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teebarnes · 3 years

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✨ | I'm Fallin' For You, Darling.

Click [100 Followers Fic] for the rest of the 100 follower fics :)

Pairing: Chris Evans x female!reader

Summary: Both you and Chris have quite the relationship, it all started the day you gave him a marker.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning(s): Fluffffff, Angst for sure, talk of anxiety (not a lot but also a lot).

A/N: Thank you guys so much for 100 followers! It means the world, I hope you like this one as much as I do. (Sorry that's a lotta words).

⤑ Click here for my taglist so you can be notified when my new fics are posted.

Any Likes, Comments & Reblogs are super duper appreciated :))

When Chris Evans is nervous, there is only one thing that calms him down. And that one thing is you and the fact that you allow him to doodle on your hands all the time.

The premiere of Captain America: The Winter Soldier was the first time you saw Chris so nervous. Him constantly rubbing his hands together or bouncing his leg underneath the press table and the times when he'd fiddle with the hem of his shirts. These were things you noticed Chris did when he got nervous, and it seemed that you were the only one who witnessed them.

The third day into the film's press tour, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew what it felt like to be anxious, the feeling settling within the depths of your stomach or the constant avoidance of looking out to an audience. Sometimes you'd excuse yourself a few times throughout interviews just to catch your own breath.

The whole TCA: TWS cast sat along the stage of the comic-con panel. The hosts introduced you all, crowds cheering loudly when they saw everyone.

You took your seat next to Chris, who was already fiddling with his plastic water bottle that he'd been gripping so tightly on, you could already see the indents on the bottle. You smiled, looking out to the audience waving back to some of your fans that you could see holding signs up for you in the crowd. It was, in fact, times like these that your anxiety shot right out the window, replacing that anxiety with happiness and admiration of your fan base.

Five minutes into the panel talk and questions were directed to Scarlett and RDJ. You knew you wouldn't be talking anytime soon as, of course, like all other press tours, the interviews were heavily coordinated. So before you'd have the chance to speak, Sebastian, Anthony, and the Russo brother would go first. Sitting back in your chair, you took a sip of your water, your eyes following down to where Chris was bouncing his leg. Then, setting your water back onto the table, you pulled yourself and your chair closer to the table, reaching over across Joe Russo, who observed what you were doing.

"Could you pass me the marker, please, Joe?" you whispered to him; he smiled, nodding handing you the marker. "Thanks", you whispered again.

You returned to the comfort of your seat, Scarlett and RDJ still bantering. You look forward to the audience and give a tiny little smile to the fans who were waving at you. Your eyes looked down to your arm; you wrote a little message on your forearm, so he knew what the pen was for.

You scooted a bit closer to Chris just enough so you could hand him the pen. You lightly looked over to him; your hand went underneath the table and across to rest on Chris' lap. It was right there when his leg stopped bouncing. You held the pen in your hand, waiting for him to take it from you. Chris looked up turning his gaze to you; you gave him a smile nodding.

His eyes directed back down to where your arm was. He read the note you had written for him, 'Use my arm to doodle. It helps with anxiety :)'. He let out a smile, all the while letting out the breath he'd been holding in.

You looked back up and over to Sebastian, who was now talking; you felt the pen slip out from your grip, the marker clicked and the coldish ink embracing the surface of your skin.

One of Chris' hand rested firmly on your forearm to keep it from moving, and the other used to doodle. That was the first time in the history of you knowing Chris to be calm and content. No bouncing his leg or fidgeting. He was completely aware of everything instead of his growing anxiety.

It was after that moment Chris slowly began to fall in love. He never expected someone to notice his worries and do something about them. But, the way you sat there while he doodled on your arm didn't phase you at all, you wanted to support him, and you showed him that you did.

Years later, It became a force of habit, the tiny hugs you'd give Chris just to slide a marker into his pocket before going on stage. The small slight movements he'd make before he took your hand into his so he could draw.

You'd become someone who knew him better than he knew himself. The many dates he took you on lead to you moving in with him. The small moments you both had messing around on set and loving him in the silliest of moments meant eternity to the pair of you. You knew that you had fallen in love with Chris Evans, and so was he. You both just didn't realise that the moment would be a forever moment. If you hadn't offered him a marker that day, where would you be?

It was now the premiere of Avengers: End Game and the last press tour you'd have for a while. Today's interview consisted of a comic-con panel, the same panel you happily let Chris doodle on your arm five years ago.

You both sat together, his hand protectively on your thigh. You were speaking into the mic as a fan had just asked you a question about possibly seeing your character in the future of the MCU. Chris sat there attentive to your voice while he drew on the top of your hand. It was a little duck with a Boston Red Sox hat holding a heart.

Once you had finished answering the question and someone else began to speak, you looked back down to see what Chris was drawing. You squinted in wonder; looking back at Chris, you wondered why he was drawing this. Coincidentally, you had drawn a duck on him one day in between an interview—a duck holding a heart wearing a NASA cap. Chris looked at you with his cheesy smile. Oh! he was up to something, you thought. Chuckling, you watched him colour in the small heart with a red marker. He was, in truth, quite a good artist; you managed to take a photo of all his doodles over the years. But this one, this doodle was a bit different; it meant something more to you.

After you had both finished the panel, you were set on getting a new tattoo. Kissing Chris' lips, you told him that you'd see him at home. Chris had asked you where you were going, so you said you were going out to dinner with your mum in town, which was true you just left out the part of you going to get another tattoo. Your parents were in for the weekend for reasons unknown and wanted to see you before they left, so you had already planned to see them. He nodded, kissing you once more before departing ways.

You both were always so sentimental, and you knew as soon as you saw that duck in a red sox cap holding a heart on your hand that you wanted it to be a forever doodle. That day, when you had drawn a duck on him, he went and got it tatted on his hand the same day. The first tattoo visible on Chris' body, the only tattoo that wasn't hidden under his shirts. In contrast, most of your tattoos were on your arms and wrists; this was another tattoo among the few others you had on your hand, others being the original six symbol and some writing of your favourite quotes.

Before you knew it, you were sitting on the chair in your private tattoo artist's studio, getting the duck tattooed on you forever. The tattoo was a reminder of memories both you and him had experienced together.

The red sox hat, being where he took you on your first date five years ago. To a Red Sox game, of course. You didn't have anything to wear to represent the team, so Chris kindly offered you his Red Sox cap to wear; five years later, Chris had to purchase a new hat because you kept his one. Of course, he didn't mind; he loved to see you dressed in things that were his; the hat was one of them.

"I don't have anything to wear", you sadly pouted at Chris, looking at him in his Red Sox jersey and cap.

He looked down to you as you stood next to him, holding his hand softly, looking out to the stadium. He smiled, taking his cap off and placing it over your head.

"Now you do", he smiled, leading you down the stairs to your seats. You weren't really a fan of baseball. Still, once you had experienced your first game, oh man... it became a routine for both you and Chris to attend every game the Red Sox were playing at.

The duck, the furry little animal you had brought home a few months after you had first moved in with Chris two years ago. In all honesty, you wanted to get a turtle, but as soon as you saw that slight yellow fluff waddling around at the pet store, you wanted nothing more than to take it home with you. Chris couldn't say no to you, so the duck became your baby.

"y/n?" Chris came around the corner where you'd sat yourself talking to the little duck... Chris had been looking for you for almost fifteen minutes when he found you sitting there with the pet shop worker.

The excitement in your eyes told him that you had forgotten all about the turtle. You looked up at him smiling, patting the empty seat next to him. He sat watching you pet the small baby duck with your thumb lightly. "I'm naming him Alfie" you smiled brightly, looking back at Chris.

He took the duck out of your hands and chuckled, "Alfie, it is".

The red heart...

A reminder of how much you both loved each other. Something that had never gone away, the love both you and Chris had continued, it grew stronger over time, of course with a few hiccups here and there but never enough to break that love. But this, the tiny little heart being tattooed onto you, was one similar to the heart that homed your middle finger on a ring. The rose gold ring he gifted you when he asked you to be his girlfriend four years ago.

You rested your head on Chris' shoulder as both of you watched the office. A new series you'd been watching together, it was a few months after your first date with Chris, and you both were head over heels with each other.

"Hey y/n", he whispered.

"Mh?"

"I'm fallin' for you darling."

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking up at him, "You're what", you whispered softly, you heard what he said, but you just needed to hear it again.

He brought the small box out, opening it to reveal a rose gold band hearts making up the band. "I said I'm falling in love with you", he smiled before continuing ", Be my girlfriend?" he sweetly asked.

You chuckled, letting him slide the ring onto your middle finger. "Of course", you whispered back to him before cupping his face. You both looked at each other, you saw it, you saw the life you'd been wanting. It was with him.

"I love you".

Sitting at the dinner table with your parents, you briefly looked down at the now wrapped tattoo on your hand. You had thanked your tattoo artist for another fantastic job; the new ink was precisely how Chris drew it on you earlier today. Your parents were eating away and so were you.

"It's great to see you again, Hunny", your dad spoke.

You smiled, nodding. "I've missed you guys so much."

"What's on your agenda for this weekend?" you spoke again, taking a bite of your food. Your mum and dad took one look at each other before your mum stopped to talk.

"Your dad and I are going to old friends party", she smiled at you. "party", you chuckled. "Since when do you guys party".

"it's an engagement party, I mean... do you have some parties we could go to" your dad joked.

"First of all... no." you laughed, cringing at the image in your head of your parents dancing and drinking. "But that's nice. I hope you both have fun, wish whoever a congratulations for me" you smiled.

"Oh, we will", your mum outwardly said. You took a second to squint your eyes in curiosity to your mum's tone. "Mhkay".

It was the end of dinner, and you had parted ways with your parents, taking a Cab to the home you shared with Chris. "thank you, driver," you smiled, hopping out of the cab walking up to your driveway. You giggled, seeing Dodger patiently waiting for you at the front door. "Hey buddy", you smiled, opening up the door for him to jump all over you.

Closing the door behind you, kneeling down to cuddle your pup. Dodger wagged his tail giving you kisses. "Shhhhh", you chuckled lightly, "were you waiting for me, huh?" you watched Dodger roll around on the floor. You stood up, taking your shoes off, leaving your keys on the hook. "C'mon, baby", you whispered, gesturing for Dodger to follow. You both walked down the hall, Dodger by your side.

You could hear the snores coming from your room and knew Chris was already sleeping. You opened the door, looking down at Dodger "go keep my spot warm for me, please", you sweetly asked your pup, who did just that. You watched him gently jump up onto the bed and curl up on your side of the bed.

Walking further down the hall, you went to take a shower. Changing into the PJs you left on the warming rack in the bathroom, you followed back out to check on Alfie, who would be sleeping in your office. Once that was done, you head into your and Chris' room. You took off your slippers and ushered Dodger to sleep in his bed. You kissed his head before he left. "night, bubba".

You slide in next to Chris, who had his back to you. Covering yourself with the blanket, you slide one arm around his bare torso pulling yourself closer to him. He was so warm, and you loved it. Chris groaned, turning over. He smiled sleepily. "Hey hon, how was dinner?" "It was good", you kissed his lips, "That's good," he said, pulling you into his arms to cuddle.

"Hey babe"

"mhhh", he mumbled in a sleepy voice.

"I love you."

"I love you too".

The next day you were doing a panel with the marvel cast. Like any other day, you answered questions, so why did you feel this one would be different. You were a bit nervous today, like you had woken up wrong, or you were waiting for something to happen. You didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

You were talking to your audience. It was a large panel today consisting of the MCU cast, if not all of them. Maybe that's why you were so nervous; the bigger the cast panel, the bigger audience to speak to. "Make eye contact and hand gestures y/n," you thought to yourself right before you begun to answer the fan's questions. You start to use your hands gesturing when a fan had asked you about your character's personality.

Chris smiled, watching you intently; fans noticed. But as you were gesturing, he noticed the tattoo. He had to double-take when he saw your hand, leaving a small on his face. After you finished your question, he leaned in. "I love your tattoo, babe", he whispered; his comment calmed your nerves a bit as you chuckled ", just following your lead."

You both lean back into your seats as Joe and Anthony Russo began the next half of the panel. You were already forty minutes through... only another forty to go.

Anthony spoke, "As you may know, this will be the last you'll see of your favourite actors and actresses for a while..." Joe turned to the entire panel. "So we put together a little something of your time over the last decade" Joe turns back to the audience. "So sit back and relax."

The panel turned their chairs to watch the big screen, the lights dimmed, and the video rolled. It was a decade gag-reel of everyone in the MCU; Chris had pulled your chair closer to his; he knew you were nervous, for what reason? He didn't know, and neither did you. He should've been the nervous one; he was about to do something in front of the entire audience he had been planning for months.

Your head rested on Chris' shoulder, laughing with everyone else as the embarrassing footage rolled through. There was more footage of you and Chris than anyone else, but again, you were too clouded in worry. You didn't overthink about it.

Then there it was, a clip you didn't know existed—a video of you dancing with Scarlett and Jeremy on the infinity war set. You were being videoed from afar, but Chris comes into the frame making funny faces before pointing at you. You blushed a bit, laughing lightly.

"You see her", Past Chris spoke to the camera. "One day, I am going to marry her" he wiggles his finger over to your past self, who was still dancing around like an idiot. You swear your heart stopped, so ultimately, you started bouncing your leg. The video stopped, and the lights came back on. There were hushed voices; you knew they were looking your way, but you couldn't tell why.

You turned your chair, trying to avoid whoever was looking at you. Not noticing anything, nobody was talking. You had turned your head to look down to the end of the panel where The Russo brothers were. They were all looking in your direction, including the whole cast panel. You jumped slightly when Chris caught your leg mid-bounce; you turned to look at him, his eyes dazzling before you. Oh, that smile, you knew that smile all too well. Chris was smiling like a little kid.

Chris tapped you on your thigh, which caught your attention, so you looked down. This is it; this is the same feeling you felt when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. You burst into tears after reading the message on his arm; Chris' forearm rested in your lap while holding a black marker in his hand. You sniffed, looking softly at him. He was now in tears too. Taking the black marker from his grip, you clicked it; resting your hand on his forearm to steady yourself, you answered his question.

'Will you marry me, y/n?' the question written in his bold writing stared right back at you.

You always had your answer 'of course.'

You closed the lid on the pen, and Chris opened his hand; your engagement ring sat in the nook of his palm. He slides it onto your ring finger right next to your rose-gold one. You smile blinking through the tears, you turn to him, and Chris had already stood with his arms in the air.

"SHE SAID YES"

The whole audience got up cheering; he leaned in, cupping your cheeks, both of you laughing through your kisses. He had lifted you into his arms, spinning you around. He set you back down; you wiped the tears from your face laughing while wearing your t-shirt. At that point, you knew everyone was in on your proposal; you turned to your cast members, who were all clapping.

"Give a round of applause for the future Mr and Mrs Evans!" Joe spoke.

You went around hugging everyone who had gotten up just to congratulate the pair of you. One by one, your friends embraced you in their arms.

"Congratulations", two-voice spoke from behind you, "oh my god, you idiots", you chuckled, pulling your parents into a big hug. Chris stood next to you as your dad pulled him into a hug. "Your fiancé sends her congratulations", he laughed, referencing the conversation you had with them last night.

Chris looked down at you, "They had texted me last night what you had said. I'm surprised you didn't catch on", he laughed. "I- I didn't know... I was curious after mum said it so suspiciously but didn't think," you mentally face-palmed yourself.

And like that, the panel was concluded. Everyone congratulating you and Chris before leaving. Chris had set up a little engagement party back at your house; everyone was enjoying their time having fun. You sat on Chris' lap still in shock, his arms wrapped around your waist "you didn't see that coming, did you?" he smirked, looking up at you.

"No... no, I didn't" you laughed sweetly. Your hand ran over Chris' forearm where it still had both his and your writing on it. "That was the best proposal ever" you looked at him, smiling, "I'm glad, darling" you both leaned into each other, lips connecting softly.

"I've fallen deeply in love with you, Mr Evans".

"I'm still falling for you".

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Chris Evans Taglist: @buckyswintersoldiermask @lharrietg @buckyfan12 @afraid-to-be-me @fairityretro

#teebarnesfics #chris evans one shot #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris x y/n #chris x you #cevans #chris evans angst

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ijustwant2write · 5 years

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Demons and Dragons-Crowley x Reader x Aziraphale (Platonic)

(GIF credit to @sherlxdestiel)

Saw a post by @darkshadow3942 and I had to write it! Also this is my first Good Omens post, and I can’t express how much I love this show!!!!

Summary: Imagine being the supposed dragon that was supposedly slain by Saint George. In reality, you’re a simple demon that posed as a dragon after Crowley dared you into it. He still gets a kick out of it to this day every time you two go out for a drink.

Characters: Crowley x Reader (platonic), Aziraphale x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Slight swearing, drinking

(A/N: I just had to include Aziraphale in this and you’ll see why)

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

“(Y/N)! What the devil are you doing here?” I heard Crowley exclaim as he spotted me.

I was casually leaning against a lamppost, hands in my coat pockets as I watched him emerge from the bookshop his angel friend owned. He sauntered across the road, not bothering to check for cars as a grin beamed across his face.

I smiled back at him.“It’s been quite some time. Needed to get away from everyone down below, you know? Be with someone I can tolerate.”

“Tolerate? So I’ve moved up in the ranks.”

“When someone told me that you were hanging out in a bookshop, I had to come and see it for myself. How come you’re here?”

“Well, you know, anti-Christ, end of the world, usual business.”

I nodded, sensing the sarcasm.“Oh yes, heard about that too.”

“Listen, we should talk about this over a glass of wine!”

“Just a glass?”

Over Crowley’s shoulder, I saw movement coming from the bookshop, a man dressed in variations of whites spotted us, twiddling his thumbs together. Crowley noticed that I wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, spinning around before quickly turning back to me.

“Right, are we going? I know a great place where-”

“Invite the angel.”

His lips were pursed as he went to speak, but he hesitated.“W-what?”

“We can’t leave him by himself! That would just be plain rude.”

“Demons don’t care about manners.”

A slow smirk grew on my face, Crowley’s eyes reflecting worry as he saw; his footsteps were frantic as I made a beeline for the angel, liking the horrified look he was trying to hide.

“Hello, we haven’t met.” I started.“I’m (Y/N), an old friend of Crowley’s, though I suppose you’re a much older friend than I am.”

“We’re not friends.” they simultaneously said, though neither held much conviction in their tone.

My eyes darted between them, before giggling at them.“We were wondering if you would care to join us for a drink?”

“Drinking with demons? I couldn’t possibly fathom-”

“What’s your name?”

“I-it’s Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale, have you ever heard the term, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think that’s what’s going on here. Come on, I’m parched. Where’s a good place to drink round here?”

Leaning back in my chair, I clumsily placed the wine glass down on the table, chuckling quietly to myself as it almost tipped over. Yet again it was empty, though Crowley was quick to fill it back up again. We clinked our glasses, raising them towards each other before necking the wine back again. Poor Aziraphale sat with his own drink, and though he too had drank quite a few, he wasn’t letting loose as much as we were.

Everyone knew (or had suspicions of) these two. They definitely were friends, even if they didn’t want to label it that way. Demons and Angels despised each other, it was a well known fact, even amongst the humans. Good Vs Bad, God’s army against Satan’s. But these two seemed to break the mold. I had been around for just about the same time as them, yet I had never seen another friendship like it. They were able to find loopholes, break the system somehow without even alerting anyone. Yes, people knew, but they didn’t actually know what they were doing together.

“May I ask,” Aziraphale suddenly spoke up,“as to why you are here (Y/N)?”

I cleared my throat, crossing one leg over the other as I swirled my wine around in my glass.“To be completely honest with you, I was bored.”

“Bored?”

“Yes, bored. All anyone went on about down there was the anti-Christ and how many days it was until Armageddon. I mean, doesn’t anyone have anything better to do?”

“I mean, it is the end of the world they’re discussing. Seems like a big thing to me.”

“Yes, but I’m not interested. Everything turned so serious, where’s all the fun nowadays? We used to be able to do anything we liked!”

“Oh!” Crowley raised a finger, falling into hysterics as he tried to speak.“Do...do you....d-do...oh, I’m sorry, just hold on a minute.”

We waited as he continued laughing, the alcohol not helping him recover. He took a deep breath though ended up laughing again. Once he was calm, wiping away the tears in his eyes, he regained his posture, able to speak properly again.

“Do you remember St George?”

I cracked up with laughter too as soon as the name popped up. As we bent over giggling, throwing our heads back when snorting, Aziraphale once again remained silent, watching the two idiot demons lose it.

“St George? Why should she remember him?” Aziraphale asked, looking back and forth between us.

“Because, dear angel,” I spread open my arms in a proud fashion,“I was that dragon that was slain by the saint himself.”

Aziraphale sat up even straighter.“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, dragons are seen as evil beings right? Or used to be anyway. Obviously someone needed to do the job. Crowley was supposed to, but as usual, he found a loophole.”

“Now hang on a second,” Crowley rushed out after drinking from his glass,“we were both bored, and neither of us had an assignment, as you like to call them, like this in years!”

“Alright, if you say so.”

“Plus I don’t like morphing into animals, or mystical beings. It tires me too much.”

“Anyway, Crowley told me the details and insisted that I accept defeat from George.”

“You did?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, a small smile starting to form on his face.

“I don’t remember saying that.” Crowley protested.

“How would a simple man defeat a dragon? And if you know me so well, you would know that I wouldn’t accept defeat.”

“Yes, alright, but it was so much more interesting to watch than participate!”

“Hold on for just one moment!” Aziraphale exclaimed.“What happened after George slayed the dragon? Well, to you.”

“He slayed no dragon that day.” I started.“That man froze as soon as he saw me, almost shit his breeches. Before I could swallow him whole, Crowley stopped me. Somehow he convinced me to not eat the Saint-”

“But the dragon wanted human sacrifices, it kidnapped a princess!”

“Yeah, well, you know what our boss is like, a bit over dramatic a times, I’ll admit. When he got bored of that, he got Crowley in to sort out the mess he left behind, who then brought me in. I had no idea about the princess being there, she was annoying. Then George came along, I felt bad for the guy, pretended to be killed....that’s it really.”

“But the chivalry, the bravery-”

“He had none of that, and you made him a Saint.”

Aziraphale sighed.“Oh dear, if upstairs heard of this-”

I interrupted him once again.“They won’t though! It was centuries ago. Everyone was happy. I got to mess around with a good guy, Crowley got his bit of entertainment, and you did your job.”

I raised my glass in a happy fashion, chugging back the Prosecco like it was water. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, tutting at me, though not in a rude way; he was trying to process everything, the poor being. I knew that he would play by the books, he seemed to be the only angel that did nowadays. Crowley hadn’t stopped smirking throughout the story. He leaned back in his chair, one arm hooked around the back of it as he began speaking.

“Sorry I couldn’t tell you. But (Y/N) here is a sore loser.”

I scoffed.“I didn’t lose, I played dead so that some mere mortal would have a chance of living, because you begged me to.”

“See what I mean?”

“Although I am quite displeased by the fact that George didn’t do a good deed in ‘defeating evil’ as it were, I am grateful for what you did (Y/N).” Aziraphale finally smiled.

My face scrunched up at his words, pausing before saying,“What?”

“I put it down to good showmanship. I can imagine you put on quite a show.”

“A total drama queen.” Crowley added.

“Yes, well, I can admit it was a rather riveting performance.” I looked at my nails, distracting myself from the holy forgiveness being bestowed upon me.“Gave me something to do for a while.”

“Come on, admit it,” Crowley nudged me,“you loved it.”

“You know what gentlemen, we should do this more often. There are many stories I could tell you both.”

“Both?”

“Not all of them concern you Crowley.”

“I suppose you’re not that bad really. Why we could make this a daily thing-wait...Oh dear! Crowley, we must get going!”

“Whatever for?” Crowley slurred.

“Armageddon!”

The demon sighed, moaning like a child as he stood.“Yes alright. (Y/N), you need to pop by soon, tell me those stories. Pop by the bookshop anytime.” He slung his jacket over his shoulder, waltzing away as Aziraphale spluttered over his words.

“No! Well I don’t mean to be rude but, you see it’s my bookshop and-”

“Aziraphale, I think you might want to run after him. You do have a world to save.” I grinned.

He nodded, nimbly running after his demon friend. As the opposite pair quickly left, I gazed over the various alcohols left on the table. Crowley had drank almost all of his, though there was still enough left for me, whereas Aziraphale wasn’t as near finished.

I giggled to myself, pulling the beverages closer.“Seems a shame to let this all go to waste. What to start with first?”

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morphedphaseblog · 4 years

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The starless sea by Erin Morgenstern

Goodreads version

The introduction

This is just to warn everyone that I'm not a literature student, an English major nor a native English speaker, so I'm sorry in advance if this is a jumbled mess. I tend to ramble a lot but I've really tried to keep this as short as possible. (Short meaning a little bit over two thousand words for one review, I've never written a review this long.) I wrote this for self indulgence and for my lovely book club @readerbookclub

The first impression

This book pleasantly surprised me, it was like a very long dream that you don't want to wake up from. The moment I finished it I wished that I hadn't because I couldn't part from it just yet. It would feel almost like cheating, I wanted the intertwined stories to continue and for me to remain in its trance, lost in the beautiful writing and bizarre world.

I will be the first to admit that when someone says the story is written almost poem-like, in prose, and similar, I will immediately think of meaningless quotes that are there just to look pretty. Characters saying things just to sound deep, frilly writing that leads nowhere, and dragged on descriptions that had no place being that long and boring. Those are the first things I think of when I'm confronted with someone explaining those kinds of books to me, and that's completely my fault. This book was none of that, it was captivating from the first page to the last.

"There is a pirate in the basement. (The pirate is a metaphor but also still a person.) "

I can tell you, when I first read this, on the first goddamn page, I was hooked. This book has a strong bizzare sort of setting, one that almost reminds me of Neil Gaiman, distinctively Neverwhere with its underground society and twisted perceptions of reality, and yet this book stands out on its own as an individual. It's definitely a unique book, one that I'm still hesitant to part from.

The writing

This book has a very unique writing style, one that is extremely consistent throughout the book. There's nothing I hate more than an inconsistent writing style that changes without a reason. The author plays around with words and describes things simply yet poetically. There were only maybe two instances where I thought the writing was a bit pretentious, but ultimately the good outweighs the bad.

I don't know what exactly it is, but I will try and explain through the next few quotes:

"The book is mis-shelved in the fiction section, even though the majority of it is true and the rest is true enough"

(This really gives you the sense of vague foreshadowing in the book, where even though the description tells you sweet sorrows is mostly true you don't realise how true it actually is. I never saw the fact that the characters in that book would be actual people that interact with our main characters. Plus the writing is really pretty)

"It's binding has been cracked a handful of times, once a professor even perused the first few pages and intended to come back to it but forgot about it instead."

(Is it just me but these small detailed descriptions really give you a sense of real world happenings and that the story is really set in the real world. You can imagine people passing their fingers over the spine of the book before glancing around and getting distracted with something else. The professor taking it into his hands and skimming it but ultimately forgetting all about it later, and finally Zachary reading the whole book from top to bottom.)

"His dark hair is grading at the temples, framing a face that would be called handsome if the word rugged or unconventionally were attached to it."

(Now I'm in love with this kind of mental visual, it's fun and it almost plays with your expectations. I just really like small things like these, they immediately make my reading extremely entertaining.)

"Someone in the corner is dressed as a highly recognizable author or, Zachary thinks as he gets a closer look, it might be that highly recognizable author."

(Again as before, this is the kind of writing I like. It plays with your imaginary visuals of what's happening and making them ten times more fun, especially when we confirm a bit later that that had indeed been that highly recognizable author.)

"He walks over bones he mistakes for dust and nothingness he mistakes for bones."

(Yet another example of those fun visuals, I didn't even realise how many of these I had marked until I had to go through them for this review. I just adore this writing style.)

I have so many more of these so here are just a few more to really make this review even longer:

"A portrait of a young man in a coat with a great many buttons but the buttons are all tiny clocks, from the collar to the cuffs, each reading different times."

"His face is so much more than hair and eye colour, she wonders why books do not describe the curves of noses or the length of the eyelashes. She studies the shape of his lips. Perhaps a face is too complicated to capture in words."

"There are dozens of giant statues. Some figures have animal heads and others have list their heads entirely. They are listed throughout the space in a way that looks so organic that Zachary would not be surprised if they moved, or perhaps they are moving, very, very slowly."

"The figure in the chair is carved from snow and ice. As her gown cascades down around the chair the ripples in the fabric become waves, and within waves there are ships and sailors and sea monsters and then the sea within her gown is lost in the drifting snow."

"Allegra watches him with studied interest from the other end of the table, the way one watches a tiger in a zoo or possibly the way the tiger watches the tourists."

"It sounds strange and empty now, in her head. Rhyme can hear the hum of the past stories though they are low and quiet, the stories always calm once they have been written down whether they are past stories or present stories or future stories.

It is the absence of the high-pitched stories of the future that is the most strange. There is the thrum of what will pass in the next few minutes buzzing in her ears- so faint compared to the tales layered upon tales that she once heard- and then nothing. Then this place will have no more tales to tell." .

(Probably one of my favourites, it really highlights everything I like about this style of writing.)

Another kind of writing style I noticed in the book was an abundance of making things literally feel alive, giving human emotions to objects, personification. I don't come across this too often in other books, and when it happens it isn't repeated as often in that same book,since it tends to get old, but as we have already learned Erin Morgenstern never makes this boring. She plays around with this and never seems to stop, adding another layer to her writing cake. I love how she gives these characteristics to even the smallest of crevices hidden in shadows, something just people wouldn't even think of.

"He takes his torch and explores the shadows, away from the doors and the tent, among jagged crystals and forgotten architecture. He carries the light into places long unfamiliar with illumination that accept it like a half-remembered dream."

"Outside the inn the wind howls, confused by this turn of events. (The wind does not like to be confused. Confusion ruins it's sense of direction and direction is everything to the wind.)"

"The wind howls after him as he leaves in fear of what is to come, but a mortal cannot understand the wishes of the wind no matter how loud it cries and so these final warnings go unheeded."

"If the sword could sigh with relief as it is taken from its scabbard it would, for it has been lost and found so many times before and it knows this time will be the last."

One more thing that caught my eye in the writing was also the composition, where we technically start with in medias Res. We find out by the end of the book that everything that has happened was one big ass story wrapped in stories and overlapped with other stories. So Zachary literally comes in not even in the middle of the story, but at the very end that has been overdue for quite some time. This makes for a very interesting storyline as all the other storylines intertwine into eachother, it makes for an even more interesting read as our MC comes in only when the plot is at its end, tipping over the very edge.

(I also got the feeling that the entire book is almost told through the perspective of the story, if that makes any sense whatsoever. It's almost like the story, that is bound together like the most complicated twister game, is alive and is smiling over our characters smugly waiting for everything to run its course. Like an omnipresent god, that's at least the vibe I got reading the book. )

The world building

Now in my opinion the world building goes hand in hand with the writing in this book. Every detail I mentioned before builds the atmosphere and the base of all the world building in this book. The way the plot is written is written also contributes to the world building, as all the stories overlap and meet at the very end. The looping plot line is actually my number one favourite thing in the entire book.

There isn't that much to say except 'what the hell is going on?' in the best way possible, to the world building, because as confusing as it can be it's amazing to read and I think that it's one of my favourite aspects of the book.

The Characters

Now is time for the weakest part of the book, its characters, who even though I think are amazing, are definitely flatter than everything else in the book.

In my opinion most characters personalities I just can't pinpoint, and even though this personally doesn't take away from my enjoyment too much, I know a lot of people love well defined character personalities.

For some characters I can understand the constant change in character, like Mirabel, whose multiple lifetimes make it so it makes sense why her personalities overlap and make little sense. She constantly felt a bit inconsistent to me, but again I personally didn't think it ruined the book.

The most well developed personalities I could feel were Kat and the keeper, and at times Dorian. Zachary is a weird gray area for me, because even though I loved his character, I can't really tell who he is besides the son of the fortuneteller. I think that most of the character building was sacrificed to make the plot and the world feel alive. As I said before, it feels like the omnipresent god and the world is more developed than any of the characters personalities.

I usually love marking all 'character moments' where I feel like I can understand what kind of person the character is, their sense of humour, friendship, socializing, thinking and so on. But I found myself marking basically nothing of that kind in this book, just the beautiful descriptions of the world. The story was just more alive than the characters in it.

I liked all the romances even though they all lacked some depth, but the fairytale style writing of the romance definitely made them extremely enjoyable. If it weren't for the fairytale vibe all the romance would have been just flat, and I wouldn’t be invested at all.

The Conclusion

I wouldn't reccomend this book for everyone, as I think great many people wouldn't be fans of the writing, and so the lack of character depth wouldn't help either and there would be no good to outweigh the bad. I truly think this book is a perfect 4 starts but to me personally it is 5 stars. I am just such a big fan of the looping storyline, I still haven't gotten over that. To finish it all off here are a few extra quotes that I liked:

"No one takes responsibility. Everyone assumes someone else will do it, so no one does."

"It is critical to steep the tests in ignorance to result in uncorrupted responses."

"They all have similar elements, though. All stories do, no matter what form they take. Something was, and then something changed. Change is what a story is, after all."

#books #book review #the starless sea #erin morgenstern #book club #reading #bookblr #bookworm #quotes #goodreads

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ddaengyoonmin · 5 years

Text

Chapter one

Pairing: Jungkook x reader, eventual Ot7 x reader in later chapters

Genre: Angst, fluff, uhh maybe smut eventually??

Theme: Based kinda on sword art online a lot of similar ideas and themes kinda combining the idea of them trapped in the game, but the world is closer to ALFheim online

Word count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Swearing?..I swear a lot it can’t be contained. Giant Bees?? Not too much to warn about for this chapter but future chapters might get crazy

*check my master list for the prologue, I suggest reading it first*

Next -> Chapter 2

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A bright light shone in from a missing blind. One of your bothersome, but too cute to be mad at cats must’ve broken it, you made a mental note to fix that later. It woke you up earlier than usual for a Friday, probably not a bad thing, you had a big day ahead of you. Working from home had its advantages such as being able to create your own schedule.

You had set the day aside to mentally prepare for and then try out your dreaded birthday gift you had received just the day before.

The clock read 8:00 am. You sighed as you pulled yourself out of bed, startling the young calico cat who had been sleeping on your stomach throughout the night. “Sorry velvet” you mumble sleepily. Though she should be used to the rude awakenings by now, given that you on the other hand had not gotten used to having a cuddly cat and always seemed to accidentally throw her off your lap in the mornings. Your other cat Tiger always kept to herself and usually slept on the top of her cat tree or on a top shelf in one of your closets.

Last year when you bought your new apartment you had marveled at the spaciousness of the classy two bedroom layout. You debated on turning that second bedroom into a room for Tiger to have all to herself, but decided that would only feed into your family’s idea you were becoming a crazy cat lady hermit. Instead it became your office, and today it was the room you decided you would try out the full dive gaming experience headset in. You had a comfortable black leather office chair that you usually spent most of your days in while you worked on your designs. You figured that would be fine to recline in while you went into the game.

After getting yourself a filling breakfast you fed Velvet and Tiger a little extra, not knowing how long you’d be in the game. Part of you hoped that your mom would be satisfied if you just tried it for 30 minutes or so, then you could get back to the practical reality you preferred to live in. But you still wanted to be prepared in case the impossible happened and you actually enjoyed yourself.

You picked up the sleek looking packaging that held the headset and the game you had been given. You let out a sigh and looked over to your pets, “lets give this a shot huh?” you said, looking at them as if they could understand you.

When you arrived to your office you plopped down into your comfy chair and finally opened the packaging. The headset was shiny and heavy, looking similar to a motorcycle helmet. In the back by the base of the neck there was a long wire the same shade of silver as the rest of the headset. You pulled out the instructions from the box and skimmed it over.

“Internal battery, internal memory to store data, in game items, and achievements”

“Pre-programmed with Faerie Realm installed, no updates or installation required”

“To enter the game is simple, put on the headset and click the large button on the side of the headset and say the command ‘LINK START’”

You felt skeptical of this whole thing, but you reasoned that they wouldn’t sell it to the public if it was unsafe.

With one last see ya later to Tiger and Velvet you plugged in the headset and carefully placed it over your head. It was a snug fit and there were straps to secure it underneath your chin.

A small wave of nervousness ran over you, you took a few deep breaths and put your pointer finger to the side of the headset and held the button. Loud and enunciated so as not to mess this up somehow, you said the command…

“LINK START”

Almost instantly, like falling asleep suddenly, everything went dark. It only lasted a few seconds until you were standing in a bright, white, empty room with no doors or windows. You looked to your left and right in a slight panic, you felt like you could hear some music start to play.

Then, catching you off guard a giant holographic screen projected onto the wall in front of you.

“Welcome new player!” A chipper voice rang out from the direction of the screen “It’s time to chose your fairy race, and dive into the world of Faerie Realm! Point your hand straight out fingers spread out to the screen and swipe to the right to scroll through the choices, make a fist for 10 seconds at the screen on the page of the Fairy race you choose and you will move on to the next step!”

On the screen an example character popped and you giggled at it. It was an image of you, but not totally you. Your hair was longer than in real life and it was dyed a turquoise shade of blue, you were wearing a tight royal blue and white dress that was much shorter than anything you’d ever worn before.

You had to admit from a designers point of view, that it was pretty interesting how they’d managed to do that. The thing that really caught your eye was that coming from behind your back was a pair of beautiful shimmering turquoise wings matching the hair, they were slightly transparent and had a light blue glow coming off of them. The title under this character “Water Fairy”

You scrolled over the other choices shortly, five options of fairy races each with different styles, perks and nerdy sounding stats you didn’t even bother to read. You were mostly focused on the look, and none stood out as much as the first you had seen and you settle on the Water Fairy, holding out a fist to the screen as it instructed.

The next step you were prompted to complete was to choose a username. You decide on “Velvet Tiger” in honor of your bestfriends at home. Once you held out your fist again to declare that you were sure of your name, the room turned dark again. Next you felt like you were falling, falling falling, and the perky voice echoed around you “Have fun in Faerie Realm!!”

With a loud thud you felt yourself hit grass, strangely you felt no sort of pain from your fall, odd.

You picked yourself up from the ground and brushed the dirt off of what you now realized was the same blue dress from the screen. You pull your now extremely long hair in front of your face to see it was indeed also the hair you had seen on yourself in the preview. “Color me impressed” You chuckled aloud.

You started to look around to get a bearing on your surroundings. “Umm...what exactly am I supposed to do?” You spoke aloud again, not sure if you were hoping someone would answer or that some sort of screen would pop up at your question. But nothing happened.

You were alone in the middle of the most perfect flowering field you’d ever seen in your life, it was beautiful, cream colored daisies scattered all around you. It was sunny and bright and the temperature was perfect. You could feel a light breeze press on your cheek, you brought your hand up to your face. “Woah…” you muttered. It was crazy to think none of this was real.

A noise suddenly snapped you out of your state of awe. You cocked your head to the side slightly. It was a humming noise getting louder and louder by the second.

To your surprise and horror the objects in question made themselves visible. “What the fuck!!!” You scream, and immediately start to book it in the opposite direction.

BEES? But not just regular bees, a swarm of GIANT bees about the size of your cats were headed straight towards you. You found yourself screaming out a series of fucks and holy shits as you tried to outrun the swarm, they were catching up faster than you could run. ‘Thanks mom, this is real fun’, you thought.

You were about to get to a treeline that was up ahead when you tripped and fell flat on your face, you winced, not because it hurt, (you realized this game must not let you feel pain, which is nice), but because you were just embracing the fact that giant bees were about to be your ‘game over’ only 5 minutes into the game.

A loud POW sounded out right behind you and you covered your ears and buried your head into the ground. A crackling noise like fireworks followed. And then...a beautiful sound.

“You okay miss?” A silvery voice spoke from above you.

You uncovered your ears and lifted your head up from your embarrassing position you had assumed when you thought your demise in this game was upon you.

What you saw when your eyes met the figure standing over you took your breath away. You had to try and keep a straight face and contain your awe so as not to further embarrass yourself.

The man standing over you looked like an angel covered in black. He had on a tight fitting black shirt with a gray jacket that was styled fitting to the theme of this game draped over top, and tight black skinny jeans to go with. From behind his back you could see a pair of shimmering translucent wings similar in design to yours but the color was a charcoal black.

He extended a strong looking hand towards you, but you were still frozen in a combination of awe and embarrassment. He retracted his hand, chuckled, and ran his fingers through his pitch black hair. You scurried to get up on your own snapping out of your daze and standing eye to eye with the man you asume must’ve just saved your ass from the killer bees.

“Um, thank you” You nervously mumbled his way. His eyes were kind as he met your gaze with a smile. You had to force yourself to keep your eyes on his as they seemed compelled to trail over all of his body. “You’re welcome” His smile grew bigger than it previously was. “You’re lucky I got here when I did! They were gearing up for some power stings that definitely would’ve sent you to a black screen at your level”

“At….my level?” You said with confusion. “Yeah, I can see your level right there” he pointed just to the left of your face. You for the first time notice a small screen was there that had your username, level, health and an option for ‘menu’ listed. “Oh..” you managed an awkward smile. You realized you could see his too, ‘Kookie, level 10, full health’ listed on the screen hovering next to him.

“I’ve been here since 12am when it opened” he said sheepishly running his hand through his hair again. “Games are kinda my thing and when I heard this was coming out I wanted to get ahead right away...did you just get here or something?” He questioned.

“Yeah, literally just a few minutes ago” you laughed “That was about to be a real short run” you winced at the not too distant memory. “I...uh..games aren’t really my thing”

He smirked at your comment “You don’t say?” he teased. You stuck your tongue out at him, then immediately felt embarrassed. Not totally sure what came over you to do that to a total stranger, but hey, it is just a game and he started it right? So you shook off the awkward feeling and decided to just go with it. He laughed a full belly laugh at your action and shook his head “Ok, I like your style ma’m, so I’m gonna take pity on your and show you the ropes here” He spoke cockily.

“Oh? And what makes you think I need your help?” You tried to come back with, only eliciting further laughter from him. “You’re right,” he put his hands up in fake defeat “those bees were completely defenseless to your ‘duck and cover in the middle of a field’ fighting methods”

You pouted slightly at the mention of that embarrassing part of the incident that had just occurred you are hoping to just pretend didn’t happen.

“Fiiine” you sighed “I really don’t know what I’m doing here, but don't take me for some damsel in distress that's going to worship you as her hero now or anything like that” His eyebrows raised high taken aback by your bluntness. “Of course. I have no doubt you take care of yourself well in the real world, on first impressions you seem to be a strong, independent woman…I admire that in a lady” he assured in an honest and serious tone, but then He stopped and took a few steps closer to you standing so close it sent a shiver up your spine.

He leaned in to your ear, tone changing from his previous statement into a more smooth and sultry whisper “But this isn’t the real world...you’ve stepped into my world now.” He pulled away, a smirk on his face.

Your eyes widened. What have you gotten yourself into…

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#ot7 x reader #bts au #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jhope x reader #jin x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader

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1dffexchange · 5 years

Photo

Making Moments

To: Lisa @tinyfelthat

From: Ally @allywrites

Summary: Jasmine Moore has had a tough year. Her first chance of redemption in 2019 is to attend her cousin’s wedding and make the best of it. She’s determined to make it out alive despite most of the guests knowing the embarrassing truth about her recent breakup - one that nearly ruined any plans of a civil wedding party. Now, with her ex uninvited, she needs to play nice with his replacement - a cocky, charming, and aggravating addition brought in last minute to ensure an equal number of bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Making Moments - a one-shot about champagne, smiling through the pain, and debating the true meaning of a quarter-life crisis.

“Another, please,” I asked the bartender, pushing my glass toward his side of the counter.

He gave me a look of commiseration before grabbing a bottle of Bourbon. As it was only four p.m., the bar was virtually empty save for me and the waitstaff setting up for dinner.

I felt pathetic, drinking alone at a hotel bar in the middle of the afternoon on the eve of my cousin’s wedding.

“Cheers,” I said to him lamely, raising my glass before downing the Old Fashioned in two swallows.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly describe this as a cheery sight.”

I flinched at the voice coming from beside me. The intruder pulled out the stool to my right and sat down.

I turned to glare at the man occupying so much space so close to me. His hair was styled neatly on his head, and his eyes looked too cheerful for my liking. I wanted to know how this person felt comfortable enough to walk up to a stranger and make a judgmental comment as a way of greeting.

“Can I help you?” I asked bluntly. If he wasn’t one for making positive first impressions, I felt no need to reciprocate.

“Yes, actually,” he replied, smirking. I rolled my eyes, turning back to the bar, expecting to hear a god-awful pickup line or something as equally cringe-worthy. “You’re going to make us late for our date.”

Admittedly, I hadn’t heard that one before, but I was not impressed. At my silence, he continued.

“Jasmine.”

I turned my head sharply to look at him.

“How do you know my name?”

He smirked, taking my glass out of my hand and putting on the other side of the bar, out of my reach.

“I told you,” he replied. “I’m your date tonight. To Thalia and Niall’s rehearsal and dinner.”

“But I don’t know you,” I said, staring at him, dumbfound.

“I’m the replacement groomsman. For the dickhead that got himself uninvited.”

I paused, trying to process everything. “Replacement groomsman?” I repeated.

“Yeah, Niall was telling me about him the other night. Wouldn’t say all that much but mentioned that he was a snobby sod with his head up his arse.” The man shrugged and my mouth hung open like that of a dead fish. “I never met the guy, but I know you must have to do something outrageously foolish to get uninvited to any event of Niall Horan and Thalia Moore.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to collect my racing thoughts. There was a new groomsman? I supposed it made sense, logically thinking about how much of the wedding and rehearsal procedures required bridesmaids and groomsmen to move in pairs. I couldn’t believe Thalia hadn’t told me though.

Interpreting my silence as invitation to keep rambling, he continued. “Niall couldn’t even kill a spider in uni, and when I went to do it, he’d yell and tell me to ‘let him outside.’ And Niall used to make this god-awful taco casserole for dinner, and Thalia ate it once a week for three months even though she hated it! She didn’t say a word to him about it because she knew it was one of the only meals he knew how to cook.”

In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t hesitate to agree. It was entirely out of character for Thalia and Niall to uninvite a guest to an event of theirs. But I was just trying to digest the fact that Thalia had invited this chatty, boisterous man to accompany me throughout tonight and tomorrow – and hadn’t told me about it.

Meanwhile, this man was continuing to talk my ear off. I turned to him, checking my watch and deciding that it was time to go. When he didn’t pick up on my various cues of being ready for departure, including taking my jacket off the barstool from behind me and standing and slinging my purse over my shoulder, I lost what little patience I had.

“Excuse me,” I interrupted. “One of the very first things you said to me was an insinuation that I would make us late. Yet here you are, chatting my ear off with all of this nonsense. And I don’t even know your name.”

That shut him up. I relaxed my shoulders a bit, grateful for the momentary silence, no matter how brief.

“I’m Harry.” After a moment, he stuck out his hand, and I decided that while my [lack of] manners may not have been my finest attribute, I would never be rude enough to refuse a handshake.

“Jasmine,” I replied, although it was clear he already knew that.

“Nice to meet you.”

I didn’t reply, just tried my best to smile in return. When he remained silent as well, I shrugged my jacket on over my shoulders.

“Well then,” I sighed. “Guess we should be heading to the church.”

He waited patiently as I gathered my things, but the smirk on his face left me remaining uneasy.

“Isn’t it a sin to walk into a church drunk?”

I glared at him. “I’m not drunk,” I argued, but standing up left me feeling a little uneasy on my feet.

I headed toward the lobby, knowing that he would follow behind me. He rushed to stay near.

“How did you know where to find me?” I eventually asked as we walked toward the limousine where I’m sure the bride, groom, and the rest of the bridal party were already waiting.

“Thalia sent me out to hunt down a prickly-looking ginger with tattoos. I saw you at the bar and figured you must be the one.”

I would have made a snarky comment in reply, but the driver had already opened the door, revealing Thalia, Niall, and the eight other members of our party. We were greeted warmly, and I slunk into the vehicle, sliding over to allow Harry some room.

Thalia caught my eye, and her expression was intense. She was trying to read me like a book, and I prayed that my face gave nothing of my internal stress away. Finally, she smiled, reaching over and taking my hand.

I will make it through this weekend, I promised myself. And I will not allow my unhappiness to become a blight in Thalia’s special day.

*~*~*~*~*~*

As soon as my alarm clock went off at five o’clock the following morning, I knew I was not destined to have a good day.

Rubbing my eyes, remnants of last night’s rehearsal dinner makeup smudging on my cheeks, I turned over, harshly tapping the silence alarm button on my phone. I stared blankly at the hotel room around me, trying my best to gather the courage to get my ass out of bed and face the day like an adult. Huffing, I threw back the covers and shoved my feet into my slippers by the bed. I walked over to the small coffee pot by the mini fridge, pouring in water as the shower heated up.

Standing underneath the warm water, I wished that the burden of what the day would bring would wash away like the leftover mascara smudged underneath my eyes.

If he were here, Adam would’ve kissed me good morning before slinking quietly out of the hotel room to join Niall and the other groomsmen.

Stop thinking about him, I chastised myself. He’s not worth it.

It didn’t take me long to get ready, knowing that in a few hours, someone else would be doing my hair and makeup for me. I found a pair of leggings and a cozy sweater, grabbing my robe from the back of the door. I opened the closet to reveal a garment bag and a pair of delicate heels on the floor beneath.

I unzipped the bag a bit, glaring at the tight, black material. I was worried that it wouldn’t fit as well as it did during the initial fitting back in September. I loved Thalia with my whole heart, but a wedding in January sounded like the worst time of year. Not only was the weather usually crappy, but I felt the cushion of some extra pounds after the holidays. Deciding not to risk it, I talked myself out of walking down to the continental breakfast and making a waffle, sticking to just the coffee until I at least was zipped into the dress.

Arms loaded with my dress, shoes, and accessories, I headed downstairs to the conference room my aunt had reserved for the bridal party to get ready.

Despite arriving 10 minutes before the decided time, I was the last to show up. My cousin, Thalia, the beaming bride-to-be, was in a chair having her hair brushed by a stylist, a curling wand heating up off to the side.

“Jazzy!” Thalia called to me. “Good morning!”

I smiled, shutting the door behind me to keep the music coming from a speaker on the wall from bleeding into the quiet hallway. Hanging up my dress on a rack, I walked over to where she was seated. Her skin was glowing, her smile was beautiful, and she looked completely at ease.

“You look so beautiful, Thalia,” I told her, leaning into her outstretched arms.

“I’m not even ready yet!” she laughed.

“Still,” I said. “You’re excited?”

“Oh, Jasmine,” she told me, clutching my hands. “I can’t wait.”

I smiled at her, squeezing her hand, the diamond on her fourth finger glistening in the sunlight coming in from the window. I was sure I didn’t let my face betray me as I thought about a ring that had been on my finger only a month and a half prior – a stunning diamond with a beautiful silver band – but Thalia’s face fell slightly anyway.

“I’m so thankful you’re here. I know this day won’t be easy for you.”

I kept myself composed, setting her hand back down in her lap.

Shrugging, I said, “You’re my best friend. Nothing could keep me away.”

Thankfully, my Aunt Claire chose that moment to beckon the photographer over, inviting her to get shots of Thalia throughout her process of getting ready. I stepped out of the way, eyeing the trays of pastries with a glare before moving safely toward the other side of the room. I wasn’t very familiar with any of the members of the bridal apart from the maid-of-honor, Thalia’s childhood best friend. We had played together at many of Thalia’s birthday parties, had both been invited to the same sleepovers at my Aunt Claire and Uncle Ian’s.

She handed me a mimosa and a coffee as I walked over to greet her.

“Jasmine,” she grinned. “You look beautiful. I love your hairstyle.”

“Thank you, Eva,” I replied, adjusting my hair over my shoulder. “I decided to go with a shorter look.”

“It suits you,” she replied kindly.

Before I could say any more, we were being rushed to our designated chairs to be primped, plucked, and prodded.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two more mimosas, three complaints from the stylist about what she would do with my short hair, and four near-crises involving the flower delivery, we were finally ready to head over to the chapel. I stood by the window, wrap over my shoulders. Looking at the white snow outside, I knew this draping shawl would do more for fashion than it would for function. I might not even have to worry about surviving so many awkward interactions during the wedding reception if I froze to death during the pictures beforehand. No need to worry about the How are you doings or the Have you spoken with Adam lately? No questions about my quest back into the dating game.

I was debating forgoing the shawl altogether, just for the increased risk of hypothermia, when I saw a flash of white out of the corner of my eye.

I turned, taking in Thalia in all of her glory.

Her dress was beautiful, a simple A-line skirt of chiffon, lace sleeves making the dress look delicate but suitable for winter. Her blonde hair was in a gorgeous braid, her veil framing her face.

“Thalia,” I breathed. “You look gorgeous.”

Taking in my closest friend since birth on one of the happiest days of her life, I couldn’t stop my eyes from stinging.

“Stop it!” she chastised, her own eyes becoming wet. She reached to the side and pulled a wad of tissues from the box. “You’ll ruin your makeup and make me ruin my own.”

I took one from her, dabbing beneath my eyes. “I’m so happy for you,” I told her through my sniffles. “Niall is so great. If you’re in the room, he’s beaming at you. I’ve never seen anyone look so in love.”

I was so happy for my cousin, thinking of the bright future ahead of her. Full of happiness and love and little blonde-haired babies. For the first time in what felt like weeks, I wasn’t thinking about my heartbreak or the way I felt like I was floating aimlessly through life.

But I could tell that Thalia had had some mimosas of her own as she tearfully said, “I’m so sorry about Adam.”

I blinked, immediately sobered. I didn’t want to talk about him. And I wanted people to stop acting like he was dead.

“Thalia-” I said, trying to cut her off.

“But to be honest,” she continued. “I never liked him.” She shook her head. “He couldn’t hold a candle to you. And to see you so upset makes me so sad because you’re so much better than him.”

I inhaled sharply, sniffling. “But I’m not,” I said weakly.

She gripped my shoulder, looking me dead in the eye.

“Yes,” she argued. “You are.” She paused for a moment, as if waiting for the words to sink into my skin. “That’s why I told Niall to ask Harry to be his replacement today.” What little energy I had for a conversation like this immediately disappeared at the mention of his name. “Harry will do right by you today.”

Do right by me? I wanted to repeat. What, were we living in the eighteenth century?

I wasn’t going to argue with her, not on her wedding day. I just gave her an exasperated look at took her arm in mine, leading her toward the doors.

“C’mon, then,” I said, ushering her out. “It’s showtime.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

No matter how many wedding scenes I’d watched in movies, there never seemed to be a perfect way to walk down the aisle as a bridesmaid. It was no different in real life. No one cared about me or any of the other four women. All they wanted was to do was see Thalia in her dress and catch a glimpse of Niall as he took in his bride for the first time on their wedding day.

I paced myself as I strolled as carefully as possible down the long stretch flanked by gardenias, Pachelbel’s Canon in D flowing from the piano and the flute accompaniment.

Niall gave me a friendly wink as he caught my eye, looking dapper in his tuxedo. I let my eyes travel down the row of groomsmen, all looking dashing and prepped to perfection. I paused to take in the man with curly hair three people down from Niall, the mirror position of where I would stand on the other side of Thalia.

Harry stood confidently beside the altar, arms folded in front of him. His dark suit framed his form nicely, his hair styled neatly. He had that ever-present glint in his eye as he watched me walk toward the front of the church.

I felt a brief wave of vertigo that I didn’t think was completely due to the mimosas that morning. I tried my best to hide my slight stumble, but it was clear that Harry had caught it. He pressed his lips together to contain his smile as I walked the last few feet.

Everyone stood as the music changed, signaling the arrival of Thalia on the arm of my Uncle Ian. Already knowing how stunning she looked, I turned away from the vestibule of the church, instead looking to Niall.

Niall’s eyes were filled with such an intense amount of love, lust, and longing that I almost felt the need to look away, as if I were intruding on a private moment instead of taking all of the important elements of the wedding ceremony. Against my will, eyes travelled down the line of men again to settle on Harry, who had already been looking at me.

He didn’t look away when our eyes connected, but I did, immediately turning back to Thalia who had now arrived at the altar and was being given away by her father.

By the end of the ceremony, I was hungry and anxious. From the rehearsal yesterday, I knew that I’d have to walk arm-in-arm out of the church with Harry. Then it was time for pictures… once again, most likely paired with Harry.

I didn’t have the patience required look at his stupid, fluffy hair and stupid shiny eyes for hours on end. From the smug look he gave me when he offered his arm, I knew that he was aware of my overall distaste of being in his presence.

Since he couldn’t talk during our exit, walking next to him down the aisle wasn’t all that bad. The limo ride to the location of the pictures, however, was another thing altogether. Harry had opened a bottle of champagne, ignoring my requests that he not hold the bottle so close to the hem of my dress as he opened it. He brushed off my concern, convinced everything would be fine.

However, just as I anticipated, when the cork flew off the top, bubbles overflowed the rim of the bottle, spilling all over the skirt of my dress, soaking right through to the skin of my legs and feet. It was less than ideal, especially considering the freezing temperatures. Harry tried to apologize profusely but I batted him away, digging for some tissues in my clutch and trying my very best to blot away the liquid, thankful that the dress was black and wouldn’t look stained in the pictures

“Oh fuck,” Harry said. “I am so sorry.”

We had the attention of everyone else in the limo, so I limited my reaction to a non-reply. What seemed like hours later, we finally arrived at the site we would be taking pictures. We were told to wait inside the clubhouse while the photographer set up a few scenes.

I went straight over to the fireplace, hoping the heat would dry the hem and leave me feeling less frozen. I gripped my skirt between my fingers, trying to spread the fabric and expose as much of the wet area to the heat as possible. I could hear a group gathering by the bar behind me, but I stayed focused on my task.

“Jazzy!” A voice came from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, spotting Niall calling out to me, his arm around Thalia. “Be with the people, love.”

Thalia smiled at me, adjusting Niall’s jacket that was draped over her shoulders as I approached. Half of the groomsmen were outside smoking cigars, Harry included, and the other half were in here drinking more beer. I glanced out the window at the large puffs of gray clouds coming from the men. I couldn’t keep the scowl off my face when I thought about standing next to Harry for pictures, his suit reeking of smoke.

Thalia wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “You doing alright, lovey?” Her eyes were on me, and despite the fog of intoxication and the smell of champagne on her breath, I knew she was truly concerned.

I softened, placing a hand on her back. “I’m okay,” I said. “I don’t want you to worry about me. It’s your day.”

I needed to get my act together if Niall and Thalia could tell I was upset. Harry may have thought I was bitchy and bitter, and today I certainly hadn’t been acting my best, but Thalia was my best friend and cousin, and Niall was now family.

“Did something happen?”

I shook my head, thanking any deity above that the photographer chose that moment to call Thalia and Niall outside.

Tail between my legs, I made my way out to the outdoor patio when the photographer called Thalia and Niall outside for pictures. Harry’s eyes were locked on me as soon as he heard me open the door. I needed to clutch the fencing surrounding the brick as I wobbled on my fee. Champagne and an empty stomach did not go hand-in-hand.

At this point, if not for the alcohol, my blood sugar would have probably sent me spiraling into a coma. There’d been no time to squeeze in any snacks between finally getting the dress zipped and heading out to the church.

I shifted my weight as I stood in front of Harry, my feet aching. Couldn’t they have anticipated this long wait between the ceremony and dinner? Thalia and Niall had run off somewhere to frolic through the snow and the growling emitting from my stomach was sounding less like a nagging reminder and more like a beastly threat.

“This is always the worst part of the wedding, innit?” Harry said by way of greeting.

“What’s the worst part?” I asked.

“The ‘hurry up and wait’ of it all,” he continued. “Sit through the ceremony and then be rewarded with a two-hour wait before food.”

“A couple spreads of hors-d’oeuvres would have done a wonder of good,” I agreed wryly, bringing the flute of champagne back up to my lips

I glanced through the windows to the room inside in despair, not a veggie platter or spare cracker in sight. My stomach whined again at the thought.

There was a moment of awkwardness as we formed some sort of connection over our shared dissatisfaction at the extra time before the reception officially began.

“You’re hungry?” he asked, hearing my stomach growl. I watched him as he unbuttoned his coat. “You should’ve just said.”

He reached a hand into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket, the sound of plastic crinkling as pulled out an item. A small smile on his face as he presented them to me.

“Peanut Butter Ritz?” I asked, eyeing the small pack of cracker sandwiches.

“Want to split them with me?” he asked, long fingers already tearing open the package. I nodded shyly, embarrassed that I’d been so nasty to him and he was still showing me kindness.

“So,” Harry continued once we’d finished our snacks, my stomach briefly satiated although I knew I’d need to find something again soon. “What song is being used for our grand entrance?”

I swallowed hard, nearly choking on the bubbly drink. Weakened with hunger, I had completely forgotten about the entrance each couple of the bridal party was expected to do. We were supposed to dance through or do something equally as embarrassing to a song of our choice. Back when it had been Adam and I, we’d chosen Shape of You by Ed Sheeran. I had no idea if that song was still being played, or if Thalia had changed it sometime between our breakup and now.

“It’s time to line up!” My Aunt Claire’s voice jarred me, and I quickly glanced at Harry. He grabbed the now empty champagne flute out of my hand and set it on the mantle nearby. We all were arranged according to the photographer’s satisfaction.

We were the fourth couple to take pictures, so we had a few spare minutes before having to put on a show for the camera and the rest of the bridal party. Harry was stiff beside me, still clearly as uncomfortable as I was, although for perhaps different reasons. I decided that I owed it to him to explain some of my [irrational] behavior.

“You may or may not have noticed, but I can be a bit headstrong.”

“‘Headstrong?’” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Is that how you describe stubborn, sulky, and overbearing?”

Ignoring him, I continued, “So when I found out that you were Adam’s replacement… I let my lingering upset feelings shadow rational thought. Internally, I think I blamed you for Adam’s absence even though you had nothing to do with it.”

Harry chewed on his bottom lip, and I traced my finger around the outside of my glass.

“The two of you were together for a while then?” he asked quietly.

“Six years,” I told him. I paused, adding, “We were supposed to be getting married in June.”

I felt Harry’s gaze on my face, but I traced a line in the condensation on the outside of my glass. Finally, he spoke, “I’m sorry that happened to you. Six years is a long time.”

I looked up at him. Gone was the mischievous glint in his eye. Instead, there was understanding and sympathy. And, to my relief, no pity. That may have been why I continued.

“He was so successful. We met at university, but he studied business administration and I studied English. I knew that it would be hard post-grad, but a part of me was content keeping my entry-level position and supporting him while we raised a family. I was never hellbent on making a career for myself. I just wanted to be with him.” I took a sip of my water, swallowing before I continued. “But he was working his way up a large company that sells steel. He works with so many confident employees, many of them women. More than you’d expect.”

Harry’s eyes never left mine, even though I had to look away every few seconds because I felt like I might melt under the intensity of his gaze.

“He started having an affair. He had been distant, and one day he was in the shower when I heard his phone vibrate. I happened to glance over at the screen and saw a name. Bridgette. I didn’t recognize it, so I turned into a snoop. His passcode was still his birthday, and I read their text messages. It was pretty clear what was going on after that.”

“The worst part was that he blamed me. I didn’t challenge him, I wasn’t going anywhere in my career, I couldn’t keep up with him, and so on.” I swallowed. “And now I’m floating along aimlessly, my plans completely shattered, living in the middle of an existential crisis.”

Harry’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but I was staring at him closely enough that I caught it. I knew that sharing this was a horrible idea. I had no idea how I was supposed to make a good impression when I was unloading all of this on him.

My mind and mouth couldn’t seem to cooperate, however, because I ended up saying to him, “So now here I am, holding an entry-level position with only a bachelor’s degree in a field that requires at least a masters at twenty-five.” I swallowed, irrational thoughts of impending doom overtaking my mind. “I’m sorry. I think I’m having a quarter-life crisis.”

"Why does everyone call it a quarter-life crisis when they're 25?” Harry asked abruptly. “We're not all going to live to be 100, most people will probably only be like 87. So how about calling it a quarter-century crisis? That's so much more accurate!"

I blinked.

“I’m sorry,” I said blankly. “Was that supposed to be helpful?”

His mouth hung open as what he said finally sunk in. “I… was trying to say something to change the subject but I can see now that it did nothing to help your current situation. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” I continued, trying to move on. “Bottom line, I can be a bitch and I’m sorry. I knew that today wouldn’t be easy for me and I used you to channel some of my frustration and anger, which was very unfair.” Pausing, I looked up at him sincerely. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Forgiven,” he said without missing a beat, extending his hand. “I’ll hope you’ll forgive me for sticking my foot in my mouth several times tonight and being an overall pest.”

“Forgiven,” I repeated, shaking his hand.

*~*~*~*~*~*

As it turns out, Harry wasn’t half bad when I wasn’t going out of my way to find him annoying. Thalia had changed our entrance song to The Macarena, so we already had a choreographed dance to invite the crowd to join in on as we made our way to the head table. While the rest of the guests were occupied watching Niall and Thalia dance their way to their seats, he had snuck off and gotten me a plate of cheese and veggies from some unknown source.

We did a few obligatory dances, which Harry was awful at, but I was laughing so hard throughout them that it was almost possible to forget how miserable I’d been earlier in the day. I could tell that Harry was trying his best to make the night as enjoyable as possible, and I wish that I’d been easier on him before so that we could’ve been having more fun together throughout the rehearsals and picture taking.

By the end of the night, I sat back down at my seat, slumped over the table, exhausted, my high heels kicked off beneath the table. Harry stole the seat beside me, placing a hand on the back of my chair.

“All right?” he asked me.

I nodded, eyes getting heavy. “I’m too tired to party any more. I’m ready to turn in.”

Harry stood, offering me his hand. “I can walk you up to your room.”

Conveniently, the reception was in the hotel where the bridal party rooms were booked. Harry helped me strap my shoes back on before leading me toward the lobby. The elevator ride to our floor was silent, and I took the time to really admire his appearance. His skin was glowing from the exertion on the dance floor and the stress of the day. His tuxedo fit him nicely, tailored to perfection.

I remembered the saying the best way to get over one man is to get under another. I wondered if that were true.

“Harry,” I said. He didn’t reply verbally but rose his eyebrows, silently encouraging me. “Do you want to come to my room?”

He straightened as he took in my words.

“Aren’t you really drunk right now?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “I feel almost completely sober at this point.”

“Then sure,” he said, shrugging, but I could see his hands shake slightly as he gestured for me to exit the elevator before him.

I grabbed my keycard from my clutch, opening the door and throwing it on the side table. I turned around to see him standing there by the door, hesitating.

“Come in,” I said, walking further into the room. “Just let me… freshen up a bit.”

I went into the bathroom, applied more deodorant and brushed my teeth. I grabbed a makeup wipe from beside the sink, wiping away the thick layers that had been applied over twelve hours earlier.

When I reentered the room, Harry was still standing up, reading a flyer left by the housekeeping staff about local sites to visit. I walked up to him, gently taking the paper from his hand and putting it back on the table. I ran my hands along the front of his shirt, underneath his tuxedo jacket, pushing it gently off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it before moving to unbutton his shirt.

So, this is how this sort of thing goes, I thought to myself. We just get right to it?

I bit my lip, shifting my weight on my feet. Harry caught the movement, looking up.

He paused, fingers on the buttons by his wrist. “We can stop right now if you want,” he said quietly. “I’ll find a pay-per-view movie and we can drink more champagne.”

Charmed by his sweet offer, I paused, shaking my head. “No, I want to do this,” I told him. “I’ve just never been with anyone other than Adam.”

He tilted his head to the side, eyes friendly but amused.

“Are you,” he breathed, “nervous?”

When I didn’t reply immediately, he continued.

“Prickly, outspoken, pigheaded Jasmine Moore is nervous?”

I forced my feet to stay rooted to the ground as he slowly moved toward me. He had resumed unbuttoning the buttons by his wrists and slowly shrugged off his shirt. My gaze ran over his tan, muscled arms. I traced tattoos with my eyes, caressed smooth skin with my gaze. Up his arms, across the bit of chest that was exposed above the collar of his undershirt, up that long neck, and into those green eyes, bright even in the low lighting.

His gaze was provocative, not only that of a sexual nature, but I was reminded that before getting swept up in the sight of him wearing almost no shirt, he had been egging me on. His eyes shined with mirth, waiting for a retort. If he was trying to get me angry again, it was working. And I was grateful for it. Anger and impatience gave me confidence. He was throwing me a bone.

“I’m not nervous,” I said, my voice gaining strength. To prove it to him, I reached up and began carefully removing the pins from my hair. He watched my fingers work, following the tendrils until my auburn hair was down and framing my face. Smirking at him, I turned away, pulling my hair over one shoulder and showing him my back.

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Unzip my dress for me,” I instructed.

His approach was slow, deliberate. He gently took the small zipper between his fingers, dragging it down my spine until he reached the end, just above my ass.

Before he could do anything further, I turned to face him once again. I stood before him in a black bra and matching pair of Spanx. Not exactly ideal lingerie, but I hadn’t been expecting to take anyone back with me to my hotel room at the end of the night. And anyway, judging by the look on Harry’s face, he wasn’t disappointed.

“You’ve been wearing this all day, have you?” he asked, gesturing to the tight fabric around my stomach and hips. “Best to get it off then?”

To be honest, I had been counting down the moments until I could get this blasted thing off. But Harry was playing, and I wanted to play right back.

“Not so fast,” I told him. “Take off your undershirt and trousers. I want to look at you.”

Amused, Harry waited a moment before reaching behind his head and tugging the collar of his tank top over his head. I watched his abdominal muscles flex as he folded his shirt and carefully placed it on the dresser. Without pause, he then went to remove his watch, biceps flexing with his arms in front of him. Making eye contact with me again, he brought his hands down to his belt buckle, undoing it lazily before unzipping his trousers and letting them drop to the floor, kicking off his shoes and taking off his socks.

And there he stood, just in front of me, in nothing but his boxer briefs, begging to be touched. I walked over to him, placing my hands on his chest. He lowered his face until it was close to mine, our noses brushing. His hot breath on my lips. When I felt him leaning in for a kiss, I took a step back, teasing.

He looked exasperated before he realized what I was doing. I hooked my thumbs into the elastic band at the top of my Spanx, trying my best to shimmy out of the fabric in a sexy way and not an “oh my god get me the fuck out of this” way. Mentally, I was quite closer to the latter.

“Much better,” I couldn’t help but sigh out when the restrictive fabric was pooled at the ground by my feet.

“I have to agree,” he replied, stepping toward me.

Now that our physical barriers were slowly disappearing, my emotional barriers seemed to have become a fortress. Even now, I couldn’t believe I was about to have sex with someone other than Adam. Having had no one but him for six years – or, really, no one but him for all of my twenty-five years – I couldn’t help but feel like this was a betrayal. But then I remembered that he had done exactly this while we were will still dating. While we were engaged. Any ounce of betrayal I felt transformed into dizzying nausea at the thought of someone else seeing him like this – especially when I had been home waiting for him.

Harry’s hand gently reached out to cup my cheek. “You alright?” he asked, his thumb stroking my chin.

I held his wrist in my hand, nodding. “Kiss me.”

His eyes went back and forth between mine and my lips twice before they closed, and his mouth was touching mine. I tilted my head, pressing my lips gently back.

And with that, all thoughts of Adam were extinguished from my mind. The feel of his skin on mine held me prisoner, the taste of his mouth was consuming, and his hands wound in my hair eclipsed almost everything else as our kiss lengthened and our gasps of breath shortened.

He started leading me toward the bed, my feet stumbling in my heels as he gently pushed me backwards. I kicked them off my feet once I was horizontal, the sound of them hitting the floor distracting neither of us, too focused at the task at hand.

My legs bracketed his hips, pulling him closer. His lips trailed down to my abdomen, kissing the skin. I gasped when he went so far as to gently pull the skin just below my navel in between his teeth.

“I wanted you from the moment I first saw you,” he said, voice low and gravelly and deep in his throat. “And then you opened your mouth, venomous sneers on your tongue, and I wanted you even more.”

My heart, already racing, was given a kickstart as heat pulled between my legs.

“That doesn’t make much sense,” I replied, desperate for him to do something else with his mouth as his hands slowly traced the skin of my hips and waist.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. He reached behind me to unhook my bra, tossing it onto the floor. He stared at my nipples, hard enough to cut glass. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

He took my right breast into his mouth, warm and wet, his tongue deadly. I tangled my hands into his messy hair, stray curls falling in front of his forehead.

“Please,” I gasped.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, mouth still at my breast.

“Please do something.”

“I am,” he grunted. “And I will not be rushed.”

All day, it had felt like I had been the one in control. He was walking around eggshells, working to please and impress me any way possible. Now, the dynamic had completely flipped. I felt like begging him to please just fuck me, dignity and pride aside. All it took were a few burning looks and searing kisses and I had transformed into complete putty in front of his eyes.

Mercifully, he stood up, fingers hooking in the sides of my underwear and slowly pulling them down my legs. In other circumstances, I may have been embarrassed at how ready he found me beneath the cotton, but I was drunk, had been stuck next to him nearly all day, staring at his beautiful body and handsome face, and it had been a while since I’d had the opportunity to be intimate with someone.

He looked up at my face briefly before settling on his knees before the bed and putting his mouth on my core. So this was what I had been missing out on for six years.

By the time he decided he was finished (and after I had nearly finished twice). He stood up, walking toward his discarded trousers on the floor. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a condom. I watched him, still naked and spread on the bed as he approached me once more and pulled down on his boxers.

I took him in, naked and hard before me. I made no effort to hide the effect seeing him in all his glory had on me. He was certainly gifted… in all aspects of his anatomy. Judging by the expression on his face, he was pleased with my reaction.

“How do you want it?” he asked me, staring at me lying before him.

I rolled onto my stomach, bending my knees and crossing my ankles behind me. “You choose,” I said coyly.

He chuckled, rounding the bed to the other side before surprising me and lying down on his back. He turned his head to look at me. Sensing my confusion, he said, “What are you waiting for?” He patted his bare thigh, just next to his cock. “Hop on.”

I bit my lip, intrigued. “Really?”

“If you want,” he replied easily. “But if you really were leaving it up to me to choose, this is how I’d do it. Definitely.”

I cocked my head to the side, pursing my lips and pretending to think about it.

“Fine,” I said, feigning resignation. I pushed up until I was on my knees, moving over to him. His hands came to my thighs as I moved to straddle him, steadying me as I adjusted. Reaching between us, I took him in my hand, stroking up and down his length a few times before guiding him to my entrance and slowly sinking down.

Harry’s hands tightened in reaction to the sensation and he let out a low groan. As I began to move on top of him, I grasped the back of his hands, moving them from my thighs to my breasts. He seemed quite pleased with their new position, even sitting up a bit to once again take one in his mouth. I continued to move my hips, tilting my head back as the pressure surmounted and the overwhelming sensation of being stimulated sent me over the edge. I rode it out as best as I could, but Harry gently flipped me back below him, taking over for me.

The effects of my orgasm left me feeling sensitive but having him inside me felt amazing and I never wanted it to stop. Eventually, however, he found his completion as well, his face buried in my neck and a low groan sounding in my ear. I ran my hands through his hair again, my fingers numb. After a few seconds of labored breathing, he rolled off me, disposing of the condom and settling on his back.

I felt his gaze on me and I eventually turned to look over at him.

“So?” he asked. “Was it a one-night-stand to remember?”

I laughed out loud, so hard that I even snorted. Harry started chuckling along with me.

Men, I thought to myself. Always so insecure in the bedroom.

“Yes,” I replied eventually, still giggling. “You did a fine job.”

He rolled his eyes, turning on his side after shutting off the lamp.

“Happy to be of service,” he said sardonically. “You didn’t do so bad yourself.”

It would certainly be a night I’d always remember, and not just because Thalia had gotten married. I’d allowed myself to loosen up a bit, and accepted the fact that life wasn’t always planned out. Sometimes it was better to live in the moment and make it count.

#1dff #exchanges

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