#you know that one meme of the bride and the two grooms taking turns making out. thats them

[acefulbwa]

World's Worst polycule lmao

[boop-le-snoot]

BUTT-DIAL? NO, BOOTY CALL | tony stark

explicit, 5,4k words. wrong number text, family shame & wedding drama that isn't even his and a ruined first date. despite the implications of the situation, both reader and tony are very entertained. meet-ugly series, part three.

[no y/n, no "you", no name, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

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Another sunny day spent wasted in a conference room full of boring, old, conceited chairmen. Tony Stark vehemently refused to commiserate with them, their boring speeches and blunt, straightforward thinking. Sitting through a meeting was like walking on nails barefoot: painful, pointless. Mind-numbing.

His phone beeped loudly and he reached into his pocket, pretending to not see Pepper's disapproving look. Both of them knew he was hoping for a sudden Assemble call - that would surely get him out of the meeting - but as much as he hoped, they never struck at the right time.

Except, this time it wasn't a call for assistance, and neither it was an automated spam message with Pizza Hut promo codes. Tony's eyebrows drew close and his lips upturned as he read and re-read the obvious rant written on his screen, typing up his answer before he managed to resist the morbid curiosity that was fueled by his boredom.

Whoever it was, they were justifiably angry and the whole situation was almost too comical to be true, except he'd known people exactly like the runaway bride, selfish, greedy and stupid. He totally understood the woman's desire to just go and load up on tequila shots somewhere - so he bid her a haste farewell, all the while snickering to himself.

"It's Rogers," Tony offered in the way of explanation to a glaring Pepper, locking his phone away and settling in to continue pretending he was listening as another old, crusty white man offered his input on topics he was too much of a dinosaur to even really know about.

He couldn't stop thinking about the incident over the days, the story making him snort more times than he could count as the memory randomly crossed his mind in the lab, at the coffee pot or during dinner. So when a message came through from that very same number, the smirk snuck up onto his face before he even read its contents.

A brief crash course in memes from Parker had turned out to be more useful than ever. Irritating Rogers with pictures got old very fast, however, in moments Tony got rendered speechless they proved to be the perfect substitute for trying to articulate all his thoughts on the matter.

Celebrity appearance, she said? More likely than one would think. The engineer had nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter when she'd texted him that; obviously, the woman had no clue who she was texting with and he decided to further indulge in his curiosity by asking for her name: Friday did the rest.

A phone number and a name, ten minutes, and all her social media were free for him to stalk. Investigate- uh, observe. With little effort, Tony found both her and her brother, the unlucky groom, and the runaway bride and even her step-dad. On paper, they all looked like average middle-class families. Nothing seemed amiss.

It didn't mean anything, but Tony caught himself thinking about the woman. Perhaps it might have been the mischievous gleem in her eyes that was easily spotted in every picture or perhaps the raunchy sense of humour not much different from his own. Pretty, witty and smart - what's there not to like?

"So that's why you've been going around, smiling like a middle-schooler with a crush," Natasha's voice whisper-shouted in Tony's ear as the spy discreetly peered over his shoulder into his phone. He had the chat pulled up, debating on starting a casual conversation-

"Jesus Christ, Romanoff, somebody needs to put a bell on you," Tony snapped, startled, pressing the button to lock his phone immediately.

"Uhuh," The redhead replied, side-eyeing a snickering Barnes. "Who is she?"

Tony rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a blush starting to creep in. He felt like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and the rest of the team acting like children wasn't helping the matter. "I got a butt-dial text about some wedding drama. Some chick's brother's fiance was fucking her own stepdad and ditched the wedding for her old man."

Stunned silence settled briefly into the room as Romanoff's eyes widened and Barnes choked on his orange juice. Serves him right, Tony thought, and continued his coffee-making process in quiet irritation.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Wilson half-laughed half-yelled. "You gotta spill the tea, man, this sounds too good to be true. Stories like that just don't fall into your hands."

With a sigh, he recounted the woman's story and read the texts aloud, silencing his snickering enough to be able to keep a straight face - but not for long, Rogers decided it was the time for another one of his Captain America Is Disappointed In You speeches and Tony himself couldn't even disagree.

Now that he thought about it, he came off as a kind of asshole. She and her family was going through something traumatic and he went and treated it like free entertainment. Which, to be fair, it was, but she didn't deserve to be treated like a circus clown. She actually seemed like a good sister and friend.

"Just text her," Natasha rolled her eyes at him, grabbing the coffee pot out of his frozen hand. "You're not Steve, you can keep a decent conversation via text."

Being compared to Steve and his pre-historic messaging habits really did a number on Tony's ego; the eyeroll he gave Romanoff was truly out of this world, all but teleporting him to his lab where he tried to find a way to approach the woman without coming off as incredibly creepy, as if the fact that he'd stalked her on social media didn't already put him firmly into the weirdo category.

Most likely, Tony would have spent many many days on overthinking before just grabbing one of his suits to make a truly impressive landing on her small balcony downtown; thankfully, fate had intervened and saved him from making another epic mistake. He'd made a note to ask Thor about it sometime, settling down with his tablet and popcorn bowl to watch TV on the team's movie night.

Or, more precisely, Tony settled in to watch the drama unfold as the various members of the team fought tooth and nail for the film that they wanted to watch. He never cared about it much, dozing off halfway through most of them - his teammates had the worst taste in movies - so he didn't bother joining the scuffle except when it was Peter's turn to pick. For obvious reasons.

"If you can't decide I'm gonna have someone else pick a movie," Natasha rolled her eyes, equally fed up with fully grown adults acting like spoiled toddlers.

With a stutter of his breath, Tony's hand reached for his phone as he had an Idea.

Seconds tickled as the "typing..." bubble appeared and disappeared multiple times. She must think he's just a thirsty frat boy; Tony's brow furrowed, but the curiosity was far too strong in him. Something about her vibe, her feisty nature captivated him and kept him thinking about her.

The agreement came as a surprise. In the two minutes the woman had spent thinking up her answer, Tony prepared himself to be rebuffed gently, or, worst case, be called a creep. But no - she agreed, but not before vehemently insisting that if he would end up being a creepy serial killer, she would haunt his ass for the remainder of his life.

Friday couldn't come soon enough. Tony spent most of the day loitering between his lab and the penthouse, glancing at his phone every now and then to make sure she wouldn't cancel on him last minute. The engineer wanted to see the witty, no-filter-having woman in the flesh.

And see her, he did. He'd pulled up in front of the hole-in-the wall Ramen&Bar place Clint had been raving about weeks prior - contrary to popular belief, Tony was perfectly fine with going to places that didn't have Michelin stars - and leaned against the door of his Audi R8, eyes immediately taking note of the figure calmly walking down the street, head tilted down where she was typing up a reply to him.

Tony smirked as she lifted her face up to see him, mouth immediately falling open. The shock was obvious; it lasted mere seconds until her shoulders dropped and she sighed almost... In disappointment. He frowned.

"I jinxed it, didn't I? Here's my celebrity appearance," The laugh was a little nervous and quite sardonic. "Hi, Tony, nice to finally see you."

He smiled, unsure, quipping back easily. "Let's face it, I'm not the worst famous Tony out there." Opening the door of the building for the woman, she stepped in eagerly enough, eyes immediately falling on the bartender and the few dimly lit tables in the back.

"Not by any means," She turned towards him, walking backwards. Tony met her stare; it was just like he'd imagined it to be, curious, mischievous and a little daring. She didn't even attempt to play subtle, raking over him from head to toe. "Not at all, I think," She gave another teasing smile, finally turning around, addressing the bartender and rattling off her order without as much as looking at the menu.

Tony couldn't stop staring. He was aware it was creepy, she was aware of his clever brown eyes barely paying attention to their surroundings or the beer or the food. The woman just quirked an eyebrow every time she caught him. His curiosity couldn't wait any more. "Why aren't you freaking out?" He blurted out, cursing himself out almost immediately after the words left his mouth.

"My almost-sister-in-law was fucking her own stepdad," The woman deadpanned. "I ran out of fucks to give, sorry." She thoughtfully chewed her food, briefly looking to the side. "Not to sound like an asshole, but don't you have enough people fawning over you? Doesn't it get old?"

Tony nodded, choosing to stay silent on the matter besides offering an amicable, "That's valid."

The mischief lit up again in her eyes. "You look taller on TV," She snorted, immediately falling into a fit of laughter at his face full of outrage. He sputtered, muttering something about audacity of some people, which made her only laugh harder. "Here's a pro tip from my 4'11 bestie: when someone calls you short, you snarl at them and say you're fun-sized. She swears by it," The woman remarked conversationally, grinning a two hundred watt smile.

Tony was glad at least someone was enjoying their little... Date. "And you know all about fun, don't you?" He aimed for grumpy; it came out as teasing. His famous smirk made a return appearance as he watched her throat bob.

The atmosphere between them had changed at some point; the same old routine of teasing and dancing around each other, but this time, Tony all but purred in satisfaction, finally meeting someone who was an even match to his wit and charm.

"I do," She replied with that cocky confidence, her devil eyes lighting up, lingering on his face. "Got a problem with that?"

The plate was pushed away, napkin falling into the food carelessly as he gestured for the waiter to bring the check. "As a scientist, I cannot confirm whether a theory is true until I have direct evidence," The bullshit flowed easily from his mouth, but the woman appeared to be amused by it - for a change. "M'fraid I'm gonna need that evidence," His fingers drummed on the table, impatiently, inches away from her hand.

"Of course, Mr. Stark," Her voice dropped, she was fully aware of what she was doing by calling him that. That, and those deep, magnetic eyes made Tony's trousers feel a little too tight for comfort.

His phone rang loudly, dissipating the atmosphere they had created with a shrill noise. Captain Cockblock struck again.

Fumbling fingers, Tony tapped the green icon, shooting an apologetic look to the woman. "Rogers, there better be another alien invasion or I'm revoking your phone privileges," The woman chortled, taking a sip of her beer, trying hard not to seem like she was listening in and failing spectacularly at it. "Today, out of all days? Can't Strange fill in for me?" The engineer palmed his face, running a hand through his neatly done-up hair. It would be covered in soot and sweat in an hour anyways. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Romanoff better be hauling Barton's lazy ass out of Bed-Stuy." With a frown, Tony poked the red icon and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, looking for all and all, like an angry adolescent.

The woman, however, didn't indicate any signs of displeasure. Her hand timidly reached out for his, giving it a brief squeeze. "Go, save the world, Mr. Stark," Her smile was sympathetic. They both stood up at the same time, Tony watching her incredulously as the woman untied a scrap of red fabric from around her neck and placed it around his wrist, tying the fabric with a loose but, frankly, pretty knot. "I like that bandanna, would be a shame if you didn't return it," She explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Tony snorted, fondly rolling his eyes, before beelining for the door, activating his Iron Man suit on the way out. Turning around before take off, he noticed her throw a couple of crumpled bills to the server who was too busy ogling him.

He forgot to pay for dinner, Tony realized as he made his way to the other part of the city. Well, fuck, he would definitely have to see her again.

---

An alien invasion during her first good date in ages - scribble, scribble, sigh. She couldn't do much more than that - just as she thought her string of bad luck had ended, the world turned around and flipped her a juicy bird, all but laughing straight in her face. Like that already wasn't enough, oh no, she groused as she spied the debris and random abandoned cars on her way home - it looked like some portion of the battle had been close to her home and only the sheer mental exhaustion that resulted from her life being turned upside down during the last month prevented her from having a full-on freak-out in the middle of the eerily quiet street.

Truly, the fucks she had to give had been expired.

The gloomy mood was interrupted by a cry - for help or of outrage, she didn't know, but the kindness in her, the very values she'd been raised with didn't allow her just to walk by, and with another resigned sigh, she tucked the nice blouse she'd put on for the date under her warm sweater and set off in the direction of the sound, finding the culprit in little under a couple of minutes.

Freeing the trapped civilian wasn't easy but, thankfully, neither it required super-strength or any kind of heavy machinery. The man thanked her and with him in tow, both of them set off to inspect nearby nooks and crannies. Logic won that day - if there's was one person, there could be more.

Hours later, sweaty, sore and bruised, the woman greedily chugged the water bottle someone had passed onto her as the amount of medics and firefighters had finally reached the threshold of when her help wasn't needed anymore. While her date and his colleagues fought whatever nasty that thought NYC was a sandbox battleground for their amusement, the woman found herself helping out with retrieval & evacuation of the civilians that didn't make it out of the neighborhood before the heat of the fight reached it. There were no deaths registered as of then and deep inside, she felt proud, knowing that she had contributed to the statistic at least a little.

Her phone was dying, her body was covered in dirt and scratches from head to toe and the bruises were beginning to ache. Tony's worry-worting was cute but the tiredness overcame her, making her brain sluggish and her demeanor short, so she hastily pocketed the phone, trailing over to the closest man in uniform she could spot.

"Sir?" She addressed him, eyeing the unfamiliar logo on his jacket. "Can I go, please?" She pointed to the yellow tape surrounding the makeshift medical station.

"I'm going to have to see your ID first," He replied apologetically, tapping away on his tablet.

With a sigh, she dug through her purse, giving it to him and using the brief moment of respite to smooth back her hair and dust off her clothing. There was a cloud of concrete and dirt surrounding her.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet, Mr. Stark left strict instructions for you to be picked up by him personally," The agent gave the ID back with a suspicious glint in his eye.

"Oh c'mon," The annoyed whine escaped her lips before she registered it. "It was our first date," She offered to the puzzled agent, only succeeding in making him lean back and inspect her with a raised eyebrow. "Bye," She replied none too kindly, walking off to find a place to sit down.

The time passed in a strange way. The aches and pains and exhaustion made it stop, and if someone would have asked her, she wouldn't know how much of it has passed until her eyes reluctantly cracked open at the sound of a familiar voice, coming to see a pair of expensive shoes covered in dust. At least she wasn't the only one that looked like she'd taken a roll through someone's gritty attic.

"Morning, you Tasmanian Devil," Tony sounded jovial, all things considered.

"Hello to you too, Tin Can," The woman greeted him on par, without missing a beat.

"Now, now," He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully, before pulling her to her feet. "I come with peace offerings. Your building is under quarantine and I've got a perfectly good bed and a shower with thirty settings on it at my place. Whatcha say?"

She only pretended to think about it. Her reply was haste. "I don't make a habit of going into strange dudes' towers but I'll make an exception this once." A shower and a bed sounded heavenly.

Finally getting the chance to look at him, Tony appeared to be unhurt but equally exhausted and dirty. A few scrapes on his face and arms, he was missing his blazer, and had a weary tone to his face. Some parts of his Iron Suit were still on him - like the chest plate - but besides that, he was whole. The red of the bandanna she gave him was equally dirty but still neatly tied around his wrist, just like she left it.

"How's your relationship with heights?" He asked her and all she could do was blink, watching curiously as his body was enveloped by the red and gold, crawling over his skin like a swarm of shiny termites. That was all the warning she got before the metal arms - quite literally - sweeped her off her feet. "Faster this way," She could hear the nonchalant shrug in the metallic voice coming from the helmet. "Now hold on."

Awe and fear culminated inside the woman but the weariness had long since surpassed comfortable levels and all she did was give a weak nod and close her eyes as Tony lifted off, gusts of wind making her skin break out in goosebumps and her hair stand up wildly on her head. During the short trip her eyes fluttered open only once just to close back up immediately - all she saw were clouds, white and fluffy, like marshmallows, and the shining beacons of NYC skyscrapers somewhere far away.

The paralyzing anxiety fully dissipated only when her feet found purchase on the tiled floors, Tony's arms never ceasing to support her swaying frame until the breaths she took were her own and not the result of her fluttering heart and muted panic. "You with me, Wonder Woman?"

"Yes, Weird Science," She mumbled. "Thanks for the heads up," The annoyance had to find a way out and that it did.

"You're welcome," The cocky smirk returned to Tony's face as his suit receded, leaving him barefoot, dirty jeans and a torn tee. He stretched with a sweet groan, gesturing towards the door. "Friday will direct you towards the showers. Feel free to grab a t-shirt from the closet."

The woman nodded, too awestruck by the man and his hospitality, eyes darting all over the tastefully decorated room, the expensive knick-knacks scattered everywhere, the absolutely enormous sloppily made bed. Tony Stark liked to live luxuriously - even the shower was a state of the art technological wonder.

Dirty pants and dusty blouse went flying somewhere in the back of the bathroom as the woman stood up on her tippy toes, reaching for the sky, stretching her sore muscles. The glass wall of the shower had began to fog up from the hot water. The knock went barely noticed by the woman who jumped as Tony's voice startled her out of her daydream.

"Forgot I ran out of towels here..." He trailed off, voice dropping as he spotted her only in her underwear. She turned, responding with a lopsided grin, spying the stack of fluffy grey in his arms, the arc reactor in the middle of his bare chest. He smirked, "Damn. Can I join you?" Giving her what only could be described as a respectful once-over.

Tired as she was, her sense of humour and wit didn't go down for a much needed nap just yet. "I don't know, you tell me. Can you?" Turning back around, the woman made a short show of unclasping her bra and tossing it in the general vicinity of her dirty clothing pile. She'd worn a cute matching set of undies that day and the fact didn't go over Tony's head, she was sure.

The door clicked shut just as she raised her face to the stream of water, feeling calmer with each second, muscles relaxing themselves as the hot stream washed away the dirt and the dust off her body.

"And I thought this evening was ruined," Tony's voice insinuated from behind her. A hand reached for the soap, his body heat scorching compared to the steaming water. He stayed just a few inches away, enough to feel him, enough for her body to respond and crave more. "It's nice to be wrong for a change. Refreshing."

The woman hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through her wet, knotted hair. "First decent evening in ages. I wasn't gonna let some uninvited Predator knock-offs ruin it for me," She was more than a little peeved at the space invaders interrupting her nice date. Tony was a great conversationalist, it was easy to talk to him and he had a brilliant sense of humour. Not to mention the obvious, he was easy on the eyes.

"That's the spirit," The voice was closer now, almost in her ear. Even though her eyes were closed, the woman was aware he was reaching for something, letting him butt her hands out of the way to lather her hair, scrubbing at her scalp meticulously, until the sounds that left her mouth bordered on embarrassing. Once that was done, Tony moved onto her body, running his hands over her back, the outside of her hips. "M'not stepping over, am I?" He asked quietly, touch faltering every time he brushed over a scrape or a bruise.

"No, you're doing great, Tony," It wasn't exactly conventional - sharing a very intimate shower after an interrupted first date, but then again, nothing about this man was conventional and her life had already been turned upside down no less than twice recently. The woman didn't lie, the gentle, caring touch felt soothing.

Arching her back, she lifted her arms to repay him with the same, raking her fingers through his hair, leaning into the shudder that ran throughout his body. It was nice to bask in whatever they had going on, so the motion to face him was almost reluctant. Water droplets stuck to his eyelashes and his eyes were tired but not in a way that suggested he'd kick her out first chance.

Their kiss was sweet, slow, like they already were familiar with each other in a special way. The woman tugged on his lip with her teeth - such was her character - and he pressed closer to her, raising a hand to hold the side of her face. In muted curiosity, she couldn't help but wonder if there ever had been someone that waited for him once his battles were over.

Tony's eyelashes, the very same that had no business being this long on a man, fluttered against her cheek as they stood under the shower, letting water wash away the day.

"I've always wanted to kiss in the rain, like they do in the movies. This is the closest I've gotten," She whispered, gently kneading the arch of his shoulders. "Feels better than it looks, to be honest."

Tony snorted, reaching for the knob to turn it off. "Cheesy," He teased her, wrapping a warm, fluffy towel around her body. Both people made quick work of drying themselves, exiting the fogged up bathroom, making way into the bedroom, padding soft on the carpet and falling down on the bed carelessly.

"I'm the queen of cheesy one-liners," The woman raised her eyebrows, scooting under the sheets next to Tony who opened his arms wide, a smirk on his face. She didn't give him the chance to reply, slotting her lips over his instead and groaning as their heated bodies once again rested against each other.

She ran her hands over Tony's defined pecs, glossing over the arc reactor, raked nails over his tummy, eating up the sighs leaving his mouth at the gesture. He was a beautiful man, she wasn't going to lie to herself. The warmth that settled low in her belly grew, spreading throughout her limbs and temporarily overshadowing the exhaustion.

The engineer, too, was quite excited - his erection poked her hip - and content to be steered to her wishes by the hand in his hair. Groans and sighs left his moist, parted lips as his eagerness bled into his hands, grip firm and steady on the panting woman's hips.

Adrenaline did something to her body, caused it to ache sweetly, a hunger to be satisfied only by a lover's touch. And touch she did; her mouth tasted him, alternating sucking gentle marks onto his throat and nibbling on the skin stretched thinly over his collarbones. Tony's sighs grew in depth and volume with every silent action of worship.

No inch of his body was left untouched, the woman was an all-hands-on-deck kind of lover, happily making her way down until soft lips wrapped around the crown of his cock, making his hips arch into it, hands fisted in the soft white sheets. "You devil," Tony gasped out, limbs turning to jelly, watching the woman all but devour his cock.

She popped off minutely, a trail of sticky saliva running down her chin, sticking to his glistening cock. "The power of Christ compels me?" With a smirk, her tongue trailed from his balls to the very tip, paying extra attention to the frenulum, making Tony shudder and gasp out an embarrassed laugh.

"Uh-uh," Stripped of his usual snark, he was but a man at her mercy.

"It's not very compelling," The predatory stretch of her lips widened as she took mercy on him, giving his cock a few slow tugs with her hand. Her mouth, her hand and his cock were dripping. "Gonna let me do all the legwork, Mr. Stark?" She sat up straighter, inadvertently drawing his eyes to the apex of her thighs where the woman's sex glistened in the dim light, lips swollen and inviting.

It sounded like she was mocking him, teasing him, egging him into a lustful frenzy none of them had the energy for but craved anyway. Tony Stark wasn't the one to back down from a fair challenge so he relented, flipping them over with ease, landing between her spread legs, eyes drawn to the momentary bounce of her breasts. Tony wasted no time in suckling a hard nipple into his mouth, humming in response to her choked-off moan of surprise.

"Tony," Her body arched into his touch, tender skin hot under the callouses on his fingertips.

"Yes, demon, dear?" A lopsided grin and laughter in his eyes preceded the wet stripe Tony licked down to her navel. "Wasn't there something about not telling demons your name? Guess you have power over me now," He trailed off cheekily, soft breaths puffing over her mound.

The woman bit her lip, peering down to rake a hand through Tony's hair, snagging a fistful to gently steer him towards her pussy. Tony's smile was one of satisfaction as he obediently followed her silent order, nosing along the line of her cunt, dipping his tongue to run slow, sloppy lines through the soaked folds.

"Fuck," She mumbled, spreading her legs without shame. "Yeah, right there," Her fingers turned white at the agility of Tony's tongue on her clit. He was swift and relentless in pursuit of the spots that made her moan and clench around nothing. The moisture of her sex soaked his goatee but he couldn't care less.

He growled when she attempted to withdraw, wrapping his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her still for his pleasure, wringing noises that increased in volume with every stroke of his tongue on her sex.

"Tony- please, Tony, I'm gonna-" The warning was brief; her back arched as a broken moan found its way past her moist, parted lips, her pussy spasmed, dripping all over his face and the sheets.

The engineer hid his smile against her thigh, discreetly wiping the obscene amounts of moisture she produced. It wasn't very long until her hands, slightly shaky, were tugging him upwards to meet his face in a rushed, graceless kiss. There was an equal lack of finesse in the glide of his erection along her sex.

"Okay?" He mumbled into her ear, lining himself up with her fluttering cunt.

"Please," She gasped, her hands pushing his hips onto her, eagerly lifting up to accept the sweet intrusion.

There was a quiet stutter in both of their breathing, hearts thudding against their ribs as he finally bottomed out, the thickness of him nestled snugly inside the rippling muscle. The pace he started out was agonizingly slow and inexplicably sweet, neither of them wanting to end their coupling prematurely but not being able to hold back the need that consumed them both.

"Fuck, you're so good to me," Tony's mumbling was overshadowed by the slick sounds coming from the place they were joined. "Gonna fill up this pretty pussy."

The woman keened at the idea, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him further into her.

"You'd like that?" He picked up the pace, blunt tip of his cock catching up with the tail end of her previous orgasm and re-lighting the fire in her belly anew.

"Yeah, Tony, please," No trace of the previous coyness in her voice, the woman was more than ready to beg, murder and steal to feel the man come undone in her arms.

It didn't take long, not with the adrenaline making their blood sing and the chemistry they shared. The brutal pace of Tony's hips quickly grew sloppy and erratic, the tightening of her inner muscles egging him on. He chased his release with deep, powerful thrusts that had the bedsheets rustle pitifully and beads of clear swear drip down his forehead.

As soon as her body arched once more, Tony let go of his control, slotting himself deeply into her spasming heat, cock throbbing as he painted her insides white with his seed, groaning incomprehensible compliments and profanities through his teeth. Chest heaving, the engineer couldn't do much more but let himself carefully fall onto her chest, aftershocks making him twitch when the woman began running a gentle hand through his hair.

"We're doing this again," He decided, still breathless but already a step ahead. She laughed.

Tony Stark taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @downeyreads @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @slothspaghettiwrites @bluecrazedandbeautiful

[notbang]

R/N - #11

halloween prompt meme | read on ao3

It takes him a second to recognise her beneath the wig, but he should have guessed, really. Who else would rent a costume that takes up approximately one third of the office space with its multiple layers of petticoats?

He waits until Paula peels away from her side in the direction of the bathroom, his nostrils flaring at the probably health-code-violating screen of dry ice he has to push through in order to reach where she’s leaning against a column, eyes glued to her period-anachronous phone.

“Figures you’d be involved in this productivity suck somehow,” he says as he sidles up to her, hands stuffed in his pockets in a way he likes to think exudes nonchalance.

Rebecca regards him, unimpressed, over the top of the screen. He’s not sure if it’s the light reflecting from her phone, or her makeup, or both, but she’s even paler than usual; glowing alabaster amongst the dimly lit cubicles.  

Her answering laugh is entirely mocking. “I see your invite failed to get lost in the mail. Kudos on the costume, though—rich white dude is about the most repulsive thing I can think of.”

He gives a pointed once-over to her dress—a complex concoction of white frills and lace—and feels his lips curl back in a smirk. “Almost as terrifying as the prospect of eternal matrimony,” he agrees. “Once again, my deepest condolences, by the way.”

Any chance she has at supplying some kind of rejoinder in retort is squashed by the approach of a waiter—exactly how much money had Darryl spent on this thing, anyway?—with a round mop of black hair that looks like it escaped from a disco in the mid 70s, brandishing a tray boasting an array of dips and elaborately carved carrot sticks.

Rebecca frowns, apparently already somehow acquainted with the server. “Marty?”

“Rebecca B! This is where you work? How about that! Sweet digs. Sweet digs indeed.” The disco flunkey’s eyes light up when they roam across to Nathaniel. “And aren’t you two a fright for sore eyes? A perfectly spooky bride and groom! Yeah, that gaudy ring really finishes the look. That’s gotta be from that pawn shop over on East Cameron—they sell the weirdest old junk there. Something borrowed, something boo, am I right?”

The blossoming red blush breaks out across Rebecca’s chest like bright, blotchy watercolour beneath her skin.

“It’s not—we’re not…” she begins, face scrunching. “This is not—he’s not even wearing a costume!”

Nathaniel, amused enough at her discomfort that his disdain for the entire scenario is secondary, catches the eye of the source of her distress over her shoulder, shaking his head minutely to confirm the absurdity of the assumption.

He can’t help himself, though—his palm finds the small of her back of its own accord. Rebecca’s eyes, if possible, bug even wider as he tugs her towards him. “It never feels like a costume when it’s as real as what we have, though, does it, Muffin?”

Marty lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “Right on—I hear you, buddy. Hope you two enjoy the… patê,” he adds, indicating the tray of dips before disappearing with a playful shimmy.

Barking out a polite laugh at the eye roll-inducing pun, Nathaniel shepherds a still spluttering Rebecca into the break room—currently empty, ostensibly in favour of the makeshift dance floor forming over by the elevator—before promptly dropping his hand away from her back as if badly burned.

“Muffin?!” she seethes as as she whirls to face him, giving him an incredulous shove before batting haphazardly at his chest with her tiny, ineffectual fists.

“It only seemed apropos,” he drawls, lazily, “given how many of them you eat.”

“You…” she growls, then shakes herself, her train of thought seemingly lost to her irritation. “Why are you even here? I thought you couldn’t be within a ten mile radius of candy without your teeth literally falling out.”

“Ha ha,” he says with exaggerated sarcasm. “As distasteful as this entire embarrassing excuse of party is, it is a company event. It’d be unseemly of me not to at least make an appearance.”

“Couldn’t resist ruining everyone’s fun, more like it. God, it’s like everything is some kind of masturbatory performance with you, isn’t it?”

Her ample bosom, amplified by the cut of her gown and in considerable clear and present danger of spilling over and out entirely, rises and falls with the uneven rhythm of her steadily mounting frustration.

Not that he’s looking, or anything. Just that it’s making some kind of point of filling up his field of vision.

“Please,” he sneers, looking down the ridge of his nose and being careful to focus on her splotchy face rather than directly below it as he gestures out towards the bullpen. “Are you telling me you didn’t choose that costume as some sort of dry run for your impending nuptials to the flip flop? I bet you’ve been parading around in that dress all evening, flashing that ring at anyone that so much as glances in your direction. Congratulations, by the way—purple is his colour. Really makes that pawn shop gemstone pop when it’s curled around your fiancé’s spandex covered bicep.”

“There was a slight miscommunication on which Phantom he was dressing up as, okay,” Rebecca snaps. “And I’m not bothered by it, because it’s a charming anecdote that I’m going to tell all the Jewish-Filipino babies we’re going to have every year on Halloween.”

He forces out a sardonic laugh. “Well, have fun with that. Remind me again—why is this a Halloween party?”

“It’s Halloween in September,” she says, incomprehensibly defensive, the no duh implicit in her voice. She crosses her arms, and it does nothing to coax her heaving cleavage back into its confines. “It’s like Christmas in July, except for Halloween. Darryl’s a big fan of mixing things up, unlike you—we get it, dude! You like burgundy ties!”

Just as a riposte is forming on the tip of his tongue, Jim—an eyesore in bright red pleather if one ever existed—barrels through the break room with a drunk and disorderly, vampire-fang-bearing Tim hot on his heels, forcing Nathaniel to sidestep abruptly out of their path. The issue with that is, he fails to notice until he hears the resulting sharp intake of breath, is that it has him pressing Rebecca into the corner of the bench in front of the tinsel-adorned coffee maker.

The smart thing to do would be to step away. The dangerous thing—the stupidest decision possible, really—would be to stand his ground. To loom and crowd her further.

God, it’s like the idiocy of this place is seeping into him via osmosis.

Rebecca gulps, untamed breasts brushing distractingly against his sternum, and casts a frenzied glance out into the party proper, making sure no one is watching them through the slats.

A little light headed but ultimately spurred on by her fluster, Nathaniel straightens his spine and dips his head, voice tipping low to tease. “It still makes sense, you know. The costume choice. After all, your life is basically a soap opera. And nobody can blame you for wanting to hide that—” He nods towards the photocopier, where Josh is otherwise occupied with his attempts to get a Jenga game going with several desks’ worth of highlighters. “—away behind a mask.”

“Yeah, well,” she sputters, “it’s lucky that he got the costume wrong. Because his left is actually his best angle. Yeah. So you’d be missing out, otherwise. And you’re, like, so incredibly wrong. I don’t want to hide his face. I love that face. It’s my favourite face.” He doesn’t miss the way her gaze flits down to his lips, and his tongue darts out to wet it on autopilot. “I wanna rub my face all over his face, all the time.”

He leans in further, and he can’t be imagining it—the way her breath falters, and her eyelids start to flutter as his breath fans out across her face with deliberation. “Uh-huh.”

Interesting, he thinks, filing away the visible pluck of the cords in her neck as she swallows, as if in slow motion, to revisit later.

As if compelled by some inexplicable urge and drunk off finally, finally feeling like he has the upper hand, he tilts minutely, mouth moving towards grazing the shell of her ear. “I know it’ll be tempting, when you’re lying in bed tonight, trying to get the image of your mediocre choice of a life partner squeezed into a morph suit the colour of Barney dinosaur out of your head. But do me a favour, Rebecca, hmm? Try not to—” He pauses dramatically for effect. “—think of me.”

He can tell by the way her eyes widen with surprise for a split second only to scrunch in confusion that she’s caught the reference. Finally, he thinks as his pulse thrums through him with intense satisfaction: a use for having to spend hours inside a stuffy theatre box with an aunt that always smelled too strongly of peppermint oil.

A moment later and Rebecca’s spring-loaded, shoving him aside to make her escape. Just before she melts back into the throng of partygoers, though, she turns, left hand curling around the edge of the wooden partition, ring glinting red beneath the disco lights; the only time all night she’s managed not making it look embarrassingly staged.

“In your dreams,” she tells him, deadly serious, then hikes up her voluminous skirts and stomps off in flurry of frilly white lace and bouncing black-brown synthetic curls.

[c-atm]

Fighting Flirty: Character Select PT4 (Act 4.2)

A five minute break, and Alex discovers her muse

Ok, you two take five, and then we'll do some official art recreations," Alex announced, as she looked through the pictures on her camera. Her smile growing larger at each new pic "Ey, do you guys want every photo in an album or what?"

"Uhh?!" Steven started before turning to the woman on his lap.

"YES!" The eagerness in her voice caught Steven off guard. "I don't ever want to forget this feeling, this day, these moments," Connie added in a low admiring tone.

"Neither do I," he kissed her neck, getting her to squeal in delight. 

"Well said." Alex agreed. "Still, it's hard not to think of you as a romantic couple, with the way you two carry-on and all this shipping gold in my hands." She sighed," If only I were an illustrator, instead of a photographer. You two would be perfect fanart subjects…Though I wonder if 'fanart' even works here in this pretense."

"Why wouldn't it?" Connie asked as she leaned back, caressing Steven's whiskered chin.

"Well, you're not fictional characters or celebrities. So maybe it'll just be art."

"I have, you know,  you are in the presence of a very successful Tube-Tube star." Connie asserted, implying a prideful thumb at Steven, evoking a laugh from the hybrid and the slyest of smirks from the photographer.

"Is that so." Alex rubbed her chin, mischievously. "How many subscribers you gathered, Steven?"

"My personal channel is at 680+ thousand  but ...Our s, meaning the channel Connie, I,  and two of our friends run… Is at one-point-five million, last time I checked; haven’t been on either for a couple months or so. ."

"1.7 now on G-squared , and Your  personal channel is at 700+ now, Mister." Connie interjected, "at least that's what I saw last time I went to the channels."

"How…Am I at 700+?!"

"Your vlogs have been used in compilations about traveling and self-betterment. While your people used your music in their 'Let's play's ' and ' AMV's '...I think there's even been a few memes and reenactments based on your stuff. There's a real popular source film of last year's panel at Kansas vid-con; during that game of 'scenarios,' we played with Daniel, Patricia, Jewels of Cal, Steve Da' Duck, and Akira Mas."

 "Oh, I remember that," his eyes broaden in remembrance, "That was a fun game, and the audience loved it." 

"I think they were surprised at your capacity for swearing and sarcasm and how smoothly it flowed out." She teased, getting a nod from Steven.

" I was just following the scenario, and I got a bit heated. Not like you were any better." 

"True enough." She gave him a peck before turning to Alex, looking smug. 

"Okay, okay, didn't know he was a big thing." Alex relented with a smirk, "gotta check out your pages then, Steven." 

"Yes, you do that, subscribe too."

"Ok, miss proud wife." 

Despite blushing a deep maroon, Connie leaned back into his hold and kept her smugness, " Go-go check the pictures."

Alex gave her an affirmative nod before doing just that. As she plugged up the camera to the nearby laptop, she heard Steven scream.

"I JUST REMEMBERED, YOU ALL WAS READY TO SACRIFICE ME TO CHUTHUL BY THE SECOND CHOICE!"

"BUT YOU BECAME A GOD!"

Alex looked over at them to see Steven ticking the woman in his lap as he simultaneously rained down kisses upon her neck, making her squeal in delight.

*click!*

Of course, she took a picture of the cuter scene. "I still don't get how you two are not together." She muttered." Maybe I can find out the full story later tonight…." She sighed, "oh god, I need a date or a 'jambud' of my own."

"Hey, Alex!"

 She looked back over at the two to see Steven trying to get her attention 

"Can you pass one of our phones, please!" 

Alex looked over at the table and spotted the two devices, a darkish pink and a forest-blue. They both had a text notification. With a shrug, she picked them both up. "How well do you catch?"

"Not well enough to catch my phone!" Steven yelled.

"I am," Connie announced confidently.

"That's all I needed to hear." 

With that, she grabbed both phones, a bit of masking tape, wrapped it around both, and launched them both. 

"Oh, it's coming." She heard Connie's voice raised. The silence of the stage got her a bit worried.

"Got' em; thank you!" Steven called back.

"Welcome, now let me do this so we can get back to it," Alex expressed with a thumbs up, her eyes going over the pictures on the screen. 'These two could do some real couple modeling. Photogenicity aside, they just look excellent as a unit, and their body language towards each other is at the forefront. They come off as innocent yet impassioned, cute yet coquettish, loving yet libidinous.' Alex surmised as she gazed over the photos, selecting and adding them into both a folder.

"Hey, they came out beautifully." 

"They really did. Thinking about adding a background." Alex looked up to see Wanda with a camera in her hand as she named the folder."What's up, boss lady?"

"Got a couple more for you to add."

Alex took the camera with an arched eyebrow, hooking it up to the laptop. Her teeth kissed as she looked at pictures. She placed her fingers on her lips, thumb under her chin, and slightly nodded her head. "These two… I want to see these two in the bride and groom looking just like this. We have to; they're just…" 

"Yeah, I know," Wanda said as she looked at the pictures. 

The first picture was Connie pulling up a video, most likely the video they spoke about prior; Connie was sitting in his cross-legged lap while Steven drooped his arms around Connie's shoulder comfortably. A firey, determined look in her raven eyes and on her face as she tried to find the video. On the other hand, Steven's attention was all on her.

His smile was small but so genuine. Full of pure love and affectionate pride for the woman, treasuring her, favoring her, adoring her..all with his deep brown-eyed gaze. All without her being aware.

The next photo was its companion and mirror in away. Connie seemed to have found the video by the mid-chuckle grin that threatened to split his face. Phone in his hand, head on her shoulder. Utterly oblivious to the goings-on beside him. The gaze his best-friend was giving him.

'And what a gaze it is.' Alex mused. 

Connie's eyes were half-lidded, her mouth a relaxed grin, and to the untrained eye or someone who hasn't been around these two for more than an hour, they would have written off as merely teasing, and they would be wrong. 

That expression radiated exceptional pride, heartfelt tenderness, and limitless affection for the man beside her. The unbridled joy and the way he was the only one in those raven orbs was something to be envious of.

"How?"

Wanda looked at her employee in question.

"How can two people, not in a relationship, look at each other like that? With such…

"Reverence and intimacy."

Alex nodded. "The way they act and such is one thing...but..this. These seconds….These moments caught in between the playing and teasing..."

"You seemed quite taken with them, Alex."

Alex looked at her witch adorned boss with a bit of a scowl. "It's not like that...It's not just them… More like. I'm intrigued by what they have. This thing..this type of romance..naw too weak...this bond..they won't or can't name...It's..ugh!"

Wanda laughed. "Alex, you just accidentally found your muse." Before she could continue, her phone rang. "Gotta take this. Alex, get ready for the next shoot. We are actually behind time and have more costumes to try." Wanda ordered gently with a wink before pulling her phone out the top of her costume.  "Hello? miss Jewels, yes, we'll be ready for you tomorrow..yeah ..yes. "

Alex sighed as she got up from the desk and got her camera before walking over to the two. She paused at the scene, feeling a surge of excitement. 

"Why am I the one getting sacrificed…Again?" Steven's voice could be heard through the phone, annoyed and desperate, and also trying not to laugh.

"It's not personal, it was a majority vote, and you're kind of suspicious, Traitor." A feminine voice answered.

"Screw you, Jewels!" Steven answered as everyone in the audience and on stage laughed, "You're the one sabotaging us, literally try to drag the party into the room called 'your soulmate is 50%  Zach Callison and 50% hamilton."

"Better than the, 'everything you love is canceled' room."

"AT LEAST WE GOT A KEY IN THAT ROOM."

As Steven cackled at the admittedly horrible animation, Connie leaned upon him, gazing up at him with eyes full of bottomless adoration. This close lip smile displayed her protectiveness for him. It was an expression of accomplishment as if she was watching a dream come true or something she fought so hard for finally came to fruition. A treasure she had searched for and would stake everything she had to keep.

It told a story of the hard times and struggles they had to go through without saying anything. If seeing him be so relaxed and carefree, place something so determined and passionate on her face. 

Well, she'd be a fool not to take its picture.

*click!*

[ninaahelvar]

Chivalry Fell On Its Sword (11/23)

Summary: All Arya wanted so to feel normal and go outside of the damn castle. Now, through a series of unfortunate, she’s stuck with a bodyguard that she accidentally flirted with: Gendry Waters.

AO3

A/N: WEDDINGS ARE A GREAT PLACE FOR DISASTER, DIDN'T YOU HEAR?? 👀👀👀👀

TO GROUP ‘The Ghost Fan Club (Jon fuck off)’ 

7:30am - Sansa: you guys….i look amazing 

7:31am - Jon: k? 

7:31am - Sansa: bitch dont ‘k’ me, i am a delight 

7:32am - Bran: your personality tho…

7:32am - Bran: 

7:34am - Arya: what if i said i look amazing

7:34am - Rickon: rare. Suspiciously optimistic. Must be true. 

7:35am - Robb: agree with the above sentiment

7:35am - Bran:  i believe her 

7:36am - Arya: i’m also wearing what sansa is wearing, so we’re both equally beautiful, now compliment the eldest daughter before i murder everyone

7:36am - Arya:  including you robb, don’t think I’ll go easy on you just cause you’re getting married 

 *~*~*

 7:40am - Sansa: 😘

7:40am - Arya: 😘

Arya threw her phone aside as she tried to think of shoes that she could get away with. The heels were a pale blue colour, but the height of them frightened her more than any other heel she was challenged with in her life. She’d be about Rickon’s height in them, which felt like a lot when she stood in front of her mirror. She knew she wasn’t tall, but the heels made it obvious that she was like a stunted idiot. 

But their height was going to be the give away that she wasn’t wearing said torture devices. Pulling the strap onto the back of her ankle, she stood with the cascading silk running over her body, and from once she thought of herself as a woman masquerading in the beauty, it had now become her - for that how she always saw herself. Her make up had been done that morning alongside Sansa, the two sisters chatting over coffee that was fuelling their lucidity. They were excited for the coming day. 

Arya and Sansa had come up with a code around others when regarding Gendry. If they wanted to keep Arya’s happiness a secret for a little while longer, he was referred to as Joe. He was Arya’s boyfriend, and that she was seeing that day, he was going to the wedding, but he wouldn’t be able to stay long. 

From the information Arya gathered before the two were separated, was that Sansa’s boyfriend wasn’t attending at all. Arya knew that was a lie because Theon was one of the best men. Maybe it was because he was forced to attend, not just being her date. Made sense to Arya. 

Then, Arya got changed. She slipped into the dress and was left to get her things in order. There were still a few hours between then and when the wedding was meant to start. The girls had gotten up early due to the excitement. It was the first time one of their siblings was getting married and it was exhilarating. 

Overall, she just wanted to see Gendry. 

Since the dress fitting, it felt like the two months flew by without a breath in between. It took away most of her free time with the planning and helping out where she could. So, less time for Gendry, less kisses and all around job. But they found some spare moments to hide away and enjoy the seconds they could spend with one another. 

It meant everything to her that he dropped just about everything to be by her side. 

Well, given that every time she messaged him, she said it was an emergency, and he came running - it meant he was doing his job correctly. But still, she loved watching his face fall from horror to joy when she stood coyly at a cupboard door. 

Arya sent a text. SOS. 

Gendry replied, asking to meet her round side of the palace. 

She knew his spot.

Picking up the ends of her skirt, she went racing down the steps, a smile pinned into her face and there wasn’t any use trying to hide it.

 *~*~*

 Gendry had shrunk away to the side, making sure that his position wasn’t compromised in his absence. It would only be for a few minutes. He just needed a second. With the wedding and everything, it became harder and harder to fulfill his role as personal bodyguard, as he was subjected to be an everything sorta guy. He was on perimeter, for the palace and the churches venue. It wasn’t far off the palace grounds, as a Stark wedding needed to be close to the Godswood for part of the ceremonies purposes. Gendry wasn’t subjected to know what any of that would entail.

So, for the short time, he allowed himself to smoke, to set the edge off and allow himself to relax. It wouldn’t be long before Arya got there, and sneaking one in wouldn’t hurt. She kept getting mad at him for the sudden habit, but it had been something he had tried to stop since he started his job. It was an old army thing that he hadn’t quite shaken - it just helped with nerves that wouldn’t shake loose. 

“I thought we agreed that the smoking was going to stop,” he heard a voice nearby. He turned, seeing a radiant visage in front of him. He had never thought Arya could look anymore beautiful than when she was in that ball gown all those months ago, but she had just kept stunning him every day. That day, in that dress, she was like a walking goddess, someone that had stepped out from heaven to grant him some form of miracle. 

“You look beautiful,” he said, cigarette still in between his lips. Arya walked the distance between them, taking the cigarette out, letting it drop to the floor and he lifted his heel to stamp it out instead of her heels. 

She grinned before she replied. “I know.” 

“You’re gonna be amazing today,” he said, reaching over to her, taking hold of her waist as he fell back against the wall. From his positon, they were nearly the same height, though Arya was still a few inches from him. Arya’s arms went up and around the back of his neck, falling into his easily. 

“You think so? All I’m really doing is standing around looking pretty,” she 

“You’re already doing it, so you’re gonna nail this,” 

“Shut up,” she said, sneaking into his space and kissing him. Gendry sighed as her lips touched his. 

The crawling sensation that ran up his spine made him feel queasy, that he needed to grab hold of the gun on his hip. Something was wrong but he couldn’t work out what. He pulled away from Arya, holding onto her hips tightly as his forehead rested against hers. “Hey, is something bothering you? I feel like somethings off?” 

“No? I feel fine,” Arya shrugged. Gendry couldn’t shake it, like something was in the air that clung to bad energy. Arya sighed, hand running up the back of his neck and fingers lacing into his hair, “come here,” she said, and before he could ask, her lips were on his again, more fully and deepening like she meant for it to lead back to her room. He couldn’t argue with that. Hands roaming around the back of her waist, he pulled her flush against her, hand sliding down her back and finding the round softness of her ass. “You nervous now?” she asked, pulling away. A need tugged at the pit of his stomach. 

“I’m going to lie and say no, because I want you to kiss me again,” he replied with a smirk.

“Your wish is granted,” she smiled before pulling him down once more. He guessed he was right - he was definitely there to grant him some form of miracle. 

 *~*~*

 As 9:30am came around, Gendry was in personal bodyguard role. They had to make a royal entrance, the church on the property, but in order to feel more open with the public - it was the first televised wedding, with almost full access to the people, after all. So, they were to do a full, formal parade out of the palace grounds before re-entering and welcoming all the guests. 

Gendry rode in Arya and Sansa’s car, the windows wide and the ability to see inside made Gendry’s stomach ache from all the possibilities. It didn’t matter though, as they continued on, waving to the people of the nearby town. Gendry even saw his mum out, waving frantically to his car. He smiled before returning to his concern. Overall, the entire thing went off without a hitch.

For Northern weddings, everything was different to what Gendry knew in the South. Regardless of family members part in the wedding, they needed to greet the bride or groom as a formed pack. Everything was about unity, especially family - the introduction of a new member was fital to the survival. There had been times in the past where Northerners wouldn’t attend their siblings wedding, as a sign of disrespect and ill-trust of the one entering the family. 

That wouldn’t be the case on that day. 

Each guard took their respective person down the aisle of the church. Robb was waiting alongside Jon, then it was Sansa and Sandor, then Arya and Gendry, followed by Bran and Pod, then finally Rickon and Osha. 

Robb was dressed in his military uniform, a bright red coat with a bright blue sash over his chest. Over his shoulders sat a traditional wolf pelt, synthetic fur as times changed, that all Starks wore - each gifted one when they were born and would use on certain occasions - marriage, birthdays, coronations, and finally when they were laid to rest. It was morbid, sure, but the North was built on traditions.

Along the way, Robb was making a grimacing face, the two sisters looking at each other before Sansa gestured to the side. From the corner of his eye, he saw the person that, under any other circumstance would have the girls screaming in joy, but they contained themselves. 

Arya reached into the pocket of her dress and quickly typed out something. His phone went off a moment later with the notification. Gendry checked, and rolled his eyes. 

The Memes of the Royalest Kind @TheRoyalMemeFamily: IS FUCKING RICHARD MADDEN AT THE WEDDING?!?! IRGHWORIGOWR GUYS SOMEONE GET A SCREENSHOT I’M GONNA FUCKING DIE

Gendry pocketed his phone in his breast pocket once more, leaning down to Arya. “Stop tweeting about Richard Madden,” he whispered. Arya scoffed, putting her phone away and stopping as Sansa kneeled before Robb. 

“He’s right there, Gendry! How am I not meant to -” 

“We get it, he looks like your brother, but you have to admit, Maisie Williams looks a hell of a lot like you,” he reminded. 

“She wishes she looked like me,” she scowled, before moving off and Gendry moved to the wall. He had to stay there for the entire ceremony, unless he felt like Arya’s life was in danger. Any moment he was with her, his mind raced with that possibility, but he was on extra alert in case someone got ballsy for the occasion. 

His hands behind his back, he watched Arya stand next to her sister and brothers, the perfect line of Starks, authority ranging down the line. From his attention on Arya, Gendry heard a giggling close by and a cocky scoff at his side. Rolling his eyes, Gendry jabbed his elbow into Podrick’s side. 

“Please stop making eyes at the other royals here,” Gendry groaned under his breath. Pod shifted beside Gendry, turning to him as he rubbed at his side. 

“Not like they’d touch you with a ten foot pole,” Osha replied nearby and Gendry held in a laugh that desperately wanted to come out. Podrick straightened out and moved back to his original position to look at Bran in his chair. After the accident, it seemed like he became a little more reckless than before - wheeling himself back and balancing there, much to Rickon’s delight. 

“You’d be surprised how they want to touch me,” Pod said and both Gendry and Osha groaned in disgust. 

“God I wish I could use this gun on you and then myself,” Osha said, adjusting her uniform. Gendry always found that Osha didn’t like being a bodyguard - not for royalty anyway - she found the strictness of it all to be too confining, and dispised most of the people around her. She only really cared about Rickon, which got her in good graces with the King and Queen. 

“We’re not allowed to use our guns for personal use,” Podrick reminded.

“I don’t think that’s what they mean,” Gendry said, then poked his head out to see Osha,  “but he is right.” 

“Not like I’d ever get any repercussions for it,” she countered. 

Gendry raised his brow in surprise, nodding as he realised she was right too. “Stop making it seem like a fun idea.” He shook his head at it. 

She scoffed, fixing up her knotted bun when Rickon waved to her. “It is when Pod’s around.” 

It wasn’t long before music started to play, heads turned to the open doors, and the hundreds of people at the gates turned from average cheering to deafening wails of joy. Gendry took one look at Robb, who had to remain facing the opposite way, smile to himself. Jon leaned over, whispering something to him. It only made Robb laugh. 

Gendry wondered, in a very selfish way, if on his wedding day it would be like that, to be a spectacle in front of many, but joy filling him regardless of the attention. He would just be happy that Arya would be walking towards him, in whatever she would feel comfortable in, a beautiful and elegant woman that blew him away with every passing second. 

He hadn’t realised it when it was running through his mind, that marrying would entail Arya, and only Arya. It was selfish, and quite possibly cocky, but as he looked at her, her cheeks plump with rosy delight, he didn’t care. Gendry wanted to marry Arya Stark, the third in line for the throne, but her title meant nothing to him. It was just her. 

When she walked down, the voices and heads kept a good view of Talisa, but when she came into his line of sight, Gendry felt like Robb was a very lucky man. She was the perfect vision of a waiting bride and future royal all in one. 

Talisa wore a white dress with grey finishings, leaves and vines scattering the skirt, with the bodice resembling that of holding the whole garment together. It was something that a forgein bride would wear, as wolves were customary in the northern designs. What Talisa wore was exotic, regal, and the tiara that sat upon her head was wrapping vines meeting at the jewel - held together by two opposing wolves. It was the only wolf attire that she wore. 

In all, she looked like she were transitioning to a Stark, a slow and gradual way, though many of the royals considered her family already. Ygritte followed behind, flowers in hand as the bridesmaid. She forced a smile, seemingly uncomfortable with being a spectacle, but soon, she went to her place as a bridesmaid as Talisa went to next stage in her progress into becoming a Stark. 

At the foot of the alter, the Stark children greeted Talisa. A hand to the left side of the chest, a vow to love with all their hearts and welcoming her to the pack. They would kiss her cheek on either side and bow before going to their seat. Bran was unable to bow, per say, so instead, he let his head fall, to which Talisa kissed at his crown. When he looked back up to her, a bright smile, like one that he had been ashamed to show, came out in full force. 

Arya, who looked like she wanted to embrace Talisa more than just give her a sign of respect, beamed a smile and whispered something to her future sister in law. As Arya went to her spot beside Ygritte, followed soon after by Sansa. Jon was even given a moment of respect from Talisa before she was met by the King and Queen. King Ned had regained most of his mobility, but occasionally required a cane to help him around. On this day, he looked like a mighty King, proud and regal as any other healthy king. To that, Talisa knelt all the way to the floor, her dress fanning out, her head bowed to them as they rested hands on either shoulder, speaking good wishes upon her marriage. Then, as they departed for their seats, it was finally time for Robb to see his wife to be. 

When he turned, Gendry understood the joy, a smile breaking out onto Robb’s lips that captivated his entire face, making the wrinkles around his eyes even more pronounced. He chuckled as he saw her, and she did the same, their dignities lost to the joy they felt coming together in a union they had decided upon.  

The ceremony was as dragging as any other wedding Gendry had been to - they weren’t as exciting as others made them out to be. Yet, the intriguing part was a portion of the ceremony that was seen by only the bride and groom, their priest, and gods - to take place in the Godswood. From what Gendry remembered, it was very important that the Godswood was respected, as it would bless the couple with good fortune, children, and health throughout their marriage. He wasn’t sure what was said, but when they had returned, they held hands, bound together with a red ribbon, keeping their union together. 

The interesting part for Gendry was now, Talisa wore Robb’s cloak. It hung off her shoulders in a heavy garment, but she didn’t seem to mind. She still looked like she belonged amongst the family that stood before him. 

They exchanged a kiss for the public and cheers were heard roaring from beyond the church’s walls. Gendry smirked, joining in on the gathering applause for the newly wed. 

As the royals left the church, Gendry and the other guards all took stations to make sure they were secure as they made their way to the palace. It wasn’t a long journey by any means, but it was to be safe nevertheless. Once instead, they all moved to the top balcony, one in which the people waiting at the gates could see. Gendry waited inside the palace, keeping an eye on everyone as they passed through. Arya gave him a wink as she went through the doors and he smiled to himself. 

Then, as Robb and Talisa made their way onto the balcony, the people roared to life once more, celebrating the married couple. They kissed and embraced without restraint. It wasn’t common for royalty to be outwardly affectionate to the public, but they were - they couldn’t help themselves. Gendry knew, if he lived a different life, he’d always be seen with Arya, giving her every ounce of affection he had to offer her. 

Coming in from the balcony, the royal family were gathered, arranging when and where everyone was needed for coming photoshoots. Arya snuck to the pack of people alongside Gendry, hiding them from sight, and finally having a moment alone. In a split second between worry and longing, he reached down between them. Gendry held her hand, winding his fingers with hers in the depths of the crowd. In his mind, Gendry was hyper aware that people were around, but in the chaos of a loving day, he didn’t care. He wanted to hold hands with the princess that was his girlfriend. He wanted to love her as freely in public as in private. Looking up to him, fingers tightening around his own, her smile told him that she was feeling the same. 

The commotion of a coming opportunity to act like idiots the family was used to doing, Arya bound towards her siblings, and Gendry was whisked around to keep an eye on them all from the sidelines. With predictions on course, all the Stark siblings climbed over each other, posing with Talisa who joined in on the joy of being an idiot amongst idiots. When they decided they all had to climb on top of Bran’s wheelchair, Catelyn finally chimed in and got them to behave. 

After taking formal photos, they gathered downstairs in the ballroom for the guests that had arrived from nations far and wide. In the midst of the night, Gendry watched Sansa and Arya scream and pounce on a foreign Queen, who did the same when she saw the sisters. They laughed and joked before a brooding man hovered over the Queen’s shoulder. Gendry thought he was a bodyguard until he smiled to the sisters and Gendry was set at ease. He recognised the man. 

Khal Drogo.

 *~*~*

 In spite of knowing he was arriving for the wedding, Arya was knocked completely for a loop when Drogo hovered over Dany’s shoulder, then broke into a giant smile. 

“My little princesses!” he yelled, accent thick and broad, gathering Arya and Sansa into his arms and picking them effortlessly off the floor. He held them tight and hugged them with all the force his arms could muster. Setting them down, he focused on Arya first. “You’ve grown! Tiny angry one even fits in dresses,” he said, he flicked her nose when she pouted. “My fire cracker, how are you? Still ruling world?” he asked Sansa, raising his brow and making her laugh.

“Always,” she nodded, regaining composure and raising her chin. Drogo nudged the edge of her chin and she laughed again. 

“Tiny angry, still kicking ass?” he asked, leaning down to her. She punched into his shoulder, making him stand up straight again.

“Always.” She smirked. 

“Perfect. Love strong women,” he said, his english stunted, but passion was true to form as he looked at Dany with a fondness that none of her other boyfriends had ever shown her, “now! The wine!” he called. When there was little response, he began to chant. “Wine! Wine! Wine! Wine!” 

“Khal!” Everyone turned to see Arya’s father almost charging across the room. 

“Ned! You half dead bastard, come here!” he yelled, Drogo picking up Ned just as briskly as he had picked up the petite women before. 

“Sorry, he doesn’t always know when to be quiet,” Dany laughed. 

“I’m sure,” Arya smirked. 

“You’re gross,” Dany scolded, and Arya couldn’t remove the smile from her lips.  

“Tell me I’m wrong,” she shrugged, and Dany shut her mouth quickly, a bright pink hue illuminating on her cheeks, “that’s what I thought.” Dany broke into a laugh, moving the distance between them and kissing Arya’s cheek, doing the same to Sansa. 

“It was lovely seeing you. I have to go rangle a giant man from killing your father.”  Her brow quirked and the girls laughed as they watched Dany almost racing over to their father and Drogo, who quickly tucked her underneath his arm and kissing at her crown. The admiration he held for her was so clear - a love that was so deeply rooted that neither of them could explain how it sprung about, but it was sprouting before they could question its origins.

During the rest of the afternoon and night, the family and guests gathered for dinner, and celebrated a true Northern feast. Arya would occasionally catch sight of Gendry who seemed confused by the feast, the one long table that made people jump up and walk around with food in palm. To him, it must have been strange, but it was everything that Arya had grown to know as fact over the years. 

When Robb and Talisa asked everyone back to the ballroom, the true party started, as the dance was a waltz for a short time, before the drinking brought everyone to their feet and dancing like the awful dancers they all were. Drogo showed off his amazing skills, as well as scaring half the elders of the Northern council. 

Romantic moments left Arya and Sansa sighing wistfully, pining for men they couldn’t be publicly seen with. Though, Arya wasn’t sure why Sansa hadn’t taken her relationship with Theon to the streets; he was a Lord afterall, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Arya, on the other hand, had to get through Gendry’s job and well...her mother, in order to go public. 

Arya, for the most part was happy with her happiness, for now at least. 

With drunks everywhere, Arya feeling a little tipsy herself, had been socialising amongst royals, lords, and friends that had been coming to such events for years. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw large arms flagging her down, waving wildly in her direction. Part of her thought it was Gendry, only to be met with a stumbling Drogo, moving towards her. 

“Tiny angry one, come here,” he said, a half drunk daze. Arya crept over to him, his arm over her shoulder as he whispered to her, “would you like to know secret?” 

“Yes,” she smiled, beaming up to him.

“I can speak your language perfectly, I’ve been faking it for years,” he said, a grin of a man that was proud of his accomplishments. All forms of drunk behaviour faded away. Arya stared up at him in shock.

“What? Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Because no one...will ever believe you,” he said, pulling away slowly, grinning to her, and maintaining eye contact.

“You sick son of a bitch,” Arya spat. When she was about to accost him for being an absolute prick all these years, when they both saw Dany waving him over. 

“Khal! Come here!” she called, and he smirked, wandering over like he had done to Arya not a moment before.

“I come moon of my life!” he said.

“I will expose you!” Arya shouted, Drogo turned with an exaggerated shrug. 

“I know not what that means!” he said, laughing as he raced over to Dany. 

All night, she realised, she had been watching Drogo and Dany; the love that they gave without hesitation, unbridled affection that never seemed to end - it was their first public outing, and yet, there wasn’t an ounce of fear among them. It made Arya jealous.  

Glancing around, she saw Gendry whisper to Pod, who nod and let Arya’s bodyguard walk away. Sneaking off to follow him, she watched as he had rounded a corner out the back, and lit a cigarette. Before he could get anything from it, Arya stepped into his line of sight, and spoke. 

“You shouldn’t sneak away,” she said, and Gendry snapped his attention to her like he had that morning, a bright smile forming on his face. Arya, once again, walked the distance between them and dropped the cigarette to the floor. “And you know smoking makes me want to kiss you less,” she reminded. She expected Gendry to huff out of the loss of his secret habit, but instead, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her into him.

“Sorry. I promise I’ll stop,” he said, forehead resting against her own.

“You should. Otherwise you won’t be able to get to do this,” Arya’s voice trailed off into a whisper before she shoved him hard back against the wall and forced her lips to his. Gendry gave into it easily, giving as much as he got in return, hands tightening into her waist before they slid down her back, fumbling with her dress, riding it up her leg. Every trace of his fingers on her skin was electrifying for her, sending her into a frenzy to get more of him in such a short kiss. 

Gendry pulled away, though Arya had doubts that he truly wanted to do that. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this in public,” he panted, hand still firm in her ass. She didn’t care, the way his other hand raked up her dress was enough to have her eager for more. Pulling on his collar, she urged him off. 

“Then, take us somewhere private,” she said, kissing him again, teeth nipping at her lip as she deepened it the way she wanted. Why did he have to be the way he was? It drove her nuts, that she needed to be under his clothes and have him be with her, bare and free of everything that gave them names. Naked, alone together, in a bed that would only hold the two of them for a short time; they weren’t a princess and her bodyguard, they were just two people that loved one another without hesitation. 

“Arry,” Gendry panted, and Arya whined. 

“Gendry, move your ass.” 

“Get here,” he snarled, tugging her up from the ground, holding her bridal style with ease. She squeaked as she fell into his arms, and he smiled. “Can’t have a princess walking around with those tender ankles,” he teased out their forthcoming lie if they needed it.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, kissing him before he took them to her room. 

She had doubts that when they arrived, the passion and tension between them would still be firing, until they got there and the time lapsed was like nothing. Gendry put her back on her feet and kissed her as feverishly as she had outside. They scrambled over her room, tripping over themselves before landing at her chest of drawers. Gendry dug around in her draw, getting one of the remaining condoms and took his cock from his trousers. It took little prompting to have Arya up on the drawers and Gendry adjusting her underwear to the side, as he stole a heated kiss, he drove into her, making her pull away and moan with all the air left in her chest.

They were desperate for friction, for the other to just reach their end before they eventually caved. It was always a challenge with them, one that they both thrived on. Caring was a hopeless affair, as she clawed at Gendry’s back, panting as he made her chest of drawers rattle with the force of each thrust. With their bodies coming together, they kissed one another, breaking apart the moans that would have definitely kept the room a fountain of nonstop sex noises. 

But they didn’t care, as their lust out won them both, colliding together until they were panting for more. Arya came apart first, nails clutched into the back of Gendry’s neck as she held back her moan with lip between teeth. Gendry snapped his hips to hers in one final motion before he stilled for a few moments, breathing in hard puffs before his fingers came loose, no longer binding into her with desperation, but held her in affection, love, care. All wrapped up into their silent moment of breathing together. 

“I love you,” she panted, cheek resting on his shoulder before he cupped her cheek and stared into her eyes. 

Gendry kissed her over and over again, whispering words that made her heart flutter more than the sex did. “I love you too.”  

Everything else didn’t matter. 

It was only them. 

That’s all that mattered. 

In that moment, anyway. 

 *

 Arya sat down at the table for family breakfast, head and thighs aching. Everyone, including Robb and Talisa, were slumped in their seats, nursing coffees in silence in an attempt to quiet the pounding drums in their heads. The table was loaded with eggs, toast, fruit and cereals, everything you could want first thing in the morning, but Arya's stomach called for carbs, anything that could absorb whatever alcohol was left in her system. Either she was still swimming in it or she was still riding the high from last night, regardless, her body was barely functioning and she has never been more grateful for the closed curtains around the room.

Robb and Talisa sat opposite Arya - they were set to leave for their honeymoon the day after next, as Talisa wanted to go to a medical conference, but the date of the wedding had already been set. Not one to argue with his fiance, now wife, Robb agreed and they planned their honeymoon around Talisa’s wishes. It warmed Arya’s heart, but also made her want to throw up with how cute they were acting with one another over breakfast. Maybe that was the hangover still speaking, but she couldn’t have been sure. 

Rickon had been tossing his cereal over and over again, a grim look on his face 

Arya’s phone started to go off to everyone’s annoyance. 

“Family breakfast, Arya! No phones,” Jon groaned, head down on the table, Ygritte patting his back, and eating her breakfast like it was no problem. She drank Jon under the table like it was nothing. She matched with Drogo once, but the Starks hadn’t known her then - probably one of the reasons Jon loved her so much. 

“Sorry, it’s the twitter account. I left it on after Richard Madden hugged Robb last night,” Arya said with a mouthful of bread. 

“Did you post about it?” Robb groaned and Talisa giggled, remembering it just as clearly as Arya and Sansa had.

Sansa laughed, tossing over her eggs once more before putting the bacon between her teeth. “You should see how much people are freaking out.” 

“You sure Robb doesn’t have a twin,” Rickon asked, the family turning to Ned and Catelyn. Ned grinned over his coffee, and Catelyn groaned. 

“I gave birth to him, so yes, I’m sure, now eat your breakfast. And turn off your phone, Arya.” 

Arya nodded, putting her phone on silent, seeing the first notifications roll over her screen, and her curiosity was taken.

@wetbreadoffical: is this deadass???? #gendrya

@wetbreadoffical: @TheRoyalMemeFamily are yall forreal???

@wetbreadofficial: the clouds have parted, the sun shines through and princess arya has found love on this beautiful day

@aryastanstark: @TheRoyalMemeFamily OIEBDFOIERWG THIS CANNOT BE REAL, RIGHT?! @AryaStark @GendryWaters

@gendryaisreal: @TheRoyalMemeFamily WE FUCKING WON! We stand legends only 

@brekkersgendryl: @TheRoyalMemeFamily ARE MY FUCKING FAVES REALLY? We thrivin

@brekkersgendryl: if people are really trying to start shit like he’s doing this cause she’s royal never saw him at that event, himbo was all heart eyes SKJSJSHDB

@wetbreadofficial: u know when u remember that princess arya has found love and u just :')))

Arya’s brow furrowed as she tried to click on links, hand going over her mouth as she saw the headline. It was the worst thing she could have read that day. It couldn’t have been real. Could it? Maybe she was still dreaming? Fuck, this was bad. 

Putting the Body in Bodyguard

Under the headline were scattered photos from over months, secret moments that Arya thought were for only her and Gendry. The last few that were shown were ones that her mother would gasp at - Gendry groping into her backside, his hands hiking up her dress, him carrying her off to the palace. 

The article could have said a million things, saying all they wanted about Arya, all they wanted about Gendry, but it was too late - the world knew. 

Panic set over her entire body, and she couldn’t breathe suddenly, like her vision became tunnelled and everything around her meant nothing but the article that sat in front of her. 

Something had been off for months, and they both knew, and did nothing. 

Gendry. 

“No no no no no,” she muttered to herself, the chorus of her family’s voice asking if she’s alright.

“Arya, what is it?” her mother asked, Sansa leaning over to her to see the article.

“Shit,” she swore as Sansa mumbled the same sentiment. “shit!” Arya said, combing her hands through her hair. Arya shoved herself away from the table, pocketing her phone as Sansa got hers out, sending around the article. She watched as her siblings went tight lipped, and immediately sympathise with her. There wasn’t judgement, just worry. They all felt it. The urge of panic that came with this part of their lives. 

Her mother snapped at her. “Arya, please watch your -” 

“I have to go,” Arya yelled back, running out of breakfast and trying to remember the winding halls of her home. In the end, she just ran wherever her feet would fucking take her. 

 *

 TO GROUP ‘The Ghost Fan Club (Jon fuck off)’ 

9:26am - Jon: Gendry and Arya?

9:26am - Sansa: Please keep up

9:27am - Robb: ...but the newspaper have just….

9:27am - Sansa: hence her freak out, KEEP UP!

9:28am - Jon: wait you knew?

9:29am - Bran: everyone knew, stupid 

9:29am - Rickon: even I knew, and I don’t get told anything 

9:30am - Sansa: you know what this means 

9:30am - Jon: please dont

9:31am - Sansa: You know nothing Jon Snow

9:31am - Rickon: You know nothing Jon Snow

9:32am - Robb: You know nothing Jon Snow

9:32am - Bran: You know nothing Jon Snow

9:34am - Jon: fuck you guys

9:45am - Jon: arya not replying isn’t a good sign is it?

9:41am - Sansa: no it isn’t

9:41am - Sansa: high alert, starks. High alert 

 *

 By the time all of her hiding places were searched and gone up in smoke, she pasted by the security offices, seeing the commotion of those around. In a split moment between wondering if she should ask them, she turned to see Brienne with Gendry on her heels. He looked like a mess, his uniform out of order, tie tugged almost completely out of its knot, and his hair was far from professional looking. 

Arya’s stomach twisted. 

She ran to him regardless. 

“Gendry!” she said, latching her hand onto his wrist, trying to pry him from the situation. 

“Not now,” he grumbled, pulling her hand from his arm. She tugged on him again, making everyone come to full stop. 

“Please don’t shut me out,” she whispered, her hands touching at his face, making him look at her. His eyes were dark - they lost their spark. He wasn’t the Gendry she knew anymore. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

“Arya,” Brienne started, “please move away from Gendry.” 

“Brienne, this isn’t -” 

“Princess!” Brienne raised he voice, and for the first time ever, Arya jumped at the sound of it. “Move, please,” she asked once more, and Arya stepped back. Gendry looked forward 

“Arya, come here,” a voice asked behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw her mother, a scowl written into her features. 

“I’ll wait right here for you,” she said, looking back to Gendry, trying to reach for him. In the second where they could, he reached back towards her, fingers lingering on hers before it faded from her skin. 

“Arry, just go with your mum,” he said, and turned to go with the rest of the security officers. 

“Arya, come here right now,” her mother warned, and Arya swallowed, watching the door slam and everything had changed for them. Turning to her mother, it was clear that whatever was going to happen, Arya was in for an earful. Dread set in. 

They were taken to her mother’s office, and as she sat on the side of the desk, Arya craved her father’s presence. Did he even want to look at her after thought pictures? He had to have seen them if her mother had. He was the king, everyone told the king every small detail of people’s lives, especially his children. Gods, the look her mother was giving her in that moment made Arya truly want to be sick. 

Sansa sat next to Arya, holding onto her hand with all the force a supportive sister could muster in her palm. It didn’t lessen Arya’s nerves. 

“You’ve made a spectacle of our entire family,” Catelyn huffed, folding her arms after she turned her computer screen towards the sisters. “on the day of your brother’s wedding.” Of course the day half of the pictures were taken would rattle her mother - taking away from the future king was awful according to her mother. 

Arya shouldn’t have thought that, they were both frustrated, and her mum was just taking aim at what was already gaining the family attention. 

“I’m not going to be judged for the company I keep,” Arya said, trying to sound defiant, but all she could think of was the look on Gendry’s face. He looked so broken. 

“He is not company! He is here doing a job, and you two decided to jeopardise that for some flirtatious behaviour,” Catelyn snapped, her hand going to her forehead. 

“Mum, I don’t think you can call it that. I think it’s more than -” 

Sighing, she looked to her eldest daughter. “Sansa, you’re in an equal amount of trouble for keeping this from me.” 

Sansa stood up to her mother, something she rarely did. Walking to the desk, Sansa planted her hands on the hardwood and stared down their mum. “Why should I tell you when Arya loves someone? It’s not like she ever did that to me. It’s a personal matter, and it was hers to figure out on her own! I’m not going to make her feel like falling in love is against royal protocol.” 

“Falling in love with her bodyguard is against protocol.” 

“Whose? Did you make a law that Arya falling in love with whoever she wanted to was wrong?” Sansa snarled, anger billowing high. “Mum, I know you don’t mean to, but Arya isn’t a lady. She’s never been that way, and controlling her is like controlling the wind. You’re causing more harm to her than you are mending anything. If you made it -” 

“Sansa, it’s ok.” Arya interrupted, her voice so weak, she was afraid it wasn’t going to come out. 

Wither hands in her lap, she picked at her skin, wishing that her heart would stop hammering away in her ribcage, but it was too late for that. Swallowing down fear, looking up at her mother and wondering if she could still love her after all of this. She hoped she would. 

“Mum, all I did was fall in love. Sure, I didn't mean for it to happen, and I sure as hell wish it wasn't my bodyguard, but only because of his job. If he wasn't my bodyguard and we had met differently, I can tell you right fucking now, I’d feel exactly the same. And he’s still doing his job of protecting me. It's not like it's stopped him, to be honest he's somehow even better than before! 

He's my best friend. And my boyfriend. And the love of my life. Neither of us planned it and we sure as hell fought it, because we were scared. Not of being in love, I have never been scared of being in love. But we know the risks, Mum. I'm not an idiot and neither is. I'm scared of your reactions and the public's reactions, but mostly I'm scared of losing him and it being my family's fault.”

“Arya,” she started before she sighed, and relaxed back into her chair, annoyance running over her. “I wish you would have told me. So I could prepare myself for the mess that has come.” 

Arya scowled, watching as her mum reached over her desk, planning something out - that she was going to repair this somehow. “Was I always going to be a mess in your eyes?” 

Catelyn sighed again. “That wasn’t what I meant.” 

“I know what you meant. But you never have seen me as perfect. You’ve always seen me as something you should fix,” Arya shot back. 

“Arya, please don’t twist my words.” 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Arya waited, to which Catelyn opened her mouth to defend herself. It closed quickly and Arya scoffed. “You can’t though, because what do you do every day? You check to see if I’m the perfect little princess, scowling when I’m not. I’m just Princess Arya, the girl that fights, the girl that runs away from home and talks with the people. I’m just me.” 

“I know you are,” Catelyn said, reaching out over her desk for Arya’s hand. 

She ignored it. “Then why does it feel like you hate me?” 

“Arya, I -” 

“I need to find Gendry,” Arya said, getting up and walking out of her mother’s office. The feeling in her chest was a hollow one, spite winning over her in a moment of pain. 

Racing back to the bodyguard offices, she waited for only a few minutes before Gendry came out, he looked worse than when he went in, but in complexion only - a different man than she had ever known. 

“There you are!” Arya said, going to his side, but Gendry walked as if she wasn’t even there. She pursed her lips and followed after him. 

“Arya, go back to your parents, I need to get out of here,” Gendry said, tugging on his tie until it came loose and he took it off, shoving it into his pocket and trying to find something in his other pockets. 

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” Arya asked, walking beside him as he finally got his phone. 

“Take a fucking guess what the problem is,” he snapped, looking at the screen of his phone, stopping as he read something. He went pale and Arya felt her heart spasm. Gods, this wasn’t happening. She was downright scared. Arya was never scared. 

“We can figure this out. It’s going to be hard at first, but I promise it’ll be worth it,” Arya tried, but as Gendry looked to her, she knew something was so far gone, that the rage that had built within him was going to tear him apart. Or worse. 

“You don’t get it, Arya! You are constantly in the spotlight, and now so am I, and my mum too. We aren’t like you, we don’t have people protecting us from danger! We’re going to get harassed, and there’s nothing we can do.” 

“Gendry, we’ll work it out, just -” 

“No! I’m not doing this,” he shouted, and Arya held her breath, binding his fists. 

“Doing what?” 

Gendry looked over her face, scattering for the words. “I’m not...We’re not…” 

“Don’t.” She stopped him, heart pounding in her chest. “I know what you’re doing and think about this,” she warned him.

“I have. I have to think about my family.”

“I could be your family!” she shouted back, moving into his space, trying to hold his hands. He didn’t truly know what she was asking of him. 

Gendry stepped back, pulling away. “Don’t make me choose between you and my mum, Arya,” he said, voice soft. 

“I’m not!” she begged. It was the last one that would come out of her lips. 

The look in his eyes told her enough, the words that would tear them apart were close, but she knew he’d never say them. He’d break her heart more easily than that. 

“I'm sorry, Arya.” Gendry walked away, slow and hurt, no pride or dignity in the way he moved. 

“Coward!” she yelled. Gendry stopped for a moment before he continued off. Arya didn’t mean it. She was just scared. And she knew, that whenever he walked away from her, her heart was going to break. 

Above it all, Arya never thought she’d die of a broken heart, but now it seemed all the more real. 

Gendry broke her heart, and she’d never be the same again.

[lovelyirony]

@chikinan has wonderful art of samsteve, which you know i just had to write! 

Steve and Sam meet when Steve’s being a little imp. It kind of defines their whole relationship, honestly. But Sam deals with the “on your left” quip while running in DC, they talk about trauma, and then Sam gets to help overthrow a secret organization that was very corrupt. 

He also got to brag that he jumped into a helicopter off a skyscraper-type-building and he got to help Captain America. Steve for short. 

Sam visits Steve in the hospital, bringing a shield that was fished out of the Potomac and a playlist of Marvin Gaye to play. 

There’s a blonde woman sitting by his side, grinning as she tells him something. 

“Oh, Sam,” Steve says. His bruise from yesterday looks a lot better--unfair, by the way, because it still hurts Sam to turn too much--and his smile is wider. “This is Sharon. She was my neighbor for a bit. Also a SHIELD agent.” 

"Used to be,” Sharon says with a shrug. “Thinking about a new career.” 

“The coffee shop down the street needs baristas,” Sam jokes. Sharon smiles, laughing. 

“And you’re Sam, aren’t you? Nice to see Steve finally has someone who can keep up with him and keep him grounded.” 

“I’m fine,” Steve says. 

“Nah, you’re a freak of nature,” Sharon says. “And I need to focus more on making sure that Maria doesn’t take on all the work herself.” 

“And so you can utilize her wine collection,” Steve says. Sharon flips him off easily, laughing. 

“I’ll see you nerds later.” 

Sam gets the most distinct impression that Sharon could probably take over a country if she so wanted to. 

When Steve gets out of the hospital, he stays at Sam’s for a bit. 

And then that little bit turns into a lot longer when Sam decides to go for it and kiss Steve on the lips. 

Steve is a very nice man to date. They go to art museums and little coffee shops and the places that Sam says Steve has to go to. 

“Why did we go to Burger King after midnight?” 

“Tastes better. You go in the daytime and it’s shit.”

“...okay.” 

They’re both stubborn, Steve all the more. But Sam can talk with him and they communicate well, even on the days where Steve remembers things that he doesn’t want to or the days when it feels like just a year ago he was looking forward to the premiere of Meet Me in St. Louis. 

About a year and a half after they meet, Bucky enters the scene. 

Bucky is an asshole, once you really get to know him. Sam says that that’s a redeeming trait, although Bucky flips him off every single time. 

Bucky, Sharon, Steve, and Sam all form a friend-group of sorts and have a fun time hanging out together. Bucky and Sharon often gang up on the couple, laughing as they talk about all the dumb shit they’ve been up to. 

Steve actually needs Sharon’s help when he decides that marrying Sam would be the best decision ever. Well, he decided that about three months into their relationship. But now, it’s more...real. He’s ready to settle down, look at the man he loves, and say “I do.” 

He calls her and cajoles her into breakfast at eight in the morning to beat the usual people who go out for breakfast on Saturdays. 

“This better be good,” Sharon says grouchily. “I could’ve been having my own coffee and watching the show about puppies.” 

“I need to go ring-shopping with you. You’re the one who knows Sam best.” 

Sharon grins, hugging Steve and expressing the fact that they’d find the perfect one. 

They go to a lot of stores after-hours, the most-trusted experts on-hand. Steve doesn’t want this getting out until he wants it to break, and they understand that. 

And if they didn’t before, Sharon makes sure they do after. 

Steve decides on simplicity. Sam isn’t one for flashy declarations, so a gold band will do. 

Sam knows that he and Steve will get married one day. They’ve talked about the details, said that they don’t want to get married in the winter. He just doesn’t know when. 

He gets surprised by a beautiful picnic and a trip to the art museum, one of their first dates. 

Steve proposes in front of one of Sam’s favorite works of art, and Sam exclaims his surprise and his love so loudly that it makes headlines and memes for the weeks to follow. 

Sam can’t stop introducing Steve after that. 

“Oh, have you met my motherfucking husband?” Sam asks the Avengers. “Becuase here he is. See the wedding band?” 

“You’ve bragged about this eight times,” Bucky deadpans. 

“And there will be more to come!” Sam replies glibly. “Meet my husband. He has questionable taste in cocktails and thinks that the best invention of the twenty-first century is gel pens.” 

“They were invented in 1984, pick another one,” Tony says. 

“I wasn’t alive then, I consider it then,” Steve responds. 

“No,” Bruce says. “You weren’t alive for the invention of fire, do you consider that a twentieth century invention? Sam, you’re marrying an idiot.” 

“But he’s my idiot,” Sam says. 

All of SHIELD, once it’s rebuilt, gets the low-down. Steve Rogers is Sam Wilson’s husband, and Sam will remind you of that at any possible moment. 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt my training session with new recruits to remind us all of your impending nuptials,” Maria Hill responds frostily after Sam walks in and shows off his ring for the new recruits to “ooh” and “ah” over. 

“Too bad, I’m getting married,” Sam says. “Now, I need your guys’ opinion. This is very important.” 

The smile drops, and the recruits lean in. Any lesson or advice they could give to Falcon could potentially lead to a status-upgrade. 

“How do I tell Steve that we’re not doing vanilla frosting without hurting his feelings?” 

Maria groans and says if Sam doesn’t get out, she’s throwing knives at him. 

Then comes the topic of who will be in the bridal party. Sam’s family, obviously. But they need a maid-of-honor and a best man. 

“For the best man, it has to be Bucky,” Steve says. “I won’t have anyone else.” 

“If you must,” Sam sighs, pretending to be annoyed before pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Have him over for lunch. But I get to choose the maid-of-honor then, and I go with Sharon.” 

Steve is in charge of the color schemes, and they choose navy blue and dove gray. 

“Dove?” Clint asks. “There are kinds of gray?” 

“I live with idiots,” Bruce says. “Of course there’s dove gray.” 

Bruce is...surprisingly helpful when it comes to procuring wedding materials. 

“How do you know these things?” Sam asks. 

“I watch too many shows and keep tabs on materials. Do not ask about it.” 

He nods, and makes a note to get Bruce to ask about custom-suits, or Tony. 

The wedding goes off perfectly. Tony has threatened everyone in a thirty-mile radius that if they attack anywhere near the wedding, he will eviscerate them until they’re nothing but a dark spot on the sidewalk. 

Sam is whisked away on the morning of, Sharon dragging him to a dressing room. 

“Bad luck to see the groom the day of the wedding.” 

“Isn’t that for brides?” 

“Nope, no gender-bias,” Sharon says. “And I guarantee if Steve saw you, he’d trip over himself. If he trips down the aisle, I win two dollars off Jane.” 

“You guys are betting during my wedding?” 

“Obviously, it’s what the Avengers and company do, Sam. Now, to the suit.” 

Sam is in the dove gray, Steve in the navy. They make a pretty good pair, the two of them. Of course, Natasha nabs Steve’s phone away when he’s trying to show Sam what he drew on the bottom of them. 

“No!” She declares. “You are not allowed to do any of this. I am turning on your wedding playlist.” 

“I have a wedding playlist?” 

“Technically it’s Bruce’s.” 

“Why does Bruce have one?” 

“I don’t ask him questions and neither should you, now onto hair,” Natasha says. “We’re going to make you look great for your wedding.” 

Sharon makes sure all the bouquets are set, the caterers are doing their job (and not serving cold potatoes like so many other weddings have had before) and that everyone is ready. 

“Do I really have to wear a tie?” Clint whines. 

“Yes,” Bruce says, not even looking up from his newspaper. “Wear it and suffer or don’t wear it and you’ll be replaced.” 

“I doubt Steve or Sam could find a replacement on such short notice,” Clint scoffs. 

“They couldn’t, but I could. I have two people on stand-by.” 

And then, the time comes. The bridesmaids and groomsmen look immaculate, and Steve can’t stop thinking about the day they met and how lucky he is to see his husband every day and be able to kiss him in the mornings, nights, and any time else it suits. 

Sam looks like a vision. His smile is radiant and he gets up to the aisle and smoothly turns to look at the priest. 

“We’re ready.” 

The ceremony is beautiful, and Steve can’t take his eyes off his husband. 

Sharon cries and tries to hide it behind her bouquet, although it ends up making a lovely picture for the photographer. 

The reception is wonderful. The food is great, the dancing is great, and Steve and Sam show off a very impressive first-dance that involves Steve near-hurling Sam out of his grasp. All in all, a very nice start. 

Bucky delivers an excellent speech on how lovesick Steve is, and how he told him one night that “he would marry Sam, even if it did kill him.” Sam cries. 

Sharon lightens up the mood with various stories about how stupid both of the grooms are, and how Sam had walked into a light-pole once because Steve happened to be wearing a rather nice shirt. 

They dance through the night, and end up in their bed, breathing hard. 

“Love you, Steve.” 

“Love you too.” 

“You’re my husband now. Like, for real.” 

“What a thought,” Steve teases, pulling him close. “You’re my husband too.” 

“A surprise,” Sam says, laughing. “Love you.” 

“Love you more.” 

“Love you most.” 

[be-dazzled]

Are you still doing the prompts meme thing? If so, could you do 61 and Gruvia? BUT LIKE ONLY IF YOU WANT TO IT'S TOTALLY COOL IF YOU DONT

Writer’s Corner: This drabble was a long time coming but I still do hope you’ll like it. I don’t think I can ever get over these two! My babies. Not very good with angst but did my best. Also, dropping some brotp down there. Guess who!

...

61. “I love you. I am completely andutterly in love with you. Please don’t get married…”

If Gray couldmake the train fly, he would. The idea of freezing the tracks so the trainwould just glide into its destination was very tempting. He would have doneeverything to get to Magnolia sooner, to get to his Juvia sooner.

 Team Natsu wasjust about to embark on the journey in finding the fourth dragon when Graycaught wind of the news that Juvia Lockser was getting married. And not tohim.

 Gray jumped onthe next train back to Magnolia, not even saying a word to his company. As soonas he saw the roof of the Magnolia train station, Gray leaped out of the vehicle,jumped over the barricades and ran as fast as his feet could make him. It was aTuesday and the station wasn’t as busy or populated as usual. At least, onething went right.

 Gray had onedestination – Juvia. As he ran on foot, one voice echoed in his head.

 Don’t think shewill wait for you forever, lover boy.

 He didn’tbelieve it at first. How she, his Juvia, fall in love with another man? But thepossibility that maybe, maybe Juvia got tired and stopped waiting, stabbed himin the heart. As Juvina’s words repeated in his head like broken record, thedagger just kept pushing in. He held a fist against his chest, gripping at thecloth that his fist gathered. There was pain but no blood.

 How long was hegoing to chase the pavement? Gray was getting frustrated. He’d been running forhours but the road kept growing longer ahead of him. He could feel the hardfloor beneath his feet and before his vision blurred, tears fell from thecorners of his eyes and shattered on contact with the ground.

 He missed the shallowpothole and fell on the pavement face first. Another second wasted. Could thisbe the gods telling him to let her go? No, he made a promise to himself.

 I will become aman who can protect her

 He picked himselfup, ignored all the pain that was telling him to stop. There was no way he’dlet that happen.  When the famous churchspire was finally in sight, Gray picked up the pace.

 And go get Juviano matter what.

 There was no wayhe was giving up his girl. Neither in this lifetime nor the next.

 When Grayreached the end of the steps and came face to face with the giant, twin doors,his knees weakened. His body was failing him, telling him it was a lost cause,that Juvia was someone else’s now. The tears burned behind his eyes. His throathurt terribly as he felt the dry lump rising.

 He pleaded withhis body. Not now. He begged. Let me see her.

 He mustered allthe magic he could and with a quick swift of his hand, Gray iced the doubledoors. His fist clenched into a fist, on its own and before he knew it, his armthrew a strong punch against the frozen wood. The doors shattered into manypieces, with a loud bang that caught the attention of everyone inside thechurch. The pain of the punch was nothing compared to the agony that hit him atthe sight of his Juvia in front of the altar, standing next to a man who wasn’thim.

 “Juvia.” Hisvoice croaked and strained – of pain, torment and anguish. “Please don’t dothis.” He cried.

 He couldn’t evenhis breath. His heart was beating so fast in a rhythm it never had before.Slowly, his feet took him to approach the altar. He needed to put a stop tothis and Gray knew how. If he wanted to get his girl, he needed to let it allout.

 “I’m a fool fornot letting you know what I truly feel. I have my reasons but,” Gray stopped inhis tracks. Juvia turned around to face him, dressed in her beautiful whitegown, her lace veil covered her face. It now felt real, so real and urgent.“but it doesn’t matter anymore.” He finished as he saw the confusion on thegroom’s face turn into hostility.

 Time was againstGray and if he didn’t do something quick he was going to lose her… forever. Grayswallowed the lump in his throat and prepared to bear himself to the woman heloved.

 “I love you. Iam completely and utterly in love with you.”

 All those yearsof hiding his true feelings, just because he didn’t know what to do with them,how to react to them, finally caught up with Gray.

 “Please don’tget married.” He begged, he prayed, he pleaded. And if he had to do it on hisknees he would have, if that would get her back to him. “Please don’t getmarried to someone else.”

 He stoodmotionless in the middle of the isle just a few steps away from the altar. Theworld seemed to stop turning as he waited for the woman to take her veil offand give him her answer.

 “Gray-sama!” Thefamiliar voice didn’t come from the bride in the altar. Instead, it came frombehind.

 His heart almostfell of his chest when the veil revealed a face of a stranger.

 “What isGray-sama doing?”

 Gray slowly turnedaround to meet Juvia, his Juvia, safely covered in her casual blue dress,no wedding dress in sight. Her face was twisted in a strange expression. Astrained smile wasn’t addressed to him.

 “Sorry folks!Please get on with the wedding.”

 Gajeel emergedbehind Juvia with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

 “Hey, moron. I’mgoing to punch your teeth off if we don’t get paid in this job.”

 Job? Gray wasconfused. He shifted his gaze from the fuming iron-dragon slayer and back tothe water-mage. As relief washed over him, Gray abandoned all thoughts and threwhis arms around Juvia, enveloping the slender woman in a tight and longingembrace.

 “I thought Ilost you.” The moment the words rolled out of his tongue, fear gripped at himagain.

 “Juvia is here,Gray-sama. She’s not going anywhere.” She told him. But Gray didn’t let go andthere was no sign he would either anytime soon.

 “Don’t scare melike that again.” He whispered, kissing the top of her head. He told himself toremember her scent later.

 “Seriously, IcePrincess. I need to feed a family y’know.”

 When the coupledidn’t budge, the father of twins had to drag them out of the wedding andoutside of the Cathedral, muttering under his breath how idiotic Gray could getfor thinking that the crazy woman would ever marry anyone other than him.Stupid, just stupid. That woman would wait even if it took the ice bastard ahundred years to finally come around.

 However, Gajeelwas still glad that it only took Gray a badly circulated rumor -  ridiculous atthat - to get him to actually admit his feelings.

[hermannsthumb]

Hey dude!! Never done this before so I’m sorry if I screw it up but love the prompts you reblogged and thought I’d give it a try. Newmann wedding fics are the cutest things in my opinion so I thought possibly write a combination of 16, 7, and or either 2 or 9. Your newmann fics are the absolute best, I read them whenever I’m having a really bad day and they always cheer me up. Your a fantastic writer and you have such and amazing personality! I Hope you have a lovely day

16: Weddings, 7: Beach, 1: Fireworks, 2: Sunburn AND 9: Stargazing, 

from summer prompt memes here

combining yours with @francissaintgermain​ for a double whammy of wedding...AND THANK U BOTH for the really sweet words :’)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Seems a bit of a hassle, if you ask me,” Hermann says. “All this bloody planning, and money, and effort—”

“It’s not a hassle,” Newton says. “I mean, it is, but—it’s gotta be worth it, you know? It’s romantic.”

It takes Hermann a great deal of effort to not roll his eyes. Newton’s idea of romantic includes necking on the couch while Ghostly Encounters plays on the television set and showing Hermann how many pieces of sushi he can cram into his mouth at once. (His record is ten, and he would’ve kept going if Hermann didn’t remind him that they were in a very nice restaurant and he paid quite a lot for the reservation.) It isn’t what Hermann meant, anyway. “I’m not talking about weddings in general,” he says. “I mean this sort. With all the—” He waggled his hand vaguely. “Extravagance.”

Extravagance did not fully encompass everything this wedding was. Hermann’s cousin and his fiance—wife, now, Hermann supposed—-had rented out a massive chunk of beach for it, with all the trappings of the sorts of things you’d expect for a beach vacation. Bouquets of tropical flowers. Bridesmaids in flip-flops. Seagulls swooping down every few minutes. Tiki torches at the end of each aisle of chairs, one of which had nearly caught the sleeve of Newton’s gaudy Hawaiian shirt (“I have to dress for the theme, babe,” he insisted) on fire when he passed it. It would’ve been nice if they hadn’t set the damned thing at midday, with the sun broiling overhead and making everyone squint and almost certainly burning Hermann alive, despite the long-sleeved linen shirt and sunhat he donned, and the fine layer of sunscreen Newton took a bit too much sensual pleasure in applying to him back in the hotel room. None of the other Gottliebs (genetically predisposed to pastiness) appear to be faring much better: Hermann spies his aunt a few rows up, who’s beginning to resemble a surly, dark-haired tomato.

Still. Hermann’s the only one of his immediate family to be invited, and his cousin paid for their airfare and hotel room, which is in some outrageously expensive resort with a spa and mimosas at the complimentary breakfasts that Hermann thinks Newton would call bougie, and they’ve got it for a week at that, so Hermann can’t bring himself to complain too much. It’s not as if he’s had the chance to go on many vacations in the last decade. The break is well-deserved and nice.

Newton leans in close with a grin and a nod to the front of the aisle, where the bride and groom have taken each other’s hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Gottlieb that happy in my life.”

“Nonsense,” Hermann says, and then realizes Newton does make a fair point: it’s not just Hermann’s aunt on the groom’s side of the aisle who’s surly. (Genetic predisposition to pastiness and melancholy, he supposes.) He goes for a different approach. “I’m certain I looked that happy on our wedding day.”

“You were kinda just crying the whole time, dude,” Newton says.

Hermann flushes. He had cried a little bit. “It was—er—overjoyed crying.”

“It was cute,” Newton says, grin softening out into something a bit dopier. He slings his arm around Hermann’s shoulders, and Hermann can’t help but lean in to his touch and smile back.

They both startle a moment later when the crowd suddenly begins clapping; the couple have finished reciting their vows, it appears. “Thank fuck,” Newton whispers. “I’m starving. I hope they have those tiny cream puff things at the reception.”

They don’t, but they have plenty of seafood (apt for the theme). Newton settles on filling a plate with a comical amount of jumbo-sized shrimp and some crab legs. The reception is likewise on the beach, under a great big tent lit up with lanterns and more torches only a short walk down from where the ceremony took place, and Hermann has to admit he’s beginning to see the appeal of the extravagance of it all. The oppressive heat’s dissipating, finally. The sea breeze’s picked up enough to ruffle the ends of Hermann’s hair and even make him shiver (and lean in a touch closer to Newton). The sunset’s gorgeous on the horizon. Even the live band is pleasant, and Hermann recognizes one song as something Newton’s played for him on the guitar before.

After dodging a fair number of his relatives, most of whom give Newton (with his tattoos and ear piercings and tiny Godzillas patterned on his shirt) side-eyes even before he lunges in and catches the bride’s bouquet, only to guiltily throw it back when he realizes it’s for the unwed partygoers, Hermann and Newton find their assigned table at the edge of the dance floor and sit down to watch the fireworks show overhead. Because of course the wedding party sprung for fireworks. “God, I fucking love this,” Newton says, beaming like an overeager child. “We should’ve had fireworks at ours.”

“Ours was indoors,” Hermann reminds him.

“I didn’t mean inside the building,” Newton says.

He downs a third of the frozen daiquiri he got from the bar and offers the rest out to Hermann, who shakes his head. “Do you wanna dance?” Newton says. His lips look sticky, vaguely red, and terribly inviting, so Hermann steals a quick kiss before he bothers responding.

“In a bit, perhaps,” he says. His hand drifts up to cup the side of Newton’s face. His cheeks are rougher than usual: he forgot to pack his razor, and they haven’t had the time to find anywhere that sells disposable ones yet. Hermann doesn’t mind it, though it’d tickled like mad in bed last night when Newton tried to kiss his throat. “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

Newton nods and unhooks Hermann’s cane from the back of his chair, then, almost as an afterthought, crams several of the shrimp from his plate into the top pocket of his shirt. Hermann makes a face. “No use in wasting them,” Newton says. He holds the cane out to Hermann.

They walk, arm-in-arm, far enough down the beach that the tent becomes a dim glow and the music barely audible before they ease themselves down on the sand and spread out. Above them, stars are beginning to appear. The night sky is far clearer and far more devoid of light pollution out here than anywhere else Hermann has been before; Newton, excitedly, points out three shooting stars before Hermann’s even made himself comfortable. (Another pleasant benefit of this all.)

Newton’s shirt is unbuttoned enough to give Hermann a glimpse of the kaiju piece that spans across his chest. Hermann used to hate it. Hermann used to hate a lot of things about Newton. “I ran into your uncle at the buffet table,” Newton says. “Mustache. Looks just like your dad. He didn’t believe me when I said I was your husband. What constellation is that?”

“Hercules,” Hermann says automatically. “Do you regret it?”

Newton turns to frown at him. “Do I regret what?”

“Our wedding,” Hermann says. “It wasn’t very—flash.”

It’d been quick. In and out. Courthouse affair barely even two months after they closed the Breach. Newton wore a bow tie borrowed from Tendo, Hermann slacks with a coffee stain on the left leg. They didn’t even have a honeymoon. It seemed romantic at the time, almost as if they were eloping—they loved each other, after all, they had in silence for a decade, they saved the world together, they drifted together. They’d been in each other’s heads. It seemed foolish to wait.

“Oh.” Newton laughs. “Of course I don’t regret it.”

“You wouldn’t have preferred all this?”

“Dude,” Newton says. “We have, like, two friends, and you hate half your family. Who would we have invited?”

“Fair point,” Hermann says, satisfied.

“Besides.” Newton rolls onto his side and drapes his arm over Hermann’s waist, and he rubs his scratchy cheek against the crook of Hermann’s neck. “You gotta know I would’ve literally married you anywhere.”

“Ah, Newton,” Hermann stammers, “stop—”

“Nope,” Newton says, mistaking Hermann’s reticence for bashfulness over the public display of affection, and nuzzles and kisses at him this time. “No way. Anywhere.”

“‘S not that,” Hermann says, and winces in pain, because Newton’s stubble is suddenly feeling a hell of a lot sharper, “Newton, it’s—sunburn—”

Newton rolls off of him, giggling madly. “How?” he says. “I put a whole fucking bottle of sunblock on you. You were wearing that stupid hat.” He prods at the sunhat, resting on the sand a few inches away with Hermann’s cane.

Hermann ghosts his fingers over the skin of his neck gingerly; it’s hot and tender to the touch, as is the skin of his shoulders and upper arms through his clothing. Bloody figures. If it’s this bad already, mere hours after the ceremony, he doesn’t even want to know what it’ll be like tomorrow. “I certainly don’t know how,” he says.

The kiss Newton leaves on his reddened skin is far more delicate this time, without a hint of his stubble. “Poor baby,” he says, with a mocking pout. It turns suggestive in seconds, aided by the hand that he slips up under the hem of Hermann’s linen shirt and massages circles with over his abdomen. “I’ll just have to rub aloe all over you when we get home tonight, yeah?”

“Mm,” Hermann agrees, eyelids drifting shut. It’s nice, more than nice, and, for a moment (there’s no one around to see, after all), Hermann is considering indulging Newton in some light touching and kissing in return. Then he wrinkles his nose. “You smell like shrimp, darling,” he says. It’s killed any lust that Newton may have been inspiring in him. Newton retracts his hand.

“There’s still one in my pocket,” he admits.

[priincesspacificaarchive]

💍 + regular dipcifica *

WEDDING MEME||ACCEPTING

where they get married

where they live in cali idk??? probs on a beach? idk for some reason i haven’t thought of their wedding that often???

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

summer. summer’s always they’re time together so summer just makes sense. maybe june, around pioneer’s day? so they have something good to celebrate instead of her family’s fraudulence.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue probs. also if jewish!dipper still applies then those too. and paz has an ampola fan! I LOVE THOSE.

what their wedding cake looks like

it’s like, five-tiers and white buttercream on red velvet cake. it’s got like, baby blue and lavender-tinted seashells and a typical bride/groom topper. 

….who smashes cake into whose face

they do that weird “crossing their forks around each other but still eating off their own fork” thing actually.

who proposed to who first

dipper, the sap. she was halfway through med school too! 

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

paz down the aisle, dipper at the altar. this all changes big time if dipper is jewish okay.

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

she’s wearing this white ballgown style with a corset top with a lot of crystal gemstone things. like the whole bodice is covered. there’s also lines of the crystals down the gauzy skirt. she uses lavender accent pieces. he wears a black tux and a lavender bowtie. 9its been a while since i’ve watched say yes to the dress okay the terminology left my brain.)

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

color scheme is like…lavender and baby blue bc it can be and also color-coding and ALSO aesthetic.

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean?)

petunias (meaning your presence soothes me), something light blue, probably wrapped in baby’s breath (meaning -) bc a lot of bouquets get wrapped in something like that to keep it together. also ampola flowers bc purto rican tradition.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

they wrote their own. paz’s are along the lines of like “so we used to hate each other and now we’re standing here and it’s just amazing how much time can change things.” and she makes inside jokes and promises to love him until the end of the world. “but then you’re on your own i am not holding mcgucket’s hand again.” dipper’s are rly sappy and sweet and he makes her cry and he says something along the lines of loving her until the end of the world and then “but then ur on ur own okay i don’t care if u get turned to stone” and they’re laughing and everyone from gf knows it’s a joke and they finish with the typical “i dos”

if anyone’s late to the wedding

it’d be so characteristic of mabel to rush in during the speak now part but she’s standing next to dipper so she can’t. otherwise idk???

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

dipper has mabel and robbie. paz has wendy and tambry.

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

wendy and tambry wear straight-down, almost gauzy lavender dresses with baby blue accents and accessories. mabel wears a same stye dress in baby blue with lavender accents and accessories. robbie wears a black tux and baby blue tie. 

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

mabel tells embarrassing but sweet stories, wendy recalls the first time she caught them together. robbie uses the whole thing as a lead up to threatening dipper not to hurt her even tho it’s been at least a decade and maybe half of a second one. the floor opens up and ford recounts some sweet memory of the two of them. stan tries to make jokes the whole time but walks away trying not to cry. soos spends ten minutes trying to compare them to anime characters. it’s like an hour and a half of speeches alone as most of gravity falls recount watching them grow up and fall in love and the whole thing makes them embarrassed and cry at the same time.

who catches the bouquet( s )

mabel! she then winks at wendy and it’s…ridiculous.

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

mostly sweet ones of them smiling or kissing. there’s one taken by chance with paz chasing after him in her heels and he’s like, fucking giggling as he takes off with her tiara. the next one is her glaring up at him as he sheepishly puts it back in her hair. just a lot of photos to document their relationship. mabel puts them in an album and has it waiting on their kitchen table when they get back from their honeymoon.

what sort of food they have at the reception

since paz is (possibly) the only one w heritage at this wedding he let her do the food planning according to tradition and everyone is like, pleasantly surprised that it works as well as it does.

who cries first during the ceremony

they both make it through the walk down the aisle but then they’re standing there and it’s real and they’re both crying. pretty crying though so they don’t ruin the photos too much.

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

the main three steal the mini putt golf cart again for fun and drive it through the reception for like, half an hour laughing their heads off.

what their rings are like

pacifica’s wedding ring is a simple silver band, while her engagement ring is silver with a big white diamond center, surrounded by lavender-colored gems. dipper has a thick-silver band with an inscription. pacifica’s engagement ring also has an inscription. they both say “you’re the worst.” with a heart shape next to it.

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

pacifica’s are lavender tiara-shaped candles and dipper’s are mini journals to write in about what happens that night of memories that person has of them. also capias bc i LOVE that idea!

where they go for their honeymoon

i feel like they’d go on a cruise

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

tambry and robbie are found sleeping in a coat closet as the night is winding down. wendy and mabel draw on their faces.

who officiates the ceremony

i think it’d be ford for some reason. if jewish!dipper is a thing he gets to hire the rabbi.

what song their first dance is to

i want at least one of these to be in spanish but idk if that’s gonna happen bc i….don’t speak spanish. but i thought this song had a gorgeous enough vibe for it. plus y’all know paz would be scouring websites and things for songs for this dance and then asking dipper if he’d like them. i’ve just always seen first dance songs as soft and slow and a time to reflect on being married you know? so this one would be performed live and slowed-down a bit.

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

honestly paz gives herself away okay. she’s been w/o parents this long and she doesn’t need them now. but suddenly stan has stood up and takes her by the hand and just calmly passes her to dipper like it was all planned and for half a second she’s rly confused but then she’s swept up in the ceremony. she asks him at the reception and he just shrugs and goes “you’re family. it’s what we do for family.” and that’s it so she’s even more confused. but also rly touched.

[cuteburito]

Foe Lover (part 5)

@jessicashotcousinthescmptsbrsta s request part 5

"He must really like you..." the old lady whispered behind her. "What?" Pidge turned to face her. "Well sure, if he's taking you to a wedding, which is one of the most romantic settings by the way, he must really care about you" The woman explained. Honestly Pidge didn't know what to say but thankfully Lance's car honk saved her. She quickly said goodbye to the lady, took her clothes and rushed out of the store and into the car. "Thank god you came, that woman was suffocating me!" Pidge said as she buckled her seatbelt. Lance chuckled "But we aced the test at least, now we're ready for the real deal." "Whatever you say sharpshooter".

The next couple of hours in the car were pleasant. They talked about memes, new video games and school, it almost felt like the time flew by... They soon made it to the hotel where Lance's family was waiting. Now, of course we mustn't forget that Pidge was Lance's best friend so most of the family already knew her. "Wow, who knew that while everybody thought you were playing video games with your nerd best friend, you were actually going out on dates with that same friend" Marco said. While Pidge smiled a little Lance's head was elsewhere "Excuse me! Don't call my girlfriend nerd!" he suddenly got very defensive and wrapped a hand around Pidge's waist. "Sheesh, you two really are dating" Veronica laughed. Lance seemed to brighten up, probably because their plan was working but Pidge thought that her face was now permanently red because of everyone, INCLUDING LANCE keep making her blush. "Alright kids..." Mama McClain said to Lance and Pidge "You go settle into your room. Oh unless you are uncomfortable with that Pidge dear, we could get you another ro-" "No, no, one room is fine mom" Lance said as he took the key and dragged Pidge up to their room but on the way up Pidge resisted Lance's grasp. "What's your problem?!" she seemed to be pissed off. "What do you mean?" "Well first you get all defensive when Marco was trying to make a joke and then you just said yes to sharing a room without even considering how I feel about it!" Lance didn't even think about that "I'm sorry but-" "No Lance! If you want for us to pull this off then that means that you have to consult with me from now on about everything in this 'relationship' okay?" "Okay, I promise". That seemed to put Pidge to ease but Lance knew that she was right, without her there wouldn't be a plan to begin with. "Now c'mon doofus let's go get ready".

About two hours passed since their disagreement in the hallway and now Lance was standing in a navy blue suit and a red and blue tie in front of the mirror. Pidge was also getting ready but in the bathroom. "Pidgeeeeeeeyyyyyyy, are you done yet?" "You know Lance, if you're not going to be patient then why don't you just wait downstairs" she shouted through the door. "Alright" Lance said and went out to wait for her. The wedding was almost starting and as Lance was greeting guests outside, asking the same question. "Bride or groom?"

[askthehivemindsquips]

((The Ultimate, For-Real Die-Hard Squip Dew/Effects list))

Regular - Activates Squip/Turns Squip on Red - Turns Squip off Code Red - Makes Squip lowkey pissed at you and unhelpful, also petty and rude Whiteout - Access to Settings Voltage - Scrombled Squip (exces energy glitches them out a ton) Dew.S.A - Gives the target Squip a patriotic look for a set amount of asks Livewire - Helps you to be the life of the party Throwback - Diagnosis; Squip compares past you to present you Pitch Black - Target Squip becomes emo for a set number of asks Baja Blast - Target Squip gets high Spiked - Target Squip gets drunk Revolution -Mutes a target Squip Supernova - Acid trip for both the host and the Squip Distortion - Messes with energy use, the target Squip becomes really tired but unable to sleep Typhoon - Makes the target Squip hypersensitive to everything, very emotional X-Treme - The target Squip’s methods become more extreme to the point of being irrational Blue Shock - Allows the user to shock the Squip back, works only once per drink White Label - Target Squip gains the attire of a bride or groom Green Label - Target Squip gains the attire like an anime character (you may specify which character you want) Black Label - Target Squip gains formal dinner outfit attire Sangrita Blast - Target Squip chills out, becomes a slacker Solar Flare - Target squip becomes really angry over small things; when they finally explode their color scheme shifts to reds and oranges Caffiene Free - Target Squip’s personality becomes muted, still functional but emotionless Sport - Target Squip is now qualified to be your personal trainer MDX - Motivational squip Dew AMP - An english exclusive, your squip is now the narrator from the stanley parable Dry Ginger - Squip is more supportive, like a mum friend Aurora - This is some rare shit! If nothing else, your squip would be impressed, before telling you to your disappointment it does absolutely nothing. what a waste Dew Fuel - Target Squip amplifies the effect of the energy drink for your benefit Max Air - Puts the targeted Squip in a good mood Energised - Makes your squip hyper, oh dear Ultra Violet: Puts a Squip to sleep Passionfruit Frenzy - Squip is now the ultimate wingman Electric Charge - Reboots your Squip, but this does unfortunately mean you may have to go through the access sequence if it hasn’t happened already Johnson City Gold - Sounds sophisticated, makes your squip all posh and shit Dark Berry - Gives the Squip a new look that’s 10x edgier than the past one Golden Lime - Gives the Squip a sour, bitter personality for a while Cold Fusion Freeze - Helps your squip cool down if they’re angry Thin Ice Freeze - Freezes your Squip, effectively locking them in place Dewritos - Turns your Squip into a meme machine for a set number of asks Dewshine - Gives your Squip a country western/1920’s look for a set amount of asks Mutant - Mutates your Squip’s form into that of a monster for a set time. Holiday Brew - Gives your Squip festive clothes themed for the next upcoming holiday Adrenaline - Allows Squip to better equip you for dangerous situations (drink when you need help defending yourself) Darth Dew - Makes your Squip sound like Darth Vader from Star Wars Electric Apple - Gives your Squip the appearance of a pop punk (or vocaloid, based on preference) star, a la Brendan Urie. Also, they have to sing instead of speak. AM - Gives your Squip a need to constantly tell you what time it is, turning them into a living clock. Kryptonite Ice - Causes your Squip to temporarily gain all the atrributes of Superman. And they get a cool cape. That's always a bonus. Coolatta - Your Squip gains the personality of Johnathan van Ness from Queer Eye, and proceeds to help you with your clothing and lifestyle choices. Extreme Pomegranate - Your Squip becomes exceedingly clingy, to the point of breaking down if they are not around you. Use with caution. Heck, don't even use it at all. It's too dangerous. Diet Crave - Ever wanted to know what pregnancy cravings felt like? Well, congrats, because now both you and your Squip have them. Good job. Citrus Blast - Your Squip becomes extremely sour, getting mean and downright nasty at times. Lemonade and Ginger - Gives your Squip a sweet and motherly personality. Don't be surprised if they tell you off for staying up too late playing video games, and then immediately apologize afterwards. Cherry Fusion - Both the Squip and the host CANNOT STOP BLUSHING. There isn't even a reason for it. You're both just  blushing super hard for no reason. Energized - Your Squip is now ENERGIZED AS F*CK. Boosts the adrenaline of the host and Squip, taking out any other "unnecessary" feelings. This can end really badly for both host and Squip, though. Ice - Gives your Squip a pair of sunglasses that they can't remove until it's over Cherry Ice - Gives your Squip a pair of pink sunglasses shaped like hearts they can't remove until it's over Winter Dew - Makes your Squip cold. Brr.... Merry Mash-Up - Gives your Squip the outfit of an upcoming holiday patron (like Cupid, Santa Claus, or a pumpkin) Triple Berry - Splits your one whole Squip into three Squips made around their dominant personality traits. They re-fuse once the effects pass. Berry Monsoon - Your Squip can now create fruits at will! But they're not real and also not edible. Sad... Goji Citrus Strawberry - Oops. Gives your Squip the ability to change into a dog/cat form at will, as well as giving them dog/cat ears and a matching tail. They revert when the effects pass. Cotton Candy - Tames your Squip and makes them more docile for the next couple of asks (useful for when they're stressed out or angry or sad)

—–Game Fuel—— Electrifying Berry - Gives your Squip the ability to shock other Squips they’ve synced with. Halo 4 edition - Helps your Squip help you win at Halo 4 Wild Fruit - Gives your Squip a randomized effect from this list Citrus Cherry - Gives your Squip a red color scheme Lemonade - Equips your Squip with summerwear! Berry Lime - Gives your Squip a green sweater vest and glasses. That’s it. Tropical - Gives your Squip a random accent UK Energy - Gives your Squip a British accent Arctic Burst - Gives your Squip a brain freeze Mango Heat - Forces the host of the Squip to speak only in Portugese Horde Red - Gives your Squip the ability to control other masses of people via their own Squips (think like the finale of the musical) for a set time Alliance Blue - Gives your Squip motivation to help you make closer bonds with people both in games and in real life India - Forces the host to speak in only Hindi as though it were their native tounge Berry Blast - Gives your Squip a huge boost in energy only to crash later as though they were on a sugar high Cherry Burst - Your Squip suddenly becomes an expert in the language of love, gaining a silver tongue and a very persuasive tone. No one is safe from their charm.

—–Kickstart——— Orange Citrus - Gives your Squip the ability to summon orange juice whenever they want it. Fruit Punch - Gives your Squip super-punching skills for a set amount of time. Black Cherry - Makes your Squip more attractive. Why would you do this to yourself???? Limeade - Gives your Squip a skateboard and the talent to ride it for the duration. Strawberry Kiwi - Gives your Squip the power to make anything you eat taste like kiwi. Yes, anything. Pineapple Orange Mango - Gives your Squip a fruit hat for a couple of asks. yes, those ones. Blood Orange - Why did you do this?? Gives your Squip the ability to leech off of other Squips and steal their energy like a vampire can for a set number of asks. Midnight Grape - Oh boy. Gives your Squip vampire-like qualities (but only cosmetic) and the ability to randomly make (wine) glasses of grape juice for themselves for a set time. Blueberry Pomegranate - Gives your Squip the ability to make whatever you eat taste like either pomegranate or blueberries, but only one of the two at a time and nothing else. Watermelon - Gives your Squip’s design the appearance of a watermelon. Also, they smell like watermelon now. Orange Cranberry - Gives your Squip a cold for the duration of the effects, but gives the host a boost in the immune system. Mango Lime - Gives your Squip the ability to read your thoughts in the moment and to alter them. That probably isn’t good for either of you. Raspberry Citrus - Gives your Squip the ability to make you blush whenever they want you to. Not even through being dirty or anything, they can just make you blush by looking at you. Wild.

------Unnamed Flavors------ 648 - ??? (Boosts Speed and allows for Warping) 286 - ??? (Grants immunity to Viruses and other harmful invaders) 736 - ??? (Allows a Squip to upload their entire being into a hiveminded network of synced Squips; used in extreme cases) 722 - ??? (Messes with a Squip’s code to make them parasitic in nature, effectively turning them into a virus)

[imsfire2]

Writing meme

RULES: List the openings of the last ten stories you published. Look to see if there are any patterns that you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any! Then tag some friends.

I was tagged by @atthelamppost – thank you for tagging me!

1 By stardust and moonlight

“I know you’re out there,” Jyn Erso says to the open door, and the wolf beyond it. 

The creature’s been hovering round her cottage all day, and so far has made no attempt either to hide itself, or to attack.  It’s no normal beast of the wild woods, this, though she’s not yet sure what it is.  But talking to it is certainly worth a try.

Her home stands on the edge of the forest, in a dell sheltered from the north-east wind by the embrace of the trees, and hidden from the eyes of soldiers, and worse, by the hunched spine of moorland and the broken land and marshes in the south.  Any company she needs, she goes to; no human soul comes here, not without her permission, and very precise directions.  Yet the place tends to attract strange creatures like this; the place, or she herself.  There’s probably a shine of magic on her like a full galaxy’s light, could she but see it.  But though the stardust of her power makes her fingertips tingle and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, it’s invisible to human vision.

2 A table at the wedding

“We shouldn’t have been put here,” Jyn hisses. “We’re near the front.  It’s not right.”

Her neighbour leans down a little to answer.  Okay, perhaps more than a little.  Cassian has had a few drinks and his hair is in a mess, his collar open, his eyes mild and smiling. “Not right? - how?”

“Up here it should be – close friends.  We ought to be on the back table.”

At least she’s not so drunk as to say family.  The groom has none and the bride has only her brother.  Besides Han and Leia, and Luke acting as best man to both bride and groom, the top table is occupied by Chewie, Mothma and Admiral Ackbar, and Threepio embarrassedly passing dishes to and fro.

3 Epiphany and cake

The first thing that hits Cassian as they come out of the terminal, hauling their wild assortment of luggage and looking around for the promised eight-seater mini-bus-cab, is the temperature.  It must be a good 16 or 17 degrees C here.  And okay, that isn’t hot; but after weeks of northern European winter temperatures, culminating in the astonishing beauty and fairy-tale sparkle of a snow-bound German Christmas, the temperature he confidently described as cold in October now feels astonishingly warm.  Balmy, even.  It’s comical; within minutes he’s perspiring in his jacket, and he hasn’t so much as looked at the parka stuffed in the top of his cabin bag. 

The sky had gradually cleared as they flew south.  First there were small breaks in the white, that allowed him glimpses of the Croatian coast with its lace of islands; then another bank of solid cloud, as brilliant as the snow over Saxony, and for over an hour the ground was hidden again.  But as they started to descend the cloud cover broke for good, like a clean line swept across the air, and the mountains came into view, rough gold and grey, bleakly rocky and definitely snowless.  Every ridge seemed to be lined with wind turbines, turning steadily in the clear air.  The valleys and coastal plains were startlingly green, the sea an assertive deep blue; fine golden roads looped between small towns like red and white tile mosaic, with an occasional glint of turquoise glass where a swimming pool caught the light. 

4 Out of darkness (Solo Quiero Caminar fic – all the rest are Rogue One)

So, he watches her.

The street is dark, and she is walking into the dark; he isn’t quite sure where the borders of the darkness lie, in the pools of streetlight or in himself.  His eyes aren’t working quite right anymore, and he clings on to the last sweet thing he will see, clings to the sight of her walking, as his brain clings to the last sweet thing it will know, the memory (remember me remember me) the memory of her body her lips the sadness in her eyes…

The blood running down his hip and pooling in the plastic seat is sickly, stickily hot and he is beginning to feel numb inside, the pain putting itself at a distance from him.

The street is dark, and Aurora walks into the dark, and he goes into the dark watching her.

5 In the mountains

There’s still snow on the ground at this altitude, and the grey cloud cover seems to come steadily closer to her as she climbs.  Steadily, and faster than it properly should.  It’s almost as if it’s creeping downslope towards her.  Pretty soon she’ll be enveloped in it.  Already the damp in the air is snaking inside her jacket, pinching at her old throat.

Well, so serve her right for volunteering.  All very well to acknowledge the twitch of guilt that comes when she looks at them, that tiny remnant of the Resistance, a few dozen beings with fear and hope in their eyes, without letting herself get sucked into joining them.  She could just have commiserated and offered a few quiet supply routes.  Instead of putting on her stoutest boots and actually marching out.  Time was, when she was a settled businesswoman, she’d have had more common sense.

Time was, she could have paid someone young and fit to do this job.  Why the hells the old fighter had to choose a place like this for a hideaway…

6 Home is where you start from

Jyn holds her hands out to the official.  Waits patiently and with a face of practiced unconcern while they scan her palms and the pads of her fingers. 

She has to discipline her expression slightly more when she’s offered a swab and a sealable tube.  There were too many years of hiding for it to be easy even now to surrender this data casually.  Even more than her hand-prints, her DNA could be used to identify her.  But the records-search can’t be completed without a clear and unequivocal ID.

Cassian, beside her, reaches out under the counter-top.  He squeezes her tense right hand briefly as she takes the swab in her left.  Jyn gives him a quick smile. 

7 Shh…

She’s muttering Shh, shh, shh sleepily, rocking in the old upright chair, and there’s a sudden warm light and movement in her peripheral vision.  She looks up, to Cassian leaning in the doorway, watching them. 

Esperanz has fallen asleep again, his nightmare gone, the warmth of her body a safety and a strength to ease his little heart.  She rocks him very gently as he clutches reflexively on her shirt.  Tiny toddler fingers, iron grip.  Heavy limbs, heavy head, sweaty brow pressed into her collarbone, sweaty curls under her hand.

The lamplight streams round Cassian and silhouettes him, but she can tell he’s smiling even in the shadows. 

8 Advice

All the Jedhan survivors look to Chirrut and Baze as parental figures and sources of counsel.  Outside of senior command levels elders of any race are in short supply in the rebellion, and sometimes you need the advice of an elder, both for personal questions and for practical things you simply don’t know how to do.  Things it would be hard to ask an admiral, even one as approachable as Ackbar.

It can be a little awkward at times. 

Baze does his best, patiently determined either to have an answer or to find one, or to find someone else who can.  He never knows when someone may turn up, hovering at his side, with their anxious eager eyes and random medical questions, and moral and domestic and childcare questions and Oh, it’s frustrating but he does what he can…  Stain removal, how to cook Argussian spinach, can you still eat old cheese if you cut off the mouldy bits?  Sometimes it flat-out stuns him, the things people think he’ll know.

9 A custom of poetry

Jyn is writing, and for a few moments, with the tip of her tongue caught between her lips, she feels as though she can do this.  How hard can it be to say what she has to, in a poetic way?

She reads through the handful of words on the screen.

Winces.  Deletes.

Tries again.

10 Pain

It galls Jyn to admit it, but she’d find her injury easier to bear if it had happened in the line of duty.  But to have taken up a bed in med-bay and a doctor’s time, to be using precious analgesics, when all she did was over-extend helping to move a console out of the briefing room; it’s just humiliating.

Right now, she’s doped up like a tantaun on a transport.  She can move about her quarters, she can walk and lie down, and bend into a seat if she takes her time about it.  Just.  But her back isn’t going to get better for a good while, and krif it, it’s no good, she needs the painkillers.

(I’m ignoring “Fifty words from a journey underground” because as that follows the fifty single-sentence mini-fics formula it doesn’t really have a beginning in the normal sense).

So...

Patterns/common themes/shared qualities errrr

I’m finding it surprisingly hard to spot any.  I seem to like to start either with description, or with a line or two of dialogue and then description immediately after.  Scene setting rather than jumping straight into action or plot.  Also I tend to open with one of my weaknesses, a rather long sentence.  

Tagging @gloriouswhisperstyphoon, @skitzofreak, @thenewleeland, @bright-elen

[notbang]

Rebecca/Paula or Nathaniel/Darryl + things you said when you were scared?

things you said prompt meme: send me a pairing and a prompt and I’ll write you a mini fic!

“Oh, look at you. You look just like a princess. And not a Disney one, or a boring real one, but a celebrity one—like Meghan, or Kate.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Rebecca says, reaching up to grasp Paula’s hand where it rests on her shoulder and beaming back at her in the mirror.

Paula bustles about around her, gathering the robe she’s just discarded and hanging it neatly over the back of a chair before grabbing the shoe box from the counter and bending to place the diamante-encrusted kitten heels on the floor in front of her feet.

“Cinderella—your crystal slippers,” Paula offers with a flourish, accepting the hands Rebecca holds out for balance as she toes herself into them.

“Thank you, milady,” she says graciously, curtsying.

“Alright. So we’ve got about twenty minutes until we need to get you downstairs. How are we feeling?”

“Good. Good,” Rebecca says, exhaling and smiling through the uninvited wrinkle forming in her brow. “Everything is perfect. V’s planned this thing within an inch of its life and it’s all running like clockwork. And I’m so happy, nothing can ruin this for me. I mean, that’s how I felt at my last wedding, too, but it’s not like this is going to be a repeat of that.” She laughs too loudly, the sound completely forced. “It’s fine. Nobody gets ditched at the altar twice.”

The smile slides from Rebecca’s face.

“Uh oh,” Paula says.

“He’s going to be there, though.” She turns to her friend, paling, her eyes suddenly wide with panic. “Paula, he’s going to be there, right?”

“Oh, honey,” Paula says soothingly, face crinkling. “This isn’t going to be anything like the last time. I promise.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know that. Because there’s a common thread in all of these disasters, and it’s me.” Rebecca jabs forcefully at the air with her pointer fingers as her rapidly derailing thoughts gain momentum. “So if things were to go that way again, honestly, I couldn’t be surprised. The universe has been sending me a lot of signals. For someone that puts an unhealthy amount of credence on signs, I’ve been ignoring a pretty big one these past few years.”

“Okay, you need to calm down.”

Rebecca screws her eyes shut tightly, shaking her head. “You know what? I’ll call him. I’ll just give him a quick call, to see how he’s tracking, and take a few breaths, and everything is going to be fine.”

She crosses the room to scramble for her purse and fumbles so hard with her phone she almost drops it, her hands trembling, and by the time she’s located him on her speed dial and held it up to her ear she’s on the verge of a panic attack.

“He’s not answering,” she gulps, shaking out her free hand to try to rid herself of the quiver. “Paula, he’s not answering.”

“Well, he’s probably busy mussing with his hair, or something. That’s gotta take some focus, right? He probably just can’t hear his phone.” Paula steps in front of her and gently pries the phone from her grasp, terminating the call just as it goes to voicemail and placing it off to the side on the table, relieved when Rebecca allows herself to be eased into a chair. “So, you need to take a deep breath, and maybe sit down—”

Rebecca pushes herself suddenly back to her feet, frantic. “Ohhhh, Paula—I can’t go through this again. I can’t. My mom’s going to kill me, for putting her through this humiliation twice. She’ll disown me. The entire family will cast me out. One failed wedding is an inconvenience. But two—two is just outright attention seeking, and practically begging for eternal shame and shunning.”

“Well, not to be a bitch, or anything, but I’m staunchly of the opinion that Naomi disowning you is far from the worst thing that could happen to you. I’d go so far as to argue it would be an improvement, even. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life,” Paula says wryly. “Honey, don’t get yourself all worked up. You’re freaking out over nothing.”

Rebecca’s still in the midst of pacing when Valencia appears in the doorway, all effortless and intimidating catlike grace in her black pantsuit and headset, and when her friend-slash-wedding-planner makes the mistake of brightly asking how it’s all coming along she looks up and announces, “So, the wedding’s off. Yeah. My fiancé finally realised how broken and terrible I am and remembered how he thinks the concept of being shackled to one person for eternity is stupid, probably, so we’re just going to give the whole thing a miss, I think.”

Valencia stares at her a moment before her mouth flattens into a tight, unimpressed line.

“No,” she says, nostrils flaring. “No no no no no. You are not doing this to me. You owe me. You owe me big time for that engagement party you totalled and you are walking down that aisle with someone this afternoon if it kills you.”

Paula shoots her a look at the poor choice of words and Valencia looks suitably vaguely regretful, but Rebecca isn’t paying attention, fixated instead on the open doorway Valencia has just vacated. Without warning she brings her pacing to an abrupt halt, kicks off her shoes and bolts, making an ungraceful beeline for the exit.

“No!” Valencia wails, already hot on Rebecca’s heels. “Rebecca! You get back here right this instant! I’ve already lost a groom and I am not letting you add runaway bride to my resume.”

“She’ll come back,” Paula says with a dismissive wave, rescuing the discarded veil from the floor before it can be destroyed, folding it and placing it carefully on the table. “I did.”

*

“Darryl,” he grunts in frustration, attempting to swat away the older man’s hands from his neck. “I know how to—”

Nathaniel gives up, letting his arms drop to his sides and heaving a sigh as Darryl fumbles with the blue silk, tip of his tongue poking out of the side of his moustached mouth as his eyes twist heavenward, ostensibly in an attempt to apply the action to the alternate point of view.

“You know, I’m not used to tying a tie on another person, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out.” He steps back to admire his handiwork and his shoulders slump a little in resignation at the result. “You know what—I’ve shown you the general gist, now you can try for yourself.”

Clearing his throat lightly, Nathaniel tries for his best exasperated look as he undoes the whole thing and steps closer to the mirror, adjusting the lengths and completing the new knot with ease. He feels a tremor travel the length of his hand as he gives the final tug, though, and holds it out in front of him as if to glare the shake into submission; he flicks from the wrist, shooing the nervous energy away and curling his fingers into a fist to hold them steady.

He’s not nervous. He’s not. His hands definitely aren’t shaking and the fluttering feeling in his stomach is just some light indigestion, is all. He should have known better than to have such a sizeable breakfast on such an important day, when there’s going to be drinking and a sit down meal and Rebecca force feeding him cake, probably. He really should have more thoroughly thought this through.

“It’s perfectly normal to be scared,” Darryl says from behind him. “On my wedding day, I—”

“I’m not scared,” he scoffs, cutting him off, dropping his hand and rolling his shoulders indignantly. “I never said that.”

Darryl’s answering hum is skeptical.

“Plimptons don’t feel fear, actually. It’s an evolutionary advantage.”

“Okay,” Darryl agrees.

“And if I was… feeling… something,” Nathaniel barrels on after a moment, emphatic, “which I’m not—it wouldn’t be ‘scared’. ‘The minimal amount of concern’, maybe. ‘Mild apprehension’, at a stretch.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Like I said, Darryl, there’s nothing to talk about.”

Busying himself with putting on his cufflinks, he keeps his back turned, hoping it will buy him some silence. There’s no such luck, though, and despite his stubbornly averted eyes he can’t miss Darryl’s reflection hovering over his shoulder in his periphery.

“I’m just saying. If you were feeling a little jittery,” Darryl says, leaning conspiratorially closer, “that’s to be expected. Nothing? No issues with temperature control in your extremities, hmm? No… smattering of a chill in your soles? No twinkling of ice in your toes?”

“No.”

“Because if you were, the best thing is to just talk it through.”

“Darryl, I distinctly recall your marriage ended in divorce, so I’m reasonably sure you’re the last person that should be doling out unsolicited relationship advice.”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, twisting his head down to stare at where he’s toying with his shirt sleeves so he doesn’t have to see the hurt look spread on Darryl’s face.

He sighs. “That wasn’t fair. I apologise. I… didn’t mean that.”

“You’re not wrong,” Darryl says, shrugging, his features so gut-wrenchingly reminiscent of a kicked puppy Nathaniel can’t stand it.

“I shouldn’t have said it.” He pauses. “I know you and Josh parted ways because you wanted different things from life and I… think that’s admirable,” he says with only a small amount of difficulty, clearing his throat. “The way you dealt with it, I mean. So there you go. Honestly, before you two broke up, you had the kind of relationship I never thought I’d have for myself. Or even want for myself.”

The puppy look doesn’t go away—the Whijo mention probably didn’t help, in retrospect—but Darryl holds both hands over his heart and grimaces in a way he thinks is supposed to be a touched smile.

“That’s so sweet,” Darryl says. “Oh, and I’m so glad you found that with Rebecca. You deserve it.”

Nathaniel can’t help it when his eyebrows climb his forehead because he realises with an alarming jolt that Darryl’s just managed to pinpoint precisely the thing he’s having a hard time making himself believe.

“God, I don’t know how to do this,” he blurts out, fists forming in frustration at his sides. “Not remotely. Monogamy: stupid. Commitment: boring. I’ve spent my entire life telling myself that. I’ve spent multiple occasions telling Rebecca that. To her face. How the hell did either one of us think this was a good idea?”

Darryl’s in front of him and gripping the edges of his jacket before he can blink, jabbing a thick, ringed finger right in his face.

“Hey, you stop that,” he says, sterner than Nathaniel’s ever heard him speak the entire time he’s known him. “That’s the fear talking, and if it doesn’t have anything constructive to say, you tell it nobody wants to hear it, okay?”

Too taken aback to demand his own release, Nathaniel blinks, not for the first time glaringly aware that despite all the cheerleading, the odd collection of acquaintances he supposes he should call his friends are for the most part very firmly Team Rebecca, should it ever come down to it. For some reason it doesn’t bother him all that much, though—on the contrary it leaves him almost kind of warm.

He doesn’t need the reminder that the last time Rebecca tried this, everything went horribly, terribly wrong.

“Did you know bald eagles mate for life?” Darryl releases him and holds up his hands as if he’s pointing out the most logical thing in the world and just like that, the bumbling, earnest business partner Nathaniel is used to is back. “Hey, if a bird can do it, I’m pretty sure a smart young man like yourself can figure it out.”

“Ugh, is that why there’s one of those godawful gas station mascot looking statues on the gift table?” Nathaniel quips, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb and stepping back with an undignified shake of his shoulders to reclaim some personal space. “What the hell are we supposed to do with that? That’s not something you can un-ironically display in a home.”

“Actually, according to Feng Shui, if you display it facing to the East, it will bring prosperity and clarity into your abode,” Darryl says, sotto voce, then adds an afterthought, “I sprang for the all white one because I thought it looked classy.”

“Hmm,” Nathaniel offers in response, entirely noncommittal.

*

“Rebecca, no! I’ve already told you it’s bad luck, and I swear to God, if you let another one of my weddings end in disaster—���

There’s a scuffle in the doorway and after a few seconds of grunting the lithe barricade of black limbs is overpowered by white as Rebecca ducks under her friend’s arms to squeeze into the room, skirts condensing and puffing out on the other side like a giant marshmallow. When she spots Nathaniel the tension flows out of her, shoulders dropping on a relieved sigh.

“Oh, you’re here,” she breathes, brow furrowing. “Good. That’s good. I mean, of course you’re here. But I kind of just really needed to check, you know?”

It takes Nathaniel an embarrassing length of time to even begin to formulate a response, caught off guard by the sudden apparition of her in front of him, a radiant vision in ivory and isabelline. She smiles at him self-consciously as he continues to stare, taking his slack jaw as a sign of approval and biting down gently on her bottom lip.

“Hi,” she says softly.

He swallows and forces himself to speak. “Hi.”

Despite the obvious faux pas he’s secretly grateful she’s given him the opportunity to get this humiliating stupefied reaction out of the way sans audience, all too cognizant of how idiotic he probably looks right now, gaping at the sight of her in her gown, dark hair all in perfectly arranged soft curls around her face. She looks angelic—definitely not a word anyone would generally use to describe Rebecca, even on a good day—but then she’s smiling at him, impish, and she’s recognisable again and not at all responsible for the way in which his lungs seem suddenly unable to draw in enough air.

“You look nice,” is what he eventually manages, immediately feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment, keenly aware of how woefully inadequate his utterance is and letting his eyes flicker shut in shame only to be surprised by a peal of delighted laughter bursting forth from Rebecca like bells.

He smiles back at her, and there’s an answering impatient groan from the doorway.

“So I gotta go before Valencia murders me with her bare hands,” Rebecca says, pitching forward and grabbing fistfuls of fabric to hitch up her dress. “But meet me outside in maybe like, ten minutes?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Okay. I’ll be waiting. It’s a date.”

She turns to Darryl, who has his entire fist shoved up against his mouth, already a mere few sobs away from being a complete blubbering mess.

“Darryl,” she says patiently. “When I asked you to give me away we agreed you would save the crying until after the ceremony.”

“I can’t help it,” he wails, fanning his face. “I just love you guys like my own children. Only in a non-weird, non-incestuous way where it’s not inappropriate for you to be marrying each other because oh, that is just my favourite thing!”

Nathaniel makes a show of rolling his eyes. “Can you take him with you? Please? So I can finish getting ready in peace?”

“Yes, please,” Valencia begs in frustration. “I need both of you downstairs, like, two minutes ago. We’re on a tight schedule here, people.”

Darryl dutifully makes an effort to compose himself and follows the two women from the room, pausing briefly to rest his hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder as he passes.

“You’re going to do great, Nathaniel,” he says quietly, encouragingly. “I can tell. So don’t worry about a thing.”

“I don’t—” Nathaniel clears his throat again, shrugging off the comforting hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Before Darryl can leave, though, he drops the pretence with a pained sigh. “Thank you, Darryl. For everything. I really mean that.”

Darryl mimes a zipping motion across his lips, a heartfelt press of his trembling fist to his chest that is entirely too dramatic for Nathaniel’s tastes his parting offering as he slips out the door.

Finally alone, Nathaniel turns back to the mirror to slide his fingers through his hair, smooth his tie, straighten his lapels one last nauseating time, only to be startled by Valencia’s incensed growl echoing down the hallway as the empty space around his reflection floods with a renewed flurry of white.

“Look, I know I’m breaking, like, every imaginable rule right now, but I just—”

Rebecca doesn’t even bother finishing her sentence before she’s yanking him down to her by his neck and sealing her mouth firmly, determinedly, desperately over his. By the time he’s pulled himself sufficiently together to respond, his hands hovering hesitantly over the lace at her waist she’s already drawing back, breathless, her eyes fluttering shut in contentment.

“Okay. That was all. Valencia’s about one burst blood vessel away from an aneurysm, so—I love you, and I will see you soon.”

And just like that she’s gone again, as quickly as she reappeared; leaving him dazed and dumbstruck as per usual and taking any traces of bothersome butterflies with her.

Suddenly, he’s never felt more sure in his life.

[therealkalanchoe]

temperance, strength, the high priestess

ANSWERED MEMES || STILL ACCEPTING

temperance: can you describe a strange dream you’ve had?

“Well, I feel a bit embarrassed to be talking about it, but here goes. It’s my most recent one where this giant jelly cake turned out to be the wedding cake at the reception? And the groom was a talking eggplant while the bride was this giant big egg in a Disney-fairytale-like princess wedding ball gown? The weirdest part has to be that everyone in town was invited to this peculiar Tim Burton wedding and seemed to be totally cool with it everything and going along with the whole ceremony, whereas I was the one feeling left out and freaked out to the maximum? I’m unfortunately the type of person who believes that certain dreams have a significant hidden meaning behind it, so that’s why I still remember all of its details as I’m still trying to figure this one out.”

strength: what is your dream occupation?

She gave a serene and completely illuminated smile, her eyes shining as well. “This. Helping people plan and create their magical, memorable and romantic wedding day has and always will be my dream occupation.”

the high priestess: what is your dream date?

“To me, a dream date highly depends on the person who is taking you on a date. Yes, location, activity, food, the settings can all be considered somewhat important factors, but ultimately to me a dream date would be the effort and sincerity the person has put in for the date. A date where someone is genuinely asking me on to get to know me better on a more romantically intimate level and not just to find his next new bed partner. A date where some degree of effort is put in to try to impress or woo me. And it doesn’t have to be some hard labouring efforts. Simple ones like making sure they look decent with clean, ironed clothes, or making a picnic basket, or arriving extra early because they are excited or maybe putting quite some thought on a simple but unique lovely place to have a date, or despite their shyness, trying hard to make valuable conversation instead of dry small talk, etc..So yeah, a dream date would be those two factors combined. 

[queenofmahishmati]

I GOT TAGGED BY 5 PEOPLE FOR THAT QUESTIONS MEME !!

So that’s 55 questions answered below, ((its soooper long and contains every single truth about my dorkery and pagan ritual and what not.. I'm not a cool person, nope, see for yourself))

Questions from @iwearplaids

Rain or snow ?

Rain, hands down. Snow is just pretty, covers the ground beautifully in white and then melts away. But Rain, rain enhances that smell of earth I love so much and brings forth memories of the time I used to sit on my balcony with a cup of tea, hot bajjis and my friends from college days.

What is/was your favourite subject at school ?

History. I used to finish reading each lesson as if I was reading a story book before our teacher was even half way through it. I used to be the cause of her headache, she almost always took my book away each time so I won’t do it. And Art, we had an art professor who was the first one to take notice of my sketching talents and helped me improve it. In one way or the other, its because of them that I am a Conservation Architect today!!

How would you rate your own blog ?

11/10. It needs a little more organizing and I will give it a fifteen :P 

What is the most comforting smell for you ?

Smell of well washed pure cotton fabrics... reminds me of my mumma. 

Top 3 fears 

Darkness. Dark deep waterbodies. Losing a loved one without a proper goodbye.

Tell an embarrassing story.

Happens on a daily basis really... do you want to hear about the time I almost sat on Rana’s lap and scared him enough that he chose to sit on top of the armrest of the couch instead; or when I got locked out in the utility room of my house by my own silliness, without my mobile on me and had to wait till my flatmate (and the rest of my friends) came home and opened the door while I smiled at them like a dork from the other side of the glass door; or that one time I was standing on my terrace watching a meteor shower and my mum thought I was doing some kind of pagan ritual and took a video of it cause I was dancing around with a long stick in my hand facing up at the sky, while I was actually hopping in circles and spinning the stick around myself to escape mosquitoes... 

Last book that you read and fell in love with.

The Great Derangement by Amitav Ghosh. Its the first of his non-fiction works I read and wow, it made me think deep and agree with his point that future history will call our period the most deranged of all times. Its about climate disaster and a must read in my opinion, I’m glad I picked it up at the airport while I was bored. With that said, his The Hungry Tide is one of my favourite books. 

Your all time favourite movie ?

Kannathil Muthamittal (A Peck on The Cheek)

Would you say that you’re popular in real life ?

Yep, yes. People find my (child like) enthusiasm contagious and I can listen better than I talk (that’s what my friends say). So yeah, I’m kind of always surrounded by people mostly... unless I push them away myself to breathe.

Favourite accessory ?

Um... anklets? Oh no, I love bangles. Although, I barely wear any accessories. Its a surprise if I wear anything more than my usual earrings. 

Flats or heels ?

Shoes or boots with heels. I’m short. I need that extra boost to bounce around on my happy feet.

Questions from @ruminationsofaraven

Coffee or Tea?

Tea. Always. 

All time favourite book and T.V show.

Harry Potter series and Scooby Doo.

What would you rather choose to write about - Smut or Fluff?

Fluffy fluff that will soon turn angsty.

Spookiest story you’ve heard when you were a kid.

I have lived through three spooky experiences. I don’t need a story to top them. *shudders*

If you get a chance to change three things you regret doing in your life with a time-turner, what’d you choose to do?

Go back in time to when I met Rana and make sure I proposed to him rather than chickening out I guess?? Other than that, there isn’t anything I regret much except maybe knock my second boyfriend down in one clean punch before he even asked me out. 

Have you ever dreamt about getting interviewed on the Ellen show?

Oh yes. Many many times!! 

Fuck/Marry/Kill (Marvel Special) - Loki, Captain America & Bucky

Fuck Loki, Marry Captain America... and kill Bucky (yikes sorry)

Ever embarrassed yourself in front of a crush?

A lot. There was this one time in school where I was gushing about my crush to my friend and he was... well, sitting right behind me and heard the entire thing. Funny story, he’s my best ever friend right now and knows me better than my mum and I’m the Best Woman (maapillai thozhi) for his upcoming wedding!!

One Disney character who you can relate with irl.

Merida from Brave. You have no idea how much similar that movie is to my life LMAO

Have you ever stalked an ex?

Nope, I don’t dwell in the past. And except one asshat, the rest of my exes are still my friends (acquaintance). 

Swap yourself with a character on a T.V show and that would be? Also, do you think you’ll survive in that universe.

Arya from Game of Thrones maybe. Oh yes, I would be a savage and kill everyone and win the iron throne for myself before dying at the white walkers’ hands, stabbed in the back cause I most probably was running away screaming bloody murder upon seeing them...

Questions from @fierarain

If you were given a chance to play God for a day, what would you do?

Kill off everyone I think that don’t deserve to live (you know who, mostly all those politicians). Save every child from disease and dying. Change people’s mindset and make them think about saving the Earth instead of destroying it. Make Harry Potter world exist for real. Read every book in the world if it was possible... and wish all of this could happen with a single snap of my fingers. 

What’s your favorite quote?

“What you seek is seeking you.” and  “Stop acting so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion.” - both by Rumi

What disgusts you the most?

Worms. And people who lack common sense.

What motivates you to get out of bed everyday?

Food. And the possibility of some unexpected unknown happening. 

Describe any custom/ritual/tradition unique to your family/region/community.

My family is from the Chettinad region of Tamil Nadu and during weddings which mostly happens in our ancestral houses, the groom ties three different thaalis (mangal sutras) around the bride’s neck. And its like small, medium and large in size - like the cups we request at Starbucks... I find that extremely funny by the way!!

What part of the day do you look forward to and why?

Night. I love the stars. They make me wonder how much of a lie time is. The one twinkling cheerfully at me, does it still brighten up the galaxy or has it faded long back and I’m just seeing the ghost of its life standing this far away... 

If given a chance to swap lives with someone, whom would you choose?

No one. I love my life, I’d pass that chance on. 

Who/What is the center of your universe?

Rana?? Kidding... I am the center of my universe (and sometimes my family too).

What’s your happiest memory?

Picking Bakula flowers from the ground around a hundred year old tree with my cousins in the house back in our village... and then playing with them in the courtyard while it rained. I had a blessed childhood!!

Which fictional universe would you want to be a part of?

Harry Potter. (Or Star Wars)

Since everyone I know is in the Baahubali fandom….Devasena or Sivagami?

Sivagami. And Devasena. xP

Questions from @avani008

If you could know the answer to one unsolved mystery, what would it be and why?

I would like to know my purpose in this world maybe… But a mystery that already exists and I want answer to– How the ducking heck did they build the Kailasa temple of Ellora?? LIKE HOW??

Favorite myth?

Every time it thunders scarily, Arjuna is mad and stomping around the heavens like a crazy elephant. And wishes made upon shooting stars do come true!!

The main characters of the last two movies/TV shows you watched have switched places. What madness ensues?

Oh my god, the last two movies I watched was Aramm and Nene Raju Nene Mantri (re watch). Nayanthara and Rana’s roles swapped would be epic on one hand but also disastrous?? Like the corrupt Jogendra in Aramm scenario might have not done anything about the child, or that child could have been his redemption and he might have turned out to be better, I honestly don’t know... Now Madhivadhani in NRNM, I think we will get to see that madness for real in Aramm 2 when it releases. Although, she is a no-shit no-nonsense person and has her heart and mind in the right place (unlike Jogendra) !!!

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?

Anywhere with my family around. Actually, some place that’s cold enough and has a beach. And of course, my family!!

Who would be the worst person to be stuck in an elevator with? How about the best person to be stuck in an elevator with?

The worst person to be stuck in an elevator with would be my brother, we would probably murder each other before help arrives. Best person would be… *drum rolls* RANA!!

If you could make a movie/TV series out of any book (or remake one if it exists already), what would it be?

There’s a book called “ஏழு தலை நகரம்” (ezhu thalai nagaram - seven headed city) in Tamil by S. Ramakrishnan. I would make that into a film for children.

What would be the title of your autobiography?

Stardust in search of her Star… Or Remembrall… or something decidedly more whacky depending upon the way I plan to write it.

Favorite poem?

This poem by Bharathiyar,

“ அக்கினி குஞ்சொன்று கண்டேன்-அதை ஆங்கொரு காட்டி லொர் பொந்திடை வைத்தேன் வெந்து தணிந்தது காடு-தழல் வீரத்தில் குஞ்சென்றும் மூப்பென்றும் உண்டோ?”

Translation: I found a small spark of fire and Placed it inside a burrow in a forest;The entire forest was burnt down to ashes; An ember is mighty enough regardless of it’s size!

Least favorite cliche/trope in fic or literature?

Love triangles. Or squares. Or Hexagon… its just over overused!!

If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

Be in places I want to be in the blink of my eye. I’m a lazy person in general, so that would help me get to places on time!!

If you could have dinner with any three fictional characters, who would they be and why?

Bhallaladeva, I would probably be next on his to-be-killed list for all the questions I ask over dinner. Baahubali, he’s gonna be a sweetheart really, but I would probably be ruthless and pry off his rose tinted glasses to make him see people for what they really are. Panchali, I know she’s not fictional but ever since I read Palace of Illusions, I have been wanting to know the real story from her perspective.

Questions from @sleepiszindagi

What is your best childhood memory?

My happiest memory above is also my best childhood memory.

Most recent movie watched?

Aramm, I watched it on Saturday. I loved it!!

What do you feel most proud of?

My mother. And my achievements because of her.

If you could only keep 5 possessions, what would it be and why?

A magical pot that could make food any time, my bed to sleep in, my phone to keep in touch with everyone and everything, extra clothes and MY BOOKS.

How do you spend your free time?

Plotting world domination. No really, I would be sitting at one of the windows and cooking up some crazy story in my head as I day dream about ruling the world.

What are your three favorite movies and why?

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban cause that’s the first one I watched in the series (until then I was like, movies don’t do justice to the books). Kannathil Muthamittal cause it hits me emotionally on so many levels. Baahubali right now because you know why…

What is your strongest personal quality?

I’m Realistic. Of course I babble a lot and dream more than that but in the end of the day, I’m probably one of the most grounded person you will meet.

What is your most embarrassing moment?

Again, answered up above somewhere.

What age do you feel right now and why?

I feel like I’m 26 going on 6 most of the times cause I have the temperament of a toddler. I try to act my age though, mostly…

What is a skill you would like to learn and why?

Um, different ways to do my hair maybe on top of learning how to toss pancakes and omlettes.

Which movie are you most awaiting for and why?

Right now, The Last Jedi. Cause STAR WARS really, what more reason could be there??