#you can always count on maisie for the real takes

[katelynnwrites]

Are You Gonna Feel The Way I Feel? (Are You For Real, Joan’s Sister?) | Ona Batlle

warnings: f for fluff

word count: 3231

summary: your friend, joan, introduces you to his sister and now you have two questions. the first, is she going to feel the way you feel? and the second, is she for real?

a/n: i think all of us united fans need some fluff today so here’s the fic that i’ve just finished writing, based off the song, cate’s brother by maisie peters, which i was beyond lucky to have been able to see live. this is also the very belated euros fic i always meant to write…

You’d never watched football before. You’d never quite got the hype surrounding it either.

But when your friend Joan, suggested you come along with him to England, to support his sister who was going to be playing in the Women’s Euro, you couldn’t say no. You’d never been to England before and Joan had promised you a good time. It would be silly for you to say no.

That simple conversation is when you first heard Ona’s name.

That conversation also led to where you were now, standing in the friends and family section of Spain’s first game in the tournament.

When Finland scored, you could sense the unease in the Spanish supporters. But what amazed you was how they didn’t stop cheering. They kept chanting and waving their flags.

Their faith paid off because when the game finished, Spain had scored four goals to Finland’s one.

Joan makes his way down to the barriers as the players begin to greet their family.

One of Spain’s players strikes up a conversation with you and when it’s over, you see the prettiest brunette standing in front of your friend.

‘Did you meet my sister?’ He asks and you answer, ‘No I didn’t.’

As you do so, you can’t help but check her out.

Joan had pointed her out to you earlier, telling you that she wore the number two and played as a defender.

What he had apparently left out was exactly how gorgeous she is. From her many freckles to the tattoos you could see, she’s absolutely beautiful.

‘Hola, I’m Ona.’ She says, when you take too long to answer.

You blush with embarrassment but reach out to shake her hand.

‘It’s nice to meet you.’

Ona smiles at you and later, when you’re not looking, whispers in Catalan to her brother.

‘You didn’t tell me your friend is so hot.’

Joan only shrugs and laughs.

******

You attend all of Ona’s following games. You ignore your friend when he smirks as you loudly cheer every time Ona gets the ball.

Ona eagerly greets you after each game. By the end of the group stage, the brunette fullback had gone from shaking your hand to hugging you and giving you kisses on the cheek.

After she plays and wins against Denmark, she asks if you’re free to have a coffee with her.

Joan snorts but his girlfriend hits him lightly to get him to shut up.

Ona looks at you hopefully and you grin and nod. The Spanish woman’s smile grows even wider and she can’t stop herself from hugging you tightly again.

You hold her slim form against you, not minding how sweaty she is. Being close to Ona gave you butterflies inside and you found yourself liking it more and more.

******

Ona meets you at the coffee shop near her hotel with a bright smile and eager eyes.

‘Hi.’

‘Hey you.’

‘You look amazing.’ Ona murmurs, stepping closer and kissing your cheek gently.

You blush, looking down at your ripped jeans and simple white shirt.

‘You look amazing too Ona.’

Now it’s Ona’s turn to blush and she shrugs lightly.

Seeing her in Spain’s blue hoodie and a pair of black leggings, it only served to confirm what you already knew. That you didn’t only fancy her like crazy when she was in a football kit.

‘Come on.’

Ona tentatively reaches for your hand and she leads you towards the entrance, where she drops your hand for a moment, only so that she can hold the door open for you.

‘Gracias.’

The brunette giggles at your use of her native language and upon hearing the sound of her laugh, you find yourself falling even harder for her.

You sit across the table from Joan’s sister, smiling at her as she sips her coffee a little too eagerly, resulting in her wincing and hurriedly setting down her cup.

She grins sheepishly at you and your heart goes, ‘Love her, she’s the one and we shall wed.’

******

Later that night as you sit alone in your hotel room, your head says, ‘Are you gonna work? Are you gonna hurt? Are you gonna last forever?’

You had always prided yourself on being independent, on being practical but you were developing feelings for Ona faster than you ever thought was possible. Your thoughts tell you that it’s unreasonable but Ona is just so kind and funny and smart. It’s so easy to talk to her and she makes you feel the most comfortable you’ve ever been when you’re with her.

******

You admire her passion for her sport, the way it so obviously shows whenever she’s on the pitch. It shows even when she’s off the pitch, in the way she studies how her opponents play.

Watching how her brow furrows in concentration as she looks intently at the screen where her game film is playing, your heart tells you again that she’s the one for you.

But you’re still scared.

Sitting cross legged on her hotel bed, you keep watching her. Ona had kicked the teammate whom she was rooming with, out for a few hours, telling her that she wanted to spend time with you.

She has such lovely chocolate brown eyes. The brunette is five-foot-five and she’s a little younger than you. She also liked to be fully prepared for her games and if that meant looking through hours of game film to study her opponents, she was willing to do it.

And you were willing to let her. She looks adorable when she’s focusing and you are more than content to just spend time with her. She was playing in one of the most important tournaments of her life and the fact that she wanted to spend time with you even as she did so made your heart swell with affection for her.

Five minutes later and Ona declares, ‘Okay. That’s enough work for tonight.’

Joan’s sister puts her ipad aside, moving closer to you.

She leans her head against your shoulder and softly asks, ‘How was your day hermosa?’

Your heart skips a beat and your cheeks turn red.

Ona hums and after a few moments of silence she lifts her head up hurriedly, ‘Was that okay? You’re not answering and I don’t mean to pry because Joan told me you can be a bit shy and reserved. I’m sorry-’

‘Hey. Don’t be sorry. I’ve had a really good day. It’s just that no one has ever asked me that before.’ You quietly admit.

‘Oh.’ Ona looks at you sadly before gently taking your hand in hers and running her thumb over your palm.

‘I’d like to ask you about your day every day, if you don’t mind of course.’ Ona murmurs, as she keeps soothing you with her thumb.

‘I think I’d like that.’

Ona leans over, setting your hand down so that she can cradle your face in her hands and give you a protective kiss on your forehead.

******

You travel to the stadium in Brighton with Joan and his girlfriend. You’re all nervous but upon seeing the confidence that Ona walks out with, your mind is set at ease. You can tell that it does the same for Joan because he squeezes your hand tightly.

‘She’s got this.’

******

For the next ninety minutes, you watch in awe as Ona plays her heart out for her country.

Her interaction with Beth Mead and the referee has you on the edge of the seat.

‘Come on Ona, don’t lose your head.’ You murmur anxiously.

Joan glances over but you barely notice, far too busy focusing on his sister.

A few minutes later, when Ona is tackled by another English player, you join the Spanish fans in their booing.

Then you remain standing, tiptoeing to look over the heads of the other fans to make sure that you can see with your own eyes that Ona gets up and is okay.

When she does, you release the breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Joan really turns to look at you then.

‘You care a lot for my sister don’t you?’

With pink tinged cheeks, you’re answering your friend a heartbeat later.

‘I do.’

******

You grab Ona’s hand as soon as she gets close enough to the barriers. The devastation and still fresh tear streaks on her face lets you know that she doesn’t need you to tell her she played well.

Every minute of the one hundred and twenty minutes she had played showed that. It was as clear as day.

So instead, you say, ‘I’m so proud of you.’

Ona shakes her head but you refuse to let her pull out of your embrace.

It had broken your heart when you watched her lie on the grass, her arms coming up to cover her face as she’d cried earlier, as soon as the whistle had blown. All you had wanted to do then was run across the field to her but you hadn’t been able to so you were hoping to make up for it now.

‘I am so proud of you.’ You repeat wholeheartedly, squeezing her gently.

That’s when Ona breaks down completely, sobbing into your shoulder.

‘We were the better team. It’s not fair.’ She chokes out.

‘I know. I know.’ You stroke her hair and she cries even harder.

Joan puts a hand on her back, rubbing it soothingly.

******

You don’t leave Ona alone for a single second. From the moment you hug her at the stadium, to the moment she’s back in her hotel room, you’re by her side.

When Joan and his girlfriend leave to get back to their hotel, you stay with the brunette fullback.

Joan gives you a knowing look as you see him out, squeezing your shoulder and murmuring a quiet, ‘Gracias. I know you’ll take good care of her.’

When you turn back to Ona, you see that she’s still curled into a small lump under her blanket.

You sit down on the bed beside her and say nothing else, simply reaching a hand under the blanket.

Ona grasping your hand tightly in hers a second later is more than enough of a response.

You lie beside her, holding her hand throughout the rest of the night.

******

Ona wakes up when the sun rises, a smile forming on her face as she feels your hand, still in hers.

Sometime in the night, you had pushed the blanket off her face so that she could breathe properly. Worrying about Ona was apparently something that you were going to have to get used to now.

The fullback brings your joined hands to her lips and gently, she presses a kiss onto the back of your hand.

You stir awake and are met with soft brown eyes that hold the most affectionate of looks in them.

‘Hi.’ You breathe and in answer, Ona whispers a quiet, ‘Hola.’

‘You okay?’

‘Better now. Thank you for staying.’

You shrug, ‘I was happy to. I’m even more happy to see you smile.’

Ona’s smile widens and she kisses your cheek lightly.

‘D-Do you have anything planned today?’

‘No.’

‘Want to get breakfast?

The nervous expression she’s wearing makes your heart skip a beat.

‘Ona, are you asking me out on a date?’

The Spaniard’s cheeks and ears flush adorably, ‘And if I am?’

‘Then I would say yes. But I would however, insist that I pay. I need to treat my favourite player right.’

Ona sits up then, a soft laugh leaving her.

‘Vale, I am honoured to be your favourite player.’

******

Ona invites you to watch the Euro final with her. She had managed to get two tickets in the German’s friends and family section and she was anxiously hoping you would say yes.

She had gone on a short impromptu trip to Austria with Joan and his girlfriend, her brother’s way of trying to take her mind off the quarter final game.

You found it adorable how much your friend cared about his sister.

You had explored London on your own while your friend and Ona were out of the country.

The brunette had insisted you wait to explore Manchester till she came back though. She was adamant that she be your tour guide in the city she now called home.

Ona didn’t want to rush things, the first date had gone so well and she didn’t want to jinx things by having a second date so soon. But she just wanted to spend time with you. She had missed you so much while she was away, even though it was only for a few days. Texting and calling just wasn’t enough.

The Spaniard didn’t have to worry because as soon as she had asked, you’d said yes. You wanted to spend time with her just as much as she wanted to spend time with you.

And Ona couldn’t stop herself from excitedly kissing your forehead.

You giggle and Ona’s gaze flicks down towards your lips just once before she meets your eyes.

But it’s enough to let you know that the feelings you have for her are reciprocated.

It’s why you don’t hesitate to cup her face in your hands and gently kiss her.

Ona melts, sighing into your mouth and kissing you back.

Her hands reach for your waist, fingers sneaking under your shirt and brushing against your bare skin.

The brunette pulls back slightly, just enough to breathe before pressing her lips back onto yours.

The second time she pulls back, she closes her eyes and leans her forehead against yours.

‘I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first met you.’ She whispers.

You laugh softly and tell her, ‘Me too.’

Outside your hotel room is not the most romantic place to share a first kiss with the woman who could potentially be the love of your life but you wouldn’t change a thing about it.

******

Watching Ona jump to her feet, cheering at the top of her lungs for Germany’s players, you can’t help but smile.

Her excitement and joy are contagious.

The cropped white collared shirt and ripped jeans she’s wearing looks so gorgeous on her. The grin on her face makes her even more beautiful.

You were so happy that she was feeling better and that she had mostly stopped reliving the lost game over and over.

And again, your heart goes, ‘Love her, she’s the one and we shall wed.’

******

When a couple of Germany’s players ask Ona if she would like to come to their after party, Ona glances at you, silently asking if you’d want to go.

You give her a nod and the brunette quickly relays the answer to the Germans.

******

In the hours to come, you learn that the Germans really know how to party.

The alcohol and loud music play a large part in you getting the courage to ask Ona to dance with you.

Ona laughs, shaking her head and protesting, ‘I can’t dance. I’m truly awful at it.’

You have a hard time imagining Ona would be bad, let alone awful at anything but nevertheless, you plead, ‘Come on. Please. Just one song for me?’

Joan’s sister hesitates for a split second before setting down her bottle of beer and taking your hand in hers.

‘Just for you. But don’t blame me if I step on your toes.’

******

Laughing and giggling as you stumble down the corridor of your hotel, with Ona’s hand in yours, you feel like you’re floating with happiness.

Although that may mostly be the alcohol.

You’re both more than a little tipsy and you hurriedly tap your key card to open the door.

Ona eagerly follows you into the room and one moment she’s in front of you and the next, she’s letting out an undignified squeak as she trips and lands on top of you, on your bed.

You laugh breathlessly but Ona isn’t at all fazed, simply taking advantage of her new position and kissing you hard.

‘I love kissing you.’ She mumbles, kissing you again and again.

You respond happily, losing yourself in the feeling of Ona making out with you. The feel of her lips on yours is intoxicating.

When the fullback leans back slightly, you look at her with wide beseeching eyes that ask, ‘Why’d you stop?’

Joan’s sister caresses your waist lightly, ‘Lo siento. I just, I wanted to ask…Will you be my girlfriend?’

You freeze, looking at the hopeful expression on her face.

Her chocolate brown eyes are shining but your head is screaming, ‘Are we gonna make it, gonna break it when it’s now or never?’

Ona keeps looking at you, her thumb carefully stroking your hip over and over again.

The thoughts running through your head jump to, ‘If it’s gonna hurt, will it be worth it and will I recover?’

You must be taking way too long to answer because the Spaniard asks gently, ‘Talk to me? What are you thinking about?’

Your inclination to hesitate is overcome by Ona’s reassuring tone and it comes out as a tiny whisper, fraught with insecurities, ‘Are you gonna feel the way I feel?’

‘Are you for real, Joan’s sister?’ Is another thought that’s on the forefront of your mind but you keep that one to yourself.

Ona shifts her hand to your cheek, resuming her reassuring stroking there.

‘Hermosa, if you mean that your heart skips a beat every time I walk into a room, then yes, I feel the same way. I get butterflies in my stomach whenever you look at me.’

‘You do?’

It’s almost too good to be true. Here Joan’s sister is, telling you that she returns the feelings you have for her.

Hearing it from her own lips is everything you’ve dreamt of for the past month.

Your head and heart are telling you the same thing now, ‘Will we ever get together? We’d be perfect for each other. Will we ever get together?’

Ona kisses your cheek affectionately.

‘Listen, I like you so incredibly much. I won’t let you down or lead you on. I’m not like the others, I promise.’

The raw honesty in Ona’s voice is clear and you know that if she’s anything like her brother, she wouldn’t say something like this lightly.

‘How can I know for sure? It’s only been a summer.’

Joan’s sister tries to keep a straight face because even she can hear, from the tone of your voice, that you’ve already made up your mind. And it was in her favour.

‘Get a flight to Spain and you can meet my mother.’ The brunette says easily.

‘Really?’

Ona giggles at the incredulity in your voice. She didn’t know how else to make sure you knew that she’s serious about the depth of her feelings for you.

‘Really. You already know my brother and he loves you. I’m sure my mother and father would too.’

‘Okay. I’d love to be your girlfriend and I’d love to go to Spain with you.’

The big grin on your face is matched by the goofy one on the brunette’s.

‘Yes!’

Ona cheers and leans down to kiss you, conveying all her emotions into the physical gesture. It nearly overwhelms you, the joy you feel. It assures you that you’re making the right choice.

That’s when you became her only girl and now you date Joan’s sister.

Spanish Translations:

gracias - thank you

hermosa - beautiful

hola - hi

vale - okay

lo siento - i’m sorry

[fleur-magistrale]

End of the year appreciation letter.

For; Maia Shaw, Kanaira Maisie, Lucia Belle, Flanna Merceia, Lavinia Grace, Larissa Fay —As we close out another year, I wanted to take a moment to send you a heartfelt thank you for being an incredible friend. Seriously, you’re the best! Throughout this year, you’ve been there for me through thick and thin. Your unwavering support, laughter, and shoulder to lean on have meant the world to me. I can always count on you to brighten my day and lift my spirits. I want you to know that your friendship is a constant source of joy and strength in my life. Whether we’re embarking on crazy adventures or just chilling and chatting, every moment with you is a treasure. You have this amazing ability to make even the ordinary moments extraordinary. You know how to turn any situation into an unforgettable memory, thank you for always being real with me, for accepting me for who I am, quirks and all. Your honesty and authenticity are rare and precious qualities that I cherish.As we step into a new year, I can’t wait to see what adventures, laughter, and mischief we’ll get into together. I know it’s going to be epic because, with you by my side, anything is possible. Wishing you a joyful holiday season filled with love, laughter, and all the good things life has to offer. Here’s to another year of amazing friendship!

For; Malenke Irgihas, Brawijaya Karno, Sekar Nin Merah, Veronica Moreau, Raine Kath, Emarea Tatjana, Milan Soir, Farissa Hartley, Kaje Ann, and those that I can’t mention one by one — As we bid farewell to another year, I wanted to take a moment to express my appreciation for our budding friendship. Even though we haven’t known each other for very long, I can already tell that you’re someone special. Throughout the past year, we’ve shared some great moments and conversations. From the first time we met, I felt a genuine connection and a sense of ease in your company. I truly value the time we’ve spent together and the memories we’ve created. I want to thank you for being open and welcoming. You’ve made me feel comfortable and accepted, even though we’re still getting to know each other. Your warmth and kindness have made a positive impact on me. I’m excited about the potential our friendship holds. I hope that in the coming year, we’ll have more opportunities to deepen our bond, share more experiences, and create lasting memories. I believe that our friendship has the potential to grow and become something truly special. Wishing you an amazing year ahead. May our friendship continue to flourish and bring us even closer. Here’s to many more great times together!

Big hugs and much love,

Livvy Anasha Shaw.

[thememoriesofaqueen]

Hello, I just read the update. Can't believe I missed this. I really loved it. Initially I wasn't sure, but I think the opportunity you have created for yourself is so unique. By that I mean you have 2 characters who neither believe the other loves them, if they ever did. Especially Katherine. But the amazing thing is neither of them believed their interaction to be real. They both think they imagined the other. You have this amazing opportunity to have either of them to say or do anything with the other person, because they are imaging the person from their own heart as they believe. If they are not real there's no consequences. I will bet anything that both Katherine and especially Elijah are going to be right back at that fountain, needing to "imagine" their love again!! The very next night. They can't help themselves. He still thinks she could be dead. He will need to "see" her. At night, in the darkness, they can have what they lost back and say anything they want to a ghost. I hope I am making sense but it's really amazing the possibilities are endless. It can be the path they both need to heal and work through their issues, and trust. Elijah can make up his mistakes to her by being truly honest. She can start to heal her broken heart. And neither of them will know because it's not "really" the other person. It's their own pain and loss bringing worth a memory. I can't wait to see what you do with this! And she can still only be Maisie during the day as he watches her!!!! Wow

Hello & thanks for taking the time to leave me this detailed feedback.

About not having seen the update: Is there anything I can do to improve that it is seen? Because I feel like many have missed it. Should I add certain tags? Reblog it more often? Add people? What do you all think?

About your opinion about my question / the last update: You have an interesting view of which i never have been so clear. 'You have 2 characters who neither believe the other loves them, if they ever did.' I always knew that counted for Katherine because she certainly does believe he didn't love her (back in 1492 and after he left for New Orleans). But now that you voiced it, I suddenly understand Elijah's disappointment even more. Don't get me wrong, I always knew what it was. But it was like something misty, now I have a figure to it. Until now, I always thought that Elijah believed that Katherine eventually learned to love him in the time they worked together (because he has loved her for a long time although he was confused about it) and that's why he was so harsh and disappointed when it was stated to him that she only used him and might have played him with her supposed feelings.

'How do I know this isn't another lie? Katherine Pierce deceiving yet another man.' If he feared that she might never (is capable of) loving him, then this scene hurt even more. With Katherine it's a '(I know) he doesn't love me' but with Elijah it's more like a 'I fear she'll never love me (back)'.

I don't know if that makes sense. 😅

The fountain thing is a great key moment, thanks for making me aware of it! Now I have some romantic ideas. 🙈

I already wrote a small part of the next chapter that already contains his fears if it's right that he's invading Maisie's/Katherine's space at university. And he watches Maisie, that woman that doesn't make sense at all.

I don't know if he shall try to interact with Maisie as well. Until now, he's keeping his distance but I don't know if he should try meeting her. What do you think?

[wildroseparadise]

Magenta: Loki x reader

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word count: 1,3k words

Requested: Yes, for @msfandomfreak. I hope you like it!! ♡

Summary: Imagine not seeing color until you meet your soulmate, and then finding him on a mission to save his brother, and your best friend, Thor. (soulmate!au)

Warnings: None, I don't think so, at least [Please tell me if I missed any!]

Here's part II !

Want to join my TAGLIST? Follow the link, please!

You remembered it from when you were young; hearing about it from adults, learning about it in school, and giggling over it with friends.

"Don't worry, sweetie, when you find the one for you, you will know."

"There is a hormone much like serotonin, which floods your brain--"

"When Eric looked at Maisy today, I could have sworn he saw color!"

Having lived alone in New York for years, it became much more of a reality after moving into the Avengers Tower- always surrounded by "the real deal". Stark and Pepper; Nat and Bruce; Clint having told you about his secret wife and children; and even Thor meeting Jane, and then having to help him through their breakup and his denial.

But even though people around you kept meeting their soulmates, and the blacks and whites that clouded your vision were a stark reminder of it, you started to lose hope and belief in the whole thing.

You contented yourself with the friendships and family you had made with the team, being the closest to Thor- his boisterous presence successfully calming your angst at times. You convinced yourself that you would never meet your soulmate, that you might just have been the exception and just didn't have one, no end in sight.

That was until today,

Having received a distressing message from Heimdal, asked after by the prince, you had successfully infiltrated the planet known by its inhabitants as Sakaar, no more than five hours later.

Apart from distant stars, the luminescent glow from skyscraper windows provided the only touch of light in the city streets, although they looked to be at a greater distance than the burning balls of gas.

It was easy to move through the shadows, the half-finished monument of your friend on the side of a building giving you an idea of where Thor was. Having no idea on how to get in and not fancying getting caught before even getting to your teammates, you opt for the next best thing. The Quinjet.

Bruce must have landed here when he didn't come back, you quirk an eyebrow. Taking a few steps back, you accelerate in speed and leap forwards into the crater shaped junkyard, landing steadily beside the run-down ship. Making your way inside, you decide to quietly wait out the dark and scout for entryways.

Jerking awake to the sound of banging against the metal roof, cursing under your breath when the latch opens, you found that you didn't have to search for your friends anymore.

Moving through the crowded marketplaces and alleyways, you use your powers of manipulation to discourage any wandering eyes. Thor leading you through the Hulk parade, you meet up with a woman who Thor introduces you to,

"Hi," Thor starts.

"Hi," the woman responds.

"I was going to do that," your friend defends, pointing towards the unconscious alien laying in front of you.

"Yeah, well, I did it first" she says with refreshing candor.

"That's good. What are you doing here?" you can practically hear the smile in his tone.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving." the woman peers behind Thor; the way Bruce flinches away surely looking like a schoolgirl hiding from her crush.

Humph, you hum from behind your friend in an attempt for him to acknowledge you.

"I got sidetracked," he muses, pointing towards the pair of you.

"You know everybody is looking for you, right?" she asks, pointing towards Thor's openly displayed features.

"Ah, yes. Well, thanks to Lady Y/n here," Thor throws his arm around your shoulders, a proud grin on his face, "we don't need to sneak around or hide ourselves."

She raises an eyebrow in question, looking between the two of you.

"I can show you," you sigh, lifting your hand and trailing your fingers in the air in front of you as if though you were brushing something.

A rumbling starts in the ground, the vibrations causing the gravel at your feet to sputter and move; the sound of hooves in the distance getting louder. A herd of three-headed, grey mares rode through the crowd, but nobody seemed to move. Their eyes red as blood, and teeth half rotten, their neighs tearing at only her eardrums.

"How- How did you do that?" the woman in front of you asks, fidgeting uneasily in front of you. Although you can detect a clear flicker of delight at such a powerful display by a potential ally.

"Manipulation. That's my power," you shrug, "I use it to keep anyone from suspecting anything when they see us walking past."

She nods towards you, leading the group into a building close by. You walk next to her, talking to pass the time, but mostly to ignore the infatuated musings of the men in your company.

After having established that the woman you now knew was a Valkyrie was joining your team, you walk through the door she had led you to.

First in is Thor, then Valkyrie, before you is Bruce, and lastly you. "Suprise," you hear a new voice call out but before you can look up you hear some metal falling to the floor.

"Ow," looking up at the person in front of you at the same time he does, your eyes meet, and the world seems to stop. You throat is either closing or your lungs had stopped working because you could no longer breath.

The scariest thing was that it didn't even seem important. The fact that you couldn't breathe didn't matter to you. You were too consumed by the color that now sprung out in front of you, like fireworks or explosions of color lighting up a normally grey world.

The things that you had forever wanted to see the color of didn't seem to matter now, either. You knew that there was a large window to your left, you had seen it when the door had first opened, but you couldn't for the life of you tear your eyes away to gaze at the sky. You didn't care to look at the color of your hair or your tight, armored suit.

All you could stare into were those beautiful eyes staring back at you. A sea of blues and greens that mixed in the perfect way, luring you further in with every second that passed.

You knew who the man in front of you was, even with the golden chains that wrapped around him you could tell that he was powerful. Loki, God of Mischief, the brother of Thor and destroyer of New York.

"-/n? Y/n? Hello!" Thor waved his arms in the air to catch your attention, but you were scared to move. You weren't scared of him, though, although you surely should be. This was Loki, the Loki, and you were only ever scared that if you moved- if you even blinked, everything would fall apart.

You felt such peace looking at him, but all you could see in his gaze was surprise and slight astonishment. What if he snapped out of it and realized that he hated you, despite never having met you before? You didn't want to act weak then, throwing yourself into his arms like you wanted to, if he was at that very moment plotting on how to affectively break your heart.

No. You could see a small smile rise on his lips, surely having read your mind. Wait, could he read minds? Surely, he can!

"You." he sounded content. Could you be so lucky as to a have him be happy to see you? To have him feel the same for you as you do him?

"You." you smiled at him, seeing the gleam of mischief in his eyes that you just knew meant that he had heard your thoughts, and felt the same.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you." Loki sighs, eyes flitting across your face, gaze filled with that of newfound love.

Y/N: Another ask, thank you so much! I hope you liked this and I'm sorry that it took so long to do, I just had to decide where in the whole MCU timeline that I wanted it to take place and so I had to watch all the movies with Loki again to decide. THERE WILL BE A PART 2 COMING, I'VE ALREADY STARTED IT.

Want to join my TAGLIST? Follow the link, please!

[usedtobe-angstyoikawa]

Breakups

(haikyuu boys edition)

Characters: Oikawa Toruu, Kageyama Tobio, Kozume Kenma, Kuroo Tetsuro, Sugawara Koushi, Tsukishima Kei, Miya Atsumu, Yamaguchi Tadashi

Summary: this is how your relationship with the hq boys ends

Warnings: angst

Word count: 2251

a/n: okay so I was listening to my sad music playlist and started fantasizing about how and why the haikyuu boys would end their relationships with their s/o soooo yeah expect some angst. Also I wrote short versions of these situations and I’m planning on posting the complete one shots/headcanons whatever you wanna call it later on :)

Oikawa:

I feel like Oikawa would be the type of lover that says hurtful things when he’s mad or when you guys are fighting. Most of the time it’s because of him not taking care of himself and pushing his body to dangerous limits, being too busy with practice and not giving you enough attention. The real problem is that he stops apologizing for the mean comments after each fight and you start to grow tired of it, feeling like you’re losing him. You probably breakup after a huge fight where he really crosses the line and says something like “I don’t need you to take care of me I can do that myself. This is my dream and I’m willing to sacrifice everything for it, even you” aaaaand you’re done with his shit. The moment you tell him it’s over he stars begging you not to leave him and to give him a second chance, promising he’ll change, but you’ve already made up your mind. He misses you like crazy and cries himself to sleep every night, he feels so lonely and hates the person he’s become, but he’s still too proud to go up to you and properly apologize. So, when he sees you with someone else all he does is greet you with a fake smile and tell you he’s happy for you, which he truly is but deep down he’s waiting for your new lover to fuck it up and get his second chance with you.

Kageyama:

Dating Tobio would be hard, he seems like a boring guy I’m sorry so it’d be hard to tell if he’s still in love with you or not. Some people believe his love language is touch but I don’t think it is, I don’t see him as a physical affection type of guy. I feel like he just loves you and that’s it, he knows he does but he forgets to tell you/show it. He probably doesn’t like cliche or romantic gestures, it’s hard to get him to talk about something else other than volleyball so you’d grow tired of giving and not receiving. You break up with him because you can’t take his lack of interest/demonstration anymore and this boy doesn’t even get it, he’s done nothing wrong? It takes him a while to realize he should’ve at least payed attention to you and showed you he loved you every now and then, but he’s too late. He feels like shit, how could he hurt you like that? Once he’s got his shit together he apologizes to you and when he finds out you’re dating someone else instead of trying to win you back he accepts he just isn’t what you want.

Kenma:

Loving Kenma is like getting a drink without knowing what it is until you taste it, sometimes it could be sweet cocoa, others it could be simple tea, but some times it is burning hot coffee with no sugar. Getting his attention isn’t that hard unless he’s really invested in a video game, you could call him at 3:40 am and he’d answer after the first ring. He’s a pretty good boyfriend, always trying to make you feel loved, but like I said his love can be bitter too. Even though he treats you right and knows you love him back, he’s still pretty insecure about himself and gets jealous easily. He doesn’t even try to hide it, glaring and almost barking at every person who gets remotely close to you in a “friendly” way. Of course you confront him about it and reassure him that you’d never do something like that, he believes you until a new person tries flirting with you and the whole circle starts again. The relationship ends because of a misunderstanding at a party, the situation getting worse with Kenma’s lack of trust and it all ends up in a nasty fight. Sorry :)

Kuroo:

You and Kuroo are not official, but people know you are seeing each other and hanging out almost everyday. He’s not a fuckboy even though he acts like one, this boy is just terrified of heartbreak so when he realizes he’s falling for you he ends things. It’s not a proper breakup ‘cause at the end of the day you weren’t really dating, he just gradually distances himself from you, taking longer to answer your texts, canceling plans at last minute, until it’s over. Not long after things end with Kuroo you start seeing other people, enjoying your social life and finding someone who’s not scared of love. The only problem is that he looks a little bit like your “ex”, tall, muscular, dark hair, but this guy is sweet and caring and he actually wants to be with you. You aren’t mad at Kuroo for not being ready to be in a relationship, although it does hurt like hell to watch him lie to himself and pretend to be someone he’s not. People soon start talking, rumors spread like the plague, and even Kuroo makes a few comments about how you’re “trying to fulfill your fantasy by pretending this guy you’re dating is actually him”. It makes him mad and you can tell, it’s the way he stares when the two of you walk into a room and the eye roll what gives it away, he flirts with you trying to get a reaction out of your “replacement” as he’d call him, maybe start a fight is a good idea too. But you know he’s hurting, deep inside he’s dying to be the one you’re hugging and kissing, like it used to be before he had fucked up. He knows you know it, he knows you see it too.

Sugawara:

Oh boy this one’s gonna hurt. Listen, Suga is a sweetheart so he’d never hurt you. You are childhood friends and start dating during high school. There’s nothing wrong with your relationship, no toxicity just pure fluff everything is perfect, until you finish high school and move to a different city. That’s when it all ends, since you are such good friends and have a healthy relationship you end up in good terms and keep being friends. At first it’s hard ‘cause come on you both probably think you’re soulmates, but once you guys start college and meet new people you start to forget about each other and drift apart. Sometimes you wonder what would’ve happened if you would’ve kept dating, would you have been able of making it work? Long distance and all? Those are the thoughts that frequent yours and Suga’s mind, but none of you say them out loud. For him it’s a bit harder to move on ‘cause he’s the one staying in town, he has to visit the same places you’ve gone to together, everywhere he looks there’s a piece of you. And when you’re back in town for the holidays or just visiting your family it gets worse. It feels like watching a movie made out of his most precious memories, except they are a bit different, older, taller... taken. He swears he’s okay, he’s still your friend and he’s gonna support you no matter what, he’s gonna love you no matter how hard his heart breaks.

Tsukishima:

Now, this one, this boy is toxic. I’ve said it, he’s not ready to be in a relationship ‘cause he hates commitment and just dating in general, but he also doesn’t wanna be alone. You meet him at a party or at a bar and end up going home with him, that’s how it all starts. You’re just fuck buddies, no feelings involved and it’s actually pretty nice ‘cause you don’t want anything serious either. It doesn’t end there though, this needs some drama. At first it’s all fun and games until blondie starts acting up, asking who you’ve been hanging with as if it’d hurt him to find out you’re seeing some else, only to then tell you he doesn’t care ‘cause he’s hooking up with other people as well. He finds himself needing you next to him constantly and convinces himself he’s just horny, he only wants your body. But he wants to hold your hands, he wants to play with your hair... he wants you to be his and his only, he’s growing tired of playing games but he doesn’t want to date you either. Once he accepts he has feelings for you he tries to make you fall in love with him, he succeeds, but you’re both too proud to say it out loud. You dance around each other for months until he finally asks you out, you say no. Oh shit was this boy mad at you, he plays it cool saying he was just joking around but leaves without even giving you a kiss. Expect to receive extra salt after that incident. He starts causing scenes whenever you go out and bump into each other at parties or clubs, getting into fights with other guys that are trying to flirt with you. You have to calm him down and have a talk with him, making it clear he isn’t your boyfriend and that you don’t want to see him anymore. It hurts you ‘cause you’re in love with him, but you just can’t be with someone who’s scared of commitment, not when you still have to learn to love yourself, it’s too risky. You try to stay friends with him but we all know Tsuki is petty af, he only calls you when he’s drunk just to blame you for his suffering, saying stuff like “ I really miss you and I hope you feel like shit”. You don’t think much of it, you know how he is and despite it all you still wish him the best.

Atsumu:

Atsumu is a sweetie, he falls head over heels for you and makes you feel SO loved your heart can’t even take it. He goes too fast though, being so excited when you first start dating that he rushes through the most important parts, the little details. However, you fall for him at a different pace, it takes you a while to get where he is and when you finally reach him he’s already turning around and running towards the finish line. Out of nowhere he tells you he isn’t in love with you anymore and that maybe it’d be better if you two broke up and started seeing other people. You don’t understand where this is all coming from, feeling hurt and betrayed you yell at him, assuring him he’s gonna regret it later. And he does. It doesn’t take him long to realize he should’ve waited a while before ending things with you, after all every couple has their ups and downs and it’s pretty normal to fall out of love for a period of time during the relationship. But he always craved more, he always wanted what he didn’t have and at that moment he wanted freedom, thinking he would be able to get that with someone else. You were right after all, there is no one like you and he’s missing you like crazy.

Yamaguchi:

Im so sorry for doing this to Yams, I love him he’s so PURE. But he’s very insecure about himself, he needs constant reassurance and loves to be praised, so naturally your relationship isn’t the most ideal. At first you think that you can help him love himself by showing him how incredible he was to you and listing every single thing you loved about him, from his freckles to the way he scrunches up his nose when he’s about to cry. Eventually you realize that you’re not really helping, you’re not making it worst either but this boy believes he’s nothing without you and sees you as their savior. You try to explain it to him that in order to truly open up to someone and give your love to them you have to accept yourself the way you are or at least try to, without depending on others to be emotionally stable, otherwise he’s only gonna end up hurt. That’s your biggest fear, what if you fall out of love? What if you’re the one who breaks his heart? If they’re true all those things he says about not being able to go on without you, it’s too big a responsibility for only one person to carry. You know you have to break up with him for his own good, but you can’t do it alone so you ask his friends for some help. One day at the end of practice Tsuki, Suga and Enoshita separate him from the rest of the team and tsk him outside where you’re waiting for them. The four of you explain to him what is going on, you tell him why you want to break up and the boys agree with your posture, telling Yams they’re gonna be there with him through it all and support him no matter what. He breaks down immediately and you hold him tight, head pressed against your chest and fingers tangled in his hair. You cry too, but at the end of the day he understands it’s for his own good and promises to try his best, for you. He’d never admit it but he blames you a little bit for making him believe he was all those pretty things you told him, now any type of compliment leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

[theoreticslut]

Pining for your Best Friend

pairing: george weasley x gryffindor (fem) reader 

requested: @bunnyboo7

 “a George Weasley x Gryffindor reader imagine of 72,74&76. Where the reader and the twins are best friends, the reader likes Fred but Fred and Angelina has this ‘thing’ between them so she’s heartbroken. So George who likes the reader comes in and make her smile and laugh and stuff, and they somehow and up together. Can it also be angsty and fluff at the same time 🤍”

72 -  “I don’t want to let go” // 74 - “Just pretend to be my date” // 76 - “Keep me warm”

word count: 5k

warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

A/N: thank you so much for requesting this love! I had so much fun writing it Xx I hope you like it as much as I do! Also, for everyone else that’s submitted requests, I am working on them and they should be up by the start of next week!! Thank you bunches for requesting stories, it honestly makes me so happy!! Let me know what you guys think and don’t be afraid to request more if there’s something else you’d like written! Xx

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @lauren2408 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @kaitlynw011 @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter

You frown as you watch Fred and Angelina laugh together a few desks ahead of you. Not so long ago you had hoped it would be you and him in the same situation.

You and the twins have been best friends for as long as you can remember, your parents being friends with theirs and your fathers working together at the ministry. Having essentially grown up together, you couldn’t help but develop a crush on Fred. He was funny and outgoing and so easy to joke with, yet you had seen his softer side as well. 

You had seen him take care of Ron and Ginny when they’d get hurt or were having a bad day. You have been comforted by him a number of times and each time your heart swelled a little more with love for the boy.

Since starting hogwarts, however, you’ve been watching him slowly fall in love with Angelina Johnson - a beautiful, kind, and intelligent gryffindor like yourselves who was impeccably skilled in quidditch. It’s really no wonder he would fall for her.

For you, though, it was like a wrecking ball smashing into your heart, completely shattering it and making sure to swing back and hit the pieces it missed the first time around.

You’re not really sure when it had happened, but you had fallen completely in love with your best friend and there’s absolutely no point in telling him now. maybe if you had told him years ago, but it's not like you could go back.

You sigh, trying to ignore the breaking of your heart and the sinking of your stomach as you sit in the middle of transfiguration. Truthfully all you wanted to do was hideaway in your dorm, or maybe even the astronomy tower, and forget about everything. Maybe you could obliviate yourself? Was it safe? I mean, who really cares at this moment as long as you forget ever loving him.

“Hey, beautiful. What’re you thinking about?” You hear your other best friend, George, ask as he leans over to you.

“Nothing.” You sigh, sending a very unconvincing smile his way.

“You're such a bad liar, y/n. Always have been.” He chuckles, bumping shoulders with you as he teases you.

He knew exactly what you had been thinking about and he knew just how much it was hurting you with just one look at your expression and the way you were holding yourself.

“Only to you and Fred. If I remember correctly, I’ve pulled one over many a times on a handful of people.” You smile lightly, this one being a bit more genuine.

“That’s true, I suppose. I guess it’s one of those perks from growing up with you.” He smiles.

“I suppose so, Georgie.”

You give him a small smile, grateful for the distraction he provided from his twin. You weren’t sure if he knew what he was doing, but even if he didn't you were happy to have him. He somehow always knew right when to pull you from your thoughts or distract you from a situation.

~.~

“Hey, Angelina! Will you go out with me?” Fred asks over dinner one night and you swear you can feel your heart hit the floor. It had never felt so heavy before.

You watch as she nods, smiling widely at your fiery-haired best friend who is sporting a smile just as big.

Without realizing it, your eyes had filled with tears and you were on the verge of crying. You only noticed when one had started to slip out, which you quickly wiped away with the sleeve of your sweater.

“Hey...i’m sorry, loves, but I think I’m going to head back to my room. I-I’m not feeling real well all a sudden.” You excuse yourself, frowning lightly at you two friends; Adelyn and Maisie.

They frown as they realize why your excusing yourself, but don’t try to make you stay. They know you need to get away and be by yourself for a bit.

George frowns from beside you as you get up and quickly try to get out of the hall without drawing any attention to yourself. He hates knowing his brother is the reason for their best friend’s heart currently breaking into a thousand pieces. Fred doesn’t even realize how in love with him you are and it kills George because he knows Fred doesn’t look at you in the same way, whereas he does.

George has always liked you more than his siblings have. While it’s true you all had grown up almost as siblings, George had never been able to see you as a sister like Fred and Ron had. He saw you as this beautiful, vibrant girl he got to be best friends with. He saw you as one of the kindest, most brilliant, funny, and talented people he’s ever met. Then when you guys got older he only started to notice more and more how gorgeous you were.

Watching you go through puberty was absolute hell for him as he and Fred were unluckily starting to go through puberty at the same time. Watching you mature and your body fill out was absolute art to him, but it came to be a bit of an issue when he wasn’t able to control a certain body part of his. Too many times he had to excuse himself so he wouldn’t be caught with a boner, his ears always burning in embarrassment when he did.

After about ten minutes he decides he needs to see if you’re okay, already knowing you aren’t, but wanting to see if he could help in anyway. He hated knowing you were upset and would do anything and everything in his power to make you happy again.

~.~

“Hey George! Y/n!” Fred smiles as he sits down at breakfast a couple weeks later.

After Fred had asked Angelina to be his girlfriend and you left before you could start crying in the middle of the great hall, George had come to keep you company, assuring you that his brother was a thorough idiot and that you deserved someone who would notice your affections  and wouldn't just string you along.

He had stayed with you most of that night, only leaving in the very early hours of the morning before students would start waking up.

Since then you and him could be found together nearly every moment of the day. He would walk you to classes whether you shared them or not, and if you happened to share a class he would always sit with you, passing you playful notes the entire hour or whispering comments or jokes in your ear. You often had to hold back your laughter, opting instead to roll your eyes at him and smile.

If you guys weren’t in class, you could be found lounging around the common room or the library. You would work on your homework while George would either lay there with you, fidgeting with a prototype or he would be making notes for a new invention. Sometimes he would write you notes to smoothly pass you while you were working, effectively distracting you and getting you to smile.  He rarely would do his homework with you, which you always found annoying, but wouldn’t push him to do. in all honesty, you just liked having him near.

Aside from classes and your guys' free time, You and George would sit together at meals, talking and laughing with your friends aside from Fred and Angelina, you would walk the grounds together when you were bored while talking about anything and everything, and you would even curl up together in each other's bed at times just so you wouldn't have to part quite yet.

Truthfully, you and George had become more of a pair then him and his twin, but neither of you were complaining. You loved laughing and joking with him and he loved seeing you smile and laugh and joke back with him. He was proud of himself that he could take your mind off of his twin who could so carelessly break your heart without even realizing it.

“Hey, Fred.” George smiles, acknowledging his twins presence, but keeping up a bit of caution as you were sitting right beside him. He wasn’t entirely sure how you felt about Fred at the moment and wouldn't hesitate to take you away from him if you were uncomfortable.

“I feel like it’s been weeks since we’ve actually talked.” Fred chuckles, grabbing himself a plate of food.

“Guess things have been going well with Angie, huh?” You ask, your heart only breaking a little.

“Really well. Merlin, she’s perfect. I actually wanted to ask you guys if you’d like to come out with her and I to hogsmeade on the trip this weekend? I’d love to have us all hangout.” He says happily, before taking a bite of his eggs.

George looks down at you as you look up at him. You can read exactly what he’s asking you; he wants to make sure your comfortable, and if you weren't, it was more than okay to say no.

You smile, nodding lightly. you missed having fred around and it was only one afternoon, you were sure you could handle it.

“Yeah, maybe we’ll catch up with you guys there. I kinda wanted to sleep in a bit this weekend.” You answer for the two of you.

Fred nods, not even noticing how you two had to check with each other. He's definitely noticed how close you two have gotten, feeling a bit upset that you were now laughing and joking with george instead of him. For years that was your guys' thing. He was the one that was able to make you break out into a big smile, or laugh until you couldn't breathe.

Then you were spending all of your time with george now on top of everything else when it used to be the three of you. Fred was a little hurt that he seemed to have been replaced, but he couldn't exactly pinpoint why it made it so upset. Maybe it was because he felt it was his fault as he was spending a lot of his time with Angie?

~.~

Saturday comes almost a little too quickly and you realize just how nervous you are to do this. Maybe you didn’t have to meet up with Fred and Angelina. You doubted that they would mind, anyway. You debate going back inside the castle when George finally meets up with you.

“Y/n? You ready to go?” George asks, giving you a smile and holding out his hand for you to take.

“Yeah, yes. I'm ready.”

George frowns as he notices how nervous you are. He had a feeling you were trying to push aside your hurt feelings a bit too quickly, but he didn't want to bring it up. If you wanted to move forward, he wasn't going to stop you.

“Y/n, you don’t have to be so nervous. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He reassures, grabbing hold of the hand that is picking at your slightly chapped bottom lip - a nervous habit he realized you have years ago.

“No, I’d like to go, Georgie. I just, Merlin, I don’t know if I really want to see Fred and Angelina hanging on each other all day. I feel bad not going though, you and Fred have barely hung out or talked at all lately.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about Fred and I’s relationship. All I care about at the moment is you, and whether you are okay.” george smiles, pulling you towards him.

“I’m fine, just....”

“A little nervous?” he asks, looking at you already knowing its the truth. You nod and frown a bit, george giving you a comforting smile as he pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you fully.

“Take a breath, darling. Why don't we go for now, but the second you start feeling like its too much you tell me and we'll come back. Okay?"

"Okay, georgie. Thank you for being so amazing."

"You don't have to thank me, y/n, but you're welcome." he smiles, his heart warming with adoration for you.

~.~

“George!” You gasp as he hits you in the middle of the back with a snowball. You two had been fooling around the entire way to hogsmeade, but you hadn't expected that.

you shiver as some of the snow fell into the back of your coat, melting against your neck and running down your back.

"I am so getting you back for that, weasley." you threaten, a smile still on your face as you try to glare at your best friend. he just smirks and winks at you.

"I dare you to, darling." he quips.

Fred and Angelina turn towards the commotion, momentarily pausing the conversation they were having.

Fred frowns a bit as angelina smiles at the two of you. She's glad to see you both so happy whereas fred is feeling just a bit jealous. he wishes more than anything that you would still joke with him and share playful conversations and actions, but since he and Angelina started dating he's noticed how you will barely look at him. It's like george has completely taken up your attention and fred was upset about it. You weren't friends just with george, you were also his friend whether you remember or not.

"Hey, guys! It's nice to see you!" Angelina calls out as she waves at the two of you.

Her and fred watch as you and george glance over, your smiles dropping ever so slightly. however, fred's the only one that really notices, and even then it was so slight he wasn't 100% sure if he saw it right.

You smile, waving back at the girl before looking over to george. you share a look that tells you he's not leaving you and that you will be okay.

"remember, y/n, we can leave at any time you want to, okay?" he reassures, holding out his pinky for you to promise with.

"okay, george." you smile, linking your pinky with his as he smiles at you, placing a soft kiss to your forehead before you make your way over to them.

"hey, guys. it is really nice to be hanging out with you, and to just get out of the castle for a moment." you chuckle, smiling at the red head and his girlfriend.

"oh, I completely get that, y/n. I've been so stressed over classes lately." angelina agrees, sighing as she recalls the few pieces she has to finish this weekend still.

george smiles at you, proud that your able to fake a friendly conversation, but silently reassuring you that you don't have to push yourself more than needed. the last thing he wants is to see you hurt again.

you smile up at him as he carefully slides an arm around your waist as he stands behind and to the side of you a bit.

"Well, what do you guys want to do first?" fred asks, eyeing his brother as he looks down at you for an answer.

~.~

you start to frown a bit as fred wraps an arm around angelina while you four are sitting around a table in the three broomsticks. You've been doing so well today, but now it was all starting to weigh down on you. As much as you tried to ignore it, watching your best friend love up on someone else that wasn't you hurt.

"you alright, love?" george whispers in your ear when fred and angie get up to get you all another drink along with some food.

"yeah. I'm doing great, georgie." you smile, loving the feeling of the hand he placed on your back. it's like warm was suddenly radiating through your body, trying to rid you of the chill you feel from the cold and your broken heart.

"don't lie to me, y/n. I can tell you're getting tired and worn out."

"alright, georgie. I don't know why you ask if you already know the answer." you huff, slumping onto your elbows, you head resting in your hands.

he chuckles, smiling warmly at you as he slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him in the booth you two are sitting in.

"do you want to head back soon?" he asks, tucking some hair behind your ear as you look up at him.

"no," you sigh. "I actually really like out here, i'm just...tired of seeing them together."

george frowns, nodding in agreement as you both look over to fred as he kisses angie on the cheek.

"i think i've got a solution to that." he smiles.

"what's that, georgie?"

"just pretend to be my date. you can't be upset by them if you're on a date of your own now can you?"

"george, we can't -" you start by are quickly cut off.

"yes, we can. now shh. they're on their way back." he shushes, placing a quick kiss to your forehead as you shake your head at him.

he's got to be crazy, but crazy with a point. perhaps you might feel better if you were on a date of your own. it's not like you hadn't thought of going out with george before.

"we're back! with four more butterbeers and everything we ordered for food." fred smiles, setting down the tray he was carrying and angie passes out the drinks.

"Thanks, freddie. y/n here was just saying how hungry she was, weren't you, love?" george asks, his hand on your waist rubbing comforting circle into your skin.

Fred pauses a moment, confused at the use of the pet name. sure they've called you princess and sweetheart and many other names, but the way george had just said it was different. it was more loving and held differently in the air.

he doesn't show it, but hearing it made his heart stop for a second or two. He definitely felt like was being replaced with george, but watching you now, he wonders just what roles George has filled in your life.

Fred had always wondered what it would be like to be your boyfriend, but could never bring himself to find out. Then he met Angie and he pushed all his potential feelings for you away, instead focusing on the wonderful woman he's dating. For some reason, however, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt in his chest at the thought of you and george dating.

"I was. I didn't eat much breakfast today and I'm starving." you say, smiling at your best friend, both of you noticing the hesitation fred showed.

"well, then, you better start eating." fred chuckles, setting your order of food in front of you.

~.~

“Hey, can we go to honeydukes, Georgie?” You ask as you spot it just down the street. After your guys' lunch, the four of you decided to look around and go shopping.

you didn't have a lot of money to spend, but you really wanted to pick up some candy, especially some chocolate as you've been craving it lately.

george smiles at you, nodding as he intertwines your hands together as you walk.

“Hey, guys, let's stop into honeydukes.” George says, already leading you over there as fred and angelina smile, following after you guys.

you spend a few minutes looking, having gone off with george and fred and angelina were somewhere else in the store.

You giggle as George pokes your sides as you reach for a chocolate cauldron up on the higher shelves, not quite able to reach it.

“Can’t reach it now can you, short stuff?”

“Shut up, Georgie. Help me get it down? please?” You pout, smiling when he finally reaches up above you to get it, successfully caging you against the wall.

"Anything for you, love." he smiles, a hand of his resting on your waist to steady himself.

you smile at him, loving how real all of this felt. maybe you liked george more than you thought all of these years?

He frowns, as you both hear fred and angelina laughing as they get closer to the two of you. George could tell how much everything still bothered you, but you were trying to be strong.

"forget about them, love. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. I promise." he smiles, running his thumb across your cheek as he cups your face.

“I’m going to do something, okay. just, let me know if it's too much.” He says, smiling at you as he glances at your lips. He's always wondered what it would feel like to kiss you. he figured what better way to find out than to kiss you right here, truly solidifying your act.

Without thinking much more about it he pulls you into him as your lips meet. you gasp a bit, but close your eyes and quickly fall into the rhythm of the kiss, your hands going up to wrap around his neck. you hadn't expected this, but it felt right in the absolute best way.

“Find something sweet, I see?” You hear Fred ask, chuckling, but when you both look at him you can see he’s more than a bit jealous, hurt flashing across his features.

you and george pull away, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you smile shyly. you had never expected that to feel so amazing.

"very sweet." george smiles, chuckling a bit as you slap his arm.

“I never would have thought you two would get together, but it actually makes a lot of sense." angelina chuckles. "and you’re really cute together. I can’t believe I would think anything else.” she smiles.

“Yeah, can’t believe you’d think anything else.” Fred agrees, looking between the two of you a little upset.

he never thought his twin would like you, you two always acted like brother and sister. granted you and he also acted like brother and sister, but he was sure he would know if george had feelings. he and george could never hide their feelings from each other.

~.~

The rest of the afternoon you guys spend shopping, George never failing to act like your boyfriend as he'd sneak kisses onto your cheeks or give you a quick peck when you two were stopped. you can’t help but enjoy it a little too much. What would it be like if you two really were to date? would it be like this?

“do you think we should get going back? it is getting kinda late in the afternoon." angelina states, looking around at all of you.

"yeah, I think we've all had a long day. It was fun, but i'm actually really tired." you admit, smiling a bit as george pulls you in his side.

"same here. i'd love to go back and take a nap before dinner." george chuckles.

angie nods, turning to her boyfriend who had been watching you and his twin. he could tell you looked tired, but he couldn't help but wonder if george had a second meaning behind saying he wanted to take a nap. he couldn't imagine you and him would be sleeping together, but at this point, he really wasn't sure about anything involving you and his twin.

“I get it. classes have been stressful and the professors have been giving out so much homework. i'm sure I could use a nap too." angie smiles.

"alright, well let's head back then. maybe we can all come back out in another weekend or two?" fred suggest to which angie agrees and you and george shrug to.

~.~

“I’ll see you later, Freddie.” Angelina smiles, giving him a kiss that you and George roll your eyes at, leaning closer together to hide your smirks and giggles.

once you all got back to the castle, you've taken residence on the couch. you and george cuddling and rolling your eyes at the couple as they chatted.

“I love you, beautiful. See you later tonight.”

George mimics his twin as your huddled together and you have to bite your lip to keep from chuckling out loud.

“That’s right, just laugh it up you two." fred huffs, crossing his arms and leaning back into the couch as his girlfriend disappears upstairs.

"you seem a bit upset, freddie. what's wrong?" george asks, not moving from underneath you or even shifting to lean towards his brother.

"when did this happen?" he asks, looking at the two of you. you were laying on your side next to george, your head resting on his shoulder as the two of you held hands and george's other hand resting on your waist.

“What are you talking about?” George asks, both of you looking at him confused.

“All this lovey dovey, relationship shit. You two aren’t really dating, are you?”

“And what makes you say we aren’t dating dear brother of mine?”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes at the two of you. there is no way he wouldn't know you two liked each other before know. he was not that oblivious.

"i've known the two of you my entire life, neither of you have ever showed any sort of feelings for each other until today. What's happened?"

you and george share a look of utter disbelief.

"godrick, you really are blind at times, aren't you freddie?" george asks, chuckling.

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, fred, that y/n here has been crushing on you for years and you never noticed. i know she wasn't trying to, but it was so obvious, mate." george says.

"what? no-"

"yeah, freddie. believe it or not your best friend was madly in love with you." you say, nonchalantly.

"watching you flirt and get together with angelina absolutely broke her, fred. i honestly can't believe you wouldn't have noticed." george sighs.

"anyway, i was helping her pick up the pieces of her heart. that's why we've been hanging out together so much. I can't trust leaving her alone in fear you're going to completely break her again."

You smile at your best friend, beyond grateful he's been here for you. you're honestly not sure how to ever thank him for being so patient with you while you were pining over his twin brother.

he smiles down at you, chewing on his lip as you snuggle closer to him, loving the warmth he was radiating.

“I-y/n. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know.” Fred stutters, frowning as he realizes he could have had a chance with you.

"don't worry about it anymore. you've got angelina and you seem real happy with her. the last thing i want to do is make you feel bad."

"besides, george and I seem to be getting along just fine. he's surprisingly really good at putting things back together." you smile, giggling as he pokes your side.

“Surprisingly? Have I or have I not always fixed what you and Fred broke when we were younger so our parents wouldn’t yell at us?” George asks, slightly offended.

you giggle, burying your face into his chest as he kisses the top of your head. you loved laying here like this with him. for the first time in quite awhile you felt completely safe and happy.

“So you two like each other? Are you actually dating...or was this all for show?” Fred asks.

you look up at george and find him smiling at you, but there's something different about the way he's looking at you right now.

"well, we were pretending, but I'd be more than happy to make this real." george states, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as you smile at him.

"I'd be happy with that, georgie." you smile, watching as his face breaks out in a grin as he leans down to kiss you.

"so, you two are dating now...th-that's great. I...I'm really happy for you two." fred mumbles, feeling his heart break.

"freddie, I'm sorry mate. I know you liked y/n a little bit a few years ago, but i'm not going to let you keep going back and forth with her."

"no. No, I understand, george. She deserves you and you deserve her. I think I've always kinda known you like her more than a friend." fred sighs, smiling lightly at the two of you.

you give him a small smile. you'll always like him, but like george said, you can't keep going back and forth waiting on him to decide. Now, seeing george care for you this last month or so and pretending to date for a day, you realize just how much you truly love him. with fred, your affection for him was more a sort of a schoolgirl crush. with georgie, you knew this wasn't just a passing feeling.

"well, I'll catch you guys later, yeah?" fred asks to which you and george nod.

After a few minutes, george turns to look at you curled up on him as you've been thinking.

"Do you want to go talk to him?"

you shake your head. while you felt bad knowing that seeing you and george together had upset fred, you knew he would bounce back from it when he saw how happy you two were.

"no, i don't want to let go of you." you smile, looking up at him as as a grin takes over his face.

"merlin, y/n. you are absolutely adorable." he smiles, kissing your lips and then peppering kisses over your neck and face.

"georgie, stop!" you giggle as it tickles and the movement is causing cold air to hit your skin.

"can you just sit still and keep me warm, please?" you ask to which he nods, kissing you one last time before wrapping his arms around you tightly.

For going through such a rough month, you had to admit you were pretty pleased with how great it was ending.

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter six: previously on: chaotic stupid

part seven of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / masterlist

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x original female character (coraline meyer)

word count: 8.2k (oh yikes)

warnings: no beta read, brief mentions of pregnancy i guess?

author’s note: this took me weeks to write oh my god

Coraline hasn’t told anyone about Marcus’ offer. Not even Loren, when they’d met for the first time in months, when her boyfriend finally got a night off work to look after Maisie. Not even when they’d drunk too much wine and her head was so fuzzy that she probably would have told anyone anything, if they’d asked. She’s not even sure where she’d start. 

Coraline has never been the best at keeping secrets. At least, not her own, and definitely not when she was younger, and she’s always wondering whether that’s why the media seem to think she’s easy prey for their rumours. It never seemed to bother Scott; he was the same, so open and willing to talk about anything and everything with anyone who asked. But it’s different with Marcus. He’s private by necessity but he’s also private by choice, too. She wonders if he’s always been like that, if before the heartbreak he’d told her about occurred, if he’d opened up to people. If what had happened to him had made him closed off. He’s never seemed like a closed book before (and, hell, maybe he isn’t, maybe he just doesn’t want to relive those times; and he doesn’t have to tell her anything, anyway) but he’d opened up to her after he’d made his ‘baby suggestion’. And all she can think of now, since he’d recounted the stories, was that those women - the ex-wife who’d claimed he was too ‘nice’, who’d claimed he was too ‘clingy’ and ‘needy’, and all that utter bullshit, and the one who’d left him for another man, left him alone in D.C. without a single person to lean on - must be completely insane to think that he isn’t good enough for them. Marcus Pike is too good for anyone, she thinks. He’s the best person she knows. Marcus Pike makes Coraline want to be a better person. They didn’t end up ordering takeout that night, like they always did. Coraline had found herself reaching to the back of her cupboards, searching blindly for some ingredients she wasn’t even sure she had, just for him. Marcus loves breakfast. Like, he really loves it, she’s come to find. And at any time of the day, really. And there’s a diner he frequents; it’s near his office, on the other side of town, tucked away just out of Cora’s reach. Though, he has taken her there once before - just after they first met, when she’d tagged along with her older brother to the FBI debriefing, to check his gallery was secure; she’d thought it was a date, until he’d prefaced his offer with an insistence that it was ‘just as friends’; Marcus had spent the whole time raving about the pancakes he ate every Friday — a treat for a long week’s worth and a change from his usual burger and fries — how he’d found the place by accident and it was part of his daily routine, now, until Coraline had given in and let him order for her, since he knew the place better than she did - most of the time, they see each other when it’s late, when he’s already been for his almost daily pancake-fix and she’s collapsed to the sofa with her legs draped over the armrest. They haven’t been back since, though she’d jump at the chance if he ever asked again. Coraline may be a pretty awful cook, and she may not be able to make pancakes as good as the ones he likes, but surely it’s just the sentiment that counts. He’s spent far too many evenings eating greasy Chinese food at her behest, insisting that he’s fine with it, because it makes her feel better. It’s the least she could do. She’d spent an hour making perhaps the world’s worst pancakes - even as Marcus insisted that she didn’t have to cook for him, that they could just order pizza or something if they wanted a change - pancakes so bad that she’d had to drench the damn things in syrup just to disguise the odd sour taste that somehow tinged every mouthful. Marcus had eaten it without issue, even as she’d apologised endlessly for her dreadful culinary skills and insisted that he didn’t have to eat them if he didn’t like them. They’d made him smile, though. And it melted away the last dregs of awkwardness between them. That was the pancakes’ purpose. It didn’t matter that they were utterly terrible, borderline inedible and a little lumpy. 

But, when Monday rolls around and her older brother, Daniel, comes to her with his regular insistence that she brings that ‘nice FBI agent she’d made friends with’ to their weekly dinner at his house, she took him up on the offer, for a change. She’s never asked because she’s always assumed he would say no; they weren’t dating and it was a little weird. Surely an invite to weekly family dinners was something couples did.

She always ignores Daniel, used to the persistent insistence to ask him. Relenting — finally — comes with the sense that she feels as if she owes him now, though. To make it up for her dreadful pancakes with Daniel’s wife’s cooking, which was always amazing. To make up for the week of unforgivable ignorance. To help them move past the ill-thought-out offer of a baby. She’s sure he’ll still say no, when she calls him on his lunch break, when she knows he’ll be sat at the counter in that same diner, enjoying that brief moment of time away from paperwork. Their lunch breaks line up, those rare and all-too-rare moments when they have time to relax, the tension in their shoulders owed entirely to their morning workloads melting away at the soft sounds of the other’s voice. 

His voice is pleasant, like it always is; Marcus Pike’s voice is like serenity to her, all gentle and familiar, and, this time, he sounds amused when he answers the phone. “Well, this is a nice surprise.” His voice crackles through the phone. The reception in the diner is terrible - it’s the only thing he ever seems to complain about - but she can still make out the sound of the smile in his voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Marcus.” Coraline hums, shoving the last of her laundry into the washing machine, her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. “I’m calling with an invitation.”

“An invitation?” He ponders, musing over the idea. “To one of those glamorous celebrity parties you’re always telling me about?”

She scoffs. “Oh, you wish, Pike. It’s an invite to my brother’s for dinner. Incredibly glamorous, I know.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments. She almost regrets asking. She does when he replies. “Are you sure?” He questions. “I’m not sure-”

Coraline nods as if he can somehow see her through the phone. “I’m sure,” she insists, “Besides, Daniel and Kimmy want you to come.”

“Coraline, I don’t know-”

“Marcus, don’t make me beg.” She chuckles, but it’s a nervous chuckle. She knew he would say no; that’s why she hasn’t asked him, to avoid this awkward conversation between them when he was uncomfortable and looking for a subtle way to turn her down without hurting her feelings. “Please.”

There’s another pause as he lets out another muffled laugh. His tone is teasing when he speaks again; she can practically see the smirk as he sips his coffee. “And what’s in it for me?”

She bites the inside of her cheek, stifling a giggle. 

She could think of a lot of ways to repay the favour. 

Cora pushes through the onslaught of entirely… inappropriate thoughts, especially to have about your best friend and offers up the most innocent of offerings, though her voice slips to find that low, rumbling register reserved only for the discrete. Mundane words tipped in something intriguing. “I’ll never make you pancakes again.”

“Deal.” He snaps far too quickly through the phone. 

Her mouth falls open. “Marcus,” she gasps, mock offence in her voice. 

There’s silence for a moment. “Sunshine,” Marcus calls out through the static, like he’s sure he’s actually offended her. Like he could ever do that. “I thought your pancakes were great.”

Even a lie sounds like the truth coming from his lips. 

“Damn right they were,” she insists. 

When she lies, even when it’s laced with laughter, it sounds like one. She’s glaringly aware that’s a complete contradiction, given her job.

“Pancakes- real pancakes, diner pancakes- on me for a month.”

“Tempting.”

“...Two months?”

“Fine, fine. If you insist.”

The rush of breath that escapes her in relief is so embarrassingly loud, she’s sure he can hear her. She’s glad he’s not there, watching her, so he can’t see the wide, uncontrollable, entirely tooth-filled grin that splits across her face; she’s sure she looks maniacal, sat in her trailer on set, covered in thick dustings of fake mud from that morning’s scenes. 

She’s never been more thankful for the solitude of a phone call before. 

“I do insist. I’ll pick you up at five.”

Amusement, again, peeks through in his tone. She’s sure he’s eating pancakes — those blueberry pancakes with mountains of ice cream — because they’re the only thing that makes him happy like this, especially on a heavy workday. “In that super-fancy car of yours?”

She’s had her car for twelve-years. But it’s even older than that, fixed up by her father in his garage for what seemed like years. It’s an old run-down black Camaro from the seventies that she’s had since she was sixteen; far too trusty and sentimental to let go of, driving her cross-country from LA to DC without a hitch those six-months ago. It lives in the private parking lot down the street from her apartment complex, tucked away, out of use most days, because the traffic of DC is far too heavy in the mornings and it’s easier to walk or take the Metro instead. Weekly nights spent at Daniel’s on the opposite end of the city gave her an excuse to pull her car from its designated parking space and navigate the busy streets to the comforting hum of the engine.

Coraline knows Marcus loves her car, as much as he jokes about it. It’s evident in the way his face lights up when he sees her sat there, parked down the street outside the FBI headquarters; his smile illuminated by the harsh street lamps overhead, cutting through the darkness alongside the bright nearby office lights and flickering neon signs that cast stained glass shadows on the sidewalk. He’s watching her as she taps her fingers in time to a song she doesn’t recognise on the radio. 

Marcus ducks into the car with a ‘hello’ lingering on his lips and ducks to kiss Coraline’s cheek; it’s a friendly gesture that lingers, not unfamiliar as a display of friendly affection between them, but still swelling that giddy sense of happiness in her chest like it’s the first time. 

“I brought the beer.”

Coraline glances over at him warmly as she starts up the car. The engine rumbles to life, almost sounding unhealthy. She reaches over and squeezes his shoulder a little, fingers falling down his arms. 

Marcus had insisted he bring something; a repayment for dinner, for Daniel and Kimmy inviting him over. She’d insisted he didn’t need to — neither of them would mind; they just wanted to meet the lead in so many of Coraline’s stories, for real this time — but then he’d insisted that he had to, that his mother would never let him live it down if she found out he forgot his manners and turned up without a thank you gift. So she’d told him to bring beer (not wine, definitely not wine, for Daniel’s sanity’s sake). And he’d obliged. 

Not just that cheap beer, either. But the expensive kind, the kind you could only find in certain places if you were looking for it. He’s spared no expense. 

He doesn’t need to impress them, though. They already like him well enough, on the basis of Coraline’s endless stories. 

“Is what I’m wearing okay?” He questions as he smooths his hands over the front of his suit jacket. “I didn’t have time to change.”

He’s still wearing his work clothes — somehow still relatively undisturbed even after hours of the paperwork he’d been half-complaining about to her the night before — yet he still looks great. He’d probably look great in just about anything. Coraline looks entirely underdressed next to him; just blue jeans and a white shirt, and the thin golden pendant her mom had given her the night before her wedding hangs against her chest. She doesn’t wear it much anymore, not since the divorce. But Marcus had seen it the other day, while he was waiting for her to finish getting ready, perusing the expanse of her drawers, intrigued by the jewellery that hung from a stand. He’d said it was beautiful - with the delicately carved bird in the middle, surrounded by flowers - and she found herself reaching for it every morning since. 

She’s not sure why. She just likes to wear it, now.

“You look great.” As always.

He scans what she’s wearing, casual and, as the wheels being their customary groan when she sets the car in reverse. “It’s not too much?” He’s shuffling awkwardly, hands tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket. Is he nervous?

She watches as he moves, shifting slightly in his seat; she’s watching from the corner of her eyes, half her focus on Marcus, the other on pulling out onto the busy road. He’s staring straight ahead, out at the car ahead of them, like the license plate is somehow the most interesting thing in the world right now. His brows are furrowed. The air between them is thick with anticipation and it’s like something has changed; for good or bad, she’s never sure with them anymore, not these past few months, but his hand is gripping his knee and somehow everything seems heavy again. 

He’s met Daniel before, it’s not that. Briefly, sure. But that couldn’t be it. He’s usually so relaxed and laid back, especially around her, never worried about making a joke or goofing off. She doesn’t like seeing him like this.

She reaches over and squeezes his hand; he steadies himself and tilts his head towards her. Her smile is warm and bright and comforting, and the gentle brush of her fingers over the hand that grips his knee relieves the inexplicable anxiety that has strangled him from the moment she’d invited him to dinner. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what it means, what any of it means. Why things are suddenly so different between them after six months of being nothing but friends. 

Why he, for some godforsaken reason, thought suggesting they have a baby together was a good idea.

Did he really want that? 

Either way, he’s pretty sure Coraline doesn’t. Not with him, at least.

Cora hums, eyes dropping to herself and the wrinkled jeans she’d fished out from the back of her wardrobe. “Least you made an effort.”

…

Daniel Meyer is seven years older than Coraline. He’d always been fiercely protective of his younger sister when they were growing up; not in that abrasive, overbearing and destructive way, the way when your life is governed strict and rigid, but Daniel Meyer didn’t take kindly to people hurting his sister. Growing up, he helped her deal with things - the bullying in high school, the heartbreak of her first breakup - so it only seemed fitting that, when she’d moved to D.C., the same place he’d called home with his family for eight years, that he would do the same. That’s how their weekly family dinners were born, from his insistence to help his younger sister settle into her new home, in a new city she barely knew.

For the longest time, Scott Meyer was public enemy number one to him. Sometimes she wonders, now that it’s all over, the divorce is final - now that he’s out of her life for good - if he still is. Or if they’ve really all moved on like she thinks they have.

The second they arrive at his front door, greeted warmly by the smell of pie and a grinning Kimmy, wearing an apron and slightly flustered, looking just as welcoming as always. Her blonde waves - the waves Coraline has always been so jealous of - are pinned up haphazardly out of her face, half-spilling down her back from the clip that tries to hold it in place. 

“Good evening.” Her voice sounds like a song, light and sweet, and her smile is even wider than usual as she glances between her sister-in-law and Marcus, who stands a little behind her, radiating that familiar confidence that Coraline is used to. The half-hour drive had relaxed him enough that, now he’s met with Kimmy’s friendly face, he’s the one that’s comforting her, with a gentle hand on her back and the silent reassurance that things will be okay.

Coraline is mostly worried about him. She's still not entirely sure he wants to be here. She doesn’t blame him. 

Kimmy leans forward and kisses Coraline’s cheek in greeting, the usual gesture. 

“This- well, you know Marcus.” Cora ushers towards her best friend beside her when she pulls back.

“Marcus, of course!” Her face lights up even more. “I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.” Kimmy’s tone is amused. Her eyes waver towards Coraline, a knowing look in her eyes. 

“It’s great to finally meet you, for real this time.” 

Kimmy’s eyebrow quirks up at Coraline for a moment, the hint of a smirk as Marcus introduces himself, that same FBI Agent-trained surety tipping the edges of his voice, before she finally ushers them inside. It’s starting to get cold; the evening chill is creeping in from the river beside the house, reaching out towards them. Coraline is glad she’d tossed a coat onto the backseat of her car before she’d left and Marcus tugs his suit jacket tighter around himself. “Come in before you both freeze to death.”

The house is alive with the joyous yet shrill screams of children. Coraline’s nephews, to be exact. It always is. Every night. Every week she turns up and they’re running around, playing whatever game they deem fit that evening. Half the time, Coraline gets pulled into their games, whenever she’s not helping Kimmy in the kitchen (which isn’t often, because she’s hopeless at it). Of course, today’s no different.

The two of them are darting around the living room, screaming bloody murder as they wear themselves out; Finley, the oldest, is chasing Elliot, his curls falling haphazardly over his eyes. She can’t tell what they’re yelling about - she never can; it’s just a tangled mess of screamed words - but Elliot is giggling so much that he has to stop every couple of minutes to catch his breath. Finley stops with him, pulling himself from their games for a second to wait as they both regain their composure and carry on. They wear themselves out before dinner and then everything seems to go off without a hitch.

Cora hangs her coat on the hooks by the door and kicks off her sneakers, and Marcus follows suit with his jacket and dress shoes. He looks to her for guidance, that immediately understandable hesitation of being in an unfamiliar house, and this silent agreement settles between them as she sweeps her way into the living room. Her footsteps were light; so light, in fact, that she reached her nephews without disturbing them, startling Elliot when she scooped him up in her arms and spun him around. He complains at first, ducking his head away as she tries to kiss his cheek, letting out the most dramatic and exaggerated noises. Eventually, he gives in and curls his arms around her neck, pulling her close for a second, before he starts to kick again, restless in her arms. 

Finley takes to wrapping himself around her right leg and suddenly the three of them end up sprawled out and giggling brightly on the carpet.

Marcus watches from the doorway. He thinks she’ll be a great mom someday. It’s the little things she takes in her stride.

“Hello to you too, Cora.” The low, amused voice of Coraline’s brother, Daniel, comes from inside the living room. 

“Hey there.” She’s still giggling. She can’t help it. Finley and Elliot unhook themselves from her and each other and resume their endless laps of the couch. 

Daniel stands over her with raised eyebrows. His tie has long-since been discarded and he cuts a casual figure as he cradles the youngest of the Meyers, Piper. She’s only six months and the smiliest baby Cora has ever seen. Usually, she’s asleep by the time Coraline arrives, either cradled in her father’s arms or tucked away in the crib upstairs; today, her legs are kicking back and forth and her hands are fisting into his dress shirt. She’s restless - she knows sometimes that she is, that when they finally cradle her to sleep, it’s best that they leave her or risk jolting her awake for the rest of the night - but she’ll let her wriggle around in her arms for hours if it means catching up on the time she’s missed with her niece all those nights she’s been asleep.

“I brought Marcus.” Cora points towards Marcus as he leans against the doorframe, watching her with fond eyes. She tilts her head back to look at him; he’s smiling and she wants to reach for him. She reaches for Daniel’s extended hand instead, pulling herself up from the floor. She groans uncomfortably, her back aching a little. “Marcus, you’ve met my brother, Daniel.”

Coraline reaches out for her niece; that brooding feeling swells bright and burning again when she takes her, cradling her close into her chest, and she can’t help but glance up at Marcus as Daniel moves to greet him - just barely acquaintances but familiar enough to avoid those awkward initial introductions. He’s watching her, still, as she says ‘hello’ to her niece and gently rests her cheek against the top of Piper’s head. It’s like they’re both wrapped up in that moment where it’s just the two of them - all too fleeting, cut short by Daniel’s greeting and the persistent shouting of children - but it feels lovely. Even if this moment is all they’ll ever get.

Coraline savours the moment with her niece because it’s rare and often fleeting; her, Daniel and Kimmy’s schedules are crammed tight with work and unavoidable commitments and that weekly dinner is the only time each week they can spare to see each other. If Piper is asleep, then Coraline won’t get to say ‘hi’ to her niece. It’s an unfortunate consequence of their careers.

“That’s Elliot-” She points her finger at her smallest nephew. “-and that’s Finley-” Then to the tallest of the two. “-and this… this is Piper.” She bounces the tiny baby lightly in her arms, turning her body so Marcus could get a glimpse at the small smile that pulled at Piper’s lips as her small fist grabbed at Coraline’s shirt.

She’s already told him about them all before. He knows their names. But this is the first time he’s ever met the kids. And it’s somehow maybe the most terrifying thing he’s done in a long time, including that one warehouse shootout his team found themselves in a few weeks earlier.

He feels overdressed and a little ridiculous, just stood there, looking like a lost puppy in the entryway, in his suit and tie. Unsure what to do with his hands or his eyes, or what the hell to say to cut through his quiet. He usually brought a change of clothes to the office if he knows he has somewhere to be but, somehow, in his blind panic at the idea of meeting the family, he’d forgotten to grab anything to change into. And that ease in meeting new people, that effortless skill he’d built up over years of practice, the perks of the job, just seems to have melted away the second he stepped into the house behind Coraline, under the well-meaning scrutiny of Kimmy. This is all normal for her - this weekly routine she’s fallen into - but it’s unfamiliar territory for him. 

It almost feels like something it isn’t. Meeting the family. That point in a relationship when you first realise things are serious. Only this isn’t a relationship. And he’s already met Daniel and Kimmy before, even if it was briefly, and while he was working and distracted with planning a stakeout. And Coraline. Always Coraline. But something about her smile just commanded attention, back then - it still does - even when she tries to blend into the background. Once he noticed her. Sat alone at an empty conference table, comically-oversized name badge pinned to the front of her dress, her lips curling up a little as she sipped the sour FBI coffee.

Everyone else had passed the glass-walled room without even a second glance. 

He, on the other hand, was convinced he’d just seen a ghost. She’d almost startled him, breath leaving his chest. An utter cliche. 

Marcus had recognised her face from TV - though, admittedly, he wasn’t really up-to-date on pop culture, definitely lingering a couple of decades behind, age and time catching up on him, spare time buried beneath a mountain of paperwork to distract himself from Teresa and the unfamiliarity of D.C. - but he always remembers thinking she was pretty. Really pretty. But he always finds it a little embarrassing how much she a hold over him that day, how he’d had to take a second to psych himself up, talk himself down from that nervous ledge he was staring over, before he even thought about entering the room.

It’s weird, looking back, thinking how much has changed. But the changes keep coming, thick and fast, and sometimes it becomes less and less obvious what they are anymore.

“Marcus.” Daniel reaches out a hand for him to shake. He shakes it graciously and says his hellos. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That’s the second time he’s heard that today. Coraline rolls her eyes a little. It’s not the first time she’s heard it, either. It almost makes Marcus laugh but then she smiles again, half-concealing a grin, and he forgets what he’s thinking about for a moment.

But then he wonders what she tells them about. Whether those stories are good or bad, whether they paint him in colour or in black and white.

With Coraline, he figures it’s probably the brightest landscape of technicolour, regardless of who she’s talking about.

“I’m glad Cora finally asked you to come.”

“Well, you talk too much. I didn’t want to bore him.” Cora shrugs, her full attention on Piper. 

“More like scare him away.”

He’s not sure she could ever scare him away.

“Finley is terrifying,” she admits with a giggle but she seems distant. She looks up to raise an eyebrow at him again. Her words are slow, almost drawn out. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to get out while you still can.” It’s meant to be light and joking, and Daniel laughs at her words. Given the way she’s looking at him, he’s not sure.

She just keeps looking at him like there’s no one else around.

She can’t help it. She keeps trying. It isn’t working.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Daniel insists as the boys rush past Marcus; he has to step out of the way to avoid them, smiling as they manoeuvre around him and race out of sight into the back of the house. He smiles fondly as they pass. “They’ll calm down in a second.”

“You hope they’ll calm down.” Coraline jabs her older brother in the ribs playfully. He chuckles as lightly as he can but it's obvious he’s tired; his shoulders slump and his eyes linger closed a little longer than normal, Coraline notices. He’s been working flat-out at his gallery every day, then running home to help with the kids. And Piper is a restless baby - difficult to get to sleep which means that, if she’s asleep when she arrives, she can’t say hello for risk of waking her up - so, unless Daniel or Kimmy are holding her while the house is still alive and humming around her, she refuses to fall asleep. “I think-” She looks towards Marcus. He’s inched closer into the room, now, but he’s still lingering like he needs to be invited in. “-you’ll just have to get used to it.” She hums.

“I’m still not used to it and they’re my kids,” Daniel grumbles, almost to himself. 

“Piper seems okay with it.” Marcus points out. He watches as his best friend cuddles the tiny baby close to her chest. 

Piper’s looking up at Cora with the brightest eyes. They’re Coraline’s eyes - Daniel’s too, he assumes - that light emerald green that sparkles beneath the warm living room light. Her mouth is in an ‘o’ shape, fascinated, as she stares. She looks utterly transfixed by her aunt’s face as she carries on their idle, gentle conversation, lightly bobbing her up and down, cradling her softly to sleep. Her eyelids were drooping, sleep gently pulling her in. She’s humming gently, whenever she’s not speaking; Marcus isn’t even sure she realises she’s doing it. That it’s just some subconscious instinct inside her, telling her to sing to the baby so she can sleep. She’s drawing gentle circles on her back through her onesie. Slow, idle circles that slow the wriggles and the kicking of his legs, lulling her off to sleep ever-so-slowly. 

It’s like she’s a natural. She knows exactly what to do every time; with Piper, with Maisie. It’s like second nature and there’s this even brighter glow, brighter than usual, when she settles into the role. She takes it all in her stride and seems to forget the world around her just for a moment. 

“How do you do that every time? Can you come and do that every night?” He jokes. But he doesn’t seem to be entirely joking. 

She hums. “Perhaps-” She rests her cheek against the top of her head as lightly as she dares without disturbing her. “Perhaps I’m just a superhero.”

The yells of kids echo through the house, the hammering of feet pounding against the wood floor. Kimmy’s muffled exasperated calls for quiet come from the kitchen, falling on deaf ears as the boys continue to charge through the back of the house. 

Coraline catches her brother’s gaze. “Go and help.” She’s noticed the way he’s been watching his daughter anxiously, worried that she won’t fall asleep through all the noise and excitement and the gentle hum of Coraline’s made-up song. “I’ve got her,” she insists. 

“Are you sure?”

Piper is slowly drifting off to sleep, even despite the noise. Just at the warmth of her aunt cradling her and the gentle hum of her sweet voice lulling her asleep. “I’ve got her,” she repeats. “Go and help Kimmy.”

Daniel’s shoulders slump in relaxation. He mouths a ‘thank you’ as he jogs from the room, calling out to his sons to stop them from charging around, insisting that they wash their hands and settle down for the sake of their sister. 

Now, it’s just Coraline, Marcus and a half-asleep Piper left alone in the living room. 

The tension in the air is thick and heavy for a moment. 

“Marcus, you’re staring,” she points out. She’s not even looking at him, just can just feel the weight of his kind gaze and it sets her heart racing at a hundred miles an hour. “I’d let you hold her-“ She says as he steps a little closer; now Daniel is out of the room, he’s relaxed. It’s like, without him there, he can pretend it’s just the two of them and Piper curled up content against Cora’s chest, even despite the yell of children’s voices and the unfamiliar surroundings. “-but, if I did that, we’d never get her off to sleep.”

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “I think she’s happier with you.” He settles beside her.

Coraline’s thumb brushes over Piper’s cheek and the baby smiles a tiny smile, eyes still close and fisting her hands tighter into the white material of her shirt. There’s a blissful silence that settles between the three of them — just for a moment — when she looks up at him beside her, watching the pair of them sway gently to a seemingly silent song. The weight of the moment engulfs them like a tidal wave. 

“Marcus-“ she breathes out, barely loud enough for him to hear. But he does, in the relative silence, and the way she says his name rips the air from his lungs, like the first time she’d surprised him the day they’d met. Her green eyes are wide and wild and she’s looking between him and Piper like they’re the only things left in the world. 

They could do it.

He knows what she’s going to say, if she had the chance. If Daniel hadn’t returned, calling out to them that dinner was ready.

They could do it. He knows they could, she knows they could. They could have this fleeting moment for as long as they both live. Their own little version of paradise, together. No matter how terrible the idea seems to be, they could. But Coraline knows she can’t stay in that world forever. It’s temporary and, as much as she wants that, all day, every day, for herself and not through someone else, she knows she can’t let herself get too in over her head. 

Still, Marcus really does think she’ll be an amazing mom.

...

After much persuasion — and the promise of candy after dinner — Finley and Elliot finally settled down long enough for them to eat. Coraline had set Piper down to sleep in her crib upstairs, lingering perhaps a little too long to marvel down at her only niece, wondering what it would be like if she was looking down at her own daughter. 

She knows it’s a hopelessly bad idea. That the feelings will catch up with her and pull her under again. Sometimes she just can’t help it.

She returns with that fake smile Marcus has become a pro at noticing. She looks wistful, longing in her eyes, disguised by the small smile that takes over her face when she slides into the seat at the dinner table beside him. She smooths out her shirt and jeans, wrinkled from the baby. Another smile, an assurance that Piper is okay and sleeping soundly upstairs, and the conversation moves on to mostly idle chatter, and Daniel asking Marcus questions about himself. Coraline keeps shooting her brother glances whenever he asks a new question that almost seems too personal. He doesn’t mind one bit, though.

Marcus finds Coraline’s free hand under the table and squeezes at some point. She doesn’t want him to let go. 

“Auntie Cora?” Finley asks, leaning his chin on his hand to stretch across the table. His questioning call of her name breaks through the idle conversation they’re all having, like he’s demanding all their attention, and not just Coraline’s.

It steals a moment of quiet between them all.

“Nephew Finley?” She replies, mimicking his stance and the curious, furrowed-browed expression on his face. 

“When are you going to have a baby, like Piper?”

It’s a loaded yet completely innocent question on his behalf. He’s merely a curious five-year-old with no ill intentions, and no reason to believe it’s anything other than a normal question; Coraline doesn’t even flinch, even when Kimmy scolds her son sharply and insists he eats the rest of his dinner. Though, Marcus still sees the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Instead, she just smiles and laughs that brightly enchanting laugh, tilting her head to the side in response to her nephew as he sinks back into his chair and pokes at his potatoes.

“Well, I don’t know,” she replies truthfully, “Soon, maybe.”

Marcus almost thinks her eyes waver towards him but it’s so quick that he reasons that, perhaps, he’s seeing things. 

“Soon?” Daniel catches up with her words. “You seeing someone?”

“Oh-“ Coraline swallows thickly. She shakes her head. “No, no, not at all. I’m just- optimistic, I guess.”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” Kimmy poses.

Coraline hums. Marcus doesn’t see the way her gaze trails towards him. “I’m sure there is.”

...

The rest of dinner passed without any more questions on the matter, Finley’s attention switching towards Marcus instead. He was persistent, firing questions at him across the dinner table like he was leading an interrogation, but Marcus kept answering just as enthusiastically as the first time. He’d skirted around the facts a little - it wasn’t exactly a great idea to tell a child, seemingly without a filter, that you were an FBI agent - but the whole exchange had been wonderful. Coraline was sad to see it finish when Kimmy announced the boys could have dessert and they'd leapt from their seats to race towards the cookie jar. 

Marcus had offered to help Kimmy wash up as a thank you but she’d brushed him off, and, eventually, he’d resigned to the living room with Daniel. It had taken Coraline months to convince Kimmy that she should let her help clean up, there was no way she would have accepted Marcus’ offer immediately.

Instead, it’s just Coraline and Kimmy, working in tandem to clean the dishes, while Daniel spends time with the kids after a long day at work, and pulls Marcus into their conversation like an old friend. 

“I’m sorry about Finn. He’s-” Kimmy shakes her head as she sets another plate down in the drying rack. “He’s been going through one of those... phases lately.”

“It’s fine, Kim, truly.” Coraline sets a couple of dry plates down on the counter and turns to smile at her, before carrying on her job. Sometimes Kimmy jokes about how ridiculous it is that they use so many plates since Piper was born. “He’s just curious,” she insists. “And he makes everything a little more colourful.” 

Kimmy chuckles. “That he does.” She washes down another plate. “So, Marcus is great.” She hums, changing the subject towards her with a quirk of an eyebrow and a small, knowing smirk on her face.

Coraline smiles. Though, it’s more to herself than Kimmy. “He really is, isn’t he?”

“Are you two… y’know… is there anything there or-?” 

“Oh, no! No, no. We’re just-” Friends. “Just friends.”

“Well-“ She quirks an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. “-maybe you should? Just see how it goes. One date at a time.” Kimmy’s suggestion is as innocent as Finley’s question over dinner. She doesn’t understand the weight it holds. And she doesn’t expect her to, anyway. They’re close but just barely close enough. “Things might surprise you and it’ll do you good to get back out there again after, y’know-“

“No, we-” She shakes her head and turns to finish putting away the plates in the cabinet. In the quiet, she hears Marcus laugh from the living room. It’s one of those whole-hearted laughs, when his head lulls back and his eyes screw shut and crinkle at the corner. She wonders which one of them made him laugh like that, or what made him laugh like that. She hopes Daniel hasn’t pulled out the picture albums; he’s worse for that then their parents. But, since Daniel had made his fortune as an art buyer, eventually to the point he’d made enough to buy his own art gallery, a year ago, Coraline should have known that he and Marcus would get on. They had a lot in common. She’s so glad he likes him, though she can’t imagine a reason why he wouldn’t. “Friends. Friends.”

There’s another silence and she can feel Kimmy’s eyes burning into the back of her head. She turns to see the tail-end of a raised eyebrowed glare, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, you never know unless you try, Cora.”

“There will be no trying,” Coraline insists, jabbing Kimmy in the side with her nail. She grins and lets her blonde tresses fall over her shoulder. “Of any kind. He doesn’t see me that way.” She finishes. 

“Do you see him that way?”

Another pause. 

“No.”

Maybe that’s a lie. 

Maybe Kimmy knows that. 

Maybe Marcus knows that. 

Coraline isn’t sure whether she knows that, though. 

“Sure about that?”

Coraline scoffs and turns to continue packing dried, clean plates into the cupboards. “You’re worse than Dan, sometimes.” 

“Oh, I take offence to that.”

“Shut up and finish the dishes.” Coraline chuckles, crossing her arms and scowling at the lack of crockery left to dry. 

“Just don’t write things off so quickly,” she insists, “It might surprise you.”

...

Daniel and Kimmy had tried to persuade them to stay for drinks late into the evening. The boys were shipped off to bed at the usual time, complaining that they wanted to stay up instead, as usual. But Marcus has work in the morning and Coraline has a long string of interviews; the idea of a late-night sounds less than ideal, her eyes already stinging at the idea of staying up any later than they had it.

Instead, they’d make their excuses and leave, ducking away into Coraline’s car with an exhausted groan. The boys had run wild right up until they went to sleep, nagging Coraline and Marcus to play with them every five minutes, even as Kimmy and Daniel insisted that they settle down and get ready for bed. It’s still late when they leave, though. D.C is eerily quiet as they weave through the roads, small crowds of people scattered through the repeating streets of suburbia.

The car ride home is silent of their voices. Not that uncomfortable silence, from before, when things had been awkward between them and neither of them were sure where the other stood. But that kind of satiated, happy and, admittedly exhausted, silence that pools over them. The low hum of the car engine and the radio is persistent in the space between them. Marcus keeps stealing glances over at her as she drives; he can’t help it, but he doesn’t think she notices, her eyes far too focused on the road ahead of her. And, if she does, she doesn’t mention it. Just keeps letting him glance over at her as the street lights illuminate the gentle angles of her face.

He’s glad she never mentions anything. He’d be too embarrassed if she did.

Instead, she’s lost in the music. That blissful flicker of emotion that crosses her face when she hears a song she likes, when her eyes light up at the sound of one of her favourite songs. Her radio is always tuned into some old rock station - he has no idea what it’s called, it’s usually just a continuous loop of different songs cut with the low gravelly voice of a man who sounded like he’d smoked one too many cigars - and most of the songs are the same songs she’s playing on her record player when he arrives at her apartment and she’s dancing around the kitchen while she cooks. He recognises a lot of them from his college days, songs he used to play with his band. It makes him feel old, sometimes, when she tells him they’re songs she spent her teen years with, even though there aren’t too many years between them. 

It’s I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that plays now; she’s a sucker for those objectively-cheesy rock ballads. They’re her mom’s favourites, too. And, maybe he won’t admit it, but Marcus has heard her favourites enough to count them amongst his, now. Maybe he just likes the way they make her smile. Coraline is humming along, her fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the top of the steering wheel idly as her eyes follow the road ahead. Every so often, a flicker of neon tints her in colour when they pass a takeout, the only things still open and busy. The curve of her profile and each curl of her hair is highlighted in red.

It’s these moments of distracted bliss, when everything seems to exist without a care in the world, that he likes the most.

It never lasts long enough.

He insists she just parks in the garage she usually uses, by her apartment building, and he’ll walk her home. She protests - because of course she does - offering to drive him all the way home instead, but it’s dark and even in this quiet, well-off part of town where the streets should be safe, you never know who might be lurking. Maybe it’s the things he’s seen and heard of in the FBI - everything he’s seen during his training, heard through whispers and stories in the office - but sometimes he can’t shake the simple action of making sure someone is safe. 

It’s still silent between them as they near Coraline’s apartment complex. That short two minute walk down the quiet, tree-lined street that sparkles with chains of fairy lights. It’s lethargic and lingering, each step heavy with the weight of something that echoes through the quiet neighbourhood.

“Cora, I’m sorry.”

It comes out of nowhere and it worries her. And Coraline has absolutely no idea why Marcus is apologising to her. As far as she’s concerned, he hasn’t done anything wrong. At least, not that she knows of. 

“For what?” She questions, brow furrowing up at him as they walk. Their hands keep brushing but she doesn’t have it in her to move her hand away.

“I had no right to drop the baby bomb on you like that,” he admits. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably. When his hand drops, his fingers brush against her knuckles. “I’m sorry if I made you feel trapped. It was a terrible idea. I should have thought-“

“Yes,” she blurts it out before she can stop herself. She’s not entirely sure she’s thought this through. But she can’t help it.

“Yes, what?”

“The offer.” Her whisper is loud in the suddenly-stifling silence of the street. “If it’s still on the table- yes. I’ll have a baby with you.”

“Coraline-” He gulps and stops dead in his tracks. They’re outside her gate, now. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t.” Coraline insists. She steps closer to him, sea-green eyes staring up at him with heavy expectation. He’s the one that suggested it. He’s the one that had laid in bed until the early hours of the morning, losing precious moments of sleep as his brain swam with questions, wondering whether he should suggest this to her in the first place, or if it was an awful idea. But, somehow, he can’t seem to convince himself that this is a bad idea, that he should just let her down easy, now. It’s seeing her with Piper, seeing her with Maisie, seeing how she lights up around them. 

If he can make her that happy, every single day, why the hell would he turn that opportunity down? 

Besides, he’s pretty sure it would make him equally as happy. He’s thought about having kids since he was just a kid himself. And god knows the world seemed to have it out for him when it came to love, things aren’t happening any time soon; he can’t really think of anyone better than Coraline to have a baby with.

And, as much as Coraline knows how recklessly stupid the whole idea is, she can’t bring herself to want anything more or less than this. Than him. “It is a terrible idea, y’know?”  She finds herself insisting, blinking up at him with those beautifully-wide eyes.

“Truly awful.” 

“And there are a hundred different things that could go wrong.”

“Hundreds.”

“But-“

“But-“

“Maybe we should… try? Maybe just for a little while. See what happens.” 

“Maybe we should.” He exhales long and deep out of his nose. “Maybe…” He tilts her chin up towards his with one finger and suddenly he’s kissing her. His fingers brush her jaw, curving up towards her ear and brushing into her hairline at the nape of her neck. Even the soft touch of his hand against hers as they walked was driving her insane but this, this is on another level.

It’s more than the first time they kissed. Less of a brief touch of lips, more of a wave of relief flooding through them both, unfamiliar feelings surging up inside them. This kiss is full of urging anticipation. She’s pulling him closer to her before she can stop herself, their chests flush, lips and hands strong and insistent against each other. 

The fumble to her front door seems like the most practised thing they’ve ever done. Familiar when it shouldn’t be, even as they bump into things on their way.

taglist: @wheresthewater

[tirednotflirting]

i am missing you more than i should (guess i'm not out of the woods)

i attempted to post this to ao3 and then the page crashed so tumblr gets some rights today i guess.

this is another addition to the maisie thing i’m working on. title and inspo from look at me now by maisie peters 

read here on ao3 if you wanna

(it’s kinda emo i apologize)

It’s a cold November night when Luke sees Calum again.

Despite the outdoor temperature being displayed on his phone screen, Luke is warm from the alcohol in his belly and the bodies milling around the bar. He’s ordered a drink to feel natural in his current setting but it’s just soda and lime. He’s stepped into this place to wait for Ashton to come pick him up. He had read one top many horror stories about ride share apps and young drunken people and now always gripes at Luke for not calling him for a pick up on a night out. So after watching all of his friends (though that’s kind of a stretch for the people he frequents clubs with) head off into the night, Luke wandered to the place he currently sits at, feeling drawn to the little dive bar he hasn’t been to in ages and sent Ashton his location.

It’s while he’s waiting for his drink that he remembers why he was drawn to this bar. This is Calum’s place. Luke can’t even think up how many pairs of hands he would need to count the number of times they had stumbled into this place, laughing with their arms around each other while tripping their way up to the bar. It’s close to the complex Calum had been living in while they were still in school. Seeing him here now at the other end of the bar, the glitter in his eyes shining even though they’re not taking a single glance in his direction, makes Luke wonder if Calum’s stuck around this area of town.

Because of course Luke wouldn’t know. Luke hasn’t said a single word to the man in ages, hasn’t seen him in probably a year and a half at this point. (He’s tempted to pull out his dying phone to find the last text messages they exchanged to track the time but he knows Ashton probably deleted their messages during one of the many times he ended up on the other man’s couch with tears raining down his cheeks.) 

We want different things. That’s what Calum had told him. Luke wanted to see the world. They were about to graduate, he wanted to see everything and he wanted to see it all with Calum. The idea of settling any part of his still mess of a young life scared the hell out of him. Luke wanted to run but he wanted to do it with Calum’s hand holding his own. Calum was so practical, his mind somehow years ahead of Luke’s. They were graduating, it was time to slow down, he was always trying to explain to the boy he’d laughed with and loved for the last four years. The speeds they were trying to live their lives at during those last few months pretty much started pulling them in opposite directions, Luke supposes. Though that didn’t change how much it hurt the day he returned to his apartment to find a box of his clothes and belongings sitting in front of the door with a little note tucked into the side.

Luke had stuck to his plan. It was only in the last couple of months that he’d returned to the city and found a job more permanent, reconnected with Ashton who had stuck it out in the area for law school. He had seen so many places, so many people, so many pairs of brown eyes that had him nearly chasing after strangers on the other side of the world. He hadn’t dared to try to love someone else but eventually his brain stopped trying to play tricks on him to make him see what he had lost because he couldn’t just slow down. Eventually he didn’t wake every morning expecting to see someone curled up beneath the sheets beside him or to walk into the kitchen to find the ever studious business major drinking from the blue mug with the chip in the handle as he checked the news on his phone

Though from what he could see down the bar, Calum hadn’t been on his own since Luke saw him last. Or at least he wasn’t right now. 

Luke watches a laugh escape Calum’s lips while he reaches for his glass on the bartop (always a whiskey man, Luke was never not teasing him for his old man drink preferences). He takes a sip and then raises his brows, his lips moving to ask a question Luke can still hear rolling off his tongue if he thinks back hard enough. He watches the glass get passed along to the blonde sitting in front of him and facing away from Luke. The glittering in Calum’s eye changes some as his bottom lip gets pulled between his teeth while a smirk forms on one side of his face. Luke can see the other man’s shoulders rise slightly in response to taking the sip and he wonders if the scrunched up face he used to pull when sipping Calum’s liquor is anything like this new man’s. He figures it must be as Calum’s face softens in a still vaguely familiar way and Luke watches him lean forward to press a kiss to the blonde’s cheek while a hand lifts to cover the other. 

Luke squeezes his eyes shut and forces his face away from the couple. He takes a sip of his soda before shrugging his denim jacket from his arms, the bar suddenly feeling far too warm. He’s reaching for his phone in the pocket of his jacket, ready to send Ashton an SOS to get him to hurry along, when a soft voice behind him nearly throws him to the opposite side of the bar. “Luke?”

He jumps as he spins in the stool he’s seating in, Luke’s eyes suddenly meeting the ones he’s been searching for in every corner of the world. He used to spend hours lying awake thinking about this exact moment, about what it would be like to speak again for the first time with his lost great love. (If Ashton were able to hear him thinking that he would scold Luke for being so dramatic. You’re literally 24. Calm down, Luke.) “Hi, Calum,” he returns, praying his voice isn’t as shaky as it feels. The name feels foreign on his tongue and he can’t tell if he’s thankful for that or not.

“How’re you doing, man?” Calum asks, a small smile playing at his lips. “It’s wild to see you in here, not gonna lie. Thought you were still off somewhere with your wanderlust.”

Luke tries to be as subtle as he can as he reaches for his wrist to pinch himself since he’s not entirely sure he believes this moment to be real. He coughs and shakes himself out of his daze. He’s got to be an adult about all of this, he’s a grown up now. “Yeah, I moved back a couple months ago. Was starting to really stress out Mom with the whole travel thing. I’ve moved in with Ashton, if you remember him? He helped me get this admin job at the law firm he’s interning at.”

“Of course I remember Ash!” Calum beams. Luke wonders if he’s also playing at being cool but then he remembers that Calum actually had the guts to walk over to him so maybe this is just a part of being settled down. “Happy for you, Luke. Sounds like a good set up.”

Luke ignores the nostalgia threatening to cloud up his mind at the sound of his name falling from Calum’s lips a second time. “You still working for Donny then?”

“I am! He gave me like, a month after grad to chill before I got back to my old desk with a stack two feet high of files,” Calum laughs and Luke finds himself doing the same. Calum’s internship boss had always been fond of them together. Donny had once helped Luke get flowers delivered for their third anniversary. He was a good guy. “Actually, just got promoted to Managing Financial Advisor earlier this week. Was here, uh, celebrating tonight wit-”

“Hey Cal, thought I lost you there.”

The blonde Luke had only seen the back of before steps into view, his hand dropping to Calum’s back. He’s just barely shorter than Calum, though that’s likely due to the boots the latter is wearing. His eyes are wide and a pale green, like leaves in early spring. Luke wants to hate him but he can’t. This guy looks pretty nice, unfortunately. 

“Sorry, love,” Calum replies softly, his hand lifting subconsciously to push hair from the other man’s eyes. It’s an action Luke remembers fondly (and somewhat painfully, if he’s being honest with himself). “Found a familiar face. Michael, this is Luke. Luke, this is Michael.”

Michael’s eyes widen just the slightest bit. Luke isn’t surprised. He can basically guarantee that he’s sitting right at the top of Calum’s ex-boyfriends to discuss list. They spent nearly all of undergrad together. If Michael’s been around for even a little bit it makes sense that he’s heard about Luke. “Nice to meet you, mate.” 

“Yeah, you too.” Luke accepts the hand being offered to shake. The whole situation feels way too formal but also dazed. Though Luke is still drunk and there’s way too many memories dancing through his mind of nights out with Calum and nights in with Calum and Calum Calum Calum. 

“Well,” Calum starts, his hand moving to rest lower against Michael’s back. “Our Uber is here but I’m glad I saw you Luke. Take care of yourself.”

Luke nods and wishes them both the same in a small voice while they wander away from him. He can’t hear it but based on the worried look he can see on Michael’s face as they head for the door and the way he wraps his arm more firmly around Calum’s waist, Luke knows he wasn’t the only one faking a brave face. 

(He allows himself a moment to give into memory then as he thinks back on one of the last times he was headed out of this bar with Calum. It was early February, just a week and change past Calum’s birthday. The air is cold enough to see their breaths as they giggle and bumble about their new courses. Calum keeps lifting Luke’s hands between his own to blow warm air onto them to keep them warm as they head in the direction of his apartment. 

When they finally make it up to the third floor and through Calum’s door, they both kick off their boots. Luke’s gone for his easier to remove ones so he has a moment to lean against the door while laughing as Calum pulls at the laces of his Docs. Once removed, Calum steps over to Luke, his arms looping around his waist while Luke’s drop to hang over his shoulders. Their laughter dies out as they sway back and forth slightly in the entryway. 

“God, I love you,” Luke sighs as he drops his forehead to Calum’s. “Never want to stop loving you.”

“Please don’t.” Calum laughs gently before turning his head so their lips press together. 

Whether it's seconds or hours that they stand there kissing while holding each other in the dull entryway light, Luke doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. All that matters is that Calum never lets go.)

Luke’s phone buzzes on the bartop, a text from Ashton appearing to alert him that he’s waiting in the lot out front. Luke tips back the last of his soda and shouts a thank you to the bartender. He pulls on his jacket and heads in the direction of the door.

He turns for a moment before reaching to push through back out into the cold. He glances around the open room, quick moments of memories playing out in front of him from the years before. He sighs and pulls himself out of it again. 

Maybe it’s time to find a new spot to land.

*

[buckeverlasting]

Gravity (part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: (Soulmate AU) The moment you meet your soulmate, a small symbol appears on the inside of your left wrist that matches your soulmate’s. But what happens when the person you think may be your soulmate doesn’t have a left arm? You begin to doubt everything.

A/N: This is a special request for @bucky-smiles based off the song “The Worst of You” by Maisie Peters. I hope you enjoy this, and thank you for your patience!

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: angst, flangst; implied sex

You met Bucky under unremarkable circumstances. He was in line ahead of you for coffee and realized he left his wallet at home. You offered to pay for his drink. As you offered your card to the barista, you noticed a little mark blossom on your left wrist: a tiny infinity symbol. You had met your soulmate. You only needed to determine if your mark matched his.

“I owe you for this,” he said.

“Sit with me for a bit?” you asked.

You both sat down at a table near the window of the coffee shop. You scanned his wrists. He was wearing a long sleeved henley and brown leather gloves. You couldn’t see his wrists, but you noticed his dusky blue eyes and a day’s worth of stubble on his chin and jaw. He had long, soft brown hair. He was so handsome. He noticed you looking at him and smiled.

“I’m Y/N.” You blushed and offered your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Bucky.” He took your hand.

Then you were able to put it all together: a man named Bucky wearing gloves in the middle of a sunny spring day. This was the Winter Soldier turned Avenger. You blushed deeper.

“I see you figured out who I am.” He laughed. “This always happens.”

“Do you have a lot of girls buying you coffee?” you asked.

“No!” he protested quickly. “Just a lot of people have that reaction when they find out who I am.”

It occurred to you that he had no idea why you sat him down for coffee, and because of he had no left arm, there was no way for him to see that you were his soulmate too. He’d just have to believe you.

“I have something to show you.” You showed him the infinity symbol on your wrist. “This appeared  when I offered to buy you a coffee. My soulmark appeared when I met you.”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide.

“I know you have no way of verifying with your own soulmark because…” you said.

“Because my left arm is metal.” He slipped off the leather glove and pulled up his sleeve a little, almost as if he expected something to show on the metal. Of course, there was nothing. He ran the fingers of his right hand over his metal left wrist.

“This is awkward.” You started to panic. What if he didn’t believe you? Worse yet, what if he didn’t want to believe you? You drummed your fingers on the table and looked at the crowd passing by on the other side of the glass.

Bucky put his gloved right hand over yours. “It’s okay,” he said. “Why don’t we make plans for a proper date?”

You smiled and let your fingers rest. “I would like to get to know you better.”

You exchanged numbers, and he said he’d text you before he hurried out of the coffee shop. You should have been ecstatic that you met your soulmate and that he was Bucky Barnes, but your stomach plummeted. Something didn’t feel right.

- - -

Around 8pm that night, your phone buzzed with a text from Bucky. You couldn’t help but smile.

Bucky Barnes: Hi. How was the rest of your day?

You: Pretty good. How are you?

You weren’t exactly feeling like a brilliant conversationalist at this very moment, but at least he texted you.

The two of you set up a time to meet. He’d pick you up for dinner tomorrow, which was Friday, at 7:30pm. You smiled again to yourself. He’d be picking you in less than 24 hours.

- - -

“You look lovely.” Bucky smiled at you as you descended your stoop. He was waiting with his hands held behind his back, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. It occurred to you that he might be nervous, too.

“Thank you,” you said. “So do you.” He was wearing a leather over a blue t-shirt that brought out his eyes. There was a hint of winter in the air on this spring night. A breeze ruffled the hem of your shirt. “I should run in and grab a jacket,” you said. “Do you want to come in?” With his being an Avenger and quite possibly your soulmate, you didn’t have any qualms inviting him in.

“Sure.” He climbed the steps after you, waiting behind you as you fished out your keys.

“This is it.” You flipped on the lights to your living room. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “This place is great! It’s cozy.”

You looked around your living room and smiled. “I suppose it’s not so bad. You know, we could stay here if you’d prefer.”

“Stay in for the night?” he asked.

You nodded. “But if you made plans, I don’t want to ruin them!”

Bucky rubbed the back of his head. “You know, to be honest, I would prefer staying in, if it’s not any trouble. I’m really not one for crowds.”

“I understand,” you said. “We could order something?”

“Sure, whatever you want. I’m not picky.”

The two of you agreed on Chinese delivery, and you placed the order. He made himself comfortable on your couch as you found a bottle of wine and filled two glasses. You offered Bucky a glass and sat on the arm of the couch.

“Cheers!” You  clinked your glass against his.

“Cheers.” He took a sip. “This is good.”

You laughed and put your glass down on the end table. “It’s just grocery store wine. Nothing fancy.” You rubbed you hands up and down your thighs.

Bucky put his hand on yours, and you stopped rubbing. “There’s no need to impress me,” he said.

You placed your hand on his and squeezed it. “Thank you, Bucky.”

- - -

You decided to watch a movie after dinner. You turned off the lights and lit a couple candles. You were feeling warm and loosened from the wine, so you sat close to Bucky on the couch. He put his arm around you and pulled you close to his side. You rested your head on his shoulder. When you felt him lean his head against yours, you found his hand in his lap and laced your fingers with his. He was warm, solid, and smelled like fresh laundry.

He stroked your thumb with his. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” you said into his chest. “Please.”

He freed his hand from yours and cupped your cheek with it, lifting your chin. He brought his lips to yours delicately. His lips were soft, but you felt the scraping of his stubble.

“You taste good,” he murmured into your mouth. You could feel his smile in the dark.

Feeling bold, you hopped up and straddled his lap. You put grabbed his either side of his face and pulled him into a deep kiss. You felt his tongue swipe against yours. Once. Twice. You swiped back.

He broke the kiss to suck softly on your neck. You felt the skin on your forearms prickle.

“No hickeys, please.” You whispered, your eyes closed and your hands running along his arms as they encircled you.

“Don’t worry,” he breathed. He slid a hand up your shirt and grazed the small of your back with his fingertips. “Your skin is so soft.”

The combination of his touch and his words had you melting. You let him carry you like a bride to the bedroom. You wanted to tell your soulmate that you were his, but you were afraid of what he might say. So, instead of saying anything, you showed him that he could have every inch of you.

- - -

Bucky was still asleep when you woke up the next morning. He was lying on his side, facing you. You wanted to reach out and touch him, just to check that he was real, but you didn’t want to wake him. A shaft of morning light glinted off his metal shoulder. You wanted to run your hands across his bare chest again, like you had last night, but you would never disturb him. Instead, you rolled over and reached for your book on the nightstand.

“Y/N, I find it so cute and somehow also very sexy that you read in bed the morning after,” Bucky said in a voice still thick with sleep.

You rolled over to face him. He had his head propped up on his hand, and he was grinning.

“Good morning.” You smiled. “Last night was amazing.”

“It sure was,” he said. “You were amazing.” He leaned over and kissed your forehead. “You looked so peaceful and pretty reading in bed this morning that I almost didn’t want to bother you. But I really wanted to kiss you.”

You laughed. “So, kiss me.”

“Just a peck,” he said. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.” He lifted your chin with his fingertips and brought his lips to yours in a quick peck.

You leaned back.

“Again,” he said. “I just can’t get enough of you.”

You wanted to say, “Maybe that’s because you’re my soulmate!” But you held back. Instead, you just said, “I can’t get enough of you either.”

“In fact,” he said. “I’d love it if you’d come to a little party with me. Sam wanted to celebrate his birthday at a karaoke bar tonight. Would you be my date?”

“I’d love to.” You smiled because perhaps he was starting to take this soulmate thing seriously.

You had Bucky jot down the address and the cross streets in the little notebook you kept by your bed while you got dressed.

“Not going to take a shower?” Bucky asked. “You’re a dirty girl.”

“I’m just running out to get coffee.” You buttoned your shirt. “I don’t function without coffee.”

“Want some company?”

“You’re not busy?”

“For once I’m free for the day!”

“Sure. Want to get breakfast at the café?”

“Sounds great!”

But you never end up going to coffee that day. He got a call with a last minute mission, but he said he’d call when they rescheduled Sam’s karaoke party. He dressed quickly, pecked you on the cheek, and left. You felt like part of you had gone with him out the door.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated :)

[heyyyharry]

The Wedding Planners

(from ‘Couple in Flat 102’)

…in which Harry makes sure Y/N gets the wedding of her dreams, and Y/N finds the perfect wedding dress.

wattpad link

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Harry thought weddings were overrated, he always had. People like his cousin Mason and Mason's fiancé Stephanie, used wedding as an excuse to show off what they called 'love' because they wanted to prove how happy they were and make the lonely people feel miserable. If you were gonna marry someone, it should be about you and them and no one else, right? So why threw so much money and effort into planning a whole ceremony only for people to laugh in your face, if  you ended up signing the divorce papers and she walked away with half of your fortune and the kids? (Although Harry was pretty sure his cousin's marriage wouldn't last until the kids part).

Harry could just go on about how overrated and unnecessary weddings were. Even when he bought that proposal ring for Y/N, even when he asked her to marry him and she said yes and he put the ring on her hand, his opinion was still the same. But the thing was, he loved Y/N, more than anything he'd ever loved. His unconditional love for this girl had made him do a lot of things that the him before her would never do. Many years ago, had anyone told him one day he'd be sitting on the bed with his future wife, debating over roses or calla lilies for their wedding, he would laugh in their face and call it bullshit. Now, he was literally sitting on their bed and trying to convince her that calla lilies were a much better option.

She was the love of his life, so he'd make sure she'd get everything that she wanted, even if it was a massive wedding or an expensive wedding dress that she would just wear once (hopefully) and tuck it somewhere in the back of her closet.

"Who's Gilbert?"

"My cousin."

Harry snorted as he stared at the unfamiliar name on the guest list. "You've never mentioned a cousin named Gilbert."

"So?"

"So why are we inviting him?"

Y/N heaved a sigh as she reached for the notebook from his hand and uses the pen in hers to point it out. "So Gilbert is dating Jessie, who's super close to my brother Darren. I want Jessie to be at the wedding, and of course, I cannot tell her to not take Gilbert with her. In fact, she'll just assume that because Gilbert is related to me, he'll be invited."

"So we have to invite Gilbert."

"Exactly!" She exclaimed and rewarded him a peck on the lips. "You're doing such a great job with the guest list, baby."

Though Harry found that compliment very flattering, he still felt like he needed to be more helpful. "Can I do something else other than the guest list?"

His question surprised her at first. "I thought you hated wedding planning?"

"I did. I still do. But I don't want to be the useless husband who lets his wife do everything."

"Aww, my love." She sighed and rested one hand at the back of his neck to press his forehead against hers. "I like it when you call yourself husband and me wife."

The radiance on her face made Harry feel whole in his heart. He brought her left hand to his lips and laid a kiss on the ring he put on for her himself, then he said, "we don't need to get married so I can call you that. In fact, I'm gonna tell everyone you're my wife from now on."

"Okay." She nodded biting her bottom lip. "Then since you're such a good husband, can you help me come up with a better wedding theme?"

"Better than Alice in Wonderland?" He faked a gasp. And she scrunched her nose playfully at him. "Better than Alice in Wonderland. That's a lot of pressure, can you handle that?"

"Sure, wife, you can count on me!"

That was how he ended up here, sprawling on their couch on a Saturday morning, with Niall by his side, a notebook in his hand and a pencil behind his ear.

"Niall, we need a theme!" He declared, pointing a finger to the ceiling while looking dead serious, as if he was planning a war battle and not simply his wedding anymore. Niall, on the other hand, didn't bat an eye as he carried on texting with his eyes glued to the screen.

"Why is it always me that you ask to come up with something, when you always ended up coming up with something yourself?!" He questioned without looking at Harry, who propped up on his elbows with a displeased grimace on his face.

"Because you would say something that makes no sense, but it actually turned out to make a lot of sense!"

Niall scoffed at Harry then scooted closer to see what his best friend had already got on the list, which, predictably, was all blank. That was an entire first hour for him. So Niall gave him a questioning look and he responded with a shrug, saying he didn't know where to start.

"I bet it'd be more fun if I'd gone with the girls," Niall droned. "And Ben. The girls and Ben."

Harry agreed. However, he knew he couldn't see his girl in her wedding dress before their wedding, which was doubtlessly irritating because he'd been imagining her in a white gown ever since her brother's wedding (not constantly, because it'd be weird). So he patted Niall on the back and told his friend to help him this time, and made a promise to buy Niall a big lunch later.

.

.

.

"Are you sure it's safe to leave Harry and Niall alone in your flat?" Layla mentioned as she ran her hand across the line of wedding dresses hanging on the racks, feeling the material of each one while waiting for Y/N. The bride-to-be was still in the dressing room where a chuckle comes from as she heard Layla.

"Are you worrying about them?" Y/N said loudly. "They're 24 years old, they aren't babies!"

"They nearly set your flat on fire before and it was just two years ago!" Layla rolled her eyes when she thought about that night and she could still recall the heavy smell of BBQ from Niall's clothes. "Maybe I should text Niall to check on those two idiots."

"Maybe you should! Then come in here and...help me...with...this zipper! Ouch! Nevermind. Got it! Hope I didn't tear this dress though!"

Layla snorted in response to her best friend's clumsiness then sat down next to Ben on the couch with her phone, just in time Y/N's sister Maisie returned, looking overjoyed as she held up the wedding dress she'd just found somewhere in the corner of the room. "Hey, how about this one?"

"A big no from me." Layla shook her head fast without taking a second look. So Maisie turned to show it to Ben, who also shook his head, giving her a painful grimace. And the girl had no choice but to put the dress back to where she'd found it on the rack.

The curtains of the dressing room was finally drawn to one side and Y/N stepped out in a dress which she thought was similar to the one Cinderella wore on her wedding in the classic animated film. She bit back a smile and asked her friends and her sister if it looked good. Maisie seemed unimpressed, Ben was unsure, and Layla just looked very...offended.

"This dumb bitch," she muttered, causing Y/N's jaw to drop as she looked down at the dress she was wearing.

"It's that bad?!"

"Yes, the dress is bad on you, but I wasn't talking about you!" Layla scoffed and nodded her head forward, signaling Y/N to turn around and see for herself. Another customer had just entered the store, and she was talking to one of the staff with a happy look on her face. It seemed like this wasn't her first time being here. It took Y/N a few seconds, but eventually she recognized that face. That was Rose.

Y/N had never met this girl in person before and had only seen her from the photos on her Instagram account, therefore hadn't expect her to look exactly like that in real life. And she was right. Rose didn't look as pretty as she was in those Instagram photos. She looked even better. Even though Y/N was the one wearing a wedding dress, looking like a Disney princess, she couldn't help but feel self-conscious still.

"Is that—" Ben questioned just as Rose turned her head and spotted them, so Layla gave him a slight nudge as she said, "don't make eye contact and it'll go away."

"Oops, too late." Ben awkwardly puckered up his lips and turned his eyes to the floor when the young girl started making her way to where they were. She seemed overly cheerful and Y/N honestly couldn't relate to such enthusiasm when meeting the people she'd never actually met before.

"Hi! I'm sorry if I interrupt anything but...are you Harry's fiancé?" Rose asked, pointing at Y/N, who happily nodded her head and told her she was correct before shaking the girl's hand.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

"I'm Rose. I'm a friend of Harry's. I've heard so much about you! Are you shopping for a wedding dress?"

"Oh what gave that away? I'd loooooove to know!" Layla's sarcasm made Ben snort, even Maisie couldn't hide the grin on her face. Y/N knew her best friend too well to say anything about it, so she went ahead and introduced Rose to her friends and sister.

"We've met before," the girl said to Layla, who threw on a fake smile as she replied by saying she remembered, in a forceful way.

Rose told them she was here to try on the dresses for the photoshoot tomorrow, since she was modeling for their PR campaign, and as Y/N congratulated the girl on it, the others stayed silent and were all on their phones. Y/N thought Rose could feel the unwelcoming atmosphere around here, so she quickly excused herself, saying she needed to get back to work.

"It's nice meeting you all!" She waved at the other three before turning to Y/N. "Nice dress by the way."

"Thanks," Y/N told her with a beam.

As Rose made her way back to the staff who'd just talked to her earlier, Layla didn't hesitate to speak up immediately, "I told you she's evil."

"She just complimented my dress!"

"Exactly! She's so evil," Layla pointed out, rolling her eyes, but she didn't want to talk more about Rose when this moment was supposed to be about her best friend only. "Let's just forget about her and see you try on the other 23 dresses I just picked out for you. Chop chop princess! we haven't got all day!"

And so the hunt for the perfect wedding dress began.

Y/N must admit that it was fun and exciting, because she hadn't tried on gowns like these since she was a little girl. Nevertheless, as time ticked by and she'd tried on around thirty different dresses or so, she barely could feel the same joy she had when she first walked in anymore. She could make out the frustration on the other three faces as well. It almost seemed hopeless. And now they were debating over going home empty-handed, or settling down with a 'pretty but not remotely close to perfect' dress then calling it a day.

Then, a miracle happened.

Y/N flopped down on the carpet like a rag-doll and blew up her cheeks, looking like she was drowning in that tea-length dress she had on. She scanned her eyes across the room, tired and slightly disappointed, yet not until now that she spotted it in the far corner of the room. This ivory A-line wedding gown, with a crystallized bodice and a full tulle skirt, had been hidden among many other dresses, no wonder why her and her friends had missed it before. The future bride pushed herself up off the floor and came to get the gown from the rack, then brought it back to show Layla, Ben, and her sister, looking like she was carrying her own trophy.

When Layla saw the dress, the girl immediately sucked in a breath, she was nearly frozen for a second before reaching out, and running her fingertips across the illusion jewel neckline and the lace appliqués on the top-skirt. Y/N knew Layla too well to tell the difference between her "I can't believe a peasant like you is my friend" look, and the "I'm so proud of you" one (they were pretty similar), so she knew for sure when Layla looked at her like that, she definitely had done something right.

"Go! Try it on!" Ben urged the girl while squeezing his fists in enthusiasm. Y/N didn't have to be told twice. She took the dress to the dressing room while everyone standing outside was pacing back and forth in anticipatory.

It was all worth the wait once Y/N stepped out in the gown she had handpicked for herself. The girl swore she would never forget the reactions from her two friends and her sister. Never had she witnessed Layla that emotional before. The brunette hurriedly walked up to her friend and held onto her shoulders tightly.

"You have evolved," she said with a straight face, making Y/N burst into laughter. "Now give me a swirl!"

Y/N held the sides of the skirt and spins around as she could hear her sister say 'aww' and Layla gush about how beautiful she looked. Ben acted like a true fashion critic as he put a finger to his puckered lips and tilted his head to the side to comment on the sexy cutout back and how good ivory looked on her skin tone.

"Ladies, I think we've found our gem!" Layla declared, which basically summed up their whole shopping experience today.

Y/N hadn't been this happy since the night Harry had proposed to her. The poor girl had been completely heartbroken when Stephanie stole her wedding theme, but now that she'd found the perfect gown for the most important day of her life. She couldn't wait to see Harry's reaction. If Layla could be so moved by just one first look at it, Harry might probably burst into tears.

"How much is it?" Maisie's question brought everyone's fever pitch down to zero all at once. That was normally what happened when the topic of money was brought up when. From the way it looked, Y/N'd already expected this dress to be expensive the second she'd seen it on the rack. However, when Layla checked the price tag and read out that specific number, Y/N could hear the sound of her dreams shattered like glass.

"This is the price of the gown alone," Y/N mumbled as she pulled a face. "There are gonna be alteration fees, post-wedding dry-cleaning and other kind of fees. I cannot afford this! Let's put it back!"

"Calm the fuck down, okay?" Layla held up both hands, looking seriously annoyed as she inquired her panicked best friend, "do you love the dress?"

"Yes."

"A lot?"

"Yes."

"Then cut down some other expenses, change to a smaller venue, cross some people off the guest list, and take the fucking dress! Goodbye Gilbert and Gilbert's girlfriend!" Layla smirked as she flipped her hair, mentally applauding herself for being such a genius. But Y/N still seemed so unsure.

"Hey, it's okay, you don't have to make the decision right away." Maisie wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulder and gave her a sweet encouraging smile. "You can sleep on it and come back here tomorrow morning, if you still want the dress. If not, then we'll try on some other ones until we find one just as good, yeah?"

"You're right." Her sister's words really did make Y/N feel better. "I'll talk to Harry about this and come back tomorrow."

So the four of them put the dress back to where Y/N had first found it, then left the shop, after thanking the staff for being so patient with them and promising they'd come back tomorrow to make a decision at last. What they didn't expect when they walked out the door, was Rose.

"Emily, did they buy the last dress the girl tried on?" Rose stood in the way of the red head who had just sent the four customers out of the door.

"No, Ms. Davis. They haven't decided yet, but they'll be back tomorrow morning."

It only took Rose a second to make up her mind, and instantly declared that she would take that A-line wedding gown and pay for it right now.

"Ms. Davis...I..."

"I'm serious." Rose felt like her words weren't enough to convince this girl, so she took out her credit card and handed it to her. "I'm taking the dress."

"Do you want to try it on at least?"

"Nope." The brunette shook her head, a wide smile displayed on her red lips as she insisted, saying she knew what she wanted.

.

.

.

Y/N explained the dress situation to Harry after their dinner, and didn't forget to mention that if she was gonna buy that dress, they'd have to cut down some other expenses in order to afford it. When she finished, she expected him to advise her finding a more affordable wedding gown, in order to not make the wedding planning more complicated than it already was. If they wanted to reduce the costs they'd have to sit down and go back to the beginning, meaning all of their effort in the last few days would all go down in the drain.

"I want you to have that dress," he told her to her surprise, placing his hands on the small of her back, pulling her in. "First thing we're gonna do is getting rid of your cousin Gilbert and his girlfriend."

"You sound just like Layla!" Y/N threw her arms around his neck as she giggled. But he didn't think she took his words seriously.

"I mean it, love. If you love this dress, you should buy it, I can—"

"Don't even think about it!" She stopped him halfway through his sentence by placing her forefinger against his lips. "I'm paying for that dress myself."

"I'm just suggesting tha—"

She shushed him once again. "Harry, no. I'm gonna pay for that dress with my money, okay? You have a lot to spend on, it's not like you're gonna be naked at our wedding!"

"Wait, am I not allowed to be naked at our wedding?" He raised an eyebrow and received a playful eyeroll from his fiancé. "Jokes asides." He sucked in a breath. "Promise me you're getting the dress that you love?"

"Promise." She put on a big smile for him. "By the way, how's the wedding theme?"

"Still struggling." Harry groaned in frustration as he ran his fingers through his chocolate locks, but then he assured the love of his life that, tomorrow when she came home with her perfect wedding gown, she'd also get her perfect wedding theme.

It sounded so easy.

But it was really not.

Y/N, for the second time, received an entire ice bucket in the face when the red-haired lady she had just spoken to yesterday told her somebody else had already bought her dress. How was it possible that in less than 24 hours, another bride'd also come in and tried on that exact same dress and decided that it was also the perfect dress for her?! Y/N didn't believe it, she could not believe she was that unlucky! So she asked the girl again if she was mistaken. This girl, Emily, was so sure that she wasn't.

"I sold the dress myself," Emily said with certainty. "To Ms. Rosaline Davis."

"Rose Davis?"

"Yes, I saw you talking to her yesterday so I thought...she bought the dress for you."

Y/N could feel her blood start to boil. She clenched her fists, politely thanked Emily for her help, then stormed out of the shop. She was so mad because Layla'd been right about Rose all along. No, she wasn't mad, she was furious. And for a second there she nearly called Harry to ask about Rose so she could speak to the little witch in person. Just a few steps away from the store, she bumped into Jack, her boss. Even though Jack looked so delighted to see her, the girl quickly excused herself and straight off told him she was in a hurry.

"Hey, hey, hey, Y/N!" The older man grabbed the girl's elbow to spin her around to face him again. "What's going on? Are you on your way to kill someone?"

"As a matter of fact, yes!" She turned away from him again, but his grip on her arm wasn't loosen one bit, leaving her no choice but to stay and hear him out.

"This is so not like you. Whatever you're mad about, you need to calm down first." He furrowed his eyebrows at her. And she knew he was right. Layla would've done the same, but the thing was she wasn't Layla. Acting before thinking wasn't smart, and surely going to see Rose with this rage would only make the matter worse and might affect Harry's relationship with his boss, who was Rose's father.

Jack pressed his lips into a soft smile once he sees that she'd cooled off now. "Good girl," he said, sliding his hand down to hold onto hers. "Come with me. I'll buy you a coffee and we'll talk about whatever it is that's bothering you." Having nothing else better to do now that her day was officially ruined, Y/N sent him a nod and followed the man wherever he was taking her to.

They ended up sitting in a lovely café down the road, which was apparently Jack's favorite go-to place, because he told the waiter to get him "the usual". Y/N ordered a cup of Jasmine ice tea, for her day was already too bitter for a black coffee like Jack's. She usually didn't confide in just anyone, but now she wasn't really herself. So Y/N ended up releasing all the frustration she'd had ever since her wedding theme was stolen, saying now that her dress had been stolen too, she began to think...maybe the universe didn't want this wedding to happen.

She knew he was...Jack, but she expected at least something like 'don't be sad', though it sounded pointless and insincere, it was still encouraging. Instead, what she received from him was a slight chuckle.

"You find this funny?"

"No." The man shook his head, showing her a sweet grin as he ran his fingers through his hair, same way her Harry did when he was nervous. "Though I do think you're overreacting."

"I am not!"

"You are. If you see not having everything go your way in the process of planning this wedding as the sign from the universe that you shouldn't get married, then maybe you don't want to get married."

"I do!" She argued, frowning at her boss. "I love Harry, and I love what we have, and I...I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

"Then a perfect wedding shouldn't matter this much." Jack sighed, now he seemed completely stolid. "Look, my parents got married on their own, without their families' approval. She didn't even have a wedding dress or even a diamond ring. But she told me it was the happiest day of her life. She still has that hideous gown hung in her closet, and she loves it more than anything, just not as much as she loves my father." Then Jack began to smile again, Y/N thought this one was the most genuine she had ever seen from him. "So if you're saying you love Harry and you want to spend the rest of your life with him. Don't let a dress make you doubt your decision."

The conversation actually ended there, with Y/N being quiet, not knowing what to say, and Jack finishing his coffee while letting her pondering over his words. There was still a lot more that he wanted to say to her, starting from the fact that he just couldn't stop thinking about her since Valentine's Day, to how much he wished she had ever really doubted her decision to be engaged so soon. However, Jack knew better than trying to change this young woman's mind. He didn't know Harry personally, yet by the way she had always talked about that man, Jack was more than certain Y/N loved Harry unconditionally. So despite his own feelings suggesting him to do otherwise, he honestly wanted the best for her. And sadly, in her words, Harry seemed like the best.

Y/N took Jack's words home with her and replayed it over and over in her head. She didn't know what to say to Harry, whether or not she should just rant about the dress, about Rose, and demand him to stop associating with that girl because she, just like Mason and Stephanie, had ruined their wedding. Y/N carried those thoughts from the lift, to her front door. But as soon as she unlocked it and stepped inside and saw the excitement on her love's face when he came to kiss her...

"Niall and I came up with so many cool themes! I just can't wait to show you!" he said.

...and just like that, she didn't feel upset anymore. She was actually happy, more than she'd ever been, more than when she put on that dress, if she must admit. Because Y/N knew, no matter how terrible her day'd been, she was always gonna come home to this face, to this man, whose one single 'hello' could turn her frown up side down instantly. All of a sudden, a fairytale wedding, an extravagant wedding ceremony, or even the most expensive wedding gown, just couldn't compare to her Harry.

"Okay, so I have Wizard of Oz, with the yellow brick road," Harry began as he picked up the notebook and a pen from the coffee table. "Harry Potter, The Great Gatsby, Zombies, Game of Thrones, but nobody has to die of course, or any Disney classics really, I've always loved Beauty and The Beast..."

"Harry."

"...what else? Oh, who put Twilight in here? Probably Niall, but yeah, Twilight, and—"

"Harry, we don't need a wedding theme anymore," she cut him off instantly, leaving him speechless for a few seconds and just staring at her.

"W-Why?" He asked her at last, looking so worried. "There are better ones towards the end—"

"It's okay." She took the notebook and the pen from his hands and laid them back down where they were before. Then she intertwined their fingers and tiptoed to kiss the tip of his nose. "I don't need a wedding theme anymore, I don't even need a dress."

Her words really shocked him because his eyes nearly fell out of his head as he gave her that dumbfounded look. "Do you still wanna get married?"

"I do, I do!" She giggled, nodding fast. "But let's just make it a small party, invite a few friends, your family and I, to a small candlelight dinner in a garden somewhere, under the fairy lights, or the stars. I can just get a wedding dress from a thrift store and...we'll save that money to go somewhere far for our honeymoon, explore the world, like you'd always wanted to before we got together."

"Is this what you want though?" He furrowed his brows at her. "You don't have to change your mind for me. I'm fine with anything."

"Yes, this is what I want," she reassured him with a vibrant beam. "I think both of us will be happier with this plan."

"Yeah?"

"How many times do I have to tell you yes?" She grumbled and  grabbed his face to kiss him passionately. Who was Harry to argue with his girl's decision now? In fact, he was overjoyed to jump on board with this new wedding plan, and actually felt very relieved since he'd expected her to hate all of those themes he and Niall had come up with.

When they broke the kiss, she kept her hands on his cheeks, and looked him in the eyes, Harry suddenly remembered one thing and immediately told her, "I'm down with the small party and a few guests, but please at least get yourself a wedding dress. I don't want my girl to get married in a thrifted gown. Just buy that dress you wanted, baby."

Speaking of the dress...

"They sold it to someone else."

"Noooooo! They DID NOT!"

Y/N burst into laughter at Harry's dramatic reaction. "But don't worry, I'll find another one."

"You will, love, you will!" Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her feet off the ground, causing Y/N to die of laughter while clinging onto him. "It doesn't matter what you're gonna wear though, you're still my princess, with or without a beautiful dress."

"Please, I know you just prefer me naked."

"I do." He lifted an eyebrow. "Just when we're alone though, for my eyes only."

His cheeky grin never failed to cheer her up. And as they fell backward onto the couch while kissing and laughing like children, Y/N was once again reminded why she had never once doubted her decision to marry this man. With him, everyday, every moment, every second, felt like the happiest.

.

.

.

Rose came to her father's company again on Monday and stops by Harry's office to say hello as usual. Normally Harry would just greet her with a smile and ask how she'd been. This time, he didn't even turn around when she knocked on his door, which was already wide opened. He carried on tidying his working desk and paid no attention to the girl.

"Harry?" she spoke up after about five seconds with just utter silence. "Good morning?"

She waited, patiently, and eventually Harry had face her. However, the the pucker between his brows and the way his lips formed a firm line really frightened her, this was actually the first time she'd seen him like this, almost as if he was angry at her. Maybe he was, and she knew exactly the reason why.

"Why did you do it?" He went straight into the point with no further ado. The girl seemed perplexed at first, but he knew for sure she was only pretending. "Why did you have to buy that wedding dress? Is there soon to be a wedding that I don't know of?"

"I—"

"And don't even think about lying to me."

"How...Did she say something?" Rose snorted nervously but she wasn't surprised, because Y/N seemed to her like the kind of girl who would come crying to her fiancé about the dress she'd failed to get.

But Y/N hadn't. She hadn't mentioned a single word about Rose to Harry, because she didn't take this girl seriously or consider her as a threat to her relationship with Harry. After Y/N had told him about someone else having bought the wedding gown of her dream, in the afternoon he went straight to that shop without telling her. His initial intention was to ask whether or not there happened to be another one that's similar to the one his fiancé loved, only to find out from the employee named Emily, that the person who'd bought that dress was Rose. Emily seemed to hate Rose a lot, she said Rose had been friends with the owner of that shop for years, so she came over very often and wasn't always nice to the staff there. Then she didn't forget to include the fact that Rose bought the dress only so Y/N couldn't. That really drove Harry up the walls.

"She didn't have to tell me anything," he claimed, staring her down. "Why did you do it?"

"I needed that dress...for a class project."

"Really? Out of a hundred dresses in that shop, you must have the same one that you saw Y/N try on?" Harry chuckled humorlessly as he crossed his arms and shook his head slowly. "You're unbelievable. I actually thought you were nice."

Rose couldn't say a word, she couldn't even look him in the eyes.

"You once told me about the girls who bullied you back in high school," he said after releasing a long heavy breath. "Does this make you any different from them?"

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize to me, if you really are sorry, you should say it to my girl. Please keep the dress and do whatever the hell you want to do with it, but I don't want to speak to you again." Then he sat down at his desk and opened his laptop to get back to work, that was when Rose took the cue from him and left his office immediately. A lot of Harry's co-workers began to wonder why the girl was crying on her way back to the lift, nobody dared to ask though, even if they knew, even if her father knew, Harry would still not take back what he'd just said to her.

Unlike Harry, Y/N had an ordinary day at work. She wanted to thank Jack for the drink and the pep talk yesterday, but when she arrived at work this morning, his personal assistant said he was on a business trip and therefore wouldn't show up today. So Y/N left him a text, which he still hasn't replied. She finished work early (because Jack wasn't here to assign her more tasks to do), then took a taxi home because Harry had a late meeting he couldn't pick her up. She was definitely in a good mood, humming her favorite song as she walked into the lobby and said hello to Nam. But before she could make it to the lift, the doorman stopped her just in time.

"Come quick!" He waved at her, looking so suspicious as he took a few glances around them before whispering to her that she'd got a 'special delivery'.

"Nam, why are you sounding like you're selling me drugs!" She laughed, but the Asian man didn't seem to find that joke funny. He bent down and lifted up a big white box from underneath the counter. Y/N thought if she tried she could just fit right in there. It looked like huge Christmas present wrapped around by a ribbon with a cute little bow on top.

"Aww, Nam, it's not my birthday!"

"It's not from me!" He snorted and tapped his hand on the box, smiling at her. "I'm so glad Harry didn't come home with you. I don't think he should see this."

"What is it?" Nam's words really made her curious. She just had so many questions right now. What on Earth was big enough to be in that box? Why shouldn't Harry see this? Who was it from?!

To answer for all of those inquiries in her head, Nam handed her a white card, telling her to read it herself. She hesitated for a while, not knowing what to expect, and she was actually afraid of surprises after all the unfortunate events lately. Her hands were trembling as she unfolded the card, and as soon as she saw the neat handwriting in black ink, she knew just who this present was from.

Thanks for your help with the perfect PR campaign. I think you deserve your perfect wedding dress. Cheers, J.C.

"J.C," she said the words aloud with a snort. Jack Coleman, how extra could he be? But wait, did he really write 'wedding dress'?! He's giving me a freaking wedding dress?!

Y/N widened her eyes at Nam, who urged her to open the box and saw the dress because he was just as equally excited as she was, probably more. "I've been waiting the whole afternoon for you to come home and unbox this! I don't want Harry to see because the dress should be a surprise to the groom!" He told her while crossing his fingers. "Please let it be beautiful."

Nervous, excited, impatient, Y/N had her eyes shut when she slowly lifted open the box. Only when she heard a loud squeal from Nam did she finally took a look to see what it was. That was not just a wedding dress, it was the dress, the one she was still trying to convince herself that she didn't need, the exact same one that Rose had bought two days ago! As elated as she was to finally see it there again, Y/N was still so confused about this unexpected present.

"Who delivered this?"  She quickly asked Nam, who was still gushing over the pretty gown. "Was it Jack?"

"Who? The hot guy who came to see you the day before Valentine's?"

"Yeah, the one who looks smug all the time."

"Nope, the deliver guy brought the box here," Nam told her as he shrugged. "He told me it was a wedding dress, a gift from someone to you. I didn't read the card so I assumed it was from Layla or your sister. Now you say it's from your hot boss, and I'm so confused."

"So am I." She sighed. Now Y/N had even more questions than before. Why did Jack have the dress? Was this the one Rose bought or is it another that looked the same? How was Harry gonna feel about Jack giving her this? Most importantly, should she accept this gift or return it to him?

.

.

.

"Jack Coleman! I need to speak to you right now!" Rose barged into Jack's home office even though his butler followed her inside, begging her not to disturb the man when he was working. It was too late, Jack was already disturbed. Rose's presence took his attention away from his laptop screen as he stood up, removed his glasses and told his butler to leave him alone with her.

"Can't you see I'm in a middle of work here?" He asked, sounding annoyed. He'd just got back from a business trip and was physically drained, but what was the point of explaining the situation now, when clearly this younger girl couldn't care any less. Anyway, he knew exactly why she was there.

"Did you sneak into my studio to take that wedding dress?!" She raised her voice, pointing to the door. Her rage was the opposite from his composure at the moment.

"No, your father let me in, and I bought it back," he spoke calmly, hands in the pockets of his trousers.

"What did you say to my dad?"

"Don't be a child, Rosaline."

"Just because our parents are best friends, it doesn't make us best friends! You can't just waltz into my house and take my stuff without my permission!"

"Why do you even need a wedding dress anyway?" He scoffed, lifting his shoulders, eyebrows pulled together as he stared at her. "I've known you since you were five, so don't fucking lie to me."

"It's none of your business! Did you say something to Harry?"

Jack cracked up but he fought her being here and saying these stuff far from funny. "I didn't say anything to him, but maybe I should because you are being a brat. His fiancé, the girl you stole the dress from was a friend of mine."

"Stole? I bought it first! It was mine before you stole it for her! How do you even know her though?! Did you find out from her?" Rose panted, placing both hands on her hips, only to receive an eye-roll from the older man in the black polo shirt.

"No." He shook his head, still keeping a straight face. He didn't feel the need to explain his relationship with anyone to Rose. "You expected me to not find out that you bought a wedding dress from my sister's shop? Grow up Rosaline." The girl didn't say a word so he carried on,  "are you obsessed with Y/N's fiancé? Was why you pulled this kind of stuff?"

"You should really speak for yourself," Rose finally spoke, now crossing her arms defensively even though she was the one attacking him with her words. "Don't lie and say you're not already in love with her." She paused to see what he was going to say next, knowing he was now all tongue-tied, because not a single word she'd just said was false. She knew him from inside out.

When Rose saw herself out of his home office, Jack sat back down at his working desk and stared blankly at the laptop screen. Suddenly, the screen of his phone lit up with a new text, another one from Y/N.

Hey, I don't know why you're not answering my calls and texts, but thank you for the dress :) I'll pay the money back! Have a good night!

That one short paragraph alone could put a smile on his face. And that was when Jack realized, he'd got a big problem.

[swervavery]

Marked | Jack Avery

Pairing: Jack Avery x Reader

Summary: An alternate universe where everyone has a dark mark showing where their soulmate first touches them.

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 1970

A/N: So, this ended up a lot longer than I expected it to… I truly enjoyed writing this, please let me know what you think.

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It is 6:45 AM on a Friday morning, and I am on my way to kindergarten. I love working with little kids, but now that summer is approaching, they are all hyped up and somehow even more energetic than usual. It has been a long week, and I am ready for a weekend to unwind and sleep. I pull into the parking lot at 7 AM and meet Maisie and Levi inside. Maisie is my boss, she’s 62 years old and has been working here almost as long as this place has existed. Levi is 28 and started working here three years ago, a couple of months before me. Today it is only us three working, seeing as a lot of the parents pick up their kids early on Fridays.

Levi and I are on our way outside to make sure everything is ready for the children. Forecast says there will be plenty of sunshine today, making it a perfect day to spend out in the garden. “Y/N, I need you in here! Levi you head outside.” Maisie calls out when we open the door. “What do you need?” I ask her. “Adrian arrived 20 minuets ago and he is sitting alone in the drawing room. Could you go keep him company until the others get here?” I look at her with a puzzled expression, “Why did he come so early? I mean, we still don’t officially open until 15 minutes.” Maisie shakes her head and tells me his mother had a meeting out of state and had to leave early. “She told me yesterday, so I got here at 6:30.” I smile at her, thinking there aren’t many people who would go to work earlier to help out the way Maisie does.

I walk into the drawing room and head over to Adrian who is sitting at a table surrounded by paper and colored pencils. “Hi there Adrian, would you mind if I joined you?” He shakes his head without looking up, focusing on the drawing in front of him. “What are you drawing?” I ask, trying to get a look of his work. He sighs and looks up at me, a frown on his face. “I’m trying to draw me and my parents in our garden, but I can’t draw flowers.” “Hmmm”, I put my hand on my chin, making an exaggerated thinking-face. “I might have something to help you.” I use my key to open a cabinet and take out our arts-and-crafts box. I put it on the table, and take out stickers, stamps, gemstones and glue and help Adrian make a colorful garden with flowers, butterflies and everything else he wants to add.

“Hey, what’s that mark on your hand?” Adrian had stayed silent, working intently on his drawing, but now his focus is fixed on my right hand. I glance down, dropping the colored pencil I was drawing with and placing my hand flat on the table. “It’s a soulmate mark”, I tell him, seeing confusion spread across his face. I smile slightly at his innocence before explaining further, “It shows up as you get closer to meeting your soulmate, marking the place where they first touch you.” I trace the outline of the dark brown shape that covers the back of my hand. “Does that mean you will meet your soulmate soon?” Adrian asks, examining my hand. “Unfortunately, I don’t know. It can be in two days or two years; you can never be sure exactly when it will happen.” Adrian carefully lifts his hand and places it on top of mine, trying to cover my mark. His hand is much too small to fit, but I smile at the gesture. “What will happen when your soulmate touches the mark?” he enquires. “I think it fades to a lighter color, but it never disappears.” Adrian nods his head, pulls his hand away and turns back to his drawing.

Other kids start showing up, and as some of them join Adrian, I head over to Maisie to go over the schedule for today. As planned, we spend most of the day outside in the sun, joyful shrieks and children’s laughter filling the air. A few parents come to pick up their children at 1 PM, and by 2:30 only two kids remain. Levi plays with them outside, while Maisie and I start cleaning up inside. Once all the kids have been collected, Levi comes to help us. With all three of us we have the place tidied up and spotless in no time.

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Back home I take a shower and wash my hair, make myself a cup of tea, and sit down on my couch with a book. My friend Theresa calls me just as I reach a cliffhanger, and I consider just ignoring her but decide against it. “You are joining me at a party tonight!” It’s always straight to the point with her, never any sugarcoating. However, I am really tired and not feeling up for a party tonight. I tell her as much, but she is determined, arguing back, “Nope, you have been around little kids all week, you need to socialize with people your own age!” I tell her that I have coworkers my age, but she ignores me, proceeding to talk about her roommate’s friend’s cousin’s party at an apparently mansion-like house. “If I say I’ll come, will you stop talking?” I half joke, cutting her off. She instantly agrees, telling me she’ll pick me up at eight, before hanging up. I pick up my book again, deciding to just enjoy my alone time before I have to start getting ready.

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Theresa wasn’t kidding when she labeled the place as mansion-like. The house is gigantic, complete with the fancy entrance, (containing, you guessed it, a chandelier), and a huge pool in the back. Loud party-music is blasting from speakers in every room I enter. There are tons of people here, and though I know quite a few of them, I’m still not in the mood to mingle. I make my way up a grand staircase, searching for a place less crowded and hopefully somewhat quiet. As I am contemplating finding Theresa and telling her I’ll just take an Uber home, I spot a figure sitting crouched up in the corner of the hallway. It’s a guy dressed in all black clothes, with hair so curly I’m thinking he has to have had it done in a hair salon. His knees are pulled up to his head, covering his face, and his arms are wrapped around his legs. His hands are covered in rings, and one of them displays part of a tattoo. I am struck by the sudden desire to know everything about him and his tattoo. When did he get it? How does the whole thing look? Is there a meaning behind it? Does he have any others? I shake my head and collect my thoughts. My friends always joke about how I was destined to work in a kindergarten, because of what they call my “mom-instincts”. I don’t know if that is a real thing, but upon seeing his crouched-up figure, I have an urge to comfort the boy.

I walk over to him, clearing my throat a little before speaking softly, “Hey, are you okay?” He just shrugs his shoulders, and I slide down to the floor beside him, making sure to maintain some distance between us. “Is there anything I can do for you?” I keep going in my soothing voice, trained up from years of speaking to scared children. The curly-headed guy shakes his head, still not looking up. I move a little closer and gently place my right hand on his left cheek to get him to look at me. “Hey” I say again, this time a hint of concern latched into my voice. He finally looks at me, and I am dazed by the deep brown eyes staring into mine. After a second of sitting in silence gazing into each other’s eyes, his grow wide, and he moves his left hand, covering my right one. At first, I think he’s going to yank my hand away and leave, but he simply presses it closer to his face, his mouth parting slightly. It takes a moment before I feel it. A burning sensation that starts on the back of my hand and spreads through my whole body. I let out a gasp, but it’s not from pain. I am on fire, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s a feeling, not only of warmth, but also love and home and belonging all at once. It is overwhelming, yet I never want it to fade.

A sudden stinging spreads over the back of my hand, making me pull it away from the boy’s face. Looking down at it I see the previous dark brown mark, now turned into only a shadow of the hand that touched my skin. Looking back up at the boy sitting in front of me, I see a shadow of a hand, my hand, marking his cheek. I reach out to touch his soulmate mark again, smiling at the realization of what this means. “I’m Y/N”, I say as I move my hand, signaling him to shake it. He takes it, and that wonderful burning feeling runs up my arm. “I’m Jack”, he replies, his face breaking into a smile, making his eyes close slightly and his nose scrunch up adorably. I feel myself become weak in the knees, and I’m thankful for already being seated on the floor.

Jack is playing with my hand, and when I look down at his tattoo I remember why I approached him in the first place. I’m not usually good at talking to strangers, unless they are young children, but something about knowing this is my soulmate, my person, makes me feel brave. I decide to take a page out of Theresa’s book, and be blunt about my thoughts. “I know we just met, but do you want to talk about why you were sitting alone, looking so sad?” Jack meets my eyes, his smile staying put, though I notice some of his happiness fade away. He looks away for a second, taking a breath before re-counting the events of the night. Apparently his friends has been tauntinghim for years, thinking his first encounter with his soulmate would end with a slap in the face. “It just really got to me. I have three sisters, and I never understood how I could do something that would hurt or offend my soulmate enough to hit me.” “I’m sorry”, I say and start to pull my hand away, feeling at fault for the misleading placement of his mark. “Nonono”, Jack grabs my hand with his and uses the other to tilt my head, forcing me to look him in the eyes again. “This is not your fault, okay?” He must be able to see the doubt in my eyes because he lets go of my hand, using both of his to cup my cheeks, and tilts his face close to mine. “I wouldn’t have had any of this in a different way, as it led me to you.” His voice is filled with sincerity, and his eyes examine every detail on my face, landing on my lips. My heart is beating so loudly I’m certain he can hear it, but all I can think about is how his lips would feel on mine. My breath is caught in my throat as I feel his lips lightly touching mine, all the distance between us vanishing. We are pulled towards each other, and with every touch of his lips and hands I feel my body catching fire, the overwhelming feeling returning, leaving only a single thought in my head; Jack.

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Taglist: @besseavey @mellany1997

[incognitostarkbaratheon]

My final thoughts about Arya and Gendry´s relationship on the show

I know this one is long but if I don’t write it down and put it out there I’m not going to be able to snap out of it. I’m sorry if I ramble a bit.

I’ve been using Bran to justify my obvious disappointment about the GOT finale just because people around me doesn’t give a fuck about Gendry (the first problem to begin with), and despite of not being a fan of Bran as the King, it is definitely not something preventing me from sleeping.

The real reason I’m so upset about and the thing that actually ruined the ending for me is how poorly the relationship between Arya and Gendry was handled. I know he is a minor character in the show but I still feel like he was treated with little respect and Arya with little care.

Apart from Jon, and maybe the Hound, although not in the same way, Gendry is the only person Arya has managed to achieve a real connection with. Strong enough to make her consider staying with the Brotherhood longer than she planned. She was in love with Gendry back then (Maisie confirmed it), she wanted him to stay with her and even offered to be his family.

I understand they had to be separated to isolate Arya so she could go through her training but after she decided to go back to Winterfell, her arc started shifting back to focus more in the meaning of family, the importance of love, life and not being the lone wolf, which has been her motivation since the beginning of the story, finding and protecting her family. Even Nymeria refused to go with her because she already had her own pack, her own family.

When Gendry came into the picture again I thought they would be able to reconnect and build a new relationship from there as adults. But first, instead of leaving Gendry at White Harbour so he could go to Winterfell and start with the weapons while the rest travelled to King’s Landing and back, they took him with them despite the fact his presence was not necessary for the Dragon Pit sequence, I suspect to not have to worry about his character anymore for that season. That took weeks or even months of time he could have used to work in the castle and to get to know Arya again, I’m not going to even talk about character development.

By the time he finally arrived with everyone else, Arya seemed very pleased with him being there so I thought things would start going in the right direction and at first they did but then they derailed, fast.

They made Gendry proposed without any balancing scene between the sex and the proposal which made him look desperate, romantic but desperate, and felt out of character even if he was drunk. He knows her better than to ask her to be his lady instead of his family. Arya rejects him because of her list, yes, but also because of the stereotypical misconception she has about being a “lady”, misconception she should be aware of by now because she was born with the title but has never stop her from achieving or changing things. Not evolving her concept of “lady” after everything she has seen and experienced is a serious lack of character development, like she is stuck on her 11 years old mentality, with only her mother and her sister´s personalities to deduce and define what a lady is.

Despite of clearly loving Gendry back, you don’t look or kiss like that someone you don’t love, the way the scene was structured gave the impression Arya believes Gendry will take her weapons from her and force her to behave like an ornament, which is definitely not the case, Gendry would treat her as an equal and love her without imposing traditions. She knows him better than that, she should know him better than to think that. Maisie even cared enough to show Arya’s heart breaking after saying no and they darkened her face on purpose to not show her pain and make people accept the “I’m not a lady” answer as a given.

At first I wasn’t that worried because it could easily be fixed by an additional scene. Either Gendry explaining he wasn’t expecting Arya to behave like a traditional lady and what he wanted was for her to be his family, or not taking the lordship to go with her. That would have solved the “lady” issue, she would feel free enough and Gendry wouldn’t have the need to deal with all the crap about politics he never wanted in the first place. Not to mention Arya’s last chat with the Hound would make more sense.

Instead, Gendry disappeared completely until the last episode and despite of having plenty of time for walking, brooding and pushing chairs, the episode didn’t give Arya and Gendry the chance to talk for just a moment, not even a goodbye, Arya just leaves. That also sent Arya’s character development straight to the trash, all the humanity she got back with her interactions and intimacy with Gendry and all the plot about the importance of family and not being alone she gained in general during the whole series and particularly the last two seasons disappeared, because apparently if you are a badass you are clearly not worthy of love in your life, romantic or from family.

In the end it came across as if they didn’t care about each other at all. Gendry for not insisting or trying to fix the situation in any way and looking like he indeed cared about the lordship more than he cared about Arya despite of saying “I love you and none of it will be worth anything if you’re not with me” in the previous scene.

Arya because she looked like she only used Gendry. First lured him to make her a weapon that she used only for a minute and then lost, and then as a sex toy. They made Arya look like an asshole regarding Gendry when that’s not how she feels about him in the slightest. She didn’t even properly acknowledge him at the final council and then she leaves, alone, as if he was nothing to her, following a line she said in season 6 to distract Lady Crane from making more uncomfortable questions and has never been mentioned again, that idea doesn't even exist in the books.

Gendry is there just to say “aye” and I hear people saying that he is sure a Baratheon for not getting the Stark girl, but you know what is the saddest thing about that? If parallels with Robert are meant to go that far, Gendry is condemned to a life of misery and loneliness despite of being surrounded by wealth and people, when the only thing he has always wanted is a family. That is beyond infuriating.

I know in the books the existence of Edric Storm will most likely change Gendry’s fate, I’m counting on it and I'm still hoping Arya and Gendry as a couple benefit by any changes made due to Edric's individual plot, but seeing how little the show and people in general cared about Gendry and how diminished he was as a character (which even Joe was bothered about), along with the lack of interest of Arya made me not just sad but angry. I still can´t look at Arya’s ship leaving without being irritated, especially because most people think being completely alone, again, and for who knows how long was such a nice ending for her.

My only hope on this mess is that George sees it on a similar way and gives Arya and Gendry more credit as characters with more than just one note, not just an assassin, not just a blacksmith. Love is not a weakness George, you can have independence and strength and still be entitled to love, and just because you are not a main character it doesn't mean you don't deserve the love of a main character. Showing loneliness as the only way gives the wrong message.

[scorpio-skies]

Interview with an OC -Nora Hart

(I was tagged by the lovely @lothrilzul and very likely other people but my inbox is messed up and I lost track T^T But thank you very much for thinking of me! ♥ ) 

Tagging: @eluvisen @mrninjapineapple @sociallyacceptablemadness @ariejul @alexaberkeley @marvilus73 @prezs @mars-colony @charomiami @leporidaefluff @solesurvivorkat (feel free to ignore if this is your second tag -- and if you have yet to do this dear reader, then consider this your invite and tag me >8D)

Important to note; this is Nora from an upcoming collab-fic and she’s not the sole survivor in this verse! (Honestly this is my favourite universe and story for her so there’s a lot different from her typical canon!)

1. What is your name?

“Nora Hart, at your service! Lucky to my friends!”

2. Do you know why are you named that?

“My actual name, not a clue. My nickname though? I once won several jackpots in New Vegas, survived a lot of things I shouldn’t and have yet to lose a game of cards. Scout tried to rig a game once and somehow his card ended up in my hand and I won again. It’s like magic! But that’s why they call me Lady Luck!”

3. Are you single or taken?

“Taken and part of a happy family -- I would introduce you to our daughbear, but Sarge is doing his side of the parenting right now.”

4. Have any abilities or powers?

“Well, there’s my luck, obviously. Kammie says I have gift for making dangerous friends but uh… we don’t talk about Richard. Oh! Also there’s my ability to get out of the boring jobs! Can’t be a member of Houdini Squad if you can’t break in or out of places, right?”

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

“...I’m Nora Hart? I thought we weren’t drinking in this interview… do you need a lie down?”

6. What’s your eye color?

“Blue!”

7. How about your hair color?

“Black -- maybe dark brown? It gets a little warmer in colour when I’ve been in the sunlight too long. I did not appreciate that Nuka-World sunshine by the way, no sir.”

8. Have any family members?

“Houdini Squad are my family -- and Kaelyn and Nate! If I had to narrow it down further, Sarge is my partner, Hayley is our daughbear, Kammie’s my brother. Sure, we’re not blood but our bond’s stronger than that and his Ma and cousin adopted me when I was in the Mojave, so!”

9. Oh? How about pets?

“Let’s see there’s the radstags, Sarge’s babies Maisie and Booker, Blanche the radgull who lives on our porch, Luna and Celeste the cats… You’re waiting for me to mention Hayley, aren’t you? Well, let me tell you that little bear is our daughter, not our pet. She’s also a member of Houdini Squad so… check your bag before you leave.”

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

“Needles, I… and I don’t like the dark overmuch, or ferals. Or raiders. I really, really hate raiders… ugh can we just… next question!”

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

“Good switch! So I like to hang out with squad, play hide-and-pray when we’re skipping duty and Sarge comes looking -- that’s gotten harder, by the way. Think he’s finally realised how to use that voice and those eyes and… and I also like raising animals! Training the radstags! Trying to teach Hayley to be better behaved, but let’s be real. Those big brown eyes and little round earses and pawsies! How can you call her a bad bear! She’s the best bear! Queen of the bears!”

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

“... I’ve hurt more people in more ways than I can count. And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Yeah. It was always in self-defence though, and you don’t survive a place like Nuka-World without getting blood on your hands...”

14. What kind of animal are you?

“A magpie. I’m gonna be straight with you. I see a shiny? I like the shiny, I take the shiny. But I do it fairly through buying or gambling!”

15. Name your worst habits?

"Oh boy this might take a while… so I clearly have a gambling problem. I mean, it’s not a problem coz I never lose but I know I do too much of it. I tend to want to adopt every animal we encounter, I guess I can be kinda judgemental, yet ironically I definitely befriended one of the absolute worst people on the planet...”

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“Sarge is one helluva leader and keeps us all together and I adore him. Kammie’s always had my back and has great intentions -- and Kaelyn. I’d be dead several times over and worse without her. She had to make some ugly but necessary calls and she always did it for everyone else, never herself. I don’t know if I could be so selfless, but I admire her greatly.”

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

“I’ve only ever been with Sarge, but I can appreciate everyone!”

18. Do you go to school?

“Never went -- feels like I’m there when Sarge makes us stand in the naughty corner to think about what we did and write him an essay though.”

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“I’d love to get married and have kids, yeah, but… I don’t know if I can have kids of my own, and I don’t know if Sarge is ready to get married yet. But that’s okay! We have our daughbear and she’s beautiful!”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

“Well, not to brag but I did gain a small following in New Vegas who wanted to bask in my winnings! Kinda felt embarrassing though. Houdini Squad are all the cheerleaders I need!”

21. What are you most afraid of?

“Being abandoned and left alone.”

22. What do you usually wear?

“My hat, a duster, some riding gear and body armour with a few hidden weapons… yeah, I never grew out of the habit after Nuka World…”

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“Snack Cakes! They’re just great, y’know? Sweet little pieces of heaven you can eat!“

24. Am I annoying to you?

"Nah. You’re nosy but I like you! You bought me lunch for this interview!”

25. Well, it’s still not over!

“Good! I don’t think the others are done setting up your ‘surprise’ yet.”

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

“Honestly thanks to the winnings in New Vegas, I’m probably high class. Definitely new money though, I mean the looks those Upperstanders give me when I prove I can buy their houses, sheesh!”

27. How many friends do you have?

“Too many to count! I have eight I can fall back on without question though, and they’re the ones that matter most to me.”

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Pie is second only to snack cakes -- Dandy Apple pies mm-mmm!”

29. Favorite drink?

“Sunset Sarsparilla! I mean, I love how Nuka-Cola flavours glow and all, not so much how they make your teeth and tongue glow too...“

30. What’s your favorite place?

"Ever been to Sunshine? Me, Kammie and Sarge own it. We’ve turned it into a beautiful ranch and its just an amazing place to live. Safe, beautiful and surrounded by my animals and family. Who could want more than that?”

31. Are you interested in anyone?

“Already told you I’m with Sarge, and I’m exclusive when it comes to relationships.”

32. That was a stupid question…

“Well, I mean, you called me Mary Sue earlier so its not the worst thing you’ve said so far...”

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“Oh god how about neither? You ever seen a queen or king lurk before? How about a gatorclaw?“

34. What’s your type?

“Kind, compassionate, brave, intelligent, believes in the greater good and fights for those they care about… I don’t know, just go see Sarge! I never met anyone else like him, but he’s my type!”

35. Any fetishes?

“Yeah, okay. This is the most stupid question! That stuff’s private you kinky radrat!”

36. Camping or outdoors?

“Camping is more secure and you can get plenty of outdoors while camping, so why not both?”

[linsh6]

Speculations for GOT S8

Since I’ve expressed some thoughts about Show!Jonrya, maybe I just outright say all my opinions toward GOT and my S8 speculations.

D&D are really dumb writers

Yes, I won't avoid my “despise” on them so I just outright say it. A lot of people think they just hate Arya so much so they reduce her complex character into a one-dimensional badass assassin and ignore her capacity to become a leader (or queen). But in my opinion, they just purely so suck at script writing that everyone in the show is reduced to a one-dimensional character.

I once held a job as a scriptwriter back in my country (not in English though, and then I quit my job and became a free writer), and I know some important principles and points when it comes to scriptwriting. First of all is the characters’ arcs, D&D apparently have sucked at that so I won’t say much, all of you guys can refer to Grrm’s amazing original and will know how complex character development truly is (He’s so talented and I admire him so much). Why, based on Grrm’s brilliant work, D&D still managed to fuck up the characters’ shapings, I don’t know the reason, just like I suspect why they can even earn their job at HBO. 

Then is the structure and consistency,  I can convince myself that D&D did try their best for the characters but failed, but if the story is not consistent and even contradict itself, it’s deadly. A good scriptwriter (or at least who wants to be) must consider the whole plan from the beginning, otherwise, the story would easily become a total mess.

I believe that D&D do that effort (I believe in their ambition to be remembered and honored as scriptwriters), and we can access that they did plan out some character's development from S1 and talked with Grrm regarding their endings. 

So based on that I would build my personal speculations for S8′s plot.

1. Jonerys’ relationship & Daenerys’ ending.

First of all, I am a little up for the Daenerys’ mad queen theory. In S7 Daenerys literally burn people alive because they refused to bend their knee, which includes Sam’s father and brother. Tyrion felt it not good and tried to stop her, but he failed. 

That behavior is not a really good sign to me, and every character must hold their fate for what they’ve done, remember some actors did refer that there’s a trail for everyone in the final season? If that’s the case, why Daenerys should escape that final trial? I can tell D&D set this up intentionally because Tyrion as a neutral mirror already contradicted Daenerys at that scene.

And I dont’t see Jonerys will end well, their value and ways of lifestyle are too different, and their union in last season was nothing more than a forced push. They only knew each other for several days! How can we count on their relationship to be a great love story? And honestly I don’t see D&D put any effort in developing Jonerys’ relationship, all of their plots are so obvious and cliche, if they really are the final endgame D&D certainly could come up something better & more touching. 

I do think that Jonerys would become enemies in the end. Daenerys has no way back but become a queen to rule the seven kingdoms, otherwise all the efforts along her way to come to now would mean nothing, where there’s no better description than Grrm’s original line “If I look back, I am lost” ( In the books I sympathize for Daenerys, but she’s so flat on the show...)

2. Sansa will die

Honestly, I think Sansa will die halfway both in the show and in the books, she’s not important enough to make it to the finale episode. Actually she’s not even important enough bothering me to talk about, but D&D certainly did show some “fondness” to this character that made us hard to ignore.

Of course, they really “like” her, even to add a rape plot to force her to “grow” and made her first reunite with Jon. But that’s it, they can’t do more. They nearly made her become the top tier characters, but only nearly. Despite of their “fondness” of Sansa, D&D still didn’t make the northern lords fight against Boltons for Sansa like they did for Arya in the books, neither Jon. And D&D shaped her as an ambitious politician who would rather take place of Jon and almost kill her sister, which was verified by the script remark. (And Jonsa is a crackship both in the show and the books, there’s no other way around.)

Sansa still needs to fulfill her final character arc with meeting Cersei at King’s Landing,  so her death may happen at episode 4 or 5 I guess.

3. Arya’s role in the battle of dawn

I surely believe Arya will play an important role in the battle of dawn, even decisive, first point is her valyrian dagger, and second is Nymeria. 

In Isaac’s interview, he did say bran offers Arya the valyrian dragger because he senses there’s gonna be some importance to it. So maybe we can guess Arya would use this dagger in some vital fighting moment like fighting the Night King.

Then is Nymeria, I know people are all upset about the scene in S7, but it must mean for something, otherwise that would be a total waste of time for showing that Nymeria becomes a queen of a wolf pack (and the money too). Remember Ghost and Nymeria are the only Stark’s direwolf left. I believe Nymeria’s wolf pack would show up in the critical moment during the fighting. 

4. Arya’s parallel to Lyanna

I guess that in S8 there may be a scene directly compare Arya to Lyanna. Remember GOT’s team did make some efforts to choose an actress who resembles Maisie to play Lyanna. And Maisie also once said "I remember having a little braid in my hair and the hair and make-up team would be like, you cannot leave with that braid in your hair, we have to take it out. Because people will read into it and find some spoilers with just a braid." 

If Arya has a scene with a braid and be referred to Lyanna, then it must have a strong impact to Jon, because all these years he always wondered about his mother, now finally gonna see a live Lyanna 2.0 before his eyes.

5. Jonrya’s relationship development

According to actors’ interviews recently, that would be a fair guess that Jonrya won’t go well at the beginning, like a forthright hug as they do in S1E2. But I don’t view it as a bad thing, on the opposite I believe a real important relationship would need a proper and elaborate-designed development (never like Jonerys’ one),  that arc would be more moving and impressing.

If Jon & Arya develop their relationship through the final season, like afraid to face each other at the first but then realize they will still love each other no matter what, then I have every reason to believe Jonrya is the endgame. 

And if they do end up romantically (that’s my hope), I guess would be under that stressful circumstance and they still and only have each other (Sansa will die, Bran is emotionless, Jon and Daenerys may turn against each other halfway). Only they would love the other unconditionally, what else does it need for them to go further?

Final word

To close this post, I just want to express my love and respect for the show. Not for D&D of course, they suck at those characters and mess the story after S5. But for Grrm’s brilliant original base and the actors’ amazing performances, including those of Lena, Peter, Carice, Alfie, Aiden & so many other great ones, and finally my beloved Maisie (Not including Kit and Emilia, especially Emilia, they’re lovely though). 

In my view, GOT is one of the greatest show in the world (thanks to Grrm’s original work of course not D&D’s), and I may rewatch and appreciate it every now and then for my later years. 

D&D did a rather good job at least for the first 4 seasons, if they really make an “unexpected” ending as every actor put it and want to impress the audience & to be remembered well, I do hope they could end it well, just like what they did with the beginning.

If that so, I may still not forgive what they did in S5 but would not hate them anymore probably😊.

[mamashitty]

Samwell Elementary Chapter 11

Title: Samwell Elementary Fandom: Check, Please! Word Count: 2,291 Ship: Zimbits Chapter: 11 Previous Chapters: tumblr & ao3 Blurb: Eric goes home for Thanksgiving. WARNING: This chapter does deal with the death of a minor character. The death occurred over the summer, before this story started.

Eric -sends a picture of a his mama’s kitchen full of pies and other baked goods-

dat butt tho Wow. That is a lot of pie. You Bittles go all out, eh?

Eric Mama and I both might be stress baking. I’m not sure stress baking is exactly the right word. Sad-baking? Nostalgibaking? Memorybaking?

dat butt tho Do you need to talk about it at all? Shitty said this is your family’s first Thanksgiving without your Moomaw?

Eric You are too sweet, Jack. No, no. Spend time with Maisie. I will be fine.

Except Eric had not been fine when he sent that text message a couple of hours earlier and he is not fine now. There is a weight of sadness hanging over everyone. Usually, his aunts, uncles, and cousins stay late into the night for Thanksgiving. MooMaw was always at the center of it, no one really wanting to be the first to leave until she did. This year it was different. Aunts began arriving early like always. Eric and Mama had been up for hours baking and cooking. They always baked and cooked a lot for Holidays, but usually, MooMaw would arrive earlier than anyone else and help them out. She would take charge of the kitchen, and there would be laughter and loud voices. This year, everything i subdued. Oh, laughter does escape people and then gets picked up by others, but it never lasts long. Sadness and a strange sense of emptiness, of the sudden realization that MooMaw’s barking laugh is missing.

Eric knows it is rude of him to think but he is relieved when people leave earlier than normal. He knows that MooMaw would not approve of it, that she would chide everyone for behaving as they were. Mama tried to bring in more lightness and laughter into the day, and Eric tried to help her, but it was difficult and draining. And, Eric is just glad, that it is now nine in the evening and the only people in the house are his Mama and Coach. Eric helps them clean up, and he feels a tightness in his throat. He can see his Mama’s shoulders shaking and he looks away when Coach slips an arm around her, he tries not to listen to their murmurs, and he tries to forget the loud sob his Mama lets escape before she manages to stifle it.

“Dicky, we are going to bed now,” Coach says.

Eric swallows the lump in his throat, and he knows his voice sounds falsely bright. Too bright. “Y’all have a good night,” and he listens as his parents retreat to their bedroom. He stays in the kitchen, continues to finish the cleaning up. He is not sure what he is going to do for the rest of the night. Maybe settle in his childhood bedroom, open his laptop, and binge-watch something. He makes no move to leave the kitchen though. His legs, they feel strangely frozen in place. Then, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, and he realizes someone is calling him. Eric fishes his phone out and stares for at it for a second before he answers.

“Jack?” He realizes his voice sounds funny, strained like he is fighting back tears. And he realizes, he is. He is not sure if this fresh onslaught of emotion has to do with his MooMaw or if it is just because Jack is calling him. He realizes after he answers, that they have never spoken on the phone before.

“Eric? Hey, eh.. is this a bad time?” Eric feels his shoulders start to relax once he hears Jack’s voice. Deep like he remembers, but different because voices always sound a little different over the phone. Eric is shaking his head, and he realizes after a beat that Jack can’t see him doing that.

“No, no. Not a bad time at all,” Eric says, as he flicks off the kitchen light and moves towards his bedroom. “I just finished cleaning up the kitchen. Everyone left an hour or so ago. Mama and Coach are in bed,” and Eric is dimly aware that he might be rambling.

“Everyone is gone or in bed here too,” Jack replies, and Eric smiles. He can tell it is a little thing, probably barely a smile, but he knows it is there.

Eric pushes the door open to his bedroom and flicks on the light with his free hand. Then he closes the door before settling down onto his bed.

“How was your day, Jack?” Eric asks because he does not want Jack to ask how his day was. He is worried he might prattle on too much about his sadness, and how weird everything was today. How he feels like he did not try hard enough to make everyone feel comfortable enough in their grief. He feels he should have made space for that, for himself, and for everyone. But it was difficult and Eric knows he was not ready to do that even if he thinks MooMaw would have wanted someone to do that.

“Today was good,” Jack replies, and Eric can hear him moving around on the phone. He wonders where Jack is. Wonders, briefly and then forces himself to stop, if Jack is in his bed. As much as he wants to picture Jack in bed, he also does not. “I always go to Camilla’s to celebrate American Thanksgiving with her family and Maisie. Maisie helped bake the pie we ate,” Jack says, and Eric can picture the soft smile that he is positive he can hear over the phone.

“What kind of pie did she bake?” Eric asks, moving so that he is resting his back against the headboard, his legs spread out comfortably in front of him.

“Apple. Because Apple is her favorite this week. That is what she said, anyway.” Jack says, finishing with a chuckle.

“Oh Lord, I can just imagine Maisie saying that,” Eric says, a quiet laugh of his own escaping him. “What else did y’all eat?”

He hears another soft chuckle escape Jack, and Eric wonders for a second if Jack is going to brush off the question or not. But, Jack answers, and Eric closes his eyes as he listens to Jack. He tries to picture what Jack looks like at this moment, what facial expressions he is making as he talks. Eric asks questions every so often, and Jack answers them and Eric is unsure of how long Jack talks about food and then dinner conversation and more of Maisie’s antics. Eric just knows that he feels relaxed, and maybe not exactly happy, but more content than he has been all day. And then…

“So, eh how was your day, Eric?” Jack asks, and Eric sighs.

“It… it was rough,” Eric begins, surprising himself that he did not deflect the question. “I think we all wanted to act like nothing had changed, to act as if MooMaw was still here, but.. it was too hard. MooMaw was always the first to arrive, and no one would leave until she mentioned she was going to head home, and then it would take an hour more before she actually left.” Eric is unsurprised to feel tears in his eyes. He had cried a lot over the summer when MooMaw first passed, and Trevor had done his best to be there for Eric, but Eric had mostly gone to Lardo and Shitty for comfort. Being back home, the first time since the funeral, was hard. And this being the first holiday without her, even harder still.

“I missed her laughter. I missed her presence in the kitchen. Mama and I got up as early as we always do, and I kept expecting MooMaw to show up when she usually does… or did,” Eric gives a shuddery breath. “I’m sorry, Jack. Prattling on about this…”

“Bitty, keep prattling on,” Jack says, before adding. “If you want or need to… or I could go back to talking about my day?” Jack offers.

Jack is giving Eric an out and Eric surprises himself by not taking it. Instead, he closes his eyes for a second, and sighs maybe just a little dramatically, before he opens his eyes again and stares up at his ceiling.

“Okay,” Eric says, “I do want to talk.”

“Okay,” Jack replies.

And Eric keeps his gaze on the ceiling as he talks. His rambling has no real direction. He finds himself first talking about waking up this morning, and padding into the kitchen. How he had wanted to beat his Mama to it, in order to get coffee and breakfast ready for her. His Mama had already been in the kitchen though and had made too big of a breakfast for the three of them. Then he shifts to talking about all the times he helped MooMaw cook or bake things. Then to the sound of MooMaw’s laughter, of her quick wit. Of how feisty she was and so full of love. He talks about the handwritten cookbook she had left him, full of recipes they had baked together and some that she had guarded all her life, with a wink and a promise that one day she would share the recipes with him. Eric goes from crying, usually softly, but an occasional sob does escape him. He finds himself laughing sometimes too, and he dimly worries about his parents hearing but they never say anything. He forgets, as he stares up at the ceiling and talks, that he is in his childhood home. That Jack is not next to him, but states away, listening to him talk. Jack has not interrupted him, but he does respond sometimes. There’s quiet laughter at some of the funny stories that Eric shares, and whispered condolences or questions that prompt Eric to talk even more. Jack seems to instinctively know what Eric needs to hear.

And Eric he really feels like Jack is truly listening to him, that he wants to, and that he cares. Sometimes, Eric is not sure if the tears he is crying are just for MooMaw or this strange happiness he feels in talking to Jack like this, in opening up to him so much. He knows this is the most they have ever talked. He feels that they have crossed some line, some threshold tonight. He wonders, briefly, if Jack is thinking and feeling the same but his thoughts go back to MooMaw and he continues to share stories, and his heart opens. He feels a warmth that had been missing all day.

Eric sighs, “I wish I had had the courage to share some of these stories with my family. I think it could have done us all some good, to talk like this. But… but we all held it in,” Eric is not sure if what he is saying, or trying to say, makes much sense.

“I am glad you could talk to me about it, Bitty.” Jack says gently.

“Thank you for listening,” Eric replies, a smile playing on his lips.

“I will always be here to listen, Bud. We are friends, right?” Jack asks, and Eric hears the vulnerability in it. His ears and heart lingering on the word ‘friends’ and before that ‘Bud’. The way Jack had said it, it had sounded almost like a term of endearment. His heart did something funny at it, soared a little. He latched onto the friends' bit, because that was easier to hold onto, and did not cause his heart to thud as hard. Friends, he could and would take that even if he wanted more. His lips were still turned into a smile, or maybe they had turned into a new smile.

He sighed before he could stop himself, a pleasant little sigh. “Yeah, we are friends. Yanno that means you can talk to me too if you ever need to? That I’m always here to listen too.” Eric says, trying to keep the like-sick simper out of his voice, and doubting he did.

He hears Jack inhale a breath and he waits.

“I was nodding before I remembered you could not see it,” Jack explains, laughing and the laugh sounds embarrassed. Eric smirks, amused. “But, yes. Friends... and I will talk to you if I need to.”

“Friends,” Eric repeats and for some reason, he feels like a little kid. He feels too giddy at the fact they had just confirmed they were friends as if their actions these last few months had not been building up to this. As if Eric does not want them to keep building up to something else. He opens his mouth to say something, his brain not quite caught up to it, when he hears Jack yawn and Eric realizes how late it must be. His phone suddenly feels too warm against his face. His own eyes feel heavy, and soon he is yawning in response to Jack.

“It is past your bedtime, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric gently teases.

“It is, “Jack hums in agreement, but he sounds sleepy all of a sudden.

“Goodnight, Jack. And thanks again,” he says, softly.

“Goodnight, Eric.” Comes the reply.

Silence stretches for a few seconds but neither he nor Jack disconnects the call. The repeat goodnight a couple more times before Jack counts down and then they both hang up just after he reaches three. Eric, he feels happier than he has since he landed in Georgia. He makes the mental note to try and share some of the stories he shared with Jack with his Mama in the morning. He just manages to reach over to plug his phone in, before he falls asleep.

[thatlesbiannudistcult-stories]

Finding Goddess (Chapter 18)

"I'm still naked, aren't I?"

Carol let out a long, defeated sigh as the realization hit her, though she could no longer say it was surprising anymore. Her body was just finding more and more ways to keep itself bare that it was quickly becoming normal for her. But what really embarrassed the nudist was not the fact that she forgot to dress herself again, but that it took her almost fifteen minutes to catch this latest mishap. At least she now knew what Henrietta and Katherine were grinning so stupidly about.

"You sure are!" cackled Henri from the driver's seat.

"Took you long enough, Mommy," giggled Katherine from where she sat next to Carol in the backseat. She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid closer to the older woman to give her a hug, wanting to enjoy her nude body after clearly holding herself back for so long.

"You really should stay buckled up, Katy, it's not ohhhhhhhh!" Carol shuddered as the black girl took one of her nipples into her mouth and starting suckling on it gently.

Carol really wanted to curse herself for being such a sucker, for being so weak to the sexual whims of her current company. But...shoot, her young lover was just too good at this. And knowing she was doing something so lewd and so indecent in public, surrounded by people on all sides who had no flipping idea what she was doing...got her hot. Really, really hot. So Carol couldn't complain, and she couldn't mope. She could only lean back and enjoy it.

"Hey, Henri?" she said after a few moments, finally finding the energy to speak in between the kisses and laps Katy was sprinkling all over her breasts. "Where exactly are we going anyway?"

"Before I tell you that," said the bikini-clad woman, "have you given it any consideration? You know? Joining that lesbian nudist cult?"

"Mmmm...maybe," Carol murmured, not certain if she was moaning in pleasure or mumbling with indecision.

"Oh, good, good," said Henrietta. "Because you see, both Katy and I have been talking, and we agree that we would appreciate it if you did."

"What are you trying to do, peer-pressure me?" said Carol. "I can't outright change my religion just like that. It requires a lot of thinking. And that's without taking into account the...lifestyle changes it requires, and finding out if it's really not just some big con..."

After giving Carol's nipple one last playful flick of her tongue, Katy pushed herself away from the older woman's breast to look her in the eye. "It's not a con at all. I've been looking stuff up about the Zenrists online, and it's totally legit. There's been no criminal investigations into them at all, and nothing about them requires you to give up any money aside from what you donate to them—"

Carol rolled her eyes doubtfully. "Donations, riiiggghhht. I bet that fancy Temple we went to was paid for entirely by donations as well."

"Yeah, about that," said Henrietta. "Donations did play a big role in the construction of that place, but most of it was financed by the priestess and a bunch of her adherents, a number of whom sold their houses to build it. The Temple in New Deastone is by all accounts their home."

"Where'd you hear this?" said Carol. "Did Maisie tell you?"

"Yep! She's been telling me all sorts of things in between the kinky stuff she's done ever since she converted." At this, Henrietta let out a moan and shuddered as some sudden sexy thought played out in her head. "Ohhhh...Carol, honey, you would not believe the kind of stuff that girl has done. She's a real 'sweet-talker,' if you know what I mean. Among other things."

"Okay, I get the picture," said Carol. "But what does this have to do with where we're going?"

"Well, Carol, both Katy and I have concluded that we need a Zenrist in our life. Right here, locally in Beringall, a hot, naked woman who'll always be around to entertain us. You know, whenever we feel under the weather. And for reasons that should be obvious, we think that woman should be you."

"We want to help you decide quickly, Mommy," added Katy. "And we want to do that by giving you a real Zenrist experience!"

"You, completely naked, no clothes in sight, far from home, outside," said Henrietta, her tone getting increasingly breathier with every word she spoke. "Getting horny, ready to be pleasured at any time...and maybe, ready to pleasure us any time as well."

"I can't...I can't pleasure you anytime in public just like that," said Carol, though she couldn't deny how sexy that sounded. Goose bumps were already prickling up on her flesh and she could still feel Katy's wet lips on her tits even though the black girl had just pulled away. "I'm not a Zenrist yet! I could get in trouble! And so could you!"

"That's why we're not taking you to too public a space," said Henrietta. "Just somewhere where it'll be just us. Katy, me, you, and your wonderfully naked self."

"What, do I count as two people now?" said Carol with an amused chuckle.

"With these mommy-balls, you should be," giggled Katherine, who took that moment to fondle Carol's breasts again before leaning in and rubbing her face all over them. She cooed as the soft warm flesh squished all around her before she paused with startling abruptness. Looking up with an uncertain expression, she asked: "This is allowed with Zenrists, right?"

"Everything is allowed with Zenrists," said Henrietta in a strangely serious tone. "There is nothing a woman and a Zenrist cannot do together."

***

On the trio rode, past the city limits, off the highway, onto a side road, onto another side road with more cracks and dirt in it, until they finally came to a stop at a little parking lot situated at the mouth of a trailhead leading into a forest. Carol recognized the place.

"We're hiking on the Vage Nature Trail?"

"Not very far," said Henrietta. "We're going to take a little detour on it. Go to a nice secluded spot on the Vage Lake."

"Vage Lake, huh." Carol took note of Henrietta's bathing suit. "So you're taking us out for a swim? Or a skinny dip in my case?"

Henrietta winked at her. "That's the plan."

"I...guess I don't have anything against that," said Carol. It had been a long time since she got to go on a proper naked swim. The idea of submerging her completely bare body into a pool of natural water sounded absolutely heavenly. Still, there was a reason she hadn't done it at all recently. "But, uh, is this safe? I've never hiked the trail...like this before."

"And I never hiked it like this," said Henrietta as she gestured at her bikini. "Besides, what are the chances we'll actually bump into someone on the trail?"

Carol's eyes fell on a couple of cars also parked in the lot. "Uh."

"Don't worry about them, Mommy," said Katherine. "There's no signal out here, so no one can report you anyway."

"And even if some prude asshole did want to," added Henrietta, "they'd have to hoof it back to their car, drive to the nearest town, report to the nearest cops, and hope they'll actually care enough to drive all the way out here to arrest you. Believe me, Carol, police stink, but even they have better things to do than hunt for random perverts in the woods."

"I...guess you have a point," said Carol. Come to think of it, hiking the trail in the buff sounded like a fun idea, and a very low-risk one at that. Why hadn't she ever thought of it before?

"It's settled then! Let's go!" cheered Henrietta.

The hike proved to be a relaxing affair for the three women as they walked side-by-side in the forest. The weather was reasonably cool, the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind was soothing on the ears, and there were no bugs in sight to prey upon all the bare skin that was being displayed. About the only troubling sight was the sky, which was blanketed with gloomy grey clouds that warned of impending rain. Wouldn't be a problem for me though, Carol thought with a smug grin. It's been a while since I got to experience a proper outdoor shower.

Thinking about that brought the mother back to the immediate situation, which was that she, Henri, and Katy made a really strange sight. The black girl was the only one among them who was decently dressed for the occasion, sporting a pair of hip-hugging khaki shorts that showed off what a firm booty she was packing underneath them, as well as a camo-patterned top. It didn't fully cover her waist and left her cute belly button exposed, but it was decent enough; no one would be doing any double-takes on her if she strolled past them. Meanwhile, Henrietta was wearing her black bikini, a pair of plain brown hiking boots, and a small duffel bag of sorts over her shoulder. She just looked plain weird, wearing an assortment of stuff that didn't match in style or purpose. But Carol knew she was in no position to criticize her redheaded girlfriend's current attire, for she herself was wearing nothing but her weathered grey (formerly white) running shoes.

Here I am. Butt-naked again. This time in the wilderness. Miles away from my clothing, which is getting farther and farther away with every step I take.

She shivered all over just thinking about it. Knowing that the distance between her body and her clothing was growing steadily wider excited Carol for some odd reason. It was like she was getting even more naked now, even though she had nothing left to take off.

I wouldn't ever wear clothes if I could. I wouldn't even own clothes if I could!

Looking all around her, at the natural grace of the forest, almost completely untouched by human hands, inhabiting it in her almost completely natural state, made Carol start to feel strangely wistful. The women in Zenriah's time were so lucky. They got to enjoy the natural world like this all the time. They could go anywhere, do anything, do any girl without guilt or shame. And they did it all naked. They never wore clothing. They didn't even have a concept of clothing. Just living and loving in the presence of the Goddess the way She made them...that was all they ever needed. She sighed. I wish I could have lived in that time.

Carol frowned and cast her eyes downward, feeling her heart clench up as that familiar sensation of emptiness started to come over her again. Damn it, not now. Why does thinking about the Goddess make me feel so...

A hand passed over her butt and gave one of her cheeks a reassuring squeeze. Almost immediately, the feeling of melancholy left her. Looking to her right, Carol's eyes fell upon the smiling face of her fake daughter, Katherine. Just seeing it warmed the nudist's heart, enough to make her lean in and give the black girl a gentle kiss on the lips. Another hand passed over her left butt cheek and gave it a squeeze in turn, prompting Carol to turn to her other lover, Henrietta, and kiss her as well.

As she pulled back and set her eyes back on the trail, Carol got to thinking again. Divine Language of the Goddess, hm. I wonder if we're speaking it right now? According to Celeste and the Scripture of Zenriah, lesbianism was a way, if not the way, for women to communicate with each other. Every intimate gesture, whether it was a from a tender caress, a gentle kiss on the lips, a circular lick on the nipple, or even an orgasm, conveyed a thought, emotion, or idea, and it did so in a way that the spoken and written word could not. Even a playful squeeze of a girl's butt cheek said something. Still sensing the ghost her girlfriends' hands on both sides of her posterior, and feeling a little tingly from them, Carol wondered just what they were unconsciously saying to her when they touched her like that. Were they just obvious statements like "You're so hot, Carol," and "Nice butt, Carol?" Were they assuring her that everything would be okay? Or did they tell her something more personal, something they had never said to her before? And what would it be like to 'hear' them?

Carol couldn't help but ponder as she walked alongside her lovers. They hiked a little more up the trail until they turned down a slightly less beaten side path that led them to their destination: Vage Lake. The trees thinned out on the footpath approaching it, leaving the area around the water bare save for some tall grass and a few rocks jutting out here and there. Off to the side, there was an old wooden deck where people could presumably go fish on, but no one really did that on this side of the lake. If people wanted to fish, canoe, or do any other water-filled activities, they did so on the opposite shore, which was closer to the road and had more developed facilities. This side of Vage Lake was really more for those who wanted to take in the view.

Or do something of a naughtier, more legally-ambiguous nature.

"This looks like a nice spot," said Henrietta as she knelt down on one decently leveled patch of ground. From her bag, she pulled out and unfurled a quilt to serve as their little picnic blanket. "Come, Carol, sit down here."

Carol would have been happy to oblige her normally, but Katherine was all too either to take the older woman by the hand and guide her to it, escorting her like she was some kind of princess. As Carol took her seat in a feminine sideways position, she flinched as her bare skin made contact with the quilt, which was softer and more plush than a picnic blanket had any right to be.

"Do you want me to take your shoes, Mommy?" said Katherine.

Carol wiggled her toes. Going barefoot outside was always risky, but then, she did fancy the idea of being completely naked out here. Her feet were starting to feel awfully cramped anyway, and the shoes honestly just looked silly and out of place on her otherwise completely bare body. Looking at her two very happy girlfriends, it seemed they wanted to spoil her. If that was the case, who was Carol to deny them? "Yes, please. Thank you."

She extended one leg out to Katherine, allowing the black girl to untie the laces and pull it off. Her smile widened as the shoe slid off her foot, exposing her heel, sole, and then her toes to the world. Giddily, Carol wiggled the now exposed digits, excited by how free they were and how much more naked she now felt. Then she pulled her leg back, and gave Katherine her other foot. In less than a minute, the other shoe was off, and Carol was now completely nude.

"Mmmmm," she murmured, reveling in the sudden rush of sensation that she could now feel everywhere on her body. Being naked felt so good. It's why she loved to be in that state every chance she got.

"Is that good, Mommy?" said Katherine as she sat down on her knees, looking like an excited puppy.

"More than good. It's divine," said Carol. Sitting up on her own knees, she took the younger girl's face into her hands and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. "Such a good daughter." Katherine's smile did not waver, but her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink at Carol's comment. She kissed Katherine again, this time more deeply, lingering on the younger girl's lips longer. She was compelled to press herself even harder against Katherine when two fingers suddenly brushed against her nipple tips and started tracing circles in the air around them. Carol shuddered all over, her flesh rippling in delight as her tits extended out just a little longer.

In ancient times, she really could become my daughter, she thought, taking a deep breath, if only to press Henrietta's fingers even harder on her nipples. Henri and I could make love by the side of a lake, much like this one. She would impregnate me. Nine months later, I'd give birth to a beautiful baby girl named Katy. We'd raise her together, teach her all there was to know about the Goddess, Her wonder, Her beauty, Her love...the only things worth knowing in the world...

Her hands slithered against Katy's stomach, slipping under the hem of her shirt.

Then we would go to the Goddess. Present Her newest bride to Her. Show Her all the things Katy learned from Henri and I. And all the things we learned together forming our union.

She pawed at the black girl's shirt starting to pull it up.

Katy would take Her lips. Henri Her nipples. And me...I'd take...I'd take...

She was tingling hard, growing increasingly wetter, her inner self was starting to peer out.

I'd take...!

Henrietta pulled away. There was a ruffling sound in her bag, as though she was digging around inside it, before she pulled something out. "Carol, honey, eat this," she said.

Carol pulled away from Katherine to see what Henrietta was offering her. She was greeted by a length of succulent meat cooked to a rich golden brown hue and dripping with sauce. The smell of smoke, salt, and sesame told her that her friend had brought Chinese for their little outing, bourbon chicken in this instance. Feeling her mouth water at the sight, the naked woman obliged her friend and leaned forward to take a bite, sinking her teeth into the closest chunk of meat and sliding it off the skewer. A few drops of sauce dribbled off it and spattered on her breast, and as she rolled the piece of chicken around her tongue to enjoy the rich flavor, they ran daintily down the curve of her orb, dripping onto the red circle of her areola and against the side of her sensitive nub.

After swallowing her first piece, Carol leaned forward to take another, hovering parallel to the skewer for an easier bite. She bit a chunk off the next piece of meat, splitting it between her teeth and pulling it apart in raggedy white strips. More drops of sauce fell, one landing square on the erect nipple of her other breast. Katherine seized that moment to lick it off, flicking the nub excitedly with her tongue before pulling the whole rosebud into her lips and suckling on it as if it would give her more of that sweet, saline flavor.

"I think you could use some more energy," said Henrietta as she put the chicken skewer away and brought out another item. "Have some rice."

She extended a pair of chopsticks up to Carol's lips, holding a gob of white rice between them, each grain so sticky that they stayed neatly clumped together even as they were held aloft in the air. Carol gladly took it into her mouth, alongside the next bite Henrietta offered her, and the bite after that. And all the while, Katherine continued to play with her boobs, massaging and squeezing them with both her hands and her mouth.

"Would you like a drink?" said Henrietta, pulling out a bottle which released a distinct pop sound that could only come from a suddenly loosened cork.

The sweet, fruity aroma of fresh wine filled Carol's nostrils, awakening another kind of thirst in her. "Yes, please," she whispered, already feeling it on the tip of her tongue. She loved wine, fancied herself a connoisseur of the stuff actually. She'd drink nothing else if she could. She opened her mouth eagerly to accept her lover's gift. She was not disappointed; Henrietta tipped the bottle and poured it delicately into her. It wasn't a fancy or expensive wine of course, but to Carol, who was as happy as she could be, naked, outdoors, horny, and being licked by a beautiful young lady, it was more than enough to make her taste buds dance.

She drank happily, taking small rhythmic gulps as Henrietta slowly pulled the bottle away from her. She poured wine on Carol's tongue, then on her teeth, and then onto her lips, until more of the liquid was dribbling down her chin than down her throat. Then she tipped the bottle more, pouring an even greater stream onto the naked woman. She jumped when the fluid hit her breast, chilling every inch of skin that it splashed upon. For an instant, Carol's boob looked like a big, juicy grape as the whole mass of flesh was painted a delicious shade of maroon. Then it slid down her stomach, dipped into her navel, and finally cascaded down her crotch, soaking the trimmed black hairs down there, and seeping into the crevice within.

Katherine lapped that up too. She licked the wine off Carol's skin, sucking in little pinches of flesh to slurp just a little bit more of the sweet-smelling liquid. A bit even fell into her hair and streamed down her face and neck, but she didn't care. She was too distracted by the body of her 'mommy,' glistening, wet, and tasting of the finest thing in life.

Henrietta pushed Carol down until she was lying on her back, and then poured more wine on her body. She poured it on the naked woman's other breast, on her shoulder, on her stomach, and on her thighs. Then she looked at the slightly parted lips of Carol's vulva, licked her own lips at the sight of it, and poured the drink directly into them.

Carol jolted and gasped as the shock hit her, splaying her legs and arching her back in a way that thrust her whole form up in the air, chest, stomach, and crotch. This pumped her mound even harder into the gentle shower of burgundy rain, catching more of the heavenly liquid within her ripened flower, wettening her petals, enflaming her core...

"Mmmm," murmured Henrietta as she watched her lover convulse, soaked in wine and feminine pleasure. "I think I'm feeling a little thirsty myself." Stowing the now nearly empty bottle, the redheaded woman lowered herself to all fours until she was looking directly into Carol's twitching, heaving pussy, drenched, dripping, and smelling of nectar and wine.

"AH...GLAHHH!" Carol cried as Henri charged forward, thrusting her head in between her legs. She nuzzled the naked woman's nethers, rubbing her lips and her nose all over Carol's womanhood. She licked every inch of her sensitive flesh and breathed deeply into it, catching every individual trace, fleck, and vapor of wine that still lingered on Carol's thighs, that still shimmered on her trimmed hairs, that still slid on the skin of her mound, and that still appeared to ooze from the pores of her wet, pulsating sex.

Carol bit her lips as her lover licked and lapped at her innards, slurping the juicy cocktail brewing within. Henrietta's tongue and lips seemed to be everywhere, licking, tasting, and sucking the sloshing petals of the nudist's vagina. Henrietta was drinking her wine, drinking her nectar, drinking her essence, and the more she drank of Carol, the more drink Carol produced in turn with every buck of her hips.

"MMM! MMM! MMMMM!"

She was hot. She was kicking her pelvis into the air, pushing herself harder against Henri's face. Her hands were balled up on the blanket, holding onto the fabric for dear life, as if her naked body was going to fall into the sky if she even considered letting go. But she dared not open her mouth, for fear of who would hear her screams. She had to maintain control...she had to maintain control...

"Do it, Mommy," whispered Katherine as she ran her own tongue along the underside of Carol's breast, lapping up an especially deep pool of fruity aroma around it. "Let it all out."

"I...I...OHHHH!" Carol groaned, trying to voice a straight thought and failing. She couldn't talk, she couldn't think. Not with Henrietta eating—and drinking—her out like this. Not with Katy suddenly latching onto her wine-soaked nipple again. Not with the running and dripping and oozing and splashing of wine all around her...all over her...inside her. "I can't...I can't...OH MY...GAWWWWWWDEEEESSSSS! OH! GODSS! YES! YES! GODSS! YES! OH! OH! GODDESS! YES!"

She bucked and thrashed as her orgasm tore out of her, writhing around on the blanket as if she was chained to it. Muscles clenched and went taut all around her, toes curled, and the enticing aroma of sweet wine and musty womanly essence flooded into her nostrils and poured onto her tongue as she gasped for breath, a lingering ripple from each fiery explosion that erupted from her loins.

By the time it subsided, Carol had only enough time to take in three breaths before the scent returned in full force, alongside the now even stronger taste as Henrietta's lips engulfed her own.

"I think I may have found the Goddess myself," whispered the redhead as she pulled back, breathing heavily. "And She's lying right here under me."

"Woman is the physical manifestation of Zenriah," Carol said, her tone faint, her voice breathy, almost as if she was in a trance, addressing no one but talking to everyone, even though she had the distinct impression she was responding to her friend, telling her something vital, something important. "All that She is. All that She desires. Taught to become a goddess in and of herself."

She half-yawned and half-moaned, stretching herself out on the blanket, loving how it glided against her skin. She took hold of her breasts, squeezed them, pinched her still erect nipples between her forefingers and thumbs. Then she slid them down her body, one rubbing her stomach and coming to rest at her thigh, while the other went down her side and around to her derriere. She squeezed both. She felt wet and sticky all over, damp with perspiration, saliva, and wine. On her skin, on her breasts, and inside her still moist flower.

This is the Goddess' doing. This is the Goddess' work. I must commit to my duty. I must honor Her creation.

Carol spread her legs.

"Are you still thirsty, Mommy?" said Katherine.

"She is," nodded Henrietta. "Good thing I brought more wine!"

Again, Carol was treated to a shower of burgundy. It was poured less conservatively than the last one, first on her lips, then on her face, all over her hair, and then down the length of her body. Henrietta took care to drench her thighs and her legs too, before ending things with a sprits over her pussy. Then Katy sprinkled rice onto her, covering her with hundreds of little white grains that clung to her wet body before following up with a smothering of sauce that she lathered here and there all over Carol's skin. They pulled out more bits of food, including skewers of chicken, chunks of pork, and bits and pieces of broccoli, and dropped those on her as well, some on her belly, some into her cleavage, some on her shoulders, and some onto her thighs, where they would roll down between her legs and come to rest on either side of her Venusian mound. Some pieces they would leave alone, some bits they would take hold of and press into her body to ensure they clung to her sticky flesh, some morsels they would roll on her sensitive skin to get them further covered in the mixture of wine and rice and sauce.

And when they were finally satisfied, they began to feast on her.