brightened and cheek flushed. “Are you kidding? I’m going to be able to put ‘Costume Designer’ on my resume and I’m not even eighteen yet!”

He nodded and smiled at her. “And on your university transcripts. ESMOD would be drooling to have you after working on a Graham Films production.”

Marinette giggled and he wished they weren’t working so he could snuggle with her while they watched a movie. Or did nothing at all. Well, the money he earned on this film would keep his family literally afloat for months. The pay was leagues better than working as a delivery driver so he could afford to put some money aside for himself.

“And not only are you acting, but you’re helping create the score for a major film production,” her enthusiasm for his success was even greater than his own and he loved that about her. She grinned up at him and it was all he could do not to hug her. “Jagged Stone himself will be begging you to work with him!”

Luka chuckled at the unlikely but fun mental image of his music idol getting down on his knees and begging Luka to come work on his latest album. “Mom would love that.”

She giggled. “Oh, yeah.” She looked at him, still grinning. “It’s mind blowing that the two of them used to work together.” She frowned, thinking. “I wonder why they stopped. Creative differences?”

He remembered the way they’d argued at the docks. “With those two? Probably. But it’s just as likely if they were working with Bob Roth back then, he probably drove them apart so he could make more money promoting Jagged as a solo artist.”

“And your mom is way too independent to let someone like Bob control her,” Marinette agreed and they shared a laugh, thinking about Anarka Couffaine telling Bob exactly what she thought of his management style.

The laughter gradually died away and they were left staring awkwardly at each other.

Marinette’s eyes darted around the room, clearly looking for something else to say. “Um, yeah! Do you want to try on your ball scene costume now?”

He knew it was wrong to smile but even when she was shy and awkward she was adorable. “It’s what we’re here for.”

“I’ll go get it!”

She rushed to the storage room in the back and raced towards him holding a brown clothing bag over her head. She double-checked the outside tag with the inside tag to make sure she had the right costume and then thrust it into his hands. “Go go go! Change!”

She grabbed his waist, turned him around and all but threw him into the changing room before coming back and making sure the curtain was closed. “Come out when you’re done!”

He laughed. He loved his Ma-ma-Marinette.

*****

Luka slid the curtain back and hoped he’d put on everything correctly. “How’s this?”

“I’m sure it’ll need an adjustment here or there but for the most part it’s probably…whoa!”

Marinette nearly dropped her pincushion as she stared at him, eyes wide. “You look so good! It’s like you just walked right out of my sketch!”

He laughed and fiddled with the tie. “I don’t think I have this quite right.”

“Oh, don’t feel bad. Hardly anyone knows how to tie a tie anymore.” She crossed the room and reached for the tie, untying it as she spoke to him. “How do you like it?”

Luka allowed her to pull the tie off him, then raised and lowered his arms and let the fabric move around him. “It’s pretty stretchy and easy to move in.” He ran a hand down the front of the coat. “This isn’t leather.”

“No, it’s suede. Suede is stretchier than leather. It’ll move easier than leather during a sword duel.”

“Very smart.” He looked down at his feet. “I’m not sure dress shoes are really Watson.”

“Me either,” she didn’t look up from the tie she was trying to get out of the three knots he had somehow tied it in. “I was thinking of combat boots, not the modern kind. Mme. Jennings has some vintage that might have been her father’s. Are you still a size forty-five?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think these will still fit you. We might get them to stretch a centimeter but not as much as two.” She finally finished straightening out the tie and looped it back around his neck. “I think I remember how to do this from helping my papa. I’ll try to tie it for you but sooner or later you should learn to tie your own.” She glared up at him. “I can’t always stop to do this if you win a Cesar or a BAFTA you know.”

He smiled but she couldn’t see it. “I’ll do what I can.”

She didn’t seem to be interested in what he was saying while she re-tied the bit of silk around his neck. “I went with Victorian or Regency inspiration for most of the cast but for you I went Edwardian. Still muted colors but softer, lighter material. Not as stiff. I went with a summer wool which has more cotton but still that rough tweed look. It’s also a little stretchy because the fabric has some spandex in it.”

Luka wasn’t listening, he just let the lecture about sewing and design flow over him as he heard her talk about what she loved. Her eyes were bright and interested and her posture was confident. He let her turn him this way and that while she got his tie properly adjusted.

“I also thought a standard vest or waistcoat wouldn’t suit you or Watson so I went with an asymmetrical vest instead.”

Her small hands left his throat, which was good, because he was worried she could feel his pulse. Instead her hands skimmed over his chest and slid down his waist. He knew her touch was completely innocent but he had to close his eyes and try to meditate so he didn’t knock his hands away or worse, pull her closer and kiss her. Every time he tried to remind himself she was getting over someone and wasn’t ready for anything serious, it sounded like more and more of a lie.

Maybe she needed a rebound, someone like…Felix. He looked like Adrien sure but he would also be gone in a few months. Marinette might get hurt but hell, it would be over soon and he would be there to console-

No.

That would be cruel and manipulative, to both Felix and Marinette. He loved her and liked Felix. He didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize their friendship, especially if Felix could help her with her career. Felix deserved someone who wanted to be with him long term and so did Marinette.

Okay, enough. He had work to do. And was Marinette kneeling in front of him and feeling his legs?

This was his punishment for impure thoughts and nearly succumbing to temptation. Oh, and doing something pretty dirty to Felix too.

“I think your pants need to be hemmed.” She was telling him. “I almost went with white but I thought stark white would look too harsh so I went with cream.”

Really, Marinette?

“Well, they look great.” He looked into the mirror so he wouldn’t be lying.

The black, gray and cream looked fantastic, contrasting without clashing. The straight bottom of the vest betrayed the slightest hint of shirt as he moved but he couldn’t have it too tight. The fingerless gloves were very rock and roll and would help him keep a grip on his sword.

Luka glanced at his hands. “Could the gloves have some metal studs on them?”

“I don’t see why not,” she made a note on her phone and then got back on her knees. “I’m going to hem these pants. Try not to move.”

Oh, this girl was immune to irony. “I’ll do what I can.”

She slid the ankle of the pant’s leg. “How’s this?

He looked down, “how far up can you raise it?”

“About a centimeter and a half. I want the pants cuff to look right.” She adjusted the pants again. “What about now?”

He looked in the mirror. “Perfect.”

Marinette pulled some pins out of her wrist cushion and raised the hem until she was satisfied, then looked at the mirror until the hem was even all around.

Luka admired himself in the mirror again. He loved it. He’d have to be careful not to get anything on it but Mme. Jennings told him they usually had a spare, just don’t take it for granted.

He looked inside the coat and found a long inner pocket roughly the length of a sword. She really did plan for everything. That would save them from having to stop filming to grab them.

She noticed his satisfaction and grinned. “I’m pretty good, aren’t I?”

“You certainly are,” he bowed and found it very easy in his costume, “Your Highness.”

She giggled and curtsied. “Please. We’re friends.” She made an elaborate show of offering him her hand to kiss. “Princess Marinette will do.”

*****

When had he stopped?

When had he stopped thinking of Marinette Dupain-Cheng as an opponent? Worthy or otherwise, he no longer thought of her as an obstacle or an antagonist.

That was not to say he’d stopped enjoying their verbal sparring matches. She was quick-witted and easily matched his intellect, matching every barb he threw at her with an adeptness that was as impressive as it was playful.

She no longer scowled at him when he needled her and took his criticisms of her acting with good grace and used them to improve her performance without taking offense. And to his surprise, he longer wanted to offend her.

He could admit to himself (and perhaps his mother) that he didn’t like her when he first saw her. She was lovely, with beautiful blue eyes and soft pink lips. Unfortunately she had been crushing on his oblivious cousin, who at the time had been pining for a superhero. It was pathetic and sad because anyone deserved better than to be someone’s second choice.

Now Adrien was dating Kagami and she seemed good for his cousin; strong-willed and fiercely independent. She could teach him how to stand up for himself; he brought out a gentler side of the fencer. They balanced each other rather well.

And for him? Well, he wasn’t really interested in relationships or romance in general but he thought he’d be a good partner for someone like Marinette. She needed more confidence in herself and someone to teach her how to be selfish every now and then and say no. He supposed she could teach him how to better express his emotions and challenge him and bring his ego down to size when he needed it. Which, if he listened to Allen or Chloe, was often.

Then again, there was Luka.

It would be easy but cowardly to dislike Luka. He was level-headed and mature and when Felix was being difficult or demanding, the older boy would just smile knowingly at him and Felix would feel like a nursery schooler having a tantrum. And he’d be good for Marinette. He knew how to calm her through her anxiety attacks and quelled her self-doubt. He was strong enough for her to lean on and teach her how to relax; that she was good enough.

He was growing fond of both of them and that surprised and worried him.

It was easier, simpler to be alone.No one could hurt, judge, or use you. He’d been through that before and swore he’d never allow himself to be that naive or vulnerable again. Yet, now he was thinking of the Quantic Kids and even Chloe as friends he could confide in. They had fun, whether it was acting, breaking a room full of garbage or a tabletop game. It would hurt to lose them now. He could, and he would survive, but it would hurt.

He’d rather not think of what it would be like to lose Marinette either. She was sweet and bubbly and optimistic but also had a snarky side he appreciated. She wasn’t tempted or intimidated by wealth, she was good at planning and strategy. Sometimes Felix wondered what his life would have been like if he’d met her when they were both younger. They might have hated each other, or been best friends.

But when had he begun to change his mind about her?

Perhaps it was when she pinpointed Lila Rossi as the person sabotaging the film and why. She immediately began to plan and even had contingencies in case her original plan failed. He appreciated someone who could plan almost as well as himself.

Oh, she was heavily flawed as well. She was humble to the point of being self-effacing, she gave so much of herself she sometimes forgot to save something for herself. She was independent and refused to accept help from him unless absolutely necessary. He found her persistence and tenacity annoying when she turned it against him.

Marinette became hyper fixated when something interested her but it was a pain in the ass to motivate her if something didn’t appeal to her. Then he had to fall back on his old habit of annoying her until she lost her temper and did what he wanted without her realizing it. And oh, it made her even angrier when she realized she’d been had!

She didn’t take his behavior lying down. More than once he’d found himself tangled in some homemade trap she’d made and then there was the time he found everything in his office that wasn’t in the safe on the roof. Including most of the clothing he’d been wearing. While taking a nap. He never knew how she’d done it and when he demanded to know she’d just smiled and said, “That’s too easy. Where’s the fun?”

She hadn’t attended a private school and lacked a pedigree but he’d much rather have her in his life than some thoroughbred social climber. Or his superficial uncle who insisted on keeping up appearances and hiding his middle-class background. Marinette’s lack of pretense showed more integrity and, to be honest; class.

She wouldn’t be bought or sold and she wouldn’t be talked down to. She just needed a bit more self-confidence. More of a spine, but not to the extent Adrien did. She needed a bit of polish to show her for the precious pearl she was. That and someone who could protect themselves and her. Well, perhaps not protect her, probably someone to fight beside her.

Felix shook his head to clear it. He didn’t have time to muse about anyone. He still had a movie to film, a supervillain to expose, and a city to protect. His conflicting feelings could wait. He put the girl out of his brain.

He stood up and took a few deep cleansing breaths to clear his mind of wayward thoughts and focus on the scene he was about to act in. Later he would go to the Wardrobe Department to be fitted for his ball ensemble. He wondered what Marinette had designed for him…

…

Dammit.

*****

When Felix was reaching for the door it burst open and Luka nearly ran into him.

“Sorry!” Luka backed up a step and apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention, just trying to get away.”

Felix’s brow furrowed. “From who?” Was Chloe hitting on him? Was Lila? He didn’t think either of them were near the dressing rooms today.

“From a very cute girl who was running her hands all over me and kneeling in front of me-” Luka broke off and frowned. “I’m sure she was being incredibly innocent but my mind didn’t take it that way and I had to get away before I could stop myself from touching her back.”

Felix looked all over the other boy. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was a little heavier. “Why didn’t you tell her to stop?”

Luka just shrugged. “I kinda didn’t want her to.” He gave Felix a similar look; examining him without being too intrusive. “I understand if that’s not your thing but I was in a bit of a difficult situation.”

He pointed to the hallway and Felix slid away to let him by. “No judgment,” he told the other boy, “but you’ll have to understand if I think you’re missing something.”

He winked and left and Felix was just confused. He heard Marinette’s voice from deeper within the dressing room. “Felix? Is that you?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Apparently I’m here for you to put your hands all over me,” he muttered before he could stop himself.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I’m here to get my costume fitted,” he amended and she didn’t seem to hear what he said the first time.

“Okay. Come on in.”

He walked in the room and closed the door behind him.

Marinette was waiting for him, looking crisp and competent. She wore gray houndstooth dress shorts and a black turtleneck. Her hair was up in a bun and she looked professional and adorable.

Stop it.

She beamed at him. “Thank you for coming so quickly. Your costume is done but I want to make some adjustments if something is too long or too tight. And I want you to be happy with what I’ve designed for your character.”

He couldn’t help smiling just a little back. “I’m just an actor. I don’t get pissed off and moan about uncomfortable costuming. It’s not my place or right to complain.”

She gave him a flat look. “In a Graham Films Production? I’m pretty sure the co-director does have the right to speak up.”

Marinette went to the back to get him a costume to try on. After verifying the tags matched, she handed it to him.

“Hope you like it.”

Some mischievous part of him prompted him to ask. “Are you sure you shouldn’t help me change?

He thought she would get flustered. Maybe she’d be angry and yell at him. Then they would argue like their characters always did and he’d feel like everything was normal and there was no need to feel awkward.

Instead she smiled at him, lips curved. Her eyes looked him up and down, almost sultry. “My dear. You should be so lucky.”

She pushed him into the dressing room and closed the curtain.

*****

Felix was rather proud of himself for being able to tie a cravat on his first try and looked at what he could see of himself. Unfortunately the dressing room didn’t have a mirror so he would have to leave the room to see his reflection. A ploy of the Wardrobe Department, no doubt. It cut down the number of actors who damaged valuable costumes after realizing how unflattering they were. Well, he wasn’t vain. He didn’t care.

He slid back the dressing room curtain and looked at the mirror.

Okay, he did care.

The long black dress coat was a strange hybrid between a Regency and a Victorian cut and he liked it better, historical accuracy aside. The white shirt contrasted with the black and he thought the gray trousers tied them together.

He looked at the dark gold waistcoat. Another excellent choice that would bring attention to his hair color.

Running his hands over the vest he felt a side pocket. He looked from his reflection to Marinette. She looked satisfied, even pleased with herself. He liked the confident look on her face.

“It’s just big enough for a watch and chain,” he told her.

She smiled widely. “I bet you already have one.”

“Helen’s granddad. It’s supposed to go to the eldest but she’ll let me borrow it.”

She nodded. “Raise your arms. I want to see how easily you can move in it.”

He did so.

“Hold them out, shoulder height.”

He paused. “T-pose?”

“Sure.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say she enjoyed giving him orders and ask if she had any dominating tendencies. That would have been incredibly unprofessional and could have gotten him and his Mother’s production company sued.

But what if she’d said yes?

You’re an idiot, me.

Marinette watched him pose. Her teeth worried her lower lip slightly and he found himself staring at her mouth before he forced his gaze away from her face. He looked straight ahead and tried to focus on…anything else.

“So, how was filming? I’ve been in the dressing room most of the day so I don’t know how scenes I’m not in are going.”

Ah, a neutral topic, something he would be confident talking about. It would relax him. Very smart.

“First, I did a scene with Barrington and Headmaster Doyle. They were discussing security for the ball and whether or not they should hire a private company.” The company would be owned by Jayden’s relatives and he would hack the school’s mainframe to make sure they got hired instead of the school’s original security company. That would give the heroes more eyes on any suspicious people. “Then Doyle and Professor Burnham-Hui discuss old times at school and how they miss Professor Akunin.” It was a great way to humanize the adult characters and give them nuance.

“Fleshing out characters beside our mains? Awesome.” Marinette took a step towards him then hesitated. “Um, Felix? I need to check the seams and the fit. That means I need to touch you.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’d like permission to touch you, if that’s all right.”

Felix stiffened, but only for a moment. He knew Marinette and was confident she wouldn’t take advantage to be inappropriate. Plus, she was his friend now. To his surprise, he trusted her to be respectful.

“It’s fine,” he told her, “I trust you not to…I don’t know…throw me down and ravish me.”

He meant it as a joke and wanted to needle her but she disappointed him. All she did was give him a flat look and say, “again, you’re not that lucky.”

Marinette got closer to him and reached up, touching his neck and then hooking a finger between his skin and the cravat. “Is it too tight? Can you breathe comfortably?”

He inhaled and then exhaled to show her. “Just fine.”

She nodded and then ran her hands from his underarms down his sides. “The seams look good. Plenty of room I hope? You don’t look like you have any trouble moving.”

Her hands moved lower then stopped. She looked into his eyes and her expression looked professional. Hell, she almost looked clinical as if she was giving him a medical exam. It left him feeling oddly disappointed.

“Hey, Felix?” She frowned and the skin between her brows wrinkled. “I want to check the waistband. I’ll just pull on the belt loops, I promise.”

What was it about her that made him want to make snarky comments and purposely pick fights with her when they were alone? A small part of him was worried he was blending his character with himself, something he hadn’t done since he was a child until this part. Sure, sometimes he had trouble breaking character but that was only for an instant and never when away from set.

Perhaps there was something about Marinette.

At first he thought she was just another bubble-headed fangirl obsessed with his cousin. She might have had a little talent but not much substance. As he got to know her he became impressed by her drive and ambition, her refusal to be intimidated by him. He liked her humor and wit most of all.

She was creative and had a knack for planning. She could be insightful and had integrity and leadership abilities.

It was a shame there wasn’t another Heraldry Miraculous for her to wield. He would have named her Nimue or something similar.

He felt her hands checking the seams along his calves and then stopped at his pants cuffs. He blinked back into awareness. “So uh…how’s the fit so far?”

“I was just about to ask you. The waist feels loose without being baggy. Better than Luka’s; his seemed a little tight.”

Felix clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. Really, she was either innocent or oblivious when it came to teenage boys.

Marinette raised the fabric near his ankles and he felt her hand on his bare skin. Her touch was light and gentle, barely there and even soothing. “I think your pant hem needs to come down about a centimeter. What do you think?”

He looked down and saw what she meant. Yes, the pants were slightly too short. He wasn’t sure how that happened. “I guess you didn’t take my measurements correctly.”

She glared up at him and he felt oddly vindicated. “You really shouldn’t insult me when I have access to sharp objects,” she reminded him and made a note on her phone. “We’re done here. I’ll shut the curtain and you can change.”

She was gone before he could make another smartarse remark.

As he was changing he saw Griff looking at him from his vest pocket. He had the feeling his kwami didn’t approve of his behavior towards Marinette. It wasn’t their business.

“Really, chick? That’s no way to speak to a lady like that.”

Felix paused as he buttoned his shirt. “A lady like what? My co-star? A collaborator? An ally?”

Griff made a huffing sound. “A possible future duchess.”

Felix couldn’t help it. He laughed. “I have no plans to ever marry.”

The kwami looked alarmed. “What of the family line?”

“In vitro and a surrogate.”

Griff ruffled his feathers. He sensed something exceptional about this girl, just as he had that blue-haired rival of his. Chicks these days, still wet from the shell and thought they knew everything.

*****

After Felix had left Marinette could finally let Tikki out of her purse. “Ugh. I thought he’d never leave,” the kwami complained.

“Same,” Marinette sighed and rubbed her hands together as if to remove the sensation of Felix’s body from her fingers. “What was with all the insults? Here I am trying to be professional and he’s acting like an ass.”

“Maybe it was because you had your hands all over him and he was…uncomfortable?” Tikki nearly said “enjoying himself too much” or “flustered” but she didn’t want to risk her charge developing any feelings beyond friendship for the boy. His past behavior aside, there was something unusual about Felix she couldn’t quite put her paw on. That, and even though she once would have paired Marinette and Adrien, she now thought they were better off as partners.

Besides, there was Luka and he was clearly better for Marinette, at least for now. She could relax and be herself around him and Longg and Sass sang his praises when they weren’t fighting over who was the better kwami for the musician.

Marinette shrugged then grinned, looking a little sly. “He’s put on some muscle lately but I like Luka’s body better.”

Tikki giggled. Yes, Lukanette! “Is that why you took an extra long time checking the fit on his costume?”

The girl blushed as she thought of feeling the boy’s pulse under her fingertips and the warmth of his skin. He always smelled really good from the bay rum shaving soap his mom had gotten him for his birthday. “Maybe. What can I say? I’m a normal teenage girl.”

“You’re a pervert,” Tikki accused but without malice. Her mischievous grin ruined her attempts to scold her charge.

“Like I said. Normal teenager.”

*****

"Why am I a little spoon?" Felix asked with a pout as he was spooned by Chloe, clutching Mr. Cuddly to his chest.

The beanbag they shared was soft and plush, like those squishmallow toys Allegra loved. It was brought in by Allegra, an odd chunky lavender colored dragon plush made bean bag, with some pillows that were made of the same material but with a pink cow pattern Claude found. It would fit two comfortably, maybe three pushing it. Often, most of the Quantic Kids fought over who got the bean bag, and this time Felix and Chloe were lucky to be there the fastest. Last time Felix tried he was tackled by Claude while Allegra took the bean bag as her prize. He was so miffed he didn't heal her D&D character when they managed to play.

The lights of their chill room were dimmed, there was a tablet playing an old western film; Griff and Milvii were watching. Eyes dilated and raptured at the so-called modern knights of the Wild West as the kwami declared. To anyone watching it was as if the blondes would have undoubtedly fallen asleep watching a movie. A great cover story for any unsuspecting staff.

"You're holding Mr. Cuddly," Chloe supplied as if the most natural answer in the world.

Felix tightened his grip lightly on the teddy bear that smelled of the essential oils Chloe generously sprayed on it. It was meant to be relaxing, and the refreshing scent of mint and lavender did soothe him. The soft fur was nice under his palms and it was super cuddly as his namesake. Everything perfect for a nap, Felix still didn't sleep. His mind still raced, so much was going on that it seemed so easy to fail. Maybe he should have done paperwork as he told Luka and Marinette?

It seemed wrong somehow to take a nap, the idea of guilt had him frown and tense. To just not give 100 percent in everything. It wasn't his style, Felix was nothing if not tenacious and driven. He worked hard to fulfill his goals. He would succeed in everything. Whether it be acting, directing, or this new superhero thing. Maybe, somewhere on the bottom of the responsibility pole, he could have a social life and new friendships. The image of Marinette and Luka flashed in his mind and he felt guilty. He’d turned down a chance to nap with them in order to spend time with a neglected Chloe.

"Stop thinking, you're not being a good pillow." Chloe grumbled at his ear, tightening her hold on Felix until he whined in protest. "Naps are bandaids to the soul, or Claude claims. That means no thinking."

"I can't just turn it off, Bitchoise." Felix grumbled, a bit helpless, which had the girl sigh and move.

Felix felt a bit off kilter as he suddenly felt the loss of Chloe's body pressed against his back. It was quite sudden and he turned back looking over his shoulder to see that the girl had adjusted herself propping herself up. The strawberry cow print pillow now supported her elbow as she rested her chin on her hand.

She dragged him over and Felix went from looking over his shoulder to on his back looking at the ceiling. Felix felt his hands tighten on Mr. Cuddly defensively, keeping it close to the chest because Chloe was less likely to pinch or tickle him if he had one of her most prized possessions at hand. If the kwami noticed or not Felix was unsure. As far as he could tell, the two stayed glued to Clint Eastwood and whatever movie he was in that they watched.

"Talk it out." Chloe spoke, gesturing with her free hand that Felix should continue and do that. Talk it out, it being the closest either blonde would readily admit to feelings. Felix made a face filled with his distaste and he snarked back at her.

"I must tell Claude he's doing wonderful in your empathy program, Allen also for writing the code."

"Stop it." Chloe snarked, flicking his nose with her free hand. "No deflecting, you don't let me do it so pay up."

Felix groaned, pressing his face to the soft fur of Mr. Cuddly if only to avoid Chloe's knowing gaze. It felt ever since she was bonded with Milvii she saw everything. As if the perception of the kwami bled into the holder; which was unfair. Felix wasn't feeling particularly courageous. He was feeling so weird and confused. Oddly bereft and he wasn't sure if it was one specific thing or a combination of anything.

"I don't know what it is." He confessed. "But I feel like a rope fraying on the ends a bit."

"Hmm…" Chloe hummed thoughtfully as she took into consideration his words. "I'm going to say stuff and you'll listen."

"When you put it like that it means I won't like it." Felix groaned, sinking deeper into the bean bag.

"Don't care, stop fussing." Chloe flicked him again if only to catch his attention, and it wasn't often she could. "You're not a crocodile."

"Your observations are astounding, madam." Felix snarked, he couldn't help it. "What next? I'm not a bear?"

"You're not, maybe an English badger if we’re lucky. Sadly you're a certified bastard with pedigree to match" Chloe followed him easily. "But as I was saying, Crocodiles don't need to chew their food, they bite off and swallow; you’ve been doing that too lately, and you keep on biting off more than you can handle. You're running yourself ragged trying to do a lot and looking cool the entire time.”

“I am prepared and capable with all of my tasks. I'm Felix Graham de Vanilly, we’re very resourceful.” Felix defended himself, but the words sounded weak and hollow even to himself.

She gave him a “you’re not fooling anyone” look which reminded him of his mother. “Fe, we both know that is a lot of bs. I mean, actor and director, ok, both high intensity but in the same wheelhouse. I am willing to admit you’re very capable, resourceful and good with the networking to have brought an outstanding team to back you up. You're reminding Gabriel Agreste that he's nothing but a Boomer and you will defeat him.”

Chloe could tell she didn’t have him convinced just yet and sighed, throwing her hand in the air. “That plan is fun and isn't constant. We get our opportunities and have a field day. I mean it took you days to ride off the high you got showing his little secretary who’s boss which was very nice. The hero gig? Yeah that's taking a lot of our time, I mean--" Chloe paused to yawn as if proving her point. "We're tired, and you focus on what more you can do than learning to juggle what you got. So shut up and nap, you need beauty sleep. If only to make your personality more tolerable to the nice folk."

Felix wanted to protest. Say something, anything to prove her wrong. Sadly there wasn’t much to counter her offers. He was running himself ragged, a rope overused and beginning to fray. He didn’t like it but it was the truth. Dissatisfied with his mortal limitations which were showing up more and more since he’s been in France, Felix sighed, defeated. He needed a massage, a nap, and a nice hour or two of absolutely nothing. Now was sadly not the time, so wasting the precious minutes they all grabbed to sleep felt wrong.

“I might concede…for now, but I’m tired so let’s try to nap.” Felix spoke quickly, turning and resting his cheek on the pillow once again ignoring the satisfied smirk Chloe had as she hugged him once again. It seems the little talk worked in untangling a part of his head for now as he felt himself slipping off into slumber. The low noise of the tablet was soothing like any lullaby, the soft and plush beanbag and pillows were grand, and the weight of another person made him feel less lonely.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Sleep, while difficult to achieve at first, was welcomed eagerly by overworked, tired heroes that basically had their lives divided by two or three different directions. Four if the overachievers were asked, which were sadly most of the heaviest hitters.

While exhausted teens took the fleeting moments to nap with relish; momentarily disconnecting from all responsibilities in their dreams, relaxed and deep in slumber, somewhere in Paris a certain man was making plans to ultimately disrupt momentary serenity. He didn't know that the outcome of this particular plan would backfire spectacularly on his face. With this instance he will gain even more enemies. Not that they knew about it, but this is how it happened.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Hidden from the prying eyes of Paris there was a man. Sunlight shone through an ornate window illuminating the room. Butterflies began to flutter about as it has happened every time he stepped in with ill intent. Hawkmoth thought it was time for a new plot to enact his schemes. Take the miracle jewels of Paris's favorite crime fighting duo and do with it his ultimate evil plan.

"A new day, a new opportunity." Hawkmoth spoke to his butterflies. “Let’s go find one, shall we?”

Hawkmoth tapped into the intrinsic value of the butterfly. Yet for transformation there needed to be a catalyst. Caterpillars had a catalyst that encouraged them to transform and with the miraculous Hawkmoth could manipulate humans to do the same. Yet it was difficult if the circumstances weren't in his favor. 'Twas a delicate balance that Hawkmoth employed, finding the best scenarios to awaken.

He focused and felt himself connect. A network of all living beings lighting up like a map in his mind. Pulsating and illuminated with the colors of emotion. It always felt overwhelming when he stretched his consciousness so far, so he began to refine it. Remove his connection from plants and animals, while they could be good for distractions it wasn't his intent at this time.

Now Hawkmoth looked at the silken strands of so many potential akuma. Eager to see one who was ready for a little nudge to become a beautiful and terrifying butterfly. Colors sparked in his mind's eye, the network pulsing akin to a heartbeat and in an array of colors. He looked out for specific feelings. Anger, sadness, heartbreak, righteous fury, hatred; anything that would birth a worthy Akuma to further his goal.

Oh, longing. The emotion enticed the villain from where he stood and he delved deeper. Ignoring most of the city until the faintest tendrils of his power connected him to the emotion that piqued his interest.

Looking at that sad graying red of a once vibrant love. A young teenage girl was in love. Aren't they always? She was in love with a classmate who didn't know her, one-sided love at that.

Hawkmoth focused on sending his consciousness further into seeing the reasoning behind the emotions. Memories filtered through his mind.

The young girl was in love with this boy since they were young children. For so long she had been in a friend group and she helplessly pined because she had no courage. She was working hard on building her confidence, experimenting with make up and fashion. Joining the same music club, working hard to learn her instrument so she could spend time with him.

The girl was sincere and tried so hard. She even worked a part time job to buy him a present on becoming the first chair in their club. She had just bought the present and was heading home when she saw something. It was the boy, looking shy and sweet. Laughing with a pretty girl both holding hands when a breeze dropped some leaves onto their hair and taking the opportunity of 'removing the leaf' from each other's hair they stole a kiss. It was romantic and beautiful, a young love’s date and the girl felt despair.

Prodding further it seems that the other girl knew of her feelings, and assured him that she would support her. What betrayal! Such longing! The girl believed if she had the chance, if he would give her a chance, she would prove how much better she was. Hawkmoth couldn't really resist. One of his little purple butterflies fluttered down on her and landed on something starting a direct connection between the two.

"Cry not, sweet child." Hawkmoth crooned, his voice soft and delicate to not startle the girl. He imagined a younger Emilie crying and the tenderness was easy to convey. "Your tears are precious."

"Wh--who's there?" The girl gasped looking around for the origin of his voice. She was in her room, she had run home and was crying on her bed. The opened window showed a beautiful parisian scene but no one there to speak to her.

"I am a friend, and one who's seen your plight." Hawkmoth spoke in the form of a greeting. "I saw the depths of your pure love and the pain of your betrayal. It is so awful that a friend would betray us that way."

"Marie isn't my friend;" The girl spat hotly standing up in fury, the pulse of anger was a wonderful spark. She would be a good akuma. "Or else, she isn't anymore, maybe she was never a friend to begin with." The girl muttered deflated staring at a picture framed on her wall. Of her and that so-called friend Marie, they looked happy. The girl was sad all over again. The ember of her anger was extinguishing, and Hawkmoth couldn't have that.

"Of that I am sorry, child." Hawkmoth soothed, softening the girl's sadness with his limited power connected to this temporary champion, and subtly fanning her anger. "I know not who to pity more. You for the betrayal of a so-called friend, or for poor Laurent. He's innocent and being manipulated by Marie. If she couldn't be a friend to you, obviously she cannot be left with Laurent's heart. She will destroy him."

The honeyed words once spoken, seemed to plant themselves deep into the girl. Flashes of emotions pulsated. Shock, pity, love, betrayal, sadness…all culminating in one perfect emotion. Rage so potent that the light seemed blinding in their connection. Hawkmoth couldn't help the smile, he has her where he wants her.

"We have to save Laurent." Hawkmoth spoke urgently, keeping his kind facade.

"We do, I have to. How didn't I think of this before? Oh mon dieu." The girl gasped, pressing a fist to her chest.

"I can't do much by myself; but together we can save Laurent." Hawkmoth proposed. "All I ask is that you also help me; you see some people betrayed me too. They stole something important and everyone praises the thieves. I so do want the miraculous back."

"Of course!" The girl agreed, not noticing how she began to change. Where there was once a sad teenage girl, was the new dark champion of the villain; with a new mission.

"Let's help Laurent, Miss Cupid." The hopeful voice of Hawkmoth whispered with a far more sinister edge. Yet Miss Cupid did not notice the exhilarating feeling of power coursing through her drowned out things she should have noticed.

"Yes Hawkmoth, and don't worry I'll help you, too. The miraculous will be returned." Miss Cupid agreed as she took off.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Forty-five minutes.

Only forty-five minutes have passed.

FORTY.

FIVE.

MINUTES?!

Three quarters to an hour, fifteen minutes away from a glorious 60 minutes. The universe couldn’t even try to give them the full 60 minutes of extra sleep until all hell broke loose. The sick bastard who was responsible: Hawk Moth. The reason? He just had to create a new akuma. The siren and semi-distant screams filled the questions that filled Felix as he awoke with a start.

Insult to injury was the guitar riff that was Claude’s ringtone in Felix’s ear as he picked up the call.

"LARP." The singular word was code to the group. That they would go and transform, fighting the akuma. It was the first time the code was used, and for it to be Claude was alarming. His tone held no room for argument. It was less of a suggestion, or a question. No, Claude was transforming and was simply telling Felix, as Felix was the leader of the Knights.

"Claude," Felix sighed, understanding his friend was mad. Secretly relieved it wasn't his fault, or any staff's. He wouldn't need to plan contingencies. "We agreed not to involve ourselves with pest control."

"Sorry, Boss," Claude didn't sound sorry at all. "Taking a part time job."

"Not alone," Felix was quick to remark.

"Lady-love is talking to the big guy." Claude explained, he had Allegra talk to Allen. No doubt repeating the same code to Allen.

"What does the heart say?' Felix asked, trying to reign them in.

"Giving understanding support."

Shite.

"Griff, are we cleared to Larp?" Felix asked, noticing that Chloe had jumped into motion. The lethargy of sleep clung like a stubborn lover, but she was moving. She had been feeding both Milvii and Griff, and was grabbing a snack bag for both kwami.

"Not up to the best circumstances." Griff spoke up before turning to Milvii.

"You'll do, Percival has already been awakened." Milvii nodded.

"At least we're taking a back seat." Felix proposed as a compromise, they needed to sneak out of here also. "Stay low, don't be seen if you can help it."

“Nah boss, we’re out for blood.”

Click.

“Bitchoise, we’re fighting an akuma.” Felix spoke a bit absently trying to wake up.

"Already texted your mom, and I memorized possible escape routes D-Marinette gave dealing with our other problem. Ready when you are." Chloe chirped.

Once again Felix wondered what he did to piss off the universe this time.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The Akuma Alarm blasted loudly, waking two other teens who scrambled. Both needed secrecy to go and help the city. Luka made a quick lie about helping secure the music equipment because Allen was working mostly alone. Marinette agreed and saw as the boy sped off vaguely running to the music room. She opened the window of her trailer as it faced a rarely traveled path and looked at her kwami.

"It feels mean, having Luka run away to transform." Marinette mumbled.

"Well the Guardian did say that your identities couldn't be exposed." Tikki reminded her holder, not really sure if it should even stay true now after everything. "It's for your safety."

Her little bug was running ragged, a friend who knew what she was going through would have been so helpful. It wasn't as noticeable because the make up team was doing wonders making her not look as tired as Marinette was, and the concealer did a great help on covering the shadows that had been steadily growing. Tikki knew that Marinette was enjoying herself, the designing was fun and it was a breath of fresh air to see creativity in motion.

The acting, while a hurdle at first, was growing on Marinette and Tikki was sure that part of it was how she interacted with everyone, especially Luka and Felix. With Felix Marinette was confident, like Ladybug but without the burden of responsibility. With Luka she was grounded and at peace. Which meant that when she had to stand as the leader and guardian of the miraculous alone, it was harder for Tikki to stomach. The Guardians were a network back in the temple and not one person held all the burden, not even the Grand Guardian. For such responsibility on her young holder, Tikki felt bubbling questions pop in her mind. Maybe it was time for a change, for all their sakes.

At least we have Luka helping out as a hero again, and Miss Kagami. I hope it helps remove her burdens. Tikki thought while she looked at her holder. The teen was psyching herself up and looked so alone and tired.

"Tikki, spots on." Marinette spoke the words, losing her usual youthful enthusiasm. She appeared more battle worn and tired, a general rejoining a never ending fight. Scarlet light wrapped around her body and no longer was the girl Marinette standing there. Now she was Ladybug, hero and protector of Paris.

[shifterdomain]

Hospital Confessions / Jonah Hauer-King X Actress!Reader, Halle Baily & Cousin!Reader

Summary: You are starring in a big fantasy/action feature, but in doing your own stunt, you get hurt and end up in the hospital. When your cousin Halle visits you, together with Jonah, you end up confessing your love to the latter. Warnings: Some Cringe. Also mentions getting injured pretty badly, followed with fluff and comfort. A bit of angst as well and one cuss word. Word count: 2391

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

”No, I can do this,” you assure the director as you both go over the next scene and he reminds you of the possibility of calling in your stunt double. Even though the stunt wasn’t that dangerous or complicated, he didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, which obviously you understood. But you had always wanted to do your own stunts, especially after hearing the stories of how other actors like Tom Cruise always did them themselves.

You hadn’t been in the business of acting for the longest time, only being fairly young yourself, so you wanted to try everything you could to make a name for yourself. And the stunt wasn’t that big of a deal, so why not?

You were put into a harnes by the crew, wires attached as the backdrop of the soundstage showed the location of your scene, which was the mansion of the big bad. As your co-star got on their mark, the director yelled action.

“You see, Y/C/N, I always win,” your co-star recited their line, a smirk on their face as they pushed their hands forward. As they did so, the wires of your harness swung you back, making you fly across the room with a high speed. But as your back hit the backdrop, you heard a snap before everything turned to black.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

A soft humming echoed through the sound stage, the angelic voice earning smiles on the faces of the crew as Halle had had the song ‘Part of Your World’ stuck in her head for a few days now. They waited for the crew to be done setting up the last scene for the day, which would be the wedding for prince Eric and Vanessa. Melissa was still in the hair and make-up trailer, getting her wig fixed, Javier talking to the director about his views for the final fight scene, which would be shooting a week from now, and Halle and Joseph sat somewhere in a lonely corner. Halle, ever so gracious, sat patiently in her cast chair. Flipping through the pages of the script to prepare for the scene as she excused her humming as warming her vocal cords. Jonah, on the other hand, sat on the floor across from Halle, immersed on a game of Angry Birds on his phone.

It took them a few takes to get the full scene just as Rob Marshall wanted it to look, and once he was sure that he had the perfect shots, he dismissed the cast and told them they were free to leave.

“You wanna go and grab a bite?” Jonah suggested, quickly catching up with Halle’s steps. “I was thinking of some Nando’s?”

“Sure, that sounds good,” she nodded, looking back at Jonah with a warm smile, sliding her hand into his. But before getting a chance to even get out of their costumes, Halle’s phone begun to buzz in her purse, which still stood on her cast chair.

“Hello?” she answered, holding the phone up to her ear, catching Jonah’s attention.

A deep voice answered, saying: “Good evening, my name is Doctor Sharpe of the St. Thomas’ Hospital. Am I speaking with Miss Halle Bailey?” The voice sounded serious and Halle could feel her heartbeat gradually increasing, worry etched onto her face, causing Jonah to frown as well.

“Yes, this is her.”

“I am calling regarding Miss. Y/N Y/L/N, you have been listed as her emergency contact. I am sorry to inform you that she has been in an accident and is currently going into surgery,” the doctor explained and her heart dropped in her chest with worry and fear.

“I’m on my way,” she stated, hanging up the phone and quickly putting her things back in her purse. She hadn’t even realized the worried looks, mainly coming from Jonah, as she was too wrapped up in wanting to get to you as quickly as possible.

“What’s wrong?” Jonah questioned, concern lacing his voice as he shuffled closer to her to try and comfort her. Her state of panic had drawn Javier’s attention as well as he approached the two, gently placing his hand over Halle’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, hoping that the fatherly gesture would help in calming her down.

In a clear state of panic, she pushed her belongings into her purse with trembling hands. “Y/N/N- Y/N/N has been in an accident and- and she’s- she’s into surgery,” she stammered, her words rambling.

Jonah’s heart dropped at her words, having the same reaction as Halle had upon hearing the news. Not wasting a second, he fished out his car keys. “I’m driving,” he stated, leading Halle back to the car as they drove towards the hospital to get to you.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Jonah’s heart broke when he saw you laying in that hospital way. He wanted nothing more than to go over and comfort you. Hug you and never let you go again. The way you lay there with your arm in a cast, a nasotracheal tube taped to your rosy cheeks. But he let Halle be the first to go over to you, waiting by the doorway and ready to offer his support when necessary. After all, you were still asleep and probably needed it.

Halle was pulled away by the doctor to fill in some forms, seeing that she was the one registered as your emergency contact.

You had always valued family, but no one was as close as you and Halle were. Since you were children, you had been unseperable. It took a lot of tears and getting used to when you moved to London, but it was the best option when you had signed for a role in the British hit series of Doctor Who a few years back. But when you heard that Halle got the part of Ariel and that shooting was mostly going to take place nearby, you both were absolutely stoked.

Halle moved in with you for the time being, so naturally you spend a lot of your time together. But in that time, you also got to know Jonah. It only took a day for you to become friends and within a week you knew. You tried to deny it at first, but it became impossible. You had turned to Halle and said ‘one day I’ll marry him’. You just knew. He was the one. The one.

Jonah sat at your bedside. The hospital chair was uncomfortable, but it didn’t bother him. His hand gently held yours, your fingers entwined as he crossed his arms at the edge of your bed, his chin resting on top. His eyes were glued to you, a frown on his lips.

As night came, Halle had finally managed to drift off on the small couch that stood in the corner of the room. But Jonah hadn’t moved, refused to do so. He wanted to be sure to be there when you woke. He wanted him to be the first you’d see, selfishly so. He couldn’t seem to sleep anyway, his mind plagued with thoughts of what could have happened had you not fallen on the mat below you, but on the floor instead. He tried not to think of it, the thought of living without you being an unspeakable thing to him now, but he couldn’t help it. So he remained determined to stay awake until you’d come to.

It felt like an eternity, but was in fact a mere few hours. Your fingers twitching around his, an almost drunken smile on your lips as your eyes slowly fluttered open. “Jo,” you whisper his name, your voice a little rough from not using it.

“Hey there sleepyhead,” he greeted you, a relieved but tired smile tugging at his lips. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“Why?”

Jonah couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at your question, noticing the dilation of your pupils as the pain medication was very clearly still in affect.

“Because of the accident, sweetheart,” he answered. “I was worried about you.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“Well, I’ll wait with scolding you for doing your own stunts until you’ll feel better,” he replied teasingly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I mean it. You are sweet! And- and handsome,” you start to compliment him, your words slurring slightly from both the medication and the sleepiness. “And really funny. And handsome. And- and why am I saying this?” you cut yourself off with a chuckle, pulling his hand a little closer as you begin to play with his fingers. “You’re sweet.”

“You said that already,” he commented with a grin, his free hand moving to push the hair from your forehead. “But you’re just very, very high.”

“I wanna get high more often.”

Jonah let out a laugh, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your forehead, your heart leaping in excitement as your cheeks flushed a deep red. “Don’t let the press hear,” he teased, pulling away again.

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Shhh,” Jonah hushed you with a laugh, moving your hand up to press another kiss to the back of it. “Sober you might want to keep your career,” he added, pressing the back of your hand against his cheek.

Your hand reached up, the tip of your index finger poking his dimpled cheek. “These are very cute,” you note, your voice hushed as you look at him intently. “You are very cute.”

“And you’re adorable,” he grinned cheekily, giving you a playful wink. “Adorably not in your right mind.”

“No, high me equals brave me.” You keep your eyes on him, your finger moving from his cheek to trace the seam of his lips. “You are cute. And funny. And kind. And caring.”

“You’re making me blush,” he replied jokingly, trying to hide the effect your words were having on him. He wanted nothing more right now than to lean in and kiss you. He had wanted nothing more for a while now, but he had always denied Halle’s claims of him liking her. He was afraid that if he’d admit just what he felt, you would reject him and realize you could do better. He didn’t know that you feared the exact same.

“Jonah-”

“You should get some sleep,” he interrupted you, fearing that if he didn’t end the moment right now, he actually might give in to the undeniable desire to kiss you. Finally be able to feel your lips on his as he’d imagined doing since the day you met.

But you were on pain medication. You weren’t in your right mind, and he didn’t want to take adventage of the vulnareble state you were in. He would hate himself for it, never forgive himself if he ever did anything to hurt you in the slightest.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

You were still asleep when Jonah awoke the next morning. After your pleas, he had given in and crawled on top of the bed, slipping under the thin covers beside you. His arm wrapped protectively around your shoulder, careful not to hurt you, as his other hand rested on your hip.

Listening to his heartbeat under your ear, you slept better than you had in days, not even really minding the injuries. They felt impeccably small when Jonah was at your side.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Jonah murmured when he felt you begin to stir.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice still hoarse from sleep. Your eyes opening and looking back up into his, only now realizing that he was still in his prince Eric costume, a handsome suit that made him look more dreamy than ever. Well, apart from his plaid pajama pants and dark blue pajama shirt that is.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Alright.”

“Really?” he inquires, the worry still etched onto his features. “Because if you need anything, I’ll get it for you.”

“You really are sweet.”

“Yeah, you mentioned something like that.”

“And I mean it,” you reply, your eyes locked on his. Your heart was pounding anxiously, causing you to blush slightly in embarressment when you heard the beeping of the machine that tracked your heartbeat. Gathering all the courage you could master, you decided that now was as good a time as any and added: “I meant all of it.”

He didn’t know what to say, you’re words catching him off guard but working wonders in waking him up. “Are- are you sure? ‘Cause, you kinda said a lot,” he chuckled nervously, not daring to hold the hope that maybe she indeed felt the same way as he did.

“Not enough,” you reply, sitting up slightly as Jonah follows your movements, his hand instinctively coming to rest on the small of your back. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship, but there’s something I just have to say and if I don’t do it know, I probably never will. Jonah, I- come on, Y/N/N, Jonah, I have feelings for you. Feelings beyond friendship. And I don’t know if I can call it love, but it’s strong and undeniable and I- I care for you. Perhaps more than I should. But if this isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

Jonah remained silent for the longest minute of your life. His eyes glossed over, a breathy laugh falling from his lips as a smile tugged at his lips. “Y/N fucking Y/L/N, I love you.”

You had never expected those words to fall from his lips. Even as you confessed your feelings, you had thought he’d find you crazy and never talk to you again. How could you possibly be lucky enough to receive the love of a man as kind-hearted and beautiful as Jonah.

As he leaned in closer, his hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone as you saw nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. They were the perfect mirror of how you felt for him and your joy could never be put to words as you knew that he felt the same way, as you felt the softness of his lips brushing timidly over yours.

Jonah counted himself the luckiest man alive, smiling into the kiss before whispering against your lips: “I love you, Y/N.”

And maybe he had been right all those months ago. Because, a week after you met, he had turned to Halle and said: “One day I’ll marry her.”

[cloveroctobers]

Circles / C. Berzatto || Summer Prompts !

A/N: Carmy is lip Gallagher as a chef in the AU? Anyways here’s me trying to write for carmy on this cloudy Sunday up north. The only thing I know about Chicago is big buildings, hot dogs, pizza, black ink crew, and uncle Bernieeee! lmao so excuse the dialect throughout? I don’t think it’s really important for this piece so…Let’s see how this works out.

Plot/Prompt: summer cold

: ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀

The dynamic between you and your roommate only made sense to the two of you. You were consistently on different time frames and only arrived back at the spot to rest your head…well you more so than your Italian roomie. The both of you could count on one hand how many times you saw each other in a week—if either of you took the time but somewhere written in the “rules” you still checked in on each other…you know to make sure the both of you were still alive and shit.

Perhaps that became a thing once the both of you slept together once or twice. It didn’t become a attachment really, you knew not to be clingy after the love of your life decided to cheat on you with your step-sister a week before your wedding. You swore on everything that you truly loved that man with all that you had and thought the feeling was mutual, however it became knowledge to you that everything he truly did was for show. He fooled you, made excuses for his actions, fucked off to Florida—of all places with your heffa of a step-sister, popped out some twins with her, and cheated some more when he went off to California for his job as a assistant coach—last you heard from your step-mother, she told you that the pair were in couple’s therapy.

So yeah…your guard was definitely up when it came to relationships after that! And it’s been a year, almost two since that happened but…who’s counting?! Life has changed for you, as it commonly did once you truly step into adulthood. You had two jobs just to make ends meet: a part-time door dasher and currently in paid training underneath a unbending Cambodian food photographer; while trying to get your own food blog up and running. Being involved in food is how you became aware of what the culture was like down at TOBOCL—nobody called it that but you so that made you feel somewhat special. Or just difficult—depends on who you ask.

The last time Carmy remembered seeing you was maybe a couple of days ago, he was trying to get at least a hour of sleep on the couch (before he headed back to the restaurant) while you were on your way out with your girls. You were taking shots in the kitchen, getting amped up, and chucking up the deuces after receiving a call from one of your friends that they were all outside. Carmy had been half awake during that conversation, eyes low but remembered the color dress you had on and realized early that next morning that you didn’t come back home. It had been what? Two days since your night out that he saw you last and it was extremely rare for the both of you to be home at the same time, with Carmy trying to run a restaurant and you being far from a homebody.

Carmy just got in after 1am and couldn’t recall seeing your Honda parked on the street or not. It actually surprised him that you were back on his mind as he walked the late night streets of Chicago, yet he’d be lying if he said he didn’t peek at the crochet bowl on the microwave for your keys. He gripped his greasy hair with one hand and rubbed at his bottom lip with the other as he decided to stomp down the tight hallway towards your room. Normally he would hear some neo-soul echoing from your room or some sort of podcast that mostly contained murder mysteries? Even if you had dozed off, your room was always lively.

You can only imagine the red flags that were going off in Carmy’s head as he stood in front of your door. He knew he looked fucking ridiculous, gripping the door frame and resting a ear against your door to simply hear nothing. He racked his knuckles against the door, ear still pressed to it hoping to hear some sort of movement beyond it.

“Yo, y/n? You in there?”

When he was met with more silence, he knocked some more before wrapping his hand around the door knob. “Alright, I gave you time to give me something here so I’m comin’ in.”

The blue eyed man didnt realize he was holding his breath for so long even when he pushed the door open. Your room was mostly dim and only illuminated by your salt lamp right by your bed. He spotted you, laying on your stomach in a big gray t-shirt and head turned completely away from his sight. You did not move at his entrance, not even when he called out to you some more.

“Y/n.” Carmy shifted on his feet at the door.

Carmy always hated the feeling of not being able to do something when he could always try.

That feeling was starting to creep up again.

He suddenly stomped over to you, the sound of his thuds overshadowed the sound of your diffuser misting in the quiet room, his patience always running thin as he finally got to you. He rested a hand right in the space between your shoulders and shook you.

“Hey, you alright?”

You grunted followed with a snore, slightly lifting your head which made Carmy jump back a bit as you rolled your body onto your back. You closed your eyes for a moment longer before opening your hooded eyes to focus on Carmy’s concerned stare.

“Why’re you in my room, Carmen?”

Carmy picked up on how much your voice sounded different to him now. He’s heard your croaky morning voice before but now it was low, heavy and congested.

He felt his eye twitch in that moment, “why am I? Y/N…I’ve been trying to check on you and all I’ve been left with is white noise. I even texted a day ago.”

“Phone’s dead. Left it at the club Tia’s cousin works at, got it back just to get it cut off because I’m five days behind on the bill.” You answered, voice thick with mucus, “appreciate it though.” You went to close your eyes again but Carmy wasn’t having that.

He kicked at your bed, making your dark eyes meet his again. “What’s wrong with you and why do you sound like that?”

“It’s allergies…you know sometimes I sound like Barry white when this happens. It’s just a bad case and not Covid, I got tested at the clinic my employer’s family owns the other day. Now are you going to let me sleep or do I have to cough on you like I have no manners?” You scratched at your hair, lazily reaching back to secure the bonnet over your edges. 

Carmy puffed out a breath in disbelief as he took in the sight of you. “You look like shit.”

“And yet I’m laying here across from a man that uses a 2-in-one shampoo,” you clapped back, “I’m still the baddest in the room.”

You went into a coughing fit next, making Carmy step back making you smirk at him with a slow raise of your brow.

“Ah, fuck you.” Carmy replied, “I have a business to run and can’t catch what you got. Imagine that? Me out sick and leaving Sydney in charge.”

“Allergies aren’t contagious goofy,” you scowled in which Carmy nodded, knowing this to be true as you continued, “and Sydney’s more than capable.”

Carmy shoved his hands into his pockets, “oh I have no doubts. Leavin’ her there with Richie is homicide is what I’m getting at.”

You laughed and curled into your body feeling it ache, “That’s the bail money I’m saving for my good sis when that does happen.”

Carmy snorted with a shake of his head. Silence filled the room as he looked around to see clothes tossed on the floor by your window and wondered how long you’ve actually been like this. He bent down to grab the large smart water that fell by the side of your bed, plucking the tap back, he handed it over to you as you held onto your dry throat.

You held the bottle up to him in thanks before you drink half of the water and that was definitely a 33.oz.

“It feels good to know that you’re not in here you know, fucken decomposing away and rotting up the place.” Carmy’s dark humor kicked in which made you roll your eyes, “I’m gonna go…make you some soup.”

“Soup?”

“Yeah, I know a cold when I see one. Sugar had the worst immune system growing up, dad was always working, and ma rather be in physical therapy for eight hours a day instead of coming home to her sick kid. So Mikey and I always stepped in…he catered to Sugar’s every need no matter how much shit he gave her for it. While I was mostly in the kitchen trying to figure out what the hell sick people eat.” Carmy told you while a small smile appeared on your face.

You could picture it.

You didn’t meet Carmy’s older brother Michael Berzatto before his untimely passing, only heard stories mostly from Richie whenever you stopped in to say hello or grab a quick meal for lunch. You and Carmy only lived together for a couple of months, he was back from New York needed a place to stay while you needed help covering rent, so it all worked out. Your job was to pay attention to detail and you knew from the moment you met him at some hole in the wall donut shop that something tragic happened to him.

It was none of your business but late night conversations in your apartment were comforting? At least you hoped it was comforting since you could tell Carmy was not the type to open up to people. Yet he felt like he could with you and you were a open book, you knew how to listen and not give perspectives unless it was asked. You didn’t want to be what your mother was and sure you loved that woman (from afar) but it was frustrating to have someone dictate instead of listen.

“What kind?” You asked, “if it’s standard chicken noddle soup with huge pieces of garlic I might just unalive myself.”

Carmy tilted his head at that, “lemme guess. Something your ma used to do?”

“Oh yeah, that was the beginning of my trust issues.”

Carmy laughed, “she was on the right track.” He paused thinking about your upbringing and the exact look of disgust on your face then which was probably a replica of your scrunched up nose now, “I uh..gotta see what we have in there. Haven’t done much grocery shopping lately but it’s a signature soup of the berzatto’s. None of that fake ramen shit. Chicken broth, Parmesan, spinach, pepper flakes—

You watched in amusement as he listed the ingredients while ticking off his fingers, “I don’t want it.”

Carmy blinked, his round blue’s burned into your frame while you tried to not let a smile break through your lips, “what?” He questioned.

“It’s summer! I can’t eat soup in the summer.”

You sneezed.

“…The fuck are you talkin’ about? It’s not only seasonal.”

“Are you gonna throw pasta in there?”

“Why would I do that?”

“You tell me Chef Carm-Parm.” You threw in your personalized nickname for the brunette who was growing annoyed by your bed.

“Did I say I was gonna throw pasta in there?” He scratched at his brow, lips pinched.

You laughed, “I’m just fucking with you, no need to burst a artery.”

Carmy huffed, “Well I’m just letting you know…it would of been too bad if you didn’t want it, ‘cause I was gonna make the Stracciatella regardless.”

“Don’t you have to be back at five or six to prep? How are you gonna have the time?” You asked.

Carmy shrugged his shoulders, “I’ll make the time and that’s why I’m not adding any pasta just the spinach and flour.”

He winked making you laugh as you closed your eyes once more.

Carmy always took his time in the kitchen so it did not feel like forever as he prepared some soup for the both of you. He opened up the living room window as the soup simmered and just as he was heading over to plate, you appeared from the hallway wrapped in a quilt.

“There she is! Have a seat.”

You dragged yourself up onto the bar stool, resting your warm cheek into the palm of your hand watching Carmy move around the kitchen with ease. He slid a bowl on the counter to you, handing a small spoon (your favorite kind of spoon, you despised large utensils since you liked to take your time to eat) with swiftness right after. Your hand shook a bit as you dipped the spoon into the porridge like texture and hummed at how good it smelled.

“Eat with me and don’t just watch me.” You ordered, noticing him lean on his hands that he rested on each side of the sink.

He crossed his arms challenging you, “I want to see you taste test first so that you can tell me you want more soups in the summer.”

Sucking your teeth you answered, “you can’t make me change my mind.”

“Yes I can.”

That earned a stare off, even when you scooped some of the soup onto the spoon and placed it in your mouth. It was the right temperature for your sore throat and went down with ease even with the spinach. The soup was savory and there was something else in there that was nutty but combined with the Parmesan so nicely. And to top it off? The red pepper flakes began to air out your stuffy nose.

“Damnit.”

“What was that?” Carmy smirked.

“Shut up and eat, chef.”

Carmy dipped his head, the smirk not leaving his lips as he fixed himself a bowl to sit beside you. As he did you bumped your shoulder with his, offering him a warm smile, resulting in him gently rubbing your quilt covered back, pulling you towards him so he could place a chaste kiss to your temple before returning back to his plate.

Life would always be one huge tangled tired circle but at least he still had you by his side, whatever that means.

: ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀➛ : ̗̀

Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

[reyesstrand]

like water in your hands

2.7k- tarlos/ tk & tommy - teen

TK finds comfort in the mindless motions of it—folding the sheet in half, bringing the opposite corners together, folding it in half again—and before he knows it a whole basket is done, filled to the brim with neatly stacked pillowcases and sheets. He stalks into the bunk room, slowly putting everything in its place, when he feels a presence next to him. He glances over and finds Tommy looking at him, her eyebrows pinched together with concern, and he scrambles to pull his earbud out. "Hey, Cap. What's up?" 

What's up, he thinks, scoffing at himself internally. As if the whole crew doesn't know his whole world has been completely upturned. (Or, a coda for 4x01/spec fic for 4x02-4x04, where Tommy doesn't let TK stew in his emotions alone.)

thanks to this anon for the inspiration. also shoutout to charlie @safeashousespdf for getting moon song stuck in my head <3

After the news eventually spreads, nobody questions it as TK starts offering to do extra chores. 

He's been completely exhausted these past few days, in part due to the calls they're still getting after the frog-rain-heat-wave, and partly due to the fact that he just can't sleep.

That first night, Carlos slept on the couch, because even if all TK wanted was to celebrate the new eight-week timeframe they could be looking at for the wedding, he also desperately craved some space to think. And that meant all he could do was think, tossing and turning as the night melted into morning, burrowing his face into Carlos' pillow and squeezing his eyes shut until he blearily got out of bed before his alarm could go off, and slipped on some gym shorts and his sneakers, and ran.

TK'd started running again over the past few months, mostly to tone up before they get going on suit shopping, but that morning had been more about making it hurt: pounding his feet into the pavement and sprinting instead of jogging, moving down the streets in the downtown area around their home until his heart pounded against his ribcage. He had felt like he was burning all over, and it was glorious, and for a single blinding moment he'd been able to just forget. The moment he'd slid back the front door to the loft, though, and found Carlos making them coffee, looking up at him like he was expecting a yelling match, it all came back at once. TK had swallowed and thrown him a tiny smile and gestured toward the shower, where he stood under painfully hot water and clenched his jaw and listened to the muffled sounds of Carlos getting ready for work. He skipped breakfast, afterwards, and barely got out an I love you before he was walking out the door.

continue on ao3!

[drghostwrite]

hey ! could you please write a bree van de kamp x reader fic set sometime during season 2 when bree was struggling with drinking, andrew, her mental health etc etc. basically the reader keeps trying to help bree through her stuff and at some point they get in a fight over this because obviously bree doesn’t like people seeing through her/seeing her vulnerable. during the fight bree angrily asks soemthing along the lines of “why are you so determined to help me ?” and the reader accidentally yells “because i’m in love with you” this should be followed with angst maybe they don’t talk for a while idk it’s up to you anyway they make up when bree goes to the reader and confesses her love as well then some cute fluffy maybe even slightly nfsw things ensue. I imagine this as a longer fic but write this in any length you prefer I’d just be happy to see this idea come to life hahah

This is going to be interesting lol

Summary: you just read it up above.

*********************************************************************

Bree Van de Kamp, the most successful and put together woman on Wysteria lane, she had the house, the cars, the husband, and the kids, she had the life everyone wanted. Well up until a few weeks ago that is, now she stood eyes glazed over staring out the window from her kitchen, a glass bottle in her hand she lifted it to her lips again and tears started to fall, ahe lowered it, her ring clinking against the side, she looked down at the now forgotten wedding band. she turned it against her finger before setting the bottle down and fully sliding it off, she tuened it over in her fingers, a tear ran down her face not because she lost the man she loved but because she lost eveything. She stuck by his side when they were having marrige issues, he even cheated on her and she stayed with him, but her world started to unravel when news got out, and then the Solice's and their mother that andrew hit and everything with her daughter, it was all to much. Then Rex had the nerve to die and leave her here to deal with it all.

She looked at the ring one more time before throwing it across the room, it hit the wall and fell, then she took the gods on the counter and chucked it as well letting it shattered strong the ring, what she didn’t know was you were at the front door and heard the crash rushing in you found her reaching for the bottle.

“Bree?” You called making her face you.

“Oh god what do you want?”

“What’s going on?”

“why would you care?”

“because I do, I care about you, I came over to check in with you, make sure you’re holding up okay.”

“Holding up okay… that’s one way to put it.”

“Bree…”

“God Y/N what the hell do you want from me,” you had hurt in your eyes but quickly hardened you exterior as this was going to be rough, “I’m not one of your little basket cases you know, I’m fine on my own.” She started to raise her voice but you stayed stone cold.

“says the woman that reeks of alcohol and probably hasn’t showered in two days.”

“You have no right.” She snapped at you.

“No you have no right, I’m only here to help you.”

“Like I said I’m fine on my own, I was before you and I will be after you.”

“so this is what you call fine?”

“fuck you Y/N… you know what this is me being fine, I just lost my husband, and my son is gay what more could I go through… honestly everyone always wants me to be miss perfect but I’m not, and you sending the other three musketeers over to have an “intervention” are you kidding get out of my face.”

“no I won’t leave you and a crew them, I never asked them for anything, I never told them anything.”

“then tell me, why?… why are you so determined to help me.” She said waving her arms voice raised.

“Because Bree Van de Kamp I love you, I’m in love with you!” You yelled before you could think.

She stood there staring at you dumbfounded and you realized what you said, “Y/N”

“No you know what I’m gonna go… we both need some space to cool off so I’m gonna go.” You tuned and left her there just staring at you.

———time jump———

3 days later and you heard a knock at your door, “come on in it’s open!” You yelled out as you were in the living room, working on your laptop, you heard the door open and soft fragile foot steps come towards the room.

“Y/N?” You heard a gentle voice call to you, a smooth voice that’s been tainted with some rasp from crying.

You turned being met with Bree staring back at you the gorgeous redhead that you had accidentally confessed your feelings to and then ran out, way to drop a bomb there Y/N. “Um… Bree hey um…”

“Can we talk?”

“oh yea ignore the laptop, join me.” You folded the computer and quickly placed it in front of you while patting the couch for her to join you. She delicately sat next to you not making eye contact, you gave her the floor to speak and waited.

“Uhumm I’m not sure how to say this so here goes, you know how they say you don’t know you’ve lost something until you need it the most?”

“Yea.”

“We’ll that’s you or at least for me, the other night I finally understood why I was so mad at myself for wearing that stupid ring and it was because it kept me from you, from day one with everything I felt different around you, I always wanted to be with you and had you on my mind… I guess what I’m trying to say is that without knowing it I’ve been in love with you this whole time.” She turned to you with tears in her eyes, you didn’t know what to say so you held out your arms and she leaned into you, you wrapped her in your arms and just held her. When you finally pulled apart she asked you a question that burned in her, “so does this mean I can kiss you now, I’m not sure what to do?”

“baby you can do a lot more than just kiss me.” You smirked as she made contact with your lips, you deepened the kiss, running your hand down her side as you laid her back on the couch she arched into you as your lips collided and bodies pressed into each other. You pulled away laying foreheads together allowing you to catch your breath, “Are you sure about this?”

“Y/N I’m not sure about anything anymore.”

“We don’t have to go any farther we can take it slow.”

“No I’ve taken this… us too slow, I need you.”

you pulled back your eyes gazing into hers and seeing the deep emotions swirling behind those blue orbs, you leaned down kissing her again before getting off and pulling her up with you. “Please, Y/N I…”

“Not here… I’m not going to let the first time I’m with the woman I love be in my living room couch.” There was a silence as her mouth gaped and then closed behind you as she followed you upstairs, you slowly opened the door to your bedroom and she stepped in, she nervously stood inside as you came up behind her and ran your hands over her shoulders and down her sides placing kisses gently she turned in your arms and you continued kissing down her neck. You quickly worked to undress each other until she was in a matching set of bras and panties and you stood in your bra and pants, she slowly undid the button sliding them down to the floor and kneeling before you, she slowly stood before you as you looked down at her, you lifted her chin placing a kiss on her lips as she wrapped her arms around you.

you quickly hoisted her up wrapping her legs around your waist continuing the kisses, you walked over and slowly placed her on the bed. You kissed down her body teasing her by kissing her thighs down the outside and then up the inner thigh. You spent your night like that learning each others bodies and in the morning you awoke.

You thought it was all a dream until you realized a familiar weight draped across your torso red hair splayed across your chest as she rested on you, your breathing in sync your legs tangled together under dark satin sheets cool against the exposed skin.

So it wasn’t all a dream.

[440mxs-wife]

Treasure Quest, Chapter 8: Wedding Day

Pairing: Captain Dean x Rhaya Payton (OFC, eventual) Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Captain Keira, Captain Crowley, Lucifer, Lord Darius Payton, Lord Ashton Kane, Connor (OMC's) Carissa Payton, Darcy (OFC's).

Word Count: 4649

Warnings: Angst, Realization of Feelings, a bit of Rhaya's self-doubt, Unwanted Wedding Ceremony, Slight Medical Issue, but Still Scheming Stepmother and Still Annoying Fiancé

Series Summary: Rhaya Payton is the daughter of the governor of Ochana. She grew up listening to her father tell her stories of pirates and treasure maps. At a gala one night, her stepmother, Carissa, announces Rhaya’s engagement to Ashton Kane, a wealthy nobleman. Only problem is, no one checked with Rhaya first. After overhearing plans made by her fiancé, Rhaya decides to go on the run and stows away on Captain Dean’s ship. What will happen when he finds her?

This Chapter: After a confrontation at breakfast with her stepmother, Rhaya doubles down on her resolve to avoid marriage to Ashton at all cost. Carissa may have her plans, but Keira and Darcy have Rhaya's back as they formulate plans of their own. Captain Dean & Company are racing to get to the church and receive assistance from an unusual source. The closer she gets to "I do", the more desperate Rhaya becomes, so she takes matters into her own hands. Will the Captain of Rhaya's heart arrive in time to stop the ceremony? Tune in to find out....Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rhaya listened as Keira reviewed the events of the past few days. She explained how they arrived at the island, found the treasure, and their narrow escape from the island's inhabitants. When Keira mentioned that some of the crew were injured, she was quick to assure Rhaya that nothing was life-threatening. Jack would make a full recovery, she promised. Both women laughed at Dean's assertions that the young man would now have better luck with the ladies.

"Speaking of Dean, will he....is he....um....he's on his way here, right?" Rhaya asked in a small voice.

Keira thought back to her last conversation with Dean, right before she set sail for Ochana. She knew he was committed to the plan to at least stall, if not stop, the wedding. However, he mentioned some business he had to attend to before he could leave Alcaria. He had sent her ahead to carry out the plan, in case he couldn't get to Ochana in time.

"Honey, I'm not sure. He said he had some things to do once he got home to Alcaria. But he sent me here first to make sure to stop or somehow stall your wedding to Lord Dumbass," Keira muttered.

"Well, I am all for that, you know. But how are we going to do it? I mean, you've got a plan all worked out, right?" Rhaya wondered.

Keira snorted. "Are you seriously doubting my scheming ability right now? I think you've forgotten who you're dealing with," she responded with a slight scowl. "Here's what I've got so far."

***

Dean stood at the bow of the ship, willing it to find the right winds to carry it faster from Alcaria to Ochana. The plan he had outlined with Keira was only designed to get things to a certain point, which was to prevent Rhaya's marriage to Ashton. After that, the details were a little fuzzy, but Dean figured that the pieces would somehow magically fall into place.

Sam cautiously approached his brother, who continued to stare out at the horizon, wishing they had already reached their destination. "Dean, we're going as fast as we can. Keira knows what she's doing, and she has allies on the inside to help her and Rhaya. No one wants to see her marry Lord Hoity-Toity," Sam grumbled.

"I know, Sam," Dean sighed. "It's just....I want to be there to protect her, you know? It's not only Lord Stuck-Up that I'm worried about, it's also her horrible stepmother. Rhaya told me about her, and it wasn't a rosy picture. Carissa has ways of dealing with people who don't bend to her will, and for that reason, I don't want my girl anywhere near her. There's no telling what that witch will do to Rhaya when this wedding goes south," Dean noted grimly.

Seeing his brother so determined to defend his girl against her stepmother ignited a glimmer of hope in Sam that maybe Dean had found his someone. "Then it's a good thing I see the coastline of Ochana," he grinned. He pointed to a stretch of land in the distance, a sandy beach giving way to a hill of green grass. Wooden docks extended out into the water, with tall, well-muscled men waiting to catch the docking ropes as soon as they were thrown.

"Hot damn, that's it!" Dean exclaimed. Seeing how close they were made him even more anxious to reach their destination. Only problem was, they were at the mercy of the wind currents. Suddenly, as if by the Fates, the sails seemed to catch a tailwind, which increased their speed. Hold on, sweetheart, Dean silently pleaded. I'm almost there, and once I am, I promise I will do everything in my power to protect you.

***

Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, stretching its fingers across the hand-sewn quilt tucked around the sleeping form in the bed. A knock at the door elicited a groan from the body being kept warm under the quilt. As much as she wanted to send away her visitor with a bark of, "Go away!", Rhaya reluctantly sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Just a minute," she mumbled. 

Slowly padding over to the door, she opened it to reveal Darcy and Keira, and gave them a sleepy smile. "Come on in," she said through a yawn as she stepped aside to allow access.

"Your stepmother is expecting you to join her at the breakfast table to discuss some wedding-related details with you. She said, and I quote, 'If she's not here in the next 30 minutes, I will drag her to this table myself and I won't care if she's still in her nightgown'," Darcy explained with a grimace.

The three women looked at each other and all rolled their eyes. "Fine," Rhaya sighed. "I'll wish my father 'good morning', have some breakfast, and hear what the Evil One has to say. Then I will return to my room where I will disregard everything she said that doesn't fit with our plans."

Twenty-nine minutes later, Rhaya sauntered into the dining room, where her father and Carissa were seated. Her father was situated at the head of the table, where she stopped to give him a peck on the cheek. "Good morning, Papa," she wished him with a smile, and then took her seat in the chair to his right. 

"Good morning, Rhaya. I was beginning to wonder if you'd be joining us as I requested, or if you'd run away again," Carissa remarked.

"Good morning, Stepmother. As you can see, I am present and accounted for, and within your 30-minute deadline. Fully dressed as well, because goodness knows I wouldn't want to be brought to the table inappropriately dressed," she challenged, her eyes narrowed at Carissa.

Lord Darius turned to his daughter, barely suppressing a smile. "Today's a busy day for you, sweetheart. Are you nervous with all of this? It would be all right if you were, since you are taking an important step in your life," he pointed out as he reached for her hand.

Rhaya squeezed her father's hand. "No, Papa, as important as all of this is, I'm not nervous. I'm certain that events will unfold exactly as they are supposed to," she replied.

At that moment, a staff member entered the dining room and informed Lord Darius of a matter that needed his immediate attention. He politely excused himself, expressing his apologies to his wife and daughter. He pressed a kiss to Rhaya's temple and told her that he would be waiting for her in the designated area of the church to walk her down the aisle.

As soon as he left the room, the tension between the two women increased to the 11th level. The remaining staff stood off to the side, ready to fulfill any need, but were also prepared for a hasty exit, should the situation require it. They glanced nervously among themselves as they waited for some sort of break that was sure to occur.

"You certainly enjoy pushing my orders to the breaking point, don't you? I ask you to be here in thirty minutes, you show up in twenty-nine," she commented dryly. "Mark my words, Rhaya, this day will unfold exactly as it is supposed to, because I will make sure of it. I will watch your father walk you down the aisle in the dress I have chosen for you. He will then take his place at my side, where we will bear witness to your exchange of vows with Ashton," Carissa concluded.

Rhaya scoffed in response to her last comment. "You know damned well that I do not want to be married to Ashton or to anyone else unless it is my decision. Just because I'm the governor's daughter doesn't mean I'm entitled to anything less than my own choice of who I share my life with. I realize that today is going forward whether I like it or not, but that doesn't mean everything will happen exactly according to your plan," she retorted.

Carissa slammed her hands on the table, causing the dishes to rattle and the staff to jump in surprise. "Watch your language, and DO NOT cross me, Rhaya!" she shouted, then took a deep breath to calm herself. "I will get what I want, which is you married to Ashton and out of this house, away from your father. Should you decide to take your chances and choose to defy me, there will be hell to pay, I assure you."

"Are you threatening me? Your own stepdaughter?" Rhaya exclaimed in disbelief.

Carissa calmly sipped her tea. "No threat, darling, a promise. The last person who got in the way of what I wanted? She suffered a great deal before there was nothing in this world that could save her. Your father, bless his soul, attempted everything to save her, which nearly cost him his own life. Luckily the Fates decided to intervene and spare him. While it's unfortunate that his salvation was at her expense, in the end, I got what I wanted. As I always will," she added darkly.

Rhaya watched as her stepmother returned her teacup to its saucer and rose from her chair. When Carissa rounded the corner of the table, she bent close to Rhaya's ear and whispered, "Don't be late." She patted her stepdaughter's shoulder before leaving the room.

The last exchange left Rhaya and the remaining dining room staff stunned and in shock. They all asked themselves the same questions. Did we hear that correctly? Did the governor's wife just admit that she had something to do with Lady Isabella's illness or even her death?!? What should we do now? With a renewed determination, Rhaya stood up from her chair and flashed a quick, sympathetic smile to the staff before leaving the room.

As soon as she closed the door to her bedroom, Rhaya began to pace the floor, her hands shaking in both fury and fear. Fury that Carissa essentially admitted to playing some part in what happened to her mother. Fear, because if push came to shove, and Rhaya pushed, Carissa would shove. After that, there's no telling what the outcome would be. She's already somewhat proven that murder is not beneath her and would feel zero remorse about it.

Rhaya wrapped her arms around herself, trying to focus on the plan formulated with Darcy and Keira. She glanced at the clock on her dresser and noted that it was time to start gathering what she would need to get ready for the wedding. Her dress and veil were already at the church, but she needed her shoes, makeup and hair accessories. Keira and Darcy would be helping her to apply her makeup and arrange her hair. 

This new development from breakfast with Carissa further solidified Rhaya's decision to abscond from her wedding day. She didn't love the groom and couldn't stand to remain any longer than ten minutes in his presence. In addition, she knew of his plans for her to meet with an unknown "accident", one from which he would make certain that she would not survive. Then there's that last, pesky detail. Her heart would always belong to a treasure-hunting sea captain, and that was unlikely to change.

***

Crowley paced back and forth beneath the tree while he waited for his counterpart to arrive. He had received a message from a member of the governor's staff, asking for a meeting. The note said it was important and pertained to the upcoming nuptials of Lady Rhaya and Lord Ashton. Crowley was of the opinion that the wedding was ill-advised, due to his perceived reluctance on the part of the bride-to-be.

When he heard the soft footsteps to his right, his hand immediately flew to the dagger at his side. Before he could draw it, the mysterious stranger called out. "Captain Crowley? Thank you for meeting me here." The visitor stepped into view, with beams from the moonlight allowing him to recognize her.

"Ah, Captain Keira, I presume," he drawled. "Currently of The Aurora, as inherited from Sydney "The Sparrow" upon her retirement," he remarked.

She nodded. "I appreciate you meeting me on such short notice and hope you can help me. I assume you are here for the wedding of my sister and her pig of a fiancé," she started. At Crowley's nod of confirmation, she continued. "This wedding must not take place, for many reasons. Not the least of which is Rhaya has developed feelings for Captain Dean Winchester."

Crowley snickered. "You don't say? Well, will wonders never cease. And what, pray tell, does this have to do with me?" he asked.

Keira explained the plan, or as much as had been formulated so far. Crowley listened intently, nodding where appropriate and offering his own suggestions. When she was finished presenting her case, she kept her gaze firmly locked on her fellow captain. "Can we count on your assistance, Captain Crowley?"

He thoughtfully stroked his bearded chin before his face broke into a wide grin. "From one captain to another, I will assist you in your endeavor. The lady Rhaya deserves much better than she has been promised to. Not to mention, it will give me no end of amusement to see Lord Jerk-Face get ditched at the altar," he muttered, sticking out his hand.

A look of gratitude passed over Keira's face as she shook Captain Crowley's hand. "Thank you, Captain, I swear you won't regret this. I promise to see that you are more than fairly compensated at the conclusion of this fiasco," she vowed. After giving Crowley a salute and receiving one in return, Keira reminded him to wait by the tree for the next phase of the plan.

On her way back to the mansion, Connor, the captain of the guards, was on his way to meet her. "Captain Keira, a ship has just entered our sovereign waters, The Black Diamond, and is asking for permission to dock in our harbor. However, Lady Carissa gave strict orders that our harbor is to be closed from now until the newlyweds depart. What shall I do?" he wondered.

Keira pinched the bridge of her nose and gave an exasperated sigh. "Of course she'd order that," she mumbled. "Connor, I've known you almost as long as I've known Rhaya, and I'm sure you'd want what's best for her. In that spirit, please grant docking privileges to The Black Diamond. I accept full responsibility from Lady Carissa," she affirmed, then glanced at her watch. "I am expected to meet with Rhaya to start getting ready for the wedding, so I must take my leave."

"I will do as you suggest, Captain Keira," he nodded, then took a half-step closer to her. "I hope I won't be out of line when I ask if you have some sort of plan for our dear Rhaya?" he asked.

"Absolutely, Connor," she smirked. "Please ask Captain Winchester to meet Captain Crowley at my favorite tree, the one where Rhaya and I first met." He agreed and watched as Keira continued on her way.

***

Rhaya sat in her chair at the vanity, absently twirling a makeup brush while she waited for her partners in crime. The plan was simple enough, sensible, not too many moving parts. She only hoped it was sufficient to ensure the ultimate outcome of her non-marriage to Ashton. If for some reason this didn't work, well....she shuddered to think of the alternative.

Keira and Darcy entered the room around fifteen minutes later and began the process of preparing the bride. Rhaya's hair was styled in a classic updo, with wispy tendrils on each side loosely curled to frame her face. Her makeup was kept minimal, using mostly neutral colors to allow her natural beauty to shine through.

After those tasks were completed, the women helped the bride to step into her dress. While Darcy laced the corseted bodice, Rhaya closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to drift towards Dean. Though it had only been a short two weeks since she had last seen him, it had seemed like the longest two weeks of her life. 

It was more than just his friendship she missed. His absence made her heart ache to be with him, see him. She longed to look into his mossy green eyes and not find judgment in them for being her true self in his presence. Especially now, she craved the safety and security she felt when his arms were around her. Only now was she finally able to admit to herself that she loved him, and had been in love with him for some time.

"Time for your veil, my dearest friend," Darcy nudged softly. Rhaya gestured with her hand to where the veil was draped over the back of a chair. The silver tiara was simple, yet held no shortage of crystals to add sparkle to the occasion. Darcy situated it in her hair, careful not to disturb the locks piled on top of her head. Keira fanned out the piece of netting at the back to ensure no wrinkles, then moved to stand in front of the bride.

"For what it's worth, you look beautiful, Sis. Are you ready?" Keira asked as she and Darcy each took one of Rhaya's hands, giving them a gentle squeeze in consolation.

Rhaya took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," she replied. A knock sounded at the door and she heard her father's voice from the other side announcing it was time to go. Rhaya picked up her bouquet and the trio headed for the door.

Keira and Darcy stepped out first in their floor-length bridesmaids' dresses made of navy blue crèpe back satin, with a lace overlay on the bodice. Their hair and makeup were similar in style to the bride, and each carried a bouquet of white roses with a red ribbon woven among them.

Lord Darius gave each woman a beaming smile and expressed how lovely they looked before giving them a peck on the cheek. When he turned to his daughter, his eyes became glossy as he realized she was no longer his little girl, but a full-grown woman on her wedding day. "How I wish your mother was here to see this," he whispered, a lone tear streaking down his cheek. "Whatever happens today, I want you to know I love you very much, Rhaya."

Tears were threatening in her own eyes as the magnitude of the occasion and all that would unfold suddenly caught up with her. "I love you too, Papa," she replied softly. "Quick, pass me your handkerchief, please. Darcy will have my head if I ruin the work she put in on my makeup," she chuckled.

He did as she asked and watched as she carefully dabbed at her eyes. Once she had her emotions somewhat under control again, he kissed her forehead. Then he reached up and brought the veil down over her face. The doors then opened, and the music began to play the chosen piece for the march down the aisle. There were many expressions of approval rippling among the guests as the bride and her father walked past the pews.

At the altar, Lord Darius placed Rhaya's hand in Ashton's, then moved to take his place at Carissa's side. Rhaya hazarded a glance at her stepmother, who had a satisfied smirk on her face, certain that she had won this particular battle, if not the war. A grin twitched at the corners of Rhaya's mouth, because she knew the day was only getting started.

"Please be seated," the officiant commanded. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...."

***

Dean was met at the docks by Connor, who relayed Keira's message for him to meet someone in the trees behind the estate. The message was cryptic, but he trusted that the meeting was all part of Keira's plan, thus he followed its instructions. When he got to the designated spot, he could see no one waiting for him. He was about to leave when a figure emerged from behind the giant trunk.

"Captain Winchester I presume?" the man inquired.

"Who's asking?" Dean countered, his hand on his sword.

"Name's Fergus McLeod, but I'm better known as Crowley, Captain of The Moon Raider. I'm here on official business for Lady Rhaya and her friends, whose objective is to stop the wedding," he revealed.

Dean relaxed a bit and held out his hand for Crowley to shake. "I've heard of you. Nice to meet you in person, and I appreciate your help." Leaning closer, he asked, "By the way, what exactly is the plan?"

"Right now, we need to get you and Sam to the church, so I'll explain on the way." Dean started to follow, then stopped short at the mention of his brother. Crowley rolled his eyes at the unasked question of how he knew Sam had tagged along to the meeting. "Your brother must not have done well at Hide-and-Seek when you were wee Winchesters. He sticks out like a sore thumb. C'mon, we don't have much time," Crowley remarked.

***

The officiant had nearly finished his speech about how important it was to love, honor, respect, and cherish each other. Then he asked the most crucial question. "If anyone here knows of any reason why these two individuals should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Rhaya waited anxiously for someone, preferably Dean, to speak up on her behalf. As the silence grew, so did the beating of her heart until she thought it would nearly leap out of her chest. When a respectable amount of time had passed with no objections, the officiant smiled and prepared to resume the ceremony. Rhaya's heart plummeted to her shoes at the prospect of being legally bound to Ashton, and with that, she would always be at his mercy.

"Do you, Lord Ashton Kane, take Rhaya Payton to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forth?" the officiant asked.

"I do," Ashton replied with a fake smile.

The officiant turned his attention to Rhaya. "And do you, Rhaya Payton, take Ashton Kane to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forth?" 

Rhaya looked into Ashton's eyes and saw nothing but a hardness and an arrogance, with no love for her in them. She was determined to not be trapped in a miserable marriage with him. If Dean wouldn't save her by bursting through the doors and declaring his love, then she would have to save herself. "I....I....," she managed to get out before collapsing to the floor in a puddle of white.

Chaos erupted at the altar, with Keira attempting to assess Rhaya's condition among the ever-growing crowd. Lord Darius broke through and knelt at his daughter's side while bellowing at people to back away and give the bride some room to breathe.

Keira clasped Rhaya's right hand while checking her pulse with the left. She felt an almost imperceptible pressure on her right hand, then noticed a minute twitch in Rhaya's nose. To her relief, Keira realized this was the signal from the bride that it wasn't a true fainting spell.

Nonetheless, she had to get Rhaya somewhere more quiet to reassess the situation. Fortunately, she saw Connor weaving his way through the crowd to offer his assistance, so she called out to him. When he finally reached Keira's position, she told him what had happened. The captain of the guards scooped Rhaya up in his arms and took her back to the room she was in before the ceremony.

***

Carissa was a mixture of emotions as she watched the picture-perfect wedding crumble before her eyes. She was so close to getting what she wanted, and then Rhaya had to go and faint in front of everyone at her own wedding. Appearances meant everything to Carissa, and this certainly didn't help matters any.

Ashton was sure to be embarrassed by her stepdaughter's inability to suck it up long enough to say "I do". Lord Darius, of course, was beside himself, worried about his precious daughter. He rushed after Connor and the others back to the dressing room, where the doctor waited. Carissa moved to follow her husband, but was stopped short by a look that said he preferred she wait for him to return with news.

Maybe it was the stress of Rhaya trying to meet everyone's expectations of her, or her objection to an arranged marriage that caused her to faint. Frankly, Carissa didn't care. All that mattered was that at the end of the day, Rhaya was legally bound to Ashton in holy matrimony. However, the more Carissa thought about it, the more her anger grew at the distinct possibility that some shenanigans were brewing.

Carissa turned just in time to see Lord Ashton stomping over to where she was standing at the back of the church. "What in the hell is going on? One minute she's about to say 'I do', the next minute she's on the floor passed out!! She must be plotting something," he muttered. "For all we know, she could be escaping out of the window of that little room where they're keeping her!"

"Get a grip, Ashton," Carissa hissed. "I agree, her behavior is rather suspicious, but I have given her ample warning of what will happen if she does not follow through. Besides, I have guards stationed at every possible exit. They are under strict orders that if she tries to escape, one of them will see her and not allow her to leave the grounds," she assured him.

Ashton snorted. "Most of those guards have known her since she was a child. Those who haven't will take their cues from the more senior members of the guard," he grumbled. He scanned the crowd to see if Rhaya was somehow trying to blend in with the crowd to then make her escape. Finally, his eyes landed on Lucifer and a few of his men, standing around and taking in the scene. Ashton marched over to the group with a plan forming in his mind.

"Well, well, Lord Ashton, seems you're having some trouble closing this deal," Lucifer smirked.

"If you want to keep that bonus, you'll help me make sure my bride doesn't escape," Ashton seethed.

Lucifer shrugged. "From what I can see, the escape routes are all blocked by the governor's guards," he replied.

"I want people I can....trust, and unfortunately, you with your men are the best candidates. That's who I need to be guarding the exit points, not Lady Rhaya's 'friends'," he snapped.

"Fine," Lucifer muttered, before going over to his men. He relayed Ashton's instructions, but with a few modifications to make sure the deal was upheld.

"Now, I'm going in there to make sure she finishes what was started," Ashton grumbled as he started towards the back room.

Right as Carissa had picked up her skirts to follow him, Lord Darius returned to her side to give an update to his wife and his daughter's almost-husband. "Rhaya's fine, she just got a bit overwhelmed with the magnitude of the day's events. Keira and Darcy are in with her now, getting her calmed down enough to where she can continue with the ceremony."

Carissa looked at her husband in disbelief, as if he'd sprouted another head. "Are you serious? The three of them are plotting something, I'm sure of it, and I'm going to find out what," she declared. She started to head towards the back room, determined to put a stop to whatever mischief was being plotted.

At that moment, the bride reappeared, veil covering her face, ready to begin the ceremony again. Carissa and Ashton made their way back up the aisle, their actions assuring everyone that the wedding would pick up where it left off.

Once she reached the altar, Carissa moved into her designated pew and Ashton took his place in front of the officiant, while Lord Darius escorted the bride. He turned to face the bride before giving her away again to Ashton. When the governor lifted the veil, a collective gasp rippled through the church.

"YOU'RE NOT RHAYA!!" Ashton thundered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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