#Put if I don't go on that Thursday I have to wait so much longer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

formulaforza · 5 months

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miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—07. Homegrown —word count: 15.8k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... I don't really have much to say lol... just that I love this chapter and it got a little out of hand. I hope you love it like I do!

Chris takes a personal day at work on the Thursday Charles gets into Georgia. She wants to make sure she’s the one picking him up from the airport, doesn’t want to spend a single second longer than she needs to without seeing him, hugging him, kissing him.

His flight lands at 10:15, but by the time he gets through customs, baggage, and calls Chris three times after getting lost in the Atlanta airport, it’s 11:30. She finally finds him outside the Maynard Terminal, backpack slung over his shoulders, suitcase next to him. He looks so perfectly like a boyfriend, she thinks. “I can see you,” she says. “Do you see my car?”

“No,” he laughs, and it pours from the car speakers like sweet honey. “I don’t.”

“Okay, well, stay put, then. I’m coming to you.” She manages to make her way across two lanes to be right on the curb, and then he spots her, his whole expression taking shape when their eyes lock. She rolls her window down as he approaches, and slots the car into park. “Oh my god,” she giggles. “Is that Charles Leclerc?”

He rolls his eyes. “Open the trunk?”

“Charles Leclerc wants me to open the trunk?” She says, pushing the button on her door-panel to pop the hatch open.

“Charles Leclerc wants you,” he says, hoisting his suitcase up into the back of the car, tossing his backpack there, too. “Could have stopped there,” he chuckles, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. She blushes, a cheek-aching smile still on her face. He slams the trunk shut and makes his way around the car, opening the passenger door. “Hi, pretty girl,” he properly greets her. “What’s this?” He asks.

Sitting there, on the passenger seat, is a bouquet of flowers. Red roses, white roses, and white carnations for passion, new romance, and luck. Filler greens and red estelles for encouragement. Manilla and sheer white tissue paper wrap the flowers, a dark red ribbon tied into a bow around the stems. Next to it, is a matching envelope with his name scribbled in purple pen. Inside the envelope is a white greeting card with “just because” printed in simple, black lettering, a handwritten note from Chris on the inside.

Chris smiles. “They’re for you.”

“For me?” He asks, the hint of a giggle in his tone. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Chris shrugs, watches him carefully pick up the flowers and the card and climb into the car where he further examines them. “It’s not a big deal,” she says, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “I had to go with Hannah to the florist this morning.”

“No, it’s so cool. Nobody has ever gotten me flowers before.”

Chris frowns. “Never?”

“I mean,” he shrugs, “my mum once, but that doesn’t count,” and then he starts to open the envelope, but Chris stops him.

“No, please,” she says, her hand covering his. “I can’t watch you read it, I’ll die.”

He laughs, “you’re so cute.”

Her face stays straight and solemn. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” he sets the flowers and the card down securely between his feet. “I’ll wait.”

“Thank you.”

Chris can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. God, she feels like such a child. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to kiss you, now.”

“Okay,” she giggles. “You’re going to kiss me, now.”

His lips meet hers in a tender, lingering kiss. It’s like they hadn’t been apart at all, the way their mouths perfectly fit together. His hand finds her cheek, thumb moving carefully over her skin, letting her deepen the kiss. They let themselves just be for a few moments, to let everything else fade away and cling onto their perfect moment. “Seriously,” he says when they pull apart, and then he gives her another quick peck. “Thank you,” and then another on her forehead. “I missed you. How are you?”

“I’m good,” she nods. “Hungry. Very hungry. How are you?”

“Hungry, also.”

“How hungry?”

“Very.”

Chris nods, kisses him again, just because she can. Because she couldn’t for so many days. “I know a place, but it’s a surprise.”

It’s a twenty-three minute drive to Pig’n’Chik Barbeque in Northern Atlanta. Charles is visibly apprehensive of the little red building and the parking lot filled with the aroma of southern barbeque, but he keeps his commentary to himself. Chris knows it’s probably a little overkill, the hole-in-the wall joint being even a little too gimmicky for her taste, but that’s the whole point. The place is supposed to be gimmicky, while also being good. Chris used to love this place as a little kid—Bill would always take the kids there whenever they’d gone to the city. It was his favorite place then, and so it will always hold a place in her heart.

Charles holds open the door, a bell attached to it announcing their entrance, eliciting a greeting from the staff, a “Hey, guys! How’re you doing?”

“Good, thank you,” Chris smiles, moving through the restaurant towards the diner-style bar at the back. She holds her hand out behind her for Charles, turns to tell him: “You might not have been able to get a seat at your sushi bar, but I can get us up at the Pig’n’Chik bar,” she laughs.

Charles matches her laugh, a playful eye roll and the shake of his head before they’re sitting down on the red leather barstools.

She’s telling him before they even have the menus in front of them what they need to order; fried pickles to split, lemonade to drink because it’s not pig’n’chik without their lemonade. She’s going to order the shrimp and grits and he absolutely needs to have the catfish.

When he cocks his head at the idea of… eating… catfish… she tells him he’s not allowed to look it up, and that he also has to trust her. “It’s the best thing on the menu,” she says.

Charles quirks a brow. “Then why aren’t you eating it?”

“Because the hushpuppies will kill me,” she answers matter-of-factly. “Honestly, you probably shouldn’t eat them, either.” The grease that comes along with eating a deep-fried batter ball isn’t good for anyone’s system, especially not someone who isn’t used to this kind of food. The last thing she needs this weekend is a boyfriend who can’t be more than three feet from a bathroom.

It’s an hour and a half, at least, until they’re pulling into what Chris affectionately calls her “driveway.” Charles thinks that anyone else would more likely call it a dirt road. A trail, even, that turns into a driveway after the trees clear and you can actually see the house.

“This is all yours?” he asks, swears her yard is the size of his apartment lobby.

She nods. “I mean, it’s mostly trees, but, yeah.”

He’s taken on a tour of the old-style farmhouse, which, by the way, is so incredibly her you’d think the place was built for her—lots of beadboard, all this delicate woodworking that a FaceTime call has never been able to do justice. Thick glass windows with the frame painted over, no central heating or cooling, a couple window air conditioners and old radiators to boot. The most like her, though, is the back porch. It’s screened in, has a creek to the floor that the dusty, antique rugs can only attempt to muffle. There’s two couches that couldn’t match less, but still somehow go with each other, both cozy with throw pillows and cushions and warmth. The whole place smells like her, sounds like her, feels like her. He’s immediately comfortable.

Chris and Charles spend most of their afternoon trying to plan out their evening. Starting tomorrow morning, their weekend is on a strict schedule, so they want to make the most of their free time tonight before their dinner with her family. They want to make the most of it so badly that they can’t decide on anything at all, and end up falling asleep on her living room couch.

When Chris’ alarm goes off—the one she’d set the first time she caught herself dozing off, realizing Charles was already passed out next to her—they grumpily get ready to head over to her parents’ house. It’s then, while Charles navigates around Chris and the countertop of her makeup, that she tells him all about Thanksgiving, about her mom pointing out the hickey, and she offers up a warning. “They’re going to pretend they hate you for like, half an hour,” she tells him. “Pretend you’re intimidated.”

“And…” Charles begins, running gelled fingers through his hair. “What if they actually don’t like me?”

“My mom likes everyone,” she says, gestures away at his words. “And my Dad, well, you’ve already met him. He liked you good enough then.”

“He liked me enough to talk to me for ten minutes,” Charles counters. “That doesn’t mean he liked me enough to date his daughter.”

Chris smiles in the mirror, carefully applying her lipstick. “Lucky for you,” she says, “he doesn’t get a say.”

– – –

His leg bounces for the entirety of the ten-minute drive, so much so that at a stop light he can feel how much he shakes the car. Despite that, he doesn’t realize just how nervous he is until they’re in the driveway—which is just as long and trail-like as Chris’ is. Their house is bigger, though. Much bigger.

His palms are clammy, and he wipes them off on his jeans—should he have worn something nicer than jeans? Jeans are really all he brought besides clothes for the wedding, for sleeping, for working out in. Jeans are fine. Jeans are good. Their driveway is a dirt road, jeans are good.

“Relax,” Chris says, trying (and failing) to hold back a little chuckle. “It’s not that serious.” He rolls his eyes because it quite literally is that serious. You only get one chance to make a first impression on your girlfriend’s parents, and when your girlfriend is as close to their family as Chris is, it’s an impression you’d really rather not screw the fuck up. “And the longer we sit here, the longer they’re going to watch from the kitchen window.”

With a deep breath, he climbs out of the car, walks up the rest of the drive and onto the porch a pace behind Chris. She raises her hand to knock twice, turning the doorknob and letting herself in before anyone could even attempt to answer the knock. He steps in behind her, into a wallpapered entryway with a tall table full of keys and pictures and discarded mail on one side, and a wooden bench with tan throw pillows on the other side. “Mom! Dad! We’re here!” She shouts into the house.

A woman’s voice calls back, “in the kitchen! Dad’s upstairs in the office.”

Chris slips off her shoes and Charles follows suit, slotting them under the wooden bench next to hers. He hadn’t worn a coat, but she ducks into a hall closet to hang hers up. He’d worn a sweatshirt over a t-shirt, and he’s pretty sure he’d already sweat through the t-shirt.

He thinks he could smell his way to the kitchen, the way the scent of the home cooked dinner fills the entire house. He follows behind Chris like a lost puppy into the kitchen, and as soon as she turns the corner and walks through the archway, she’s being greeted by her mom, wrapped into an oven-mitt clad hug. He gets a perfect view of her mom, gaze slotted over Chris’ shoulder. She’s not so scary, he thinks. He can recognize more than one of Chris’ features on her face—in the way she smiles and the shape of her eyes, too. That’s where her smile comes from, and her eyes, too.

Over her shoulder, Chris’ mom opens her eyes, waves a bangle-bracelet clad, oven-mitt covered hand in his direction. Charles steps fully into the kitchen, determined to make a good first impression. “And I take it this,” her mom says, pulling away from the hug, “is the charming gentleman you’ve been telling me nothing about?”

Chris laughs, catching his eyes when she says: “Yes, Mom, this is Charles. Charles, this is my mom, Cindy.”

“Hi,” Charles offers a handshake. His friends had reminded him—briefed him, basically—that Americans are fond of their personal space, and he figures if Chris is right, and they are going to be playing the intimidation game with him, there’s no chance he’s getting anything more than a—

“Oh, please,” Cindy laughs, swatting his hand out of the way. “We hug in this family,” and he’s already being pulled in. His surprised eyes catch Chris’, who looks back at him with an oh, my God. I’m so sorry, glance, which makes him chuckle. If this is what pretending not to like him looks like, he’d hate to see what actually liking him is all about. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he hums, finally pulling away from the hug. “I have heard so much about you.”

“I can’t say the same,” Cindy laughs pointedly at Chris. “But what I have heard has all been good.”

“Well, anything you want to know, I came tonight with my life story ready.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Cindy nods. “Her dad’ll like that a lot.”

“Mama, where’s Beans?” Chris asks, and before he knows it he’s following her out into the backyard for the introduction that he knows is actually the most important. As they stepped onto the lush, green grass, a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. In the corner of the yard, the aforementioned Beans, a friendly Golden Retriever, lays beneath the growing shade of an old oak tree. The fur around his snout is a distinguished shade of white, and he looks up with wise, kind eyes as Chris approaches, his tail shaking slowly at her presence.

“Here he is, my Beanie Baby,” Chris says with affectionate enthusiasm, crouching down to stroke the dog’s ears. He follows suit, squatting down beside her. “Beanie, this is Charles.”

Charles approaches cautiously, fully aware of just how important this introduction was. He extends his hand, letting Beans sniff it gently. The elderly Golden accepts the gesture, the pace of his tail wagging picking up speed. “Hey Beans,” Charles said softly, voice warm. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

Beans responds with a content sigh, his old eyes conveying the years of love and happiness he’s had in this very yard. He leans into Charles’ touch, relishing in the attention.

Chris laughs, “I think he likes you. He’s a bit slower these days, but he’s still the sweetest dog you’ll ever meet.”

After much convincing, and the promise (and fulfillment) of several treat bribes, they’re able to convince Beans to come back into the house, where he curls up on his bed with his milkbones.

Chris’ dad, who joins everyone else downstairs ten minutes later, pops into the dining room while Chris and Charles are setting the table. Chris looks up in the direction of his footsteps with that radiant smile, warm eyes, like always. “Hi, Dad,” she says, her voice drenched in affection.

“Mums,” the man smiles softly, greeting her with open arms and a gentle hug.

“You remember Charles,” she says, and he steps forward, leaving the silverware settings on the tablecloth. Charles extends his hand first, is met with Bill’s firm, heavy handshake.

“Mr. Elliott, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” His voice is stiff, polite, but there’s still a touch of earnestness that betrays his nerves. “Thank you for having me, I’ve heard a lot about you and your family.”

“Now, son, if I’m bein’ completely honest with you. I never thought I was gonna see you again after Texas. I wasn’t feelin’ you out the way I should’a been, if you know what I mean?”

Charles nods, even though he thinks he picked up about seventy-five percent of what was said. “Yes, sir.” He thinks he’d probably answer any question thrown his way, if it meant when he left tonight it was in her parents’ good graces.

Her parents, Bill especially, do maintain their intimidating presence for just as long as Chris says they will. Sat at the dinner table with all of them, next to Chris and across from Cindy and Bill, he can’t help but feel the weight of the situation as they all eat.

“So, Charles,” Bill says, wiping his mouth with a napkin and taking a sip of wine. They’re all nursing glasses of wine, even Charles, who despite never having been particularly fond of the drink, was too scared to say no when Cindy offered. He’d glared daggers at Chris to keep her from speaking up. “Monaco, right?”

Charles nods. “That’s right.”

“A racecar driver from the rich and famous’ playground,” Bill continued. His voice is low and inquisitive. “I’m sure you can see why I might be a lil’...” he chuckles, “worried about you.”

Next to him, Chris cocks her head defensively, leans forward in her seat. “What are you trying to imply, Dad?” Charles unconsciously moves his hand to her lower back in an attempt to reassure her silently. He knows why Bill’s asking questions like this, he knows the reputation certain aspects of his life carry with them. It does put a butterfly or two in his stomach that she’s so eager to jump to his defense, though.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just quite the party lifestyle you live, isn’t it, Charles?”

“I don’t know if I would say that,” Charles laughs awkwardly. Chris takes a big sip of her wine, leans back in her chair again. He moves his hand from her back to her leg, where she interlocks it with her own under the table. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll go out with my friends when I’m in town, or we have something to celebrate, but… I’ve honestly become more of a home person these last years.”

Bill raises his brows, takes another bite of his food. “Really?” Charles nods. “That must be difficult, son, all the traveling you do. Alotta’ people in alotta’ cities. How d’ya handle that?”

Charles smiles, fully aware that Bill is just attempting to gauge his character. “It can be lonely at times, but I'm committed to a steady relationship. I like to think I’ve learned to balance my racing career and my personal life.”

“A steady relationship with our daughter.”

Chris squeezes his hand, he squeezes back, smiles softly. “A steady, committed relationship with your daughter, yes.”

Cindy takes a sip of her wine, smiles into the red liquid. She seems satisfied. Bill, not so much. “And what is it that you like most about her?” He asks.

“Dad,” Chris laughs pointedly at her father, a hint of disbelief in the action. “That’s enough.”

“Sorry, Charles,” Cindy interrupts with an awkward chuckle, an attempt to keep the peace before Chris lunges over the table at her dad. Charles isn’t offended by the question, so he wonders if maybe Cindy is apologizing to Chris more than she is to Charles. “He doesn’t mean to come off so investigative. Chris is just our baby, everyone has always looked out for her.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” he nods, takes a bite of food. “As for the question nobody wants you to ask me,” he looks to Bill, remnants of his food still in his mouth. He speaks with the napkin over his lips. “It’s hard to even find a place to start with that, right? I mean, she…” he glances to Chris, finds that she’s already listening to him intently. He smiles, “you are an incredible person,” and he has to look away, because if he keeps going while staring into her brown eyes, he’s going to be as red as a tomato, completely and utterly smitten. “If you really want me to pick something, I guess I would say her kindness, and I’m sure you’re both familiar enough with her heart that I don’t need to ramble on about how lucky I am to have her in my life.”

Chris sinks in her seat, finishes off what’s left of her wine. “Well, now that I’m properly embarrassed for the rest of my life.”

Cindy laughs. “Oh, Chrissy, I haven’t even gotten the baby pictures out yet.” Chris turns to bury herself in Charles’ arm. He can feel how warm her face is through the fabric of his sweatshirt, and it makes him laugh.

“Oh, my God,” she mumbles.

Charles’ ears perk up. “There’s baby pictures?”

Chris nods against his arm. “She’s a scrapbooker.”

He’s so boggled by the way that they can just switch up after that, the way that they stop trying to intimidate him and welcome him with open arms. He thinks that his Mum could never, that she knows within the first thirty seconds of meeting someone if she likes them or not. When it comes to Pascale Leclerc, you’re forever categorized by her first impression. He didn’t tell Chris that, because he didn’t want to worry her more than she already was in her sweats and messy-hair in Abu Dhabi.

After the meal had been cleaned up, the four of them sat comfortably in the living room of Chris’ childhood home. Their home is so nice, so warm and welcoming. He wonders if it’s always been such a comfortable place.

Chris is sprawled out on the corner-seat of the sectional couch, Beans taking up the seat next to her, his head in her lap while she pets him mindlessly. Charles sits on the floor, back to the corner cushion, legs outstretched in front of him under the coffee table. Bill is in the recliner in the corner, working his way through a newspaper crossword puzzle, half-dozing off every ten minutes.

Cindy carries a cardboard box down the stairs, sets it down on the coffee table in the middle of the family room. It’s full to the brim with worn, leather-bound scrapbooks, with Christyn Claire neatly written on the side of the box. She sits down on the floor next to him. Carefully, she pulls one out and gently sets it on the table, brushing the dust off the black leather cover.

Charles watches as she flips open the pages, each one filled with their own vibrant photos, handwritten notes, and little trinkets that tell a story of young Chris. Charles can’t help the smile on his face when he sees the images of her in every stage of life, from a curious toddler with messy, curly pigtails to a teenager with the same smile he can’t get enough of.

Cindy’s eyes sparkle with pride, and she has an anecdote for each and every photo. He’s captivated by it, not just the snapshots, but also the obvious love Cindy carries for her daughter.

“This is Chrissy on the first day of school,” She explained, pointing to a picture of a young girl with a backpack almost as big as herself. “She was so excited to learn, has always been eager to take on new challenges.” Charles nods, hangs onto every word she says. “She’s always been a quick learner, even then.”

Cindy continues to flip through the pages, her and Charles silently sharing in knowing smiles at photos they both know Chris would find particularly embarrassing, making sure she doesn’t catch onto their shared moment from her seat on the couch. Cindy reveals photos from family vacations, birthdays, and school events. Her tales of Chris’ adventures—combined with Chris’ personal renditions added in—make for quite a delightful, and humorous, evening.

“Ah, this one,” Cindy chuckles as she turns the page, revealing a picture of a grinning Chris covered head to toe in colorful paint. “We had an art day in the backyard, and Chrissy decided she'd rather paint herself than the paper.”

He laughed along, felt like he was growing more and more connected to Chris and her family with every shared memory. Part of him wonders if this is still a part of the protective parent act. If it is, it’s definitely doing its job. You can’t be mean to someone when you look at them and imagine the tiny version of them playing dress-up in a princess themed bedroom, or helping wash Dad’s car, or taking a nap at the beach on a mermaid towel. He should get a few baby pictures from his mom, he thinks. To show them to Chris, just so that she isn’t allowed to hurt him.

“She’s always had a big heart,” Cindy said, her smile warm. “Her friends were like extended family,” she continues, pointing out a picture of Chris and several other little children. She points to a blonde, “You’ve met Hannah, right?”

“We’re going there, next, Ma,” Chris interjects.

“Oh, well. This is her when she was five. I think Chris invited her to spend the night for weeks at a time.”

Charles nods, everything he knows about her, the way that she makes friends with anyone she interacts with, it all tracks, can all be seen in these pictures. He thinks that he could sit on the floor all night and go through every single picture in every single scrapbook, and still wouldn’t have enough, wouldn’t know enough about her.

– – –

They leave the Elliott’s house a little after nine, and the air outside is cooler, now, the day fully transitioned into night. Charles sits in the passenger seat, eyeing Chris’ ability to perfectly maintain a speed two under the limit, and the way that she flipped her brights on everytime another car wasn’t cruising down the road. It seemed like this entire town was half-covered in wooded areas, so he supposes it’s better to keep an eye out for any wild animals. The warmth of the evening experience with her parents still radiates through him, but their conversation is now focused on their next destination; Chase and Hannah’s house.

Chris, in the driver’s seat, is more animated than ever. She was preparing him carefully for the meeting, the anticipation of how her best friend and brother would perceive him hung in the air. She explained on the drive from the airport earlier that day that she’d “promised Hannah she would meet you before the wedding.”

As they rolled to a stop at a red light, Charles cast a quick glance over to her, feeling the weight of her guidance. “What should I know about them? Any advice on how to impress them?”

“Gosh,” she’d said, “I don’t know. Hannah’s easy. Chase is weird, but, just talk about cars or something. He really likes, um,” she pauses. “He races with you… from Australia, I think.”

Charles mulled over the comment, committing it to memory. There’s only one Australian he can think of racing against. “Daniel?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “Daniel Ricciardo. He really likes him.”

Charles absorbs the information, realizing that Daniel would serve as an excellent conversation starter about racing. The light turns green, and she checks the intersection for a comically long amount of time before proceeding. He does everything he can not to laugh, and is hit with a sudden wave of gratitude towards the way he’s been wholly and completely welcomed into her life like this. The night of endless nerves aside, the excitement of learning all the chapters of her life that predate him is something he isn’t going to take for granted.

– – –

They arrive at Chase and Hannah’s house for a relatively relaxed night in, greeted by the warm glow of a bonfire crackling in the backyard. The air was filled with the smokey scent of burning wood, and the soft lull of a country song pouring from a speaker.

“Hi!” Hannah calls before the couple is even halfway through the back gate. “Hi, Hi, Hi, oh my gosh!” she squeals, hurrying over to the gate to greet them. “It’s about fucking time,” she adds, pulling Chris into a tight hug. You’d think it was the first time they’d seen each other in weeks, but Charles knew they were together just that morning. “And you,” the blonde continues, “must be Charles. Unlike everyone else around here, I’ve actually heard a lot about you,” she laughs.

He laughs too, accepts her open-arms for a hug. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“William Chase,” Hannah calls to the man standing over the fire, a stoker stick in one hand, a glass beer bottle in the other. His head shoots up from the embers when he’s called. He holds his beer up as a welcoming gesture, but Hannah isn’t satisfied. “Get over here!”

He meets them halfway through the yard, in a part that’s unlit by either the house lights or the glow of the fire. “Hey,” Chase says with a relaxed smile, pulling Chris into a side hug, and then approaching Charles with an outstretched hand. “You must be Charles,” he says, the two exchanging a laid-back handshake before pulling each other into a bro-hug. “It’s good to meet you, man. You want a beer or something?”

“I can get it myself,” Charles assures, “just tell me where they are.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hannah scoffs, “You’re a guest,” she insists, and it is already halfway up the steps of the back porch. “You want one, too, Chris?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Chris smiles, her hand finding his in the space between their bodies, interlocking their fingers and pulling him over to the fire Chase has already returned to.

Chris and Charles find a cozy spot on the porch swing that sits in front of the firepit, a shared bench that seemed to be the ideal medium between two chairs and sitting on top of each other, perfect for family introductions. They sit side by side, thighs brushing against each other, his arm around her nursing his beer. Charles keeps the swing moving with his feet, but Chris has one leg crossed over the other, the base of her beer bottle leaving a darkened ring of condensation on her jeans everytime she picks it up.

“You want another one, Chris?” Chase asks, shaking his empty beer bottle by its neck when he heads back inside for another round, and per Hannah’s request, to check on Reid.

“I’m okay,” Chris smiles. She’s turned fully sideways, now, her back resting against his shoulder, both legs off the ground and onto the other end of the bench. “I’m driving home,” and then she cranes her neck to look at him. “Do you want another?”

“No,” he says, because he’s pretty sure he can already feel her dozing off while they swing, is almost certain it’s going to end up being him driving back to her place tonight. “Thank you, though,” and then he kisses the top of her head, pulls his arm out from under her body weight to wrap around her front lazily. She adjusts to his adjustment, leans into him and finds a comfortable curve in his chest.

Even among the scent of wood and fresh cut grass and smoke, he’s found himself in the perfect position to smell her hair without even trying. He thinks he’s finally nailed her shampoo, coconut and rose, he’s almost sure of it.

“Mate, Chris was telling me you’re a Daniel Ricciardo fan?” Charles asks, looking for a way to break the ice into a more active conversation, utilizing the very few tools he has at his disposal. Chase and Hannah seem both way lower-stress than Bill and Cindy did, but he'd still like to leave tonight knowing he made a good impression. Or, at least leave knowing he tried his hardest to make one.

“Yeah, man. We actually started racing at COTA in 2020, and Renault and Daniel did this thing with our team, gave me a little good-luck message and stuff. It was real cool. I’ve been a fan of him since.”

Surprised, and trying to find common ground, Charles asks: “Do you follow Formula One?”

“You know, I tried after the whole Daniel thing, but,” he shrugs nonchalantly, takes another swig of his beer and leans back in his seat. “Honestly, all respect, but there’s just nothing quite like the roar of a stock car at Daytona for me. It’s like thunder, man.”

Charles nodded, an eager grin on his face. He doesn’t know much about NASCAR, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t study up on it during the flight over. “The sound of those engines at full throttle must be crazy. It’s V8’s, right?”

“Yeah, V8. What are y’all running? Isn’t it hybrids?”

“Yes,” Charles laughs. “They’re crazy with the engineering. Basically, you have a turbo V6 combined with energy recovery systems… it all helps keep us lightweight.”

“That’s another thing that blows my mind, how light your cars are! I know you pull crazy downforce, but I swear it’s a totally different game on an oval, dude. Our cars are like, thirty-three hundo.”

Charles’ eyes go wide. He knew they were heavier, but that’s like… it’s more than double, he thinks, or has to be close to it “Oh, my God!” He laughs, taking another sip of his beer. Chris chuckles, too—he feels it in his chest. He also feels the nonsensical shapes and patterns that she traces over his sweatshirt sleeve while he talks, the way she seems completely lost in toying with the fabric.

“I know, you guys got fuckin’ feathers compared to us!” Chase gins, joining in on the laughter.

Charles leans forwards a bit, and when he does it, Chris adjusts her positioning. She’s somehow managed to slide gracefully down until she was curled up on the wooden bench, resting on her side with her head on his tights. She’d found a makeshift pillow in his lap, and he couldn’t mind it less. “Yeah, I don’t know,” he says, checking his watch so that when Chris asks him later tonight ‘when did I fall asleep?’ he can give her a proper answer. “We are all about precision, crazy aero packages. It’s not just about speed and downforce, it has to be managed so perfectly.”

“There ain’t no time for precision when you’re wheel-to-wheel at Talladega. It’s all about survival. We’re out there swapping paint and shit. Bumping and drafting are all a part of the game.”

“How crazy is that?” He questions, even though he doesn’t have more than an educated guess as to what drafting is. “The way the air affects your car when you’re always that close?”

“I mean, I guess I don’t notice it all that much because I’m so used to it, but yeah. We’re always pushing the limits, especially in the high-banked ovals. Drafting is both your best friend and your worst enemy.”

“Drafting, mate,” he peruses, taking a shot in the dark when he says: “that’s like getting the slipstream, no?”

“Exactly, yeah,” Chase nods. “All drag reduction shit.”

“It’s crazy, when we’re wheel-to-wheel, we’ll do about anything not to make contact”

“It’s ‘cause your shit weighs ten pounds,” Chase laughs. “It’ll fly away if there’s any contact.”

They go on like that for some time, comparing technicalities. There are few things Charles appreciates more in life than actually getting to sit down and talk racing with someone—true, technical, perfectionist racing. There’s no investigating what the problem with this year’s car is, or what he hopes happens next season. It’s just… how they work. How different formula racing is from stock cars. He feels like this is something he can actually talk about, a conversation he knows he can contribute knowledge to.

“Riveting stuff, boys, really,” Hannah finally interjects, sitting down into her camping chair. Charles hadn’t even noticed she’d left, but here she was popping the bottle cap off another beer, taking a big swig. “You put Chris to sleep and I’m on my fucking way.”

Charles stills, his movements suddenly gentler as he tries to crane his neck to see her face. “She’s asleep?” He asks, half-whispered.

Hannah nods, and Chase chuckles, “Dude, she’s been out cold for like half an hour.”

He smiles down at her, shaking his head, and then checks his watch again. 10:36pm, she didn’t even make it an hour and a half, poor girl. Charles brushes her hair out of her face and carries on with the conversation. His mind is completely absent to the fact that his fingers continue their exploration of her hair, a natural masterpiece of unruly waves. Each strand has its own rhythm, defying any form of order. The curls become even more pronounced as they cascade toward the nape of her neck, dancing freely with the erratic breeze.

At the root of her bangs, there’s a stubborn cowlick, and one side of her face-framing cut has a mind of its own, constantly threatening to tumble into her eyes. Amidst all that delightful chaos, small, intricate braids intermingle with the curls, held together with tiny brown elastics. His touch is reverent as he selects one, playfully twisting it around his finger while he speaks.

With painstaking care, he slides the elastic from the braid, and doesn't miss a beat in conversation with Hannah and Chase as he carefully unravels it. Their words dance in the air around him, and by the time he becomes cognizant of his actions, he’s on the last little braid.

When it’s time to turn in for the evening, when the conversations are more yawns than actual questions, Charles wakes Chris up softly. He runs his hand up and down her upper arm slowly, squeezes her elbow to coax the sleep from her heavy eyes. “Baby,” he hums softly.

Chris stirs with a groan, sits up and stares back at him with empty eyes, like she has no clue what year it is. He bites back a smile at the state of her, raises his brows and waits for her to say something, to scold him grumpily for waking her up. Chris Elliott is a force to be reckoned with when she’s woken up, and it’s something you only have to witness once to be scared of ever seeing again. She doesn’t scold, though.

Instead, a soft smile pulls on the corner of her lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles back. She’s already leaning against the far armrest of the swing, curling up into the corner like she’s going to go back to sleep. She probably will, it’s been far too easy to wake her up. His hand finds her knee, thumb rubbing circles along the denim fabric. “Are you ready to go home?”

She nods, but her eyes are already closed again. Chase is already dousing the fire with water. Hannah’s already inside cleaning up. Charles opts to leave her there, sweet and peaceful, while he collects her things from inside.

It’s the first time he’s been in the house, and it's just as ambient as the backyard is. The warm glow of the dimmed lights accentuate the charm of their modern-farmhouse decor; wooden shelves bathed in the soft radiance, full of potted succulents, framed photographs, and small artworks that offer a glimpse into their lives. Large, strategically placed windows allowed for a gentle cascade of moonlight to slow, making the entire place feel calm and serene.

Chris has been wearing a pair of Hannah’s slippers since she went inside for the first time, so the first thing he looks for is her shoes. He finds them in the entryway, just outside the door, and finds her keys on a small table there, too. Her phone is on the kitchen counter, the purple silicone case practically glowing against the black granite countertops and pristine white cabinetry. In the living room, he notices a little figure lying on the couch—Reid, he assumes, lies nestled under a Cars blanket, a scene of pure childhood innocence set against the backdrop of grown-up sophistication. The entire room excludes warmth, thanks to an oversized gray sofa and a plush rug, all enhanced by the dull LCD of the quiet television and subtle nighttime lighting. Behind a throw pillow on the same couch, he finally uncovers her purse, carefully slipping it out so as to not disturb the sleeping child.

“It’s not worth the fight sometimes,” Hannah explains, but Charles didn’t need one. He remembers the age of begging to have a sleepover on the living room couch, to stay out past his bedtime and watch shows on the big television. It was the highlight of his weekends, sometimes.

“He’s adorable,” Charles says. “I love the blanket.”

Hannah chuckles softly, crossing her arms over each other to hug her small frame. “It’s his favorite movie,” she shrugs. “Wants to be just like his dad.”

He puts all of her things in the car before he even attempts at getting her into the car. Everything is neatly put into a place, her address typed into his GPS by Hannah and plugged into the aux on the radio, and she still sleeps on the swing.

His humor buoyed by the absurdity of the situation, Charles decided to start with the slippers. He gently slid them off her feet, one by one, and handed them over to Chase, who watched on with the bemusement of an audience at a comedy show. With a soft, nearly conspiratorial tone, Charles whispers: “Chris, baby,” planting a tender kiss on her forehead.

In response, she produces a mumbling symphony of incoherent sounds. “That’s not French, mon amour,” he chides playfully, prompting a breathy laugh from her lips. His aim is to keep her here, to prolong that delicate state of semi-sleep where she tattered between slumber and annoyance. “Let’s go home, yes?” he inquired.

Chris, in her hazy state, offered a subtle nod. Charles grinned, heart painfully warm, and said, “Could you help me out?”

In response, she obligingly wraps her arms around his neck, and he effortlessly hoists her into his arms, carrying her in a bridal-style embrace. He guides her to the waiting car with gentle steps, Chase strolling alongside them to open the car door. She stirs when he sets her in the seat, fastening her seatbelt.

Chase shuts the door and the two of them exchange a classic, old-as-time bro-handshake-goodbye, a silent acknowledgement of both their meeting today and their future introductions all weekend long.

It’s not until they’re at her house, the soft purr of the engine falling silent as he properly parked in the driveway, that she’s really awake. Her sleepy eyes flutter open with the automatic cab lights.

He moves swiftly, circling the car quickly to open the door for her. As she grumpily emerges from the car, he gives her an encouraging smile. “Go get ‘em, killer.” he playfully whispers, his hands working against her shoulders. She meets him with a death-glare he could never possibly be afraid of.

Chuckling, he plucks her phone from the passenger seat, locks the car before following her up the driveway.

The journey inside concludes shortly in her room. Chris has an early morning ahead, and a late night, too. Charles marvels at the resilience; doesn’t know how she’ll manage tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. As she settles in under the comforter, he can’t help but watch her for a moment, all sweet and sleepy and beautiful, like always.

Soon enough, the exhaustion creeps up on him, too, and he finally succumbs to sleep’s gentle embrace, entwined with the woman he finds himself cherishing more with what feels like each passing breath.

– – –

He wakes up when the soft chimes of her alarm break through the morning darkness. The dim glow of the clock on the nightstand reads 6:30 am, and it was clear that daylight has yet to pierce the veil of a southern winter outside.

He can’t help but appreciate her attempts to tiptoe through her morning routine. The effort is commendable, really, but the old, creaky wooden floors and the protesting door dram betray her intentions. He doesn’t mind, though—How could he? Any moment with her, even early morning ones where she bustles around the space, is better than a moment without.

Lying in the cozy bed—which, by the way, her bed is so fucking comfortable, he allows himself to fully wake up, knows that her morning rituals would be far more entertaining than any dream he could have cocooned in sleep.

His sleepy gaze watches her as she moves through the bedroom gracefully, her face illuminated by the soft glow of dawn creeping in from the curtains. He smiles at the little sounds and routines that make up her life, the ones he never gets to see, to savor. Watching her move about is a special kind of beauty, one that makes him feel lucky, insanely so, to experience a life with her in it.

Leaving the comfort of the bed, he ventures out into the kitchen. He knew she had an early start, a long day away from him, and he was determined to steal every extra moment they could share.

She’s finishing her lunch, packing it into her backpack when he sneaks up behind her, snaking his arms around her middle and hugging her from behind. “Hi,” she laughs, turning around in his arms to face him properly.

He gives her a kiss and her lips taste like her morning coffee. He marvels at the ease with which she can make someone’s day—make his day.

She grins, and there is a special kind of mischief in her eyes when she playfully warns him: “Promise you won’t get lost in the woods and eaten by a bear today,” she says, and then, because she can’t help but add it, “At least wait until I’m there to witness it.”

With a chuckle, he teases, “I can always outrun you, they say you only have to be faster than the other guy.”

Her laughter bubbles out, filling the room, and his chest, with warmth. “You wouldn’t let me get eaten by a bear,” she replies.

He pauses for a minute, then playfully concedes, “Well, I might.”

“Wouldn’t.”

“Would.”

– – –

After she left work, he found himself helpless in the war against sleep. What was the point if she wasn’t around to keep him up? If nothing was around to keep him up? It was almost eight o’clock before he finally got up for the day, feeling refreshed and ready for yet another evening of introductions.

His breakfast consists of a simple serving of toast, nothing anywhere near extravagant, but enough to stave off his hunger. Not to mention, he’d rather not make a mess in her house with the very first thing he does all day.

After breakfast, he heads out for a run, decides he’s going to try and navigate his way around without getting lost. He fails, miserably, because it seems like everywhere he looks has the same landmarks—trees, trees, and more trees. The cool air is invigorating, though, and the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the pavement keeps his mind clear, gives him a certain appreciation for the fact that he doesn’t have to keep his eyes and ears open for anyone who might be watching him. No, here it’s just him, just Charles. There’s nothing special about it, which is what makes it so fucking special.

Returning home—to her home—he enjoys a shower that washes away the cold sweat of the run. Dressed and ready, he ponders his plans for the rest of his day. It’s hours still until Chris is home and the festivities really kick off.

As if on cue, his phone buzzes, Chase’s name popping up on the Caller ID. Hannah had insisted on him exchanging numbers with both of them the night earlier. Just in case Chris decides to fuck off to another country again without telling us, she’d said.

He answers, listens to Chase’s offer to join in on a round of 9 holes with him and Bill, considers it for only a moment, and accepts enthusiastically. He’s in the passenger seat of Chase’s truck within the half-hour.

“Survived the dragon, I see?” Chase greets Charles with a smile, clearly still amused over the previous night’s encounter.

Charles chuckles. “Just barely.”

– – –

The day was pristine for golf, with a brilliant blue sky overhead and a gentle breeze. Charles has played at some pretty impressive courses around the world, but something about this one felt special. The green really wasn’t all the lush, and the views weren’t outstandingly picturesque, but. But, there was something that felt so special about it.

Bill, the most experienced of them, begins the round with an expertly executed swing that has Charles chuckling under his breath. His ball soars through the air, landing with pinpoint accuracy in the fairway. Chase follows with a powerful drive that seems to only gain momentum as it sails. It gracefully lands not far from Bill’s.

Charles takes his stance, feels a bit like a circus clown amidst his partners, but steadies himself nonetheless. He draws the club back, manages a swing with a surprising degree of finesse. The ball leaps from the tee and manages an astonishingly straight shot that lands in a… respectable position. He’s not too far off Bill and Chase.

Charles would never call himself a golfer, but he’s grateful for Chase and Bill’s attitude—the way they are constantly pretending he’s better than he is, blaming any mistakes (he has a beach full of sand in his shoes from all the traps) on the fact he’s rented his clubs from the course.

As they stroll down the lush, sunlit fairway on one of the holes, Charles decides he’s brave enough to start a conversation, rather than just participate in one. He turns to Chase as he addresses the only topic he can think of. “So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh? You’re feeling good?”

Chase grinned, golf club slung casually over his shoulder. “Dude, more than anything. I’ve been trying to marry Hannah for a long time. I’m lucky, you know.”

Bill nodded, “Y’all are all but by now.”

“Anything specific you’re excited for?” Charles questions, can’t help but be curious about the details. “Or just a big ball of excited?”

Chase chuckles. “I’m really looking forward to the ceremony. The moment I see her walking down the aisle, it’s gonna be somethin’ else.”

Charles smiles. He wasn’t expecting such a romantic answer, not given what he’s experienced from Chase up to this point. His answer feels more like something you tell your closest friends, not your little sister’s boyfriend you’d just met for the first time the night before. “How about the holiday? Any special plans?”

Chase’s eyes lit up into a laugh. “Ah, the honeymoon. Yeah, we’re going somewhere… sometime. I don’t know, it’s not at the top of our list of things to get done.”

“All I know, Son,” Bill, whose been quiet for what feels like some time now, offers up some wisdom, “Tomorrow’s gonna be real overwhelmin’, but remember it’s your day. Savor all of it.”

Chase nods in agreement, “Don’t worry, Pops,” he chuckles, pats Bill on the shoulder, “I’ll savor it all.”

“And if you get nervous,” Charles laughs, “feel free to let it mess you up out here,” he says, gesturing to the fairway. The whole trio shares a laugh, but Charles seriously wouldn’t mind if the other two suddenly forgot how to golf.

With Chase excusing himself to meet up with Hannah at the rehearsal dinner venue, Charles is left with just Bill, the pair heading up to the country club’s restaurant for a late lunch. The ambiance inside is refined, and they sit next to big floor-to-ceiling windows that offer views of the manicured greens and vast wooded area they’re situated inside.

As they settle into their table, Charles takes a sip of his water, wiping the condensation from his hand on the side of his pants. He can feel the weight of the conversation that’s likely to follow—there’s no Cindy or Chris around to keep him in check like there was last night.

Bill, cutting right to the chase, speaks in a casual tone. “So, Charles, how’re you finding our little corner of Georgia? I reckon it’s awful different from Monaco.”

Charles smiled, appreciating the comfortability of his voice. Maybe Chris was right, he was getting himself worked up yesterday over nothing. “It’s different, for sure,” he laughs. “Home is home, but there is something about the calmness here, the open space. It’s refreshing. And meeting everyone, it’s been great.”

Bill, who’s been nothing but stern in his expression for the entire time Charles has known him, seems to soften, even if just slightly. “I gotta admit, I was a lil’bit… cautious when I first learned about you and Chris. Fathers, y’know, we worry.”

“I can imagine,” Charles nods. He understands. Of course he understands. “You have my word, I have pure intents. Chris means a lot to me.”

Bill seems fully contemplative now, his usual sternness fully replaced when he looks back at Charles. “She’s real happy with you from what I can see, and her brother tells me you treat her real well. That’s the kinda stuff that matters to me.”

His chest feels stupidly warm at the remark. If Chris is half as happy as he is, they’ve really got something here. Something real. Scary real. “I care about her deeply, Sir, and I want her to be happy, too.”

Bill chuckles under his breath, shakes his head softly. “You’re not seventeen, son. You can call me Bill.”

“I care a lot about your daughter, Bill.” It’s an easy thing to do, he thinks. There can’t be a person in this world that knows her and doesn’t care for her. Not when everything about her makes him believe in luck, in something otherworldly—Gods or guardian angels or invisible strings.

“See?” Bill questions, picking around what’s left on his plate with his fork. “We’re already buddies.”

– – –

Bill drops Charles off just before Chris gets home from work. He’s not in the house for ten minutes, is still moving around the kitchen searching for a glass to fill with water when the door swings open. Chris enters the kitchen with Reid, half a dozen things in her arms and a familiar four-year-old in tow. “Hey,” she greets, lifting her bags onto the counter next to him, setting down all of her belongings.

“Hi,” he greets, hand finding a familiar space on her lower back, pulling her closer to him, to lean down and give her a quick kiss. “How was your day?”

“Long… and chaotic,” she sighs, forcing a weary smile onto her lips. Charles frowns. Searching her eyes for elaboration, she just shrugs. “Reid, say hi to Charles,” she introduces. “Charles, this is my little tornado, my nephew, Reid.”

Reid looks up at him with bright eyes and a mischievous grin. “Can I call you Chuck?”

Charles laughs. “No, you can call him Charles,” Chris answers on his behalf, before he gets the chance to tell the kid to call him whatever he wants.

Reid rolls his eyes. “Hi, Charles,” he huffs. “Auntie Chris says you’re gonna help me get ready.”

Charles smiles warmly. “That’s what I hear. It’s quite a mission to accomplish, do you think you are up for it?”

Reid nodded enthusiastically. “Totally. I’m almost five.”

Chris chuckles, and Charles’ eyes shoot over to her when she does. Hearing her laugh isn’t enough, he needs to see it, to share in it. “Good luck with the tie,” she tells him. Charles winks at Chris, grins down at the kid in front of him. “Reid, you like Cars, right?”

Reid’s eyes go wide, his head snapping over to look at Chris, who matches his expression with a smile on her face. He turns back to face Charles, “How did you know that?”

“So, it’s true?”

Reid nods apprehensively. “I love Cars. My Dad is in Cars 3, y’know? He’s got, like, a awesome race car.”

Charles feigned surprise, “No way! That’s like being a superhero.” He leans down conspiratorially, speaks quietly, just to Reid. “Do you know Lightning McQueen?”

Reid’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he launched into a passionate monologue about the Cars movies, the story, and the characters—paying a special interest to Chase’s automotive-self in the animated world. Charles listens with genuine interest while Chris quietly prepares a snack for the boy.

He gets ready while Reid eats, moves around Chris in the bathroom. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, using her entire arm to move her stuff off one side of the sink vanity. “I’m taking up your side,” she continues, pulling her curling iron out of her hair, carefully cradling the steaming strands. Charles smiles. His side. He kisses her softly, then— mindful of her unfinished makeup and hair. She smiles out of it, gives him another quick peck, “what was that for?”

He shrugs, reaching for his hair gel, “Just because.”

– – –

They get to Dahlonega right at five o’clock, thanks in massive part to Charles’ ability to comfortably drive above the speed limit, and in small part to Chris’ ability to finish her makeup while Charles does a poor job at avoiding potholes.

Every event this weekend takes place at the same place—a vineyard about thirty (if you speed) minutes from Chris’ house, but it’s nothing like what he would usually think of as a quote-en-quote vineyard. It’s more of a… barn put in the middle of a field, but. It’s beautiful nonetheless.

“How do I look?” Chris asks as they walk up the long drive from the parking lot to the barn. She runs her hands over the thighs of her jeans, straightening them out.

“Do a spin,” Charles says, and she does. “Hot,” he nods, smiles. Chris rolls her eyes. “Always hot.”

Hannah is running around with a woman wearing a nametag—the wedding planner, he assumes—like a chicken with its head cut off when they get there. Reid bolts away from them as soon as Chase is in his eyeline, chatting with his groomsmen around the bar. Charles trails behind Chris, hand interlocked with hers, as she makes her way over to a frazzled Hannah.

She greets them with a smile, swiping her hair off her shoulders and opening her arms for hugs. “You look beautiful,” Charles comments, kisses either of her cheeks.

“Oh,” She laughs. “This is new.”

Charles laughs, pulling away from the hug, “Sorry.”

“Oh, no. It’s fun,” she says, looking to Chris. “You should’ve dated someone French a long time ago.”

“He’s not French.”

“But y—”

Chris cuts her off. “Monégasque,” she continues. Charles smiles meekly. “And very proud.”

The setting sun cast a warm glow over the venue as the wedding rehearsal began. Charles found himself sitting in the second row, behind both Chase’s family and with the rest of the partners of the bridal party.

They’re orchestrated by the meticulous woman with a name tag from earlier, carefully moved through the motions of the ceremony tomorrow. Charles watches with quiet amusement as they navigate each and every step with precision. The officiant guided them through the script, the words blending into a hum that surrounded the ceremony space.

He partakes in the bland small talk with the other partners—how beautiful, how exciting, how sweet—all the stuff that random strangers with no present connections have to talk about. Charles can't help but glance at Chris intermittently, catching her eye and exchanging silent conversations that only they understand. She’s just so pretty up there, her brown curls cascading off her shoulders while she holds two mock-up bouquets of flowers. She bounces in place, practically, obviously half as tired and bored with it all as he is.

As the run-throughs progress, he can feel her restlessness like it’s his own. Her wide eyes betray her thoughts when, without words she tells him, this is so boring.

He chuckles under his breath, meeting her gaze with the minute raise of his brows, an unspoken agreement passing between them. So boring.

The repetition of the steps continues, though, each run-through blending together into the next. Charles and Chris share more glances, continue to communicate the same sentiment of impatience to a point of amusement. In the stolen moments, he finds solace in the connection, a reminder that even the most orchestrated events can’t stifle their shared sense of humor.

As the rehearsal finally drew to a close, the sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm, golden hue over the gathering. The group dispersed, heading towards the dinner that awaited them.

When Charles catches up to Chris, she’s talking with the best man—Ryan, who the wedding planner kept asking to take this a bit more seriously. He seems nice enough, brother-y enough. Charles thinks he probably has a few good stories about Chris, even more about Chase.

“Everyone always thought we had a thing going,” Chris tells him after the introduction has finished, while the two of them wait at the bar for their drinks.

His brows raise, leaning back off the bar to scan the room for the guy. “Do you want me to be jealous?” He asks, lets his hand rest on the small of her back, thumb moving smoothly against the fabric of her top.

“No,” she says, but the smile on her lips tells him she’d be entertained by the sight of a jealous version of him. “I just didn’t want you to hear it from someone else this weekend.”

He nods, picking up the drink that’s set down in front of him/ “Well, did you?” He asks, taking a swig of the dark liquor.

“Did I what?” Chris asks, moving her drink closer to her, stirring it with a little black straw.

“Did you guys date?”

“Oh,” she shakes her head. “Never.”

Charles nods. “Shame, I was going to put on a show.”

The welcome party kicks into full swing after the satisfying sit-down meal. Laughter and chatter fill the rustic barn, the air buzzing with the lively energy of the gathering, of the weekend. Charles, having eaten the entirety of his dinner earlier, finds himself following Chris as she seamlessly navigates the crowd.

The burger truck, stationed at the edge of the venue, offered a tempting array of late-night treats. The scene of grilled meat wafted through the air, enticing those who weren’t around for the earlier, intimate dinner.

The barn was alive with the murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses, the bursts of laughter. It seems like a million people fill the space, a million strangers—a mix of extended family and friends and coworkers and distant relatives and even distant-er friends. For him, all of these faces are unfamiliar, and he relies on Chris like a lifeline to guide him through most of the interactions.

She effortlessly leads the way, introducing him with a warmth that mirrors her nature of being. She moves through the place like she owned it, with a grace that seems to come naturally to her, connecting with friends and family alike. Everyone seems thrilled to see her, absolutely beside themselves. He understands them, even if he doesn’t know them, and observes with quiet admiration her ability to make everyone feel at ease.

She seems to flourish in social settings, her personality shining brightly. She greets old friends with hugs, shares jokes with cousins, compliments grandparents’ outfits, and introduces him to each and every one of them, punctuates every interaction with her infectious laughter.

He’s always felt like he’s more of a one-on-one guy, that his connections are better made independently rather than in groups. Chris, though, could lead a crowd anywhere with this unwavering confidence. She doesn’t make a single misstep all night, navigating the whole evening perfectly, makes an evening he’d spent the majority of outside his comfort zone anything but unsettling. With her, his words feel valued, important, intelligent. He’s content to be her partner in social settings longer than anyone should be.

It’s long past midnight when they finally get back to her house, the fatigue of the day well-settled on their skin, casting a convincing sleeping spell that made the prospect of a comfortable bed a welcomed one.

The house is silent, the hush of the night hugging them as they reach the bedroom, the weariness of their bones palpable. Anything but falling into the comforter seems like quite the ambitious endeavor.

The comfort of the sheets cradles them as they sink into the mattress, a shared haven offering respite from the busy weekend. “Next time I come here,” Charles yawns, the effort of the evening present in his voice, “we are doing nothing.”

She must be more drained, he thinks, she’d worked almost a whole day before this, but contently, she responds with a gentle hum, snuggled up close to him. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Perfect.” The simplicity of doing nothing seems like the perfect plan, a promise of unhurried moments and the luxury of just being together. He wants more of that. He wants more of her.

– – –

He wakes up for the first time that morning, if you can really call it waking up, to the shift of the bed as she climbs out of it. He doesn’t check the clock, doesn’t even hear more than the creak of the floor before he’s back asleep. He wakes up for the second time, and you still probably can’t call it that, to her standing over him, fingers running through his hair. She gives him a kiss and comments on something he can’t hear through sleep.

The third time he wakes up that morning, it’s to the ringing of his phone on the bedside table. Her name is on the screen, a photo of her grinning in front of a statue in Monaco and holding a thumbs-up. 8:34, his phone reads. The sun is shining in through the opening in the curtains.

She’d forgotten the steamer on the living room coffee table when one of the other bridesmaids picked her up two hours earlier. He says he’ll bring it, asks if the girls want coffee, swears he remembers her order. She texts him the other three girls’ orders. Within the hour, he’s riding with the wedding planner on a golf cart from the parking lot to the bridal suite with four long-winded coffees in one hand and a steamer in the other.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the bridal suite, but it wasn’t what he found. The chaos hangs in the air like a sweet perfume. He weaves between makeup artists, hair stylists, and bridesmaids to find Chris, talking with Hannah and a makeup artist about what’s about to be painted onto the bride-to-be’s face, fulfilling her maid-of-honor duties.

Chris looks up quickly to scan the room, eyes landing on him and immediately returning to the conversation at hand before doing a double-take, a heavy sigh leaving her lips when she recognizes him and the objects he carries.

“Hey,” she greets, takes the steamer from his hand and kisses him. “You’re a lifesaver, thank you,” and she kisses him again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he laughs, pulls a coffee out of the cardboard cup holder and hands it to her. “Your hot dirty chai with one shot of espresso, oat milk, and salted caramel.”

“A man after my heart,” she says, taking a sip of the drink. He winks—anything more and he’d blush bright red—and continues reading the orders off.

“Brown sugar oat milk latte with blonde espresso for Hannah,” he says, pulling it out and handing it to the blonde and pulling out the next one. “This is the… Iced matcha latte with soy milk and strawberry cold foam, and the…” he holds up the cupholder, one drink left in it, “Caramel brûlée latte.”

The groom’s house—which is where he’s affectionately sent to after the coffee delivery—is a direct contrast to the bridal suite. College football plays on the television, the cheers and groans of the game providing a lively soundtrack to the prelude of the wedding. The girls were all half-ready, but the guys are still shoveling breakfast foods into their mouths on the leather sofa.

Noon arrives, and with it the collective decision that it was time to actually start getting ready for the wedding. Chase and his groomsmen needed to be ready for pictures at three, which meant that Charles and the rest of the bridesmaid’s boyfriends needed to be ready to be anywhere but the groom’s house at three.

Between the laughter and the beers and the arguing over the best way to iron a shirt, there’s a knock on the door. He doesn’t even bother to look who it is, assumes it’s a relative of some sort. When Ryan, the never-had-a-thing, you-don’t-need-to-be-jealous Best Man has a hand on his shoulder, telling him “Chris is outside, she wants to talk to you,” he meets the guy with furrowed brows.

He finds her just where Ryan said she was, pacing outside on the concrete patio, ready head-to-toe for the wedding procession. He can’t help but be struck by her beauty, the way the delicate fabric of her dress accentuates her figure, the way the color complimented the glow of her skin perfectly. Her hair is pulled back off her face, revealing the curve of her neck, her subtle makeup highlighting her features.

He feels like he’s seen her a million times by now, in a million different ways, but there was something almost ethereal… angelic about her in this moment. The nerves in her eyes and the tension in her shoulders only add to the charm, make her feel more real, more human.

He’s never looked at her and thought she wasn’t beautiful, but there are moments where he’s particularly struck by her allure. This is one of them.

As soon as she lays eyes on him, her words rush out in a torrent. No hello, no pleasantries, just— “I’m freaking out, Charles. This speech… I’m just. I’m terrified I’m going to mess it up.”

“You’re not going to mess it up,” he promises. He’s heard Chris’ maid-of-honor speech probably a dozen times by now, and she’s a different level of nervous every time. This might be the most nervous he’s seen her about it, though. “Can you… can you listen to it, please?”

He nods, his gaze steadying her shaky one. “Of course, let’s hear it.”

She unfolds the tiny, half-crumpled piece of paper out and delves into her speech. He focuses on her words, the genuine affection and admiration for Hannah present in each and every syllable. When she finishes, she meets his eyes, a mix of hope and anxiety in hers.

“Well?” She asked, her lip caught between her teeth.

Charles smiles. “It’s amazing. You are going to do great.”

“Are you sure? Because the part where I talk about Colorado—”

Charles shakes his head, puts his hands on her shoulders. “It’s perfect,” he says, gives her a quick kiss. “You’re perfect.”

She sighs, relief visibly washing away the tension. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He grins, “You would still do great. But I’m here anytime you need it.” She gives him a quick hug, and he can feel the gratitude seeping through the squeeze, so he makes it last just that moment longer. He just, he gets such a surge of pride that he gets to call her his, that he’s lucky enough to call her his girlfriend. “Go knock ‘em dead,” he laughs.

When three o’clock finally does roll around, the wedding party separates to head off for pictures, and Charles, along with the other significant others, joins the convoy heading down to the ceremony space. The excitement among the group was palpable, everyone connected in some way to Hannah and Chase’s love story, ready to witness and be a part of their union.

The ceremony starts at four, and hell if he can’t stop catching Chris’ eyes the entire time. He doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed a wedding quite like he’s enjoying this one. Chase and Hannah are lovely, and the officiant’s words resonate with sincerity, but he’s less attuned to the details of the ceremony itself and more absorbed in the captivating spectacle that is Chris.

Her laughter, musical and infectious, is all he hears when the entire place laughs, and her discrete attempts to wipe away tears, to pretend they aren’t falling, melt his heart entirely. Even the way she plays with the ribbon on the bouquets she holds—something so small and trivial, it all captivates him.

He finds himself swept away by a tide of emotions, some messy kaleidoscope of feelings that defy articulation. There’s something magnetic about her, an irresistible urge to kiss her that seems to linger in the back of his mind, always. It’s all lined up for him, a million synchronized harmonies that underscore every interaction.

The changing colors of leaves and the smell of rain on a pine patio, the heartbeat of a conversation, a light in every room. His perception of his own emotions, the way he feels about this fucking woman, it’s so clear it becomes cloudy. Every stolen glance and shared smile is this integral part of their connection, this thing that he can’t let go of.

There’s something so fucking special about her, and he can’t make sense of any of it.

Cocktail hour is at five, and the whole family—everyone at this entire wedding he knows—are off doing ‘golden hour’ pictures. Charles lingers by the bar, stuck to the outskirts like a wallflower.

He’s suddenly hit with a wave of insecurity. It’s not often he’s put somewhere completely on his own like this, almost always has someone he can use as a lifeline if he needs to. Everyone here seems to have known eachother forever, and he feels like an intrusion on their camaraderie, worries that if he does manage up the courage to start a conversation with someone, they won’t understand him, or worse—he won’t understand them.

His social battery is just… it’s drained. It’s been a long couple days of mingling with strangers, of trying to impress everyone. He’s ready to just curl up somewhere with Chris and enjoy the limited time they do get to spend together—alone—this weekend.

Maybe then, with some more fucking time, he could sort out all his nonsensical thoughts. Make some sense of his own feelings.

At the reception, he’s seated at the family table with Bill, Cindy, and Reid. Chandler is there, too, but she and her girlfriend Lex seem about as interested in him as they are the dinner menu. They give him a passing greeting, an introduction, if you can call it that, but content to leave it at that.

They’re only a few feet away from the head table, where Chase, Hannah, and the bridal party are sat. So close, but when you’re as drained as he is, when you’ve been prim and perfectly proper for more hours than you can count, just want to be with the one person around who you don’t need to impress… Chris’ nameplate might as well be a quarter of the way around the world.

There isn’t some big announcement or introduction for the bridal party, they just filter in after the conclusion of pictures with the rest of the family. Chris is one of the last to filter in, and finds that the rest of the bridesmaids and the groomsmen are all settled in their seats. Chris doesn’t head for her seat. Instead, she makes a bee-line for her family table, for Charles, who is scrolling through his phone and nursing what she thinks is Chase’s signature drink.

She sneaks up on him, but he isn’t startled by her arms when they wrap over his shoulders. “Hi,” she greets, leaning over to kiss him. It doesn’t take her but a second to feel how tense he is—it’s in his shoulders, in his kiss, in the way he just keeps spinning the liquid around his glass instead of drinking it. Most of all, it’s in the way she doesn’t get even a hello back, just a focus smile and a kiss. Her brows furrow in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m just tired. It has been a busy couple of days.”

“I know,” she nods in agreement. “I was thinking, we should get super drunk tonight, skip brunch tomorrow, and then do nothing all day. What do you think?”

He laughs, and she feels the vibrations in her hands. “Deal,” he says, holding out his hand to shake on it right as the DJ comes over the microphone. Ladies and Gentleman, Chris’ eyes go wide, practically death-dropping into a squat so quickly she nearly loses her balance in her heels. Charles laughs, but she doesn’t miss his hand reaching out to steady her. If I can direct your attention to the barn door, let’s all give a warm welcome to the reason we’re all here tonight. I’m pleased to introduce for the very first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Elliott! Even from her squatted position, she still claps and cheers for Chase and Hannah.

As the clapping dies down, the instrumental of their first dance song transitions in. She shifts on her feet, from one heel to the other, and thinks about how graceful she would have to be to attempt to slip her shoes off in her current position. When she looks to Charles, she’s met with the clearest what-the-heck-are-you-doing look she’s ever been on the receiving end of, and a nod that all but picks her up and puts her in his lap itself. His arms slip around her waist lazily, like it’s where they’re supposed to belong, like a magnet pulling itself to the fridge.

As their first dance song starts, as Chase and Hannah sway around the dance floor as husband and wife, Charles places a soft kiss into her exposed shoulder. The warmth of his lips sends a chill up her spine. “Are you cold?” He whispers, and she shakes her head even though she’s been chilly since she put the dress on that morning—who the heck chooses one-shoulder bridesmaid dresses for their outdoor wedding in December? He runs his hands up and down her arms to warm her up with the friction. “You can have my jacket if you want.”

“I’m okay,” she says.

“Okay.” Another kiss, and then he rests his chin on her shoulder. “Let me know.”

After the first dance, Hannah and Chase give a short welcome speech, thanking everyone for coming to celebrate with them, for making their day so perfect. And then, it’s time to eat.

She offers to pull over a chair and eat with him, and then offers again silently after Bill makes a joke about how we won’t bite him. She doesn’t like to see him like this, so tired, so drained. “I’m good,” he says, “I promise.”

“Okay,” she says, but her return to the head table is hesitant, and she keeps an eye on him the entire meal.

– – –

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Chris, and for those of you who do, you probably knew this was coming,” Chris laughs nervously, microphone in sweaty hands. She can’t believe she has to follow Ryan’s speech. He had the whole crowd laughing until they couldn’t breathe. “I’m not one for public speaking, which I know you all find very funny considering my career choice, but when your best friend since the oh-so tender age of seven is getting married, you throw caution to the wind.”

She looks at Charles, but has to look away quickly. Just imagine me in my underwear, he’d told her before she got up here. She can’t do that. She can’t look at Hannah or Chase, either, though, or else she’ll burst into tears. So, she just looks at the piece of paper in her hand.

“So, let’s talk about Hannah. We’ve been through it all together, from the back of a Sunday school class at Grace Haven where two little girls made their first friend, to hiding from customers in the kitchen of the Pool Room listening to Mr. Gordon tell us about his ‘shine days. We weathered the storms of adolescence, rocked the awkward phase, and somehow managed to make it out on the other side with our sanity intact—well, mostly,” the room chuckles. Hannah laughs, and Chris thinks that maybe she can look at her—she can’t, can already feel the tears welling, the frog in the back of her throat.

“But,” she cracks, “It’s not about the trials we faced in high school, it’s about the triumph that is happening right now. Chase and Hannah, standing—sitting—here, about to embark on a new chapter of their lives.” Chris turns to the next page of her notes, hand shaky when she does it. “It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows getting here. Life threw us some curveballs, as it tends to do. But Hannah, she’s a force of nature. She faces challenges head-on, and with the strength of a thousand warriors.”

Chris’ eyes catch Reid, sitting on Bill’s lap next to Charles. He’s not paying any attention, but what four-year-old would? Instead, he’s swinging his legs back and forth, tapping Charles’ knee with the toe of his shoes everytime. Charles takes turns grabbing one of the attacking feet, his eyes unbreaking from her, before letting Reid wiggle it away, laughing softly at the interaction each time. “My best friend became a mom at nineteen, and there wasn’t much about it that was easy. But, like I always do, I watched her rise to the occasion, and I’ve never been prouder. I work with five-year-olds every day, and as similar as Reid is to Chase, he’s his mother’s son, and I would pay a million dollars to have twenty of him in my classroom. And Chase, you were there through all of it. When things got tough, you didn’t run; you stood by her. You became not just the guy she loved, but the rock she could lean on, the partner she deserved.”

Chris nods, continuing. “Some might say they don’t have the most conventional love story. But what is love if not a journey? One that involves bumps and twists and unexpected turns? Chase and Hannah, you’ve proven that love isn’t just for fairytales; it’s for the real, messy, complicated, and beautiful moments of life.”

Chris looks past Hannah, to Chase. It's just as hard to maintain eye contact with him. Harder, maybe, because he looks like he’s about to cry, too. Chris can count on one hand the amount of times she’s seen her brother cry. “Chase, my big brother,” she laughs through a tear.

“Fuck you, dude,” he says back, through an equally tearful laugh. Hannah’s hand runs in circles on his back.

“You are so lucky to have Hannah. Everyone in this room knows that she has this magical quality about her—this remarkable ability to make even the most unlovable people feel like the center of the universe. I’ve seen her do it time and time again, watched her sprinkle her own special kind of magic everywhere she goes.”

“Hannah,” she says, turning fully to face her best friend, abandoning the piece of paper she has memorized and replacing it with Hannah’s hand. “You are my confidante, my partner in crime, my source of strength, and my beacon of light. You are the kind of friend who not only stands by people in the good times, but also holds you up when life gets a little bit wobbly,” Chris feels a single tear fall down her cheek, and then another. She sniffles softly. “Thank you for helping me through the wobbles,” she squeaks. “You’ve been my sister as long as I’ve known you, Han, I’m just glad it’s finally official.”

Chris turns back to address the crowd, raising a glass of champagne to two of her favorite people. “To Hannah and Chase. May your love be modern enough to survive the times, but old-fashioned enough to last forever. Cheers to the messy, the beautiful, and the happily ever after you both so richly deserve.”

Hannah wastes no time enveloping Chris into a bear hug, rocking back and forth on their feet. The lace and tulle from Hannah’s dress scratch against Chris’ arms, but she doesn’t mind. She’s too busy trying not to cry onto the fabric while the rest of the tables clink their glasses to her speech. Chase is next with the hugs, a stupid one that’s stronger than Hannah’s.

“Dude,” he laughs, “you didn’t have to make me cry.”

Chris sniffles. “I love you.”

Chase pauses, squeezes her a little bit tighter. “I love you, too.”

Speeches are followed by the father-daughter and mother-son dances. Chris sneaks back over to the family table during the latter, makes her dad move over into Cindy’s seat so she can sit next to Charles. He has a fresh glass of the same drink from earlier, and is nursing it the same way he did the first one.

“You know,” she says, checking the state of her makeup with her phone’s camera. “You’re going to have to pick up the pace if we’re getting wasted tonight.”

He laughs, the side of his foot bumping against hers under the table. She leans her foot back on the heel of her shoe, toys with the hem of his slacks. “Is that right?” He spins the drink, talks into the bottom of the glass, but she’s not fooled. His ears are red at the simple action.

“Yeah,” she nods. “Let me show you,” and then takes the glass from his hand, downing what’s left without a scowl. It’s dark liquor. She loves the burn.

Chris is like… she reminds him of that battery rabbit. A constant source of energy. She’s practically bouncing off the walls, giddily introducing him to anyone they come across that he doesn’t already know. She’s just so personable, and the buzz she’s gotten from the champagne and the stolen sips of his drinks only make her more lively. She knows everyone here, he’s sure of it, but she could befriend a brick wall if it gave her five minutes.

It’s impossible for even the most sullen people not to feed off her energy—everyone is swallowed up by her laugh, every conversation brightened by her presence. She’s so fun to watch that he wonders if he’s dreamt her up, created a figment of his imagination in the shape of someone just so good. God, she’s good.

They survive the newlywed games and the anniversary dances, even make it all the way to the cake cutting before it becomes an Elliott family party—which, if you didn’t know, is synonymous with a drunken rager. As soon as Hannah swipes a finger full of frosting across Chase’s cheek, it’s game over.

Drinks flow as freely as laughter echoes, and the dance floor is nothing more than a playground for a bunch of drunken idiots. Chris and Hannah, seasoned dance partners, showcase their moves with infectious enthusiasm, dancing the blurry line between elegance and idiocy.

When the music slows, though, she’s always finding her way to him, heavy arms around his neck, his around her waist. If they know the song, they take turns butchering the vocals and giggling until the other person kisses them.

“So, how was my speech?” She asks soberly, swaying along to the tune of some slow song he’s never heard of.

“You made that speech your bitch, baby,” he slurs, even though he has a million and one questions about her speech.

He’d heard it. So many fucking times, he’d heard it, and not once had he heard the ending. He thought he heard the ending—he did hear the ending. It was just different. Shorter. Sweeter. Didn’t put a confused knot in his stomach. Thank you for helping me through my wobbles. A remarkable ability to make even the most unlovable people feel like the center of the universe. He doesn’t want to entertain them as connected, to live in a world where they’re connected.

“You think so?” She beams. He can’t ask when she smiles like that.

“Yeah,” his tongue feels dry in his mouth—cottony. He’s bothered, and he doesn’t understand why. “It was great, very personal.” He shouldn’t let it bother him. It’s a fucking speech at a wedding for people he barely knows. It shouldn’t bother him, it shouldn’t rot his insides, the concept that two sentences could be in any way related to one another. It shouldn’t bother him, really. It does, though. And he can’t stop himself when he’s half-drunk the way he could if he was sober. “Everything you talked about… it’s all you two, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “Hannah’s done a lot for me, y’know. I’m sure we’re like you and Joris, just. I cry more than you.”

“Even the, uh…” he clears his throat. “Even the whole thing about, um…”

“Charles,” she laughs, brows furrowed in a way he thinks only he could perceive.

He sighs. “You know that you’re the kind of person who is easy to love, yes?”

She doesn’t look at him when she nods, or when she smiles, or when she kisses him. “I know,” she mumbles, and it’s the most unbelievable thing she’s ever said. The easiest lie he’s ever spotted, but it’s even clearer that she doesn’t want him to push on it, so he doesn’t. He’s smart enough to know when it’s time to just dance with his girlfriend.

– – –

They wake up the next morning disgustingly hungover. Like, stare at the white ceiling for twenty minutes talking about how hungover they are and praying they don’t throw up, hungover. Her ceiling is textured, and the pattern repeats every foot-or-so like it’s been stamped on. That’s how hungover he is.

He showers while she makes them prairie oysters, and despite how absolutely horrifying it looks, sounds, and sells, he manages to find enough trust in her to force it down with a grim scowl. Fuck, it’s disgusting. Horrifically so.

They take an uber out to the wedding venue to retrieve Chris’ car, and she gives directions back to the Dawsonville Pool Room with her eyes half closed, sunglasses over her eyes. Everytime he looks at her he thinks she’s turning green.

The owner recognizes her as soon as they’re walking through the door. Charles doesn’t understand a single fucking word the guy says. Chris orders “two Bully Burgers, but I swear to holy Heaven if you put slaw anywhere near my plate you’re gonna see the Devil, Mr. Gordon.”

He responds in something Charles could technically call English, and Chris shakes her head, a smile pulling on her lips. “I’m serious, he’ll back me up,” she says, thumb pointing to him. “He’s not from around here, you’re just another stranger.”

The greasiest, sloppiest, most mediocre burger he’s ever eaten is put in front of him five minutes later, and he feels like a new man after. Still absolutely strung out and exhausted, yes, but like his stomach is content to stay inside his body.

Later that afternoon, when they’re both half asleep on the couch, some stupid sitcom playing as background nose, he’s still thinking about her fucking speech from the night earlier. It’s still bugging him. “Baby?” he mumbles against the skin of her shoulder. He doesn’t even know if she’s awake to answer.

“Hmm?” She hums.

“We do not have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but. You are a very lovable person, I think.” He couldn’t give any specific examples of what makes him so sure of this fact, he honestly couldn’t. But isn’t that proof enough? That just her being is enough to answer the question.

“Babe,” she stretches against him, speaks through a yawn.

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, I just. I don’t know.”

“No, it’s okay. We can talk about it.” She adjusts, if just slightly, so that it’s easier for her to look at him while they speak. “When everyone has the same complaint, all your old friends and old boyfriends tell you that you’re too much or too little, you realize maybe you’re the crazy one.”

He doesn't like that reasoning. He thinks it’s a load of bullshit, actually. “Why do you think of yourself in this way?”

Chris laughs. “It’s fine, really.”

“It’s not,” he says, because he knows it’s a lie.

“It is, because I’ve come to terms with it. I accept it.”

He frowns, hates the way she seems so content with this. Like it’s something that is even kind of rational. It’s not, he knows. He pauses, can’t even come up with something to say to her level of absurdity. “I don’t think you should accept that.”

She turns away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, and laughs softly. “I’m sure you don’t.”

“You are not unlovable.” She’s not. She’s not. He knows she’s not. He knows, he knows, because of rain on a pine patio and leaves that change colors. He knows, because if she was unlovable, he wouldn’t love her. And he does, he does love her.

Wait.

“Well, we’ll see. Everyone always sees.”

No, hold on. Wait. His stomach is tangled, flip-flopping and fluttering like every butterfly this side of the Atlantic has suddenly taken up residence in his insides. You don’t love her, you idiot, he thinks. But he does. Fucking… His heart races. He hopes to God, pays to something he’s not sure he believes in that she can’t feel it against his chest. That he can get away with it. “See what?”

She shrugs. “If I knew, nobody would see it,” she laughs. He laughs along, too, but it’s so forced that it sounds like some pre-recorded bit. She’s so casual about all of this that he feels like he needs to pinch himself. It doesn’t make sense, he can’t wrap his mind around it. But Chris, she’s comfortable enough with her bull-fucking-shit ‘facts’ that she can pull her phone out and scroll through it while they wrap up the conversation. “And before you ask, ‘What if I don’t see anything?’ like everyone else but Hannah always asks, nothing happens.”

“Nothing happens?”

She opens her fucking email. He’s in love with her, and she’s opening her fucking email while telling him it’s not possible. “You win, I guess.”

“I win you?”

“I mean, I don’t like to consider myself something that can be won,” she says, and he rolls his eyes. His heart is beating so loud he thinks the neighbors can probably hear it. “But for lack of a better word… sure. You win me.”

He nods. There’s nothing more he can add to the conversation, not now. Not when he’s just ran face-first into a brick wall of I love you. Fuck. Fuck. He’s totally in love with her. What the fuck is he supposed to do now?

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#ma&thp #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #f1 edit #f1 fic #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 imagine #ferrari f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x oc #scuderia ferrari

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bunny-eats-fox · 8 months

Text

about first times

miyamura izumi warnings: jealous reader ; sex/18+/SMUT; ends in fluff wc: 3,2k an: this was a request! and while I am rather "meh" regarding them, like i do them when i like them sort of thing, i couldn't say not to his prompt! thank u 🫶 request: "Hey, okay? I don't know if you accept requests.... if so, could you write something for Miyamura, where the reader is jealous of him with Hori? (If you can write some hot stuff too... )Thanks!!"

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

"I'm here"

When this notification popped up, you couldn't stop your lips from curving into a smile.

"I'll quickly finish up, I'll be down in 10! O((>ω< ))o" That's what you hastily typed before you turned back to your laptop screen.

After another 5 minutes, you had finally finished draft number three of the new contract your firm was about to conclude. It was a big responsibility for you, your biggest yet, but you were thankful for the chance, hence overtime was sometimes inevitable. Since it was 100% compensated and, thankfully, not too often you had to stay late, you didn't mind that much. Especially because your boyfriend of three years was ever so kind to pick you up then. That way you were home just a little bit earlier.

When you finally packed your bag, you hurried out of your office into the elevator. Excited for that Thursday to have ended, and thus the weekend being only one more day away, you rushed out of the elevator once it hit ground floor.

However, the swift clicking of your heels against the tile flooring suddenly fell silent once you stopped abruptly in your track. Through the big glass windows of the lobby you saw Izumi… and his ex.

It wasn't like you hated Hori or anything; especially since she hadn't been in contact with Miyamura for over 4 years (according to him). There was no reason for you to hide, rather the opposite. You would go out there and confidently greet her.

However, as you wanted to start walking again, you stopped when you saw your boyfriend and Hori laughing. A sting in your heart made you gulp and clutch your bag a tad bit tighter. It wasn't even the polite little laugh one did to not make such a meeting awkward, no - it was a tummy clutching hearty laughter that had Miyamura and Hori bend forwards.

The twinge of jealousy you suddenly felt stopped you completely for a moment. You knew there wasn't a reason for you to get jealous. It was admirable to be on good terms with your ex-lover. Plus, you trusted Izumi.

Yet, when she finally waved and left, you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Hopefully, you can quickly get over that weird tenseness that had now filled your body after you had witnessed that.

As you finally wanted to get out of your office, you stopped once more.

"(Y/n)-san, good work today."

"Tachibana-san!", you bowed lightly and then smiled at him, "Good work today, Tachibana-san."

Your boss, a handsome 27-year old, held you back from leaving for just a little longer. Though, as you happily told him about the progress you had made regarding the new contract, you were oblivious to the fact that the young man had put his hand on your back. Too engrossed in the conversation, you didn't realize and only when he excused himself after wishing you a good evening, you thought you had felt something slide down your back to your hips. Though, as it was gone, you didn't think about it further.

Instead, you finally left the building after your boss and rushed to your lover.

"I'm so sorry you had to wait, Izumi!" You openly hugged him and your boyfriend immediately put his arms around you as well.

"No, don't worry about it. You've worked hard.", he smiled and then kissed your forehead.

Everything was okay. You hoped you quickly forgot what you had seen today as you got into the car and drove back to your shared apartment.

After dinner and your usual night routine, you sat on your bed together with him as you moisturized your legs. Even though you were a little… miffed he didn't tell you about Hori, you hoped you didn't show it. There was no reason to get emotional about that. They just had a good laugh together, nothing more.

Though, everything went wrong when he suddenly started, "So… who was the man you were talking to?"

"Hm?" You were honestly surprised as you looked at him in confusion.

"You know, the dark haired, good looking one before you came out.", he specified.

"Ohh…", somehow you didn't like his tone, "That was my boss."

"Pretty young for someone leading such a big firm." Izumi didn't look at you as he rummaged through his nightstand.

"Yeah… his father died last year so he unexpectedly had to take over. He is really nice though and hard working."

The mood was, for whatever reason, a little tense.

"Hah yeah I can see he is really working hard to flirt with his subordinates."

"Excuse me?", you raised an eyebrow.

"(Y/n), I saw you and him." Izumi finally turned to you. "His hand was on your back and he was super close, too."

You scoffed speechlessly and just looked at him as if he was the crazy one.

"He was being friendly?" Why did you defend your boss? It was true that you had felt something, so it was Tachibana's hand?

"Friendly?? Right, because when I am friendly I touch someone like that.", Izumi clicked his tongue and then turned around to lay down, "Whatever."

When he turned his back to you, you couldn't hold back any longer, "No, I know. When you are being friendly, you just laugh hysterically with your ex, right? Must have been a reeeally fun conversation you had with her."

Finally, Miyamura turned around again and looked at you utterly surprised.

"That's right. I saw you too. And you didn't even tell me you met Hori today." After you had desperately tried to keep your cool, it was finally over as tears sprung to your eyes. Goodness, when will you learn not to cry in conversations like these?

"So don't get all huffy now telling me my boss is flirting with me when you have the greatest fucking time with your ex just outside my damn office.", you choked on the last words a little and then threw a pillow into his face.

"Ah, (Y/n)-"

"Shut up! I'm going to sleep!", you yelled before you turned around and slipped under your warm blanket, your back facing your boyfriend.

And all Izumi could do was listen to the light sniffles and watch your trembling form underneath the blanket as he lay back himself, wondering why he was such an idiot.

The next day, you and him didn't talk. Still miffed, you put on your heels before you grabbed your bag. Honestly, you would have just left without saying anything, but Izumi had something different in mind when he came to the front door. At first, you ignored him, though he didn't really care about that as he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. For just a few seconds, you felt his soft lips on yours, leaving you speechless for a moment.

"See you later. Come home safely.", he said like all the days prior as he pushed your lunch bag into your hands..

"Mh…thanks, you too… Love you.", you then mumbled loud enough and quickly walked out the door, though you still heard his "Love you too" before it closed fully.

With a loudly thumping heart, you walked to the bus station, undoubtedly happy about what he did. It certainly made you realize that you would have made a grand mistake walking out the house like that. Life truly was unpredictable and leaving the house without a single goodbye or loving word was not right. Despite your little fight, Izumi still knew that.

You were so embarrassed right now for acting that childish that you were glad the bus came quickly just so could hide in a corner and truly reflect on your little quarrel.

When you finally were able to eat your lunch, you just wanted a quiet moment to yourself, however…

"(Y/n)-san!)", a cheerful voice called out to you and you watched your boss approaching you.

"(Y/n)-san, you didn't eat your lunch yet?", though he didn't give you a chance to answer, "So, I thought I'd ask if you'd like to join today?" Tachibana reached out his hand and squeezed your shoulder.

That's when it finally clicked: Izumi was right. Your boss was shamelessly flirting with you - and that in front of everyone too!

"I'm so sorry, Tachibana-san thank you for the invitation, but I've been looking forward to eating my boyfriend's bento since he gave it to me this morning.", you politely said with a smile, but deliberately mentioned Miyamura, hoping he would get the hint as you also politely, but firmly, pushed his hand away from your shoulder.

Tachibana's face slightly derailed, but he swiftly had his composure back as he forced a smile and nodded.

"Of course… Then, if you'll excuse me.", he still smiled before he walked off.

Sighing, you turned back to your desk. Thankfully, your coworkers didn't say anything (to your face at least) as you opened your lunch bag. Every day, even though he had to work himself, he got up and made you a bento.

You felt the tears already, but you didn't want to cry while you stuffed your face with Miyamura's cooking.

You felt even more horrible about what had happened. Especially because he was totally right, your boss did flirt with you and you just showed him your nasty side by being jealous. Even though you did trust Izumi, you really did. It was just… whenever you saw Hori, you got reminded of the fact that she got all of Izumi's first times. Because for you, Izumi was your first everything. You met when you were 20 and while he had experienced all those "first times" already, you hadn't even romantically held hands with someone before that. So sometimes you wondered if he didn't regret splitting with his "first love", especially because you had heard from a young age that “the first love was like no other love, it can never be forgotten” and stuff like that. Hence why it made you insecure sometimes that he would want to go back to his first love where he got to experienced all those other firsts as well…

"I have to apologize… no matter what…that was childish of me.", you mumbled to yourself once you finished your delicious lunch.

With new motivation and determination, you went back to work.

With a deep sigh, you got ready to finally leave the office. Even though you got off on time, the thought of using public transportation made you grumble. Usually, you might have ended up calling Izumi to pick you up, since he usually closed the shop for the day at that point, however, that wasn't an option now. Not after you left like that this morning.

Though, when you stepped out of the elevator and walked to the big front entrance, you saw a familiar silhouette through the glasses of the door and windows. Even though Tachibana came around the corner just in that moment and called for you, you didn't even realize. Too fixated, you rushed past him, your heels frantically clicking on the tile flooring as you pushed the doors open and…

Indeed, Izumi leaned against the car and waited for you. Once he looked up, a smile adorned his face and that's when you ran the last few meters just to throw yourself at him.

"I'm sorry. I was a jealous idiot and you were right about Tachib-" However, Izumi interrupted you when his hands gently tilted back your head so he could silence you with a kiss.

"I’m sorry too. I should have brought it up differently. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about-" It was your time to silence him with a kiss, before you shook your head.

"It's fine. Really."

Then you hugged each other tightly. Izumi, nor you cared about the fact that you stood right in front of your office building and in the middle of the streets. Rather…when Miyamura just glanced into the building's direction, he saw your boss; he stood at the front windows, watching you two. It took everything in Izumi to not do anything inappropriate, so he just resumed to hugging you tighter and kissing your cute little side profile. If your boss ever touched you again, he might not have been so tame though.

With tangled mouths, Izumi somehow managed to open your shared apartment door so he could pull you inside in a haste. Clumsily, you both stumbled through the entrance, mouths never apart as he swiftly kicked the door close. A muffled moan escaped your lips when your boyfriend pushed you against the now closed door. Though, you didn't resist, rather, you pulled him in even closer, your tongues entwined as his hands roamed your body.

Izumi didn't even bother to open your blazer or blouse, instead, he opened the zipper of your pencil skirt and in one motion, he pulled it down so it pooled around your ankles. You didn't even have time to take off your pumps had he already grabbed your leg and pulled it up.

"Is it okay?", he asked breathlessly, which only elicited a small giggle from you.

"Mmn." You nodded and hummed approvingly, your hands already working on the zipper of his jeans.

That was all Izumi needed. Once his own pants and boxers pooled somewhere around his knees, he needily pushed your underwear to the side (because he really couldn't be bothered to pull it down).

With your help, he guided his aching cock into your dripping core, eliciting moans and grunts from you both. Miyamura filled you just the right way that it made you tremble.

"Fuck… you're so wet. It's so good.", your boyfriend grunted between gritted teeth. And you could just whimper in agreement as he started thrusting relentlessly without letting you catch your breath for a moment.

All you could do was grab onto him as Izumi moved his hips desperately and hard, grinding against that deepest spot inside you. Your back hit the apartment door and you were pretty sure neighbors could hear your moaning, despite your efforts to muffle it by burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"Izumi!! Izum- nghhgg, d-don't…I…", you tried to get through to your boyfriend and he did stop relentlessly attacking your g-spot for a second.

"Does it hurt?", he asked in between heavy gasps holding you firmly pushed against the door. Yet, he gently kissed the side of head, his voice full of concern when he whispered, "Want me to stop?"

Though you just shook your head and hugged him even tighter (if that was even possible), "N-no it just…feels too good…my voice…will- MNGHG!", you harshly bit your lip when Izumi angled his hips a certain way to thrust deeply into you.

"You're so cute.", he whispered, though a small smirk played around his lips which made you pout. And then, he was back to burying himself over and over into your dripping pussy. The noises from your needy and desperate love-making were loud and so erotic.

Even though you were embarrassed that you stood at the front door, going at it like rabbits, there was also something inside you that didn't care if anyone would hear. Right now, all you were capable of doing was to hang onto him and let that bliss sweep you both away.

"Haaahhh~", you let out a blissful sigh while you relaxed against him. Even though it was pretty crammed in the small bathtub, neither of you cared.

Compared to yesterday, it was a comfortable silence as you cuddled together. As Izumi littered kisses all over your shoulder and neck, your thoughts once again drifted back to how you felt yesterday and how unnecessary that stupid fight was.

"Izumi?"

"Mmn?"

"About yesterday…I really am sorry. You know, it's not that I don't trust you. It's just.. ", you fiddled with your fingers trying to find the right words. Thankfully, he waited for you and just squeezed your thigh gently.

"It's just, uhhmm, you know, sometimes I…I get kinda jealous thinking about how Hori was your first everything and… that she got to have that all. I just wish I could have gotten to know you sooner and experience that with you …Ahhh just saying it out loud, it sounds so stupid. I'm really sorry." You shyly moaned at the end and buried your face in your hands.

For a moment, Miyamura didn't say anything, before a gentle laugh was heard. Squeezing you just a tad bit tighter, he nuzzled his head against your own before he said, "You're seriously adorable, (Y/n)."

"Mmmnnn don't say that… I'm really stupid.", you mumbled, though Izumi shook his head with a little chuckle.

"There is really nothing to worry about, (Y/n). She might have had a few of my first times, but definitely not all of them. The first time I'm living together with someone besides my parents, is with you. I’ve also never made a bento for someone before, but I couldn’t help myself when I saw how hard you were working and I love that you always compliment my cooking, it’s my little treasure.", he giggled and kissed the back of your hands until you finally lowered them so his beautiful blue eyes could stare directly into your soul, "And there are still many firsts to come…even now…”

"Eh? Wha-?"

Though before you could even say anything else, his hand touched your cheek and pulled you in really close before he whispered in your ear, "Aishiteru."

When Izumi rose again, the look on your face was priceless. Your beautiful eyes opened wide, mouth opened in disbelief and the sudden heat from your cheek transmitted onto the palm of his hand made his heart jump in response.

You were truly speechless for a moment, but also so incredibly happy. Hence why you just couldn’t stop the tears from blurring your vision. Without hesitation, you hugged him tightly and so suddenly that the water in the tub overflowed, though you both didn’t care when you held each other close.

And then, you returned those words.

Just like that, Izumi’s cheeks also turned a cute shade of red as he quickly buried his face in the crook of your neck. Even though he just said it himself, hearing it back from the one he loved the most was truly… exhilarating and even Izumi had to fight back those tears of happiness.

That surely was a “first time” you didn’t even think about receiving any time soon, but it only made your heart melt more, knowing that you were the first in his life to hear those special words. And it wasn’t any different for Miyamura himself, because he had felt the urge to tell you for quite a while now, but never knew when and he didn’t just want to randomly say it one day. Though, it couldn’t have been a better timing than this. Because even if there were some bad days, at the end of it, you could be sure that the love you had for each other was like no other and there were still many first he wanted to experience together with you.

__________________________

all characters canonically under 18 are always aged up in nsfw scenarios ; english is not my native language so i apologize for any mistakes ;

#izumi miyamura #miyamura x reader #izumi x reader #smut #horimiya

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jackles010378 · 5 months

Text

Guys I am so sorry, I seriously thought I posted this on Thursday 😶‍🌫️ I must of dreamt I did, anyways hope you enjoy it ❤️

(No warnings needed)

Happily Ever After part 1

(this story takes place immediately after I Can't Do This Anymore and will be in two parts)

Straight after Jensen proposed to you, you both had an eventful night. He wanted you to feel loved and wanted and boy did he make you feel just that!

The morning after you phoned your best friend Becca and told her the great news. You asked her to be your maid of honour to which she practically screamed yes down the phone to you.

3 months of planning, 3 months of nothing but looking at wedding venues and flower arrangements, dresses, tuxedos and caterers. You and Jensen didn't want to wait too long to get married so you chose the earliest date that the registrar could give you which was 4 months after he had proposed.

Sitting in your living room with Jensens mom Donna the one side and his sister the other. Gen had come over too. They were helping you put the wedding favours together. Jensen had offered to hire a wedding planner so you weren't overwhelmed with all the planning, he knew he wouldn't be able to help much because of the press tours he had to do, but you told him you wanted to do it because it would be more personal.

You got up of the couch and offered to get everyone a drink. Just as you were about to enter the kitchen your doorbell rang. Opening it up you felt arms wrap tightly around you nearly knocking you off your feet "Jesus Christ Becca, come in why don't you" you said through a laugh as your friend clung onto you. "What can I say I missed my friend". You hadn't seen Becca since you moved in with Jensen. You obviously messaged and video called each other, but it wasn't the same as how it used to be.

Hearing the noise Gen came to investigate "y/n, you okay" you let go of your friend and introduced her to Gen "wow, Gen Padalecki, I'm a big fan of yours and Jared, I mean you guys are great" you bumped your friends shoulder to stop her making a fool of herself. Gen hugged Becca and you went to grab the drinks.

You introduced Becca to Jensen's mom and sister and showed her what you were doing. You were all sitting in the living room now putting the favours together talking about the wedding and how much was left to do. Jensen had spoken to Danneel about having the wedding at the brewery. To your surprise she was okay with it, even said she would help decorate. You got on with Danneel which you didn't think would ever happen but when she had spoken to you after you nearly left him, you two became good friends, she had settled some insecurities that you had by telling you her's when she was with him.

You made it clear to Jensen that you only wanted a small wedding, nothing too over the top. Just close friends and family. That part saddened you, your father was no longer with you and your mom was too ill to travel. You had spoken to him about how only a handful of your family members were going to be able to make it so you just wanted something simple. Jensen had told you as long as you were there he didn't need anyone else, just you.

Finishing up the last of the favours you heard the door open then close, Jensen was home after 2 months of non-stop press tours. You bounced out of your seat to meet him half way. He didn't hear you sneaking up behind him as he shook his coat off and put his suitcase by the door. As he turned around you snaked your arms around his waist and hugged him tight "woah easy sweetheart, anyone would think you missed me" you looked up at him and kissed him deeply. Jensen started to get a bit handsy so you had to stop him "your mom and sister are here" you said between kisses "Gen and Becca too". He sighed and let go of you but not before giving you one last peck on the lips.

"Does this mean your free to help out now with the wedding prep son" Donna asked Jensen after he had said hello to everyone and gave them all a hug. He sat down by you wrapping his arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer to him. "Yeah ma, I'm free for the next couple months now to be exact, oh, well apart from that one con me and Jared have got in a couple of weeks" he kissed your temple squeezing you slightly. "Gen, can you make sure he didn't forget anything this time" Jensen pleaded with her which made you all laugh.

After saying goodbye to everyone including Becca who insisted on staying in a hotel so you and Jensen could be alone, you both let out a heavy sigh. He wrapped you up in a tight hug and to your surprise picked you bridal style "Jay, what are you doing" you asked through laughter. "I'm taking my fiance to bed, if she doesn't mind. I haven't seen for over 2 months so we have a lot of catching up to do" you let out a tiny squeal as Jensen went running up the stairs to your master bedroom.

The next morning you woke up to the sounds of soft snores. You felt a heavy weight across your abdomen which you welcomed. As if he knew you were awake Jensen stirred, pulling you closer to him and kissing you softly. "Good morning future Mrs Ackles" that brought a smile to your lips and you kissed him back, "good morning my soon to be husband". You both lay there for a while, glad to be in each other's arms.

"Y/n, I wanna ask you something and feel free to say no, but...." "Why don't I like the sound of this Jay?" You perched up resting your chin on his chest " oh no, it's nothing bad, I just wanna know, well, I would love it if you would come to the con with me. You don't have to go out on stage or anything and Gen is gonna be there with the kids so I'm sure she'll.........." You placed a finger on his lips as a way to shush him before you pecked them "I would love nothing more than to go to the con with you". Jensen's smile grew and he rolled on top of you kissing you hard. He knew how much guts it took for you to do this and well it would be a nice break from all the wedding planning.

Con weekend, you had never experienced anything like it! Jensen had made sure you were kept out of the limelight. But that didn't stop his fans asking questions about you or the wedding at the first panel. You thought it was cute how he blushed when he spoke about you as you watched on the screen in the green room, Gen had been amazing too. You helped her look after the kids while the boys did their thing.

You both were watching the main panel when you heard one fan ask Jensen if they'd ever get the chance to see you on stage, he looked at Jared and cleared his throat "as much as I would love to share y/n with y'all, she's extremely shy, she's not great with big crowds but she's working on it so, hopefully at a future con maybe" the girl thanked Jensen and went back to her seat. You stood up and told Gen you needed to stretch your legs, but what you did surprised even you.

You found yourself behind the black curtain you saw Jensen and Jared appear out of. Just as you were about to walk away Rob came up behind you " hey y/n, you okay, you need something" you looked at Rob and told him to tell the crowd there was a special guest waiting. He smiled at you and walked out on stage. At this point Jared and Jensen were winding the panel down getting ready for the last question as Rob started to talk " now guys I just bumped into someone backstage who said she'd love to come and meet y'all" Jensen and Jared looked confused at Rob, wondering what was going on "guys give a nice big cheer for Y/N L/N". The crowd started to go wild as Jensen swung round to see you walk from behind the curtain. Sure you were nervous as hell, but you needed to do this, not just for yourself but for Jensen too. It didn't take long until Jensen was right by you hugging you tight as the crowd let out a collective 'aww' at the same time.

Leaving the stage with Jensen you couldn't help the smile that was on your face, you actually just did something you never thought you'd ever be able to do. As soon as you got in the green room Gen hugged you tight "I knew you could do it girl, your stronger than you think" she released you as you felt another pair of arms hug you from behind "I am so unbelievably proud of you baby, what you just did took guts, you were great out there" you turned in his arms and hugged him back "it was more fun than I thought it would be, you guys have got some great fans" you pulled back enough so you could give him a kiss, to which you heard Shep and Tom say in union "eww gross".

It was now a week till the wedding, everything was booked and paid for, Danneel was still insisting on decorating the brewery so you gave in and gave her the go ahead.

You were making breakfast for you and Jensen before you had to leave to pick up your dress, the maid of honours dress and the 3 bridesmaid dresses you had made for JJ, Arrow and Odette. Jensen was going to pick up his suit, Jared's, Zeppelin's, Toms and Shep's. You were happy that the kids liked you, it made things a lot easier. As you were flipping the bacon, it felt as if your stomach was doing somersaults. Jensen came into the kitchen as you threw the spatula on the side and darted to the bathroom. After the sickness subsided you made your way back to the kitchen where Jensen looked concerned "you okay sweetheart?, you don't look so good" he felt your head but you weren't burning up " I must've caught a bug or something, I'll be fine" Jensen looked at you again and phoned Becca and asked if she could pick up the dresses for you, which she said she would.

While Jensen was out picking up the suits and now Becca was picking up the dresses for you, you couldn't help but feel nauseous again. You tried to recall what you had eaten or who you had been around that would make you sick like this. Then a thought hit you, but no, you couldn't be, could you? You did the math in your head and as realisation hit you, you grabbed your car keys heading for the nearest pharmacy, your mind was racing.......

Is she or isn't she 🤰🏼🤫🤔we shall see!

Thanks for reading guys , hopefully it won't be too long of a wait for part 2 🥰

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @tmb510

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #jackles #jensen ross ackles #spn cast #soldier boy #deanwinchtser #jensen ackles gifs #beau arlen #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 9 months

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Battle Of The Knights Pt. 4: Round 3 -Marc

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: nothin- you're safe

Genre: fluff- still just fluff lol

Summary: "So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.

What happens when the relationships you've built with Marc and his two alters are turned on their heads by a proposition that is anything but simple? How can they expect you to risk blowing up the carefully crafted dynamic you've worked so hard to create? And why do you agree to such an insane suggestion?

***

As much as you'd like to sit and stew on your date with Jake the way you did with Steven, you're starting to think it's best for everyone not to draw this out any longer than absolutely necessary, so the following Friday you text the trio again, this time addressing Marc, with a message identical to the one you sent Steven and Jake.

Marc. Your week starts Sunday. You have until next Sunday to plan and execute a date on a day of your choosing or you forfeit your turn.

Marc almost immediately shoots back an affirmative like Jake did.

Okay.

But it wasn't until the next day that he reached out to give you any information on your date.

Hey y/n, right now my plan is to pick you up at 7 pm on Friday. Is that okay?

You chuckle to yourself as you read the message. He's the only one who asked if his choice was convenient for you. Even if that time didn't originally work you would make it work, if that's what time his plans are for you have no intentions to make it any harder.

Of course! See you then.

You shoot him back your reply quickly. Friday. You just need to make it through Friday. That is doable. On Thursday you remember to ask for a dress code since none of them seem particularly fond of revealing their plans in advance and when you're again told to keep it casual, you pick out a pair of shorts and a crop top for your third mystery date. Marc knocks on your door just after 7 looking a bit frantic when you open the door.

"Sorry I'm a bit late. I brought you flowers." Marc says holding out a bouquet of pretty purple and white blooms.

"Oh, it hasn't even been five minutes, don't worry about it. Give me just a second to set these up in a vase and then we can go. Okay?" You tell him, turning back into your apartment to put the flowers somewhere.

"Sure!" He calls after you without crossing the threshold. You don't actually have any vases lying around so you stick them in one of your reusable water bottles until you can get them a better home. No one's ever gotten you flowers before so keeping a vase in your apartment has literally never occurred to you before this moment. Marc waits patiently at your door until you return. It's strange to realize this but before now you hadn't really thought about it much until now. Usually, the boys move about your apartment as if they live here but through this whole process, none of them have stepped inside. Whether that was something they agreed on in advance or just a subconscious side effect of the temporary dynamic change you're not sure but you're not about to tip the scales for any of them by inviting Marc in. He can wait at the door if that's what he's chosen to do.

"Okay! Let's go." You smile at him once you're done, stepping out and locking your apartment door.

"Do you have your underground card by the way? We'll have to hop on the train from here." Marc tells you before you leave the building.

"Yeah, I've got it. Where are we going?" You ask.

"Oxford Circus." He says.

"Oxford Circus? What are we doing over there?" You ask frowning in confusion. The name of the station does not give you any clues as to what you'll be doing.

"That's all I'm gonna give you til we get there babes." Marc says.

"Fine." You say with exaggerated annoyance that makes Marc laugh as the two of you walk to the nearest underground station. You catch the next train headed for Oxford Circus while Marc asks you about how your week has been at work. Once you're off the train Marc takes your hand as he walks the streets to an unknown destination. After a few minutes, he pulls open the door to a building that you just barely catch the name of.

"Minigolf?!" You gasp.

"I thought it'd be fun, something laid back and low stakes. You know, except for the fact that you're definitely gonna lose."

"I'm gonna lose?! Oh, you are so going down Spector." You laugh.

"Yeah sure totally." He scoffs as you walk up to the desk at the front. The two of you pick your course, get your clubs and choose from the basket of colorful golf balls, yours blue and his yellow, and then the competition begins. You keep score because Marc is notorious for not doing that properly whenever you play games. By the time you get to the last of the nine holes of the course, it's not hard to guess how things will end. You line up what should be your final shot and knock the bright blue ball against an edge of the course that pushes it into the hole.

"HA! That's game baby! You lose." You jump up when it rolls in.

"Hey now, I could totally make this shot you know. It's not over til it's over." Marc defends.

"Even if you do make this shot Marc you're still five up. You can't beat me at this point." You shrug and Marc lines up for his next putt. It takes Marc two more shots to get his ball in.

"Damn." He shakes his head.

"Yeah- I totally wiped the floor with you." You laugh.

"No no, you wanna have the higher number obviously, so I win." Marc says looking at the scorecard.

"I know I've called you an idiot a number of times but I don't think you're that dumb. Or maybe you are if you think that's gonna work." You scoff. Marc slaps a hand against his chest dramatically.

"Ouch! Must you kick a man while he's down?" He sighs.

"Aw poor baby." You pout at him. "I'd feel worse if you hadn't declared that you'd beat me before we even started." You smirk at him.

"How evil." Marc smiles.

"That's what you get for saying I would and I quote 'definitely lose'. Looks like the stakes weren't what you thought they were."

"When did you get so good at mini golf anyway?" He asks.

"Oh I don't know. I don't play that often."

"What?" He blinks at you.

"I'm just good at most things." You shrug.

"I'd do well to remember that then." He hums.

"Yes. You would." You smile and turn to walk back to the desk to return your club and golf ball with Marc quickly catching up to walk beside you.

"So- I was thinking we could get burgers, or if you want something that's more upscale there's an Italian place not far from here that's pretty good." Marc suggests once the two of you have exited the building.

"In the theme of laid back and low stakes- burgers sound great." You say with a slight nudge.

"Awesome, there's a burger joint a couple blocks down that's so good even Steven likes going there." Marc throws an arm over your shoulders as you walk.

"Really? They have vegan options I'm guessing?" You ask.

"They do indeed. Although- since Steven isn't rambling in my head tonight I think I'll pass on the vegan options this time around. Don't tell him." Marc winks at you.

"Your secret is safe with me." You giggle. You've always found it sweet that Marc, despite not actually being vegan, tries to accommodate Steven's lifestyle as often as he does. Jake really can't be bothered- not that you blame him honestly- he's not vegan either, there's no reason for him to go out of his way to choose vegan options but Marc's attempt at consideration is nice. It only takes you about five minutes to make it to the restaurant Marc was talking about and since the place isn't busy when you get there it doesn't take long to get your food once you've ordered.

"I can see why even Steven likes this place." You hum popping a fry into your mouth.

"Good right?" Marc smiles.

"Yeah, I'll definitely be coming back here." You nod.

"Well- sounds like I'm doing pretty damn good tonight then."

"You're certainly better at planning dates than you are at playing mini golf, I'll give you that much." You shrug.

"I think I can accept that as your official assessment." He says.

"Yeah?" You chuckle.

"Yeah! Imagine if I sucked as bad at date planning. Now that would be something I can't recover from."

"I mean- it's not like I'd go home and block you if you planned a bad date." You wink.

"Sure but not getting blocked is such a low bar. I'm aiming for way higher." Marc says.

"You're doing great so far." You chuckle. The two of you joke and chat while finishing your food and even once all that's left is the rubbish you keep talking until eventually the place is getting ready to close and you have to leave. Your train ride back to your apartment is similarly filled with chatter. It's always interesting to you how no matter how long you spend with Marc you never actually run out of things to talk about with him. When you think about it, that actually applies to Jake and Steven too, it's like you can never spend enough time with them. It's nice, having someone, or in this case, a trio of someones, that you don't get tired of being around. Once you're back at your apartment there's an awkward transition from whatever you're talking about to goodbyes- neither of you particularly rushing for the night to end.

"Well- we made it back." Marc says.

"We did. I had a good time tonight." You tell him with a smile.

"That's all I was hoping for." He says. You chuckle and turn your back for long enough to unlock your apartment and then you face him again, leaning forward a bit to give Marc a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Goodnight Marc." You say quietly before stepping into your apartment.

"Wait-" Marc says before you can shut the door.

"Yes?" You tilt your head at him. You can practically see the gears turning in his head before he speaks again.

"When will we see you again?" He asks. You pause for a moment and consider what would be the best answer.

"Soon." You offer. Giving a specific date wouldn't do any good. If it's too soon you'll be pressured to rush the decision, and if it's too far anxiety may eat the boys up before you even get around to giving an answer.

"Just- soon?" His brows draw together in confusion.

"I'm sorry that I don't have a better answer it's just- well I've got a lot to think about here, I need some time to sort through my thoughts." You tell him.

"Sorry- we shouldn't pressure you. It's all so- strange, we know. It's just- well you know how we can be I guess." Marc says. You look at him for a moment, it's not often that Marc's nerves show, but right now he's fiddling with his fingers and you know for a fact that he's more anxious than he wants to let on.

"Before the month is over. I'll text you all." You say in an attempt to ease his uncertainty.

"That's three weeks." He says.

"Yeah, I know. That- should give me enough time to work out my feelings about this whole thing. And- you can pass that message along to Steven and Jake, yeah? Before the end of the month. I'll message you all and we'll meet up to talk." You nod as Marc's shoulders visibly drop slightly. As if having a timeline just drastically decreased how tense he was.

"Okay. We'll be waiting, whenever you're ready." He tells you.

"Goodnight Marc." You say.

"Goodnight y/n." Marc says. With that, you fully enter your apartment and shut the door behind you. Tonight was fun. So was your date with Jake the other week and Steven's before that. You simply enjoy spending time with all of them- which, you already knew. The more you think it over the more you are sure that you're in way over your head, but it's a little late to worry about that now. You have a decision to make. But you also have three weeks before an answer is expected. Tonight you'll just let yourself enjoy the post-date bliss and you'll worry about the decision tomorrow. Or the next day. You'll get to it. Just not tonight.

***

Taglist: @queerponcho @avengersinitiative2012 @stressed-cherry @animechick555

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fluff #steven grant fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #moonknight #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader

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aria-ashryver · 3 months

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WIP Wednesday!

(yes, on a Saturday. Shh. It's fine.)

Thank you so much for the tags @stars-are-within-me @aallotarenunelma @peonierose !! This is was a lot of fun! 💖

Here's a ✨far too lengthy✨ look at some things I'm working on at the moment, because brevity? Don't know her!

Immortal Desires: Starlight, Chapter 38

‘I don’t ever want to fight with you again,’ Gabriel said on an explosive exhale, agony shaking loose from his lungs to lift free into the stale air. ‘I had no idea how much it would ache, not being by your side. Now that I know exactly what I’m missing. Never again.’

‘That shit sucked, yeah,’ Cas agreed, turning his head to press an idle kiss to Gabriel’s temple. ‘But, like… never? I dunno — that’s most of my schedule for the week. I had light bickering pencilled in for Thursday right after lunch, I’d hate to reschedule at such short notice. And then “fundamental disagreements about toast”, that’s locked in for Friday morning, after I bring you breakfast in bed…’

Cas shook his head ruefully.

‘Yeah, I just don’t see how I can get out of that one. Sorry, Adalhard.’

Gabriel sighed, a warm thread of laughter trickling down his throat to settle behind his ribcage. He nuzzled his cheek in closer —somehow— smiling against Cas’s skin.

‘Oh, you’re right,’ Gabriel said. ‘That would throw us right off for “squabble about whether to watch Blades or Bloodbound” on Friday night, god. We can’t miss that again.’

‘I’m sorry, Adalhard,’ Cas repeated.

His voice was insistent, tight with feeling; blinking, Gabriel looked up to see a muscle flickering in Cas’s jaw, his eyes bright and glassy.

‘I’m sorry, Gabriel.’

Immortal Desires: Into the Witch-Dark, Chapter 1

‘That was terrible. Again.’

Morag snapped her fingers; a sharp crack that echoed and warped in on itself, folding within the edges of space and time as they stole along an inky shore of black twilight. A sea of gold stars washed over Luca’s skin, turning it dazzling in this far-away, nothing space.

‘I’m trying,’ Luca gritted out, waiting to catch their breath where there was none to catch. A curious emptiness ached in the place where their lungs should be — here, he was little more than light, and choice, and reason.

His great aunt stared down at him, unimpressed. Where Luca would have met her gaze, he saw nothing but two burning, searing holes, the vacant glare behind them hungry for knowledge.

Funny that a ten foot light-being in a vaguely humanoid shape could still look so, so deeply unimpressed.

‘We have a handful of weeks, a month, at best, to get to the bottom of this. We don’t have time for “trying”. Succeed or die. Those are our choices.’

Luca scoffed. ‘Yeah, no pressure.’

Blades of Light and Shadow: Dorian (MC) x Aerin Fluff

After last night’s dismal attempt at putting together a meal —when Willow had politely but firmly told him that what he had created was an affront to nature and gently escorted him away from the cooking area— he’d woken this morning determined to redeem himself.

In the cooking department, at least.

Like his other attempts at redeeming himself, it wasn’t exactly going great.

‘I am nothing if not consistent,’ Aerin said to no one in particular as he watched a spray of oil spit and leap from the sizzling pan. He yelped as it landed in the flames, the fire leaping up in an orange-red column of flame.

‘Woah, there, let me just—’

A large, calloused hand reached past his waist to grab the pan by the handle, adjusting it on the cooking stand until it was no longer in danger of setting itself, Aerin, and the entire Whimsywood aflame.

‘Okay, first we save breakfast, then we save Morella.’ Dorian fixed Aerin with a grin. ‘Move it.’

Bumping him out of the way with his hip, Dorian took over at the helm.

‘I had everything perfectly under control,’ Aerin lied.

Blades of Light and Shadow: Dorian (MC) x Nia angst

He’d knelt before her to tug out her old, ragged laces, grinning up at her as she’d wobbled on one foot, balancing her hands on his shoulders. He re-laced her boots with swift, deft movements, stealing half a moment to lay his hand over her own when he was done and give it a quick squeeze.

‘Wouldn’t want you to trip and fall in front of the dwarves of Zaradun, now, would we?’

His palm was broad and calloused, warm where it lay over her own. It was the first time he’d touched her in nineteen days. Since he’d healed her by the lake in the Whimsywood. She’d counted. She ached for him. All too soon, Dorian drew is hand away and rose, tossing her a carefree wink as he sauntered off.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

It never did, these days.

Blades of Light and Shadow: Dorian (MC) x Aerin angst + smut

[A/N: no smut in the excerpt but there is a smooch 🥰]

Aerin worried his lip. ‘I wanted… I wanted to believe it was real,’ he admitted. ‘That even despite all I’ve done, there might somehow be a way. That you could truly—’

‘Love you?’ Dorian cut him off, his gaze insistent. The night air lashed wildly around them, branches whipping in their trees. Though it was cold, Aerin’s skin seared beneath Dorian’s hands. ‘I do.’

Aerin blinked. ‘W-what?’

Frozen, Aerin could only watch in quiet bewilderment as Dorian lowered his head to meet him. He caught Aerin’s lip between his teeth, biting down on a snarl, kissing him with a fervour that bordered on punishing. A needy moan escaped Aerin’s throat as he opened to him, their tongues meeting in a heated glide that had Aerin grateful for the tree at his back, lest he lose his footing entirely.

They broke apart on a shuddering gasp. Heat flooded into Aerin’s cheeks.

‘Does this feel real to you?’ Dorian growled.

For a long time, they simply looked at each other. Dorian’s gaze bore into his own, and all at once, Aerin understood he wasn’t looking, he was seeing— Dorian saw to the very heart of him; all his bitterness; all his lies; his hate and pain and open scars and chose to love him anyway.

‘Say it,’ Aerin choked out, his voice a colourless whisper, the weight of the revelation so immense that it had all but rendered him mute.

Dorian tilted his head, his eyes raking slow over Aerin’s face; eyes, nose, lips, back again in tender passes.

Aerin wasn’t breathing.

‘I need to hear you say it.’

Tagging @lovehugsandcandy @nukritus and @dreamscapingsblog (and anyone else who feels like it!) in case you want to share anything you've been working on lately! I'd love to see what y'all are up to!

(no pressure of course, feel free to ignore this) 🤗🌸

#SICSIG #choices immortal desires #immortal desires #wip wednesday #playchoices fanfic

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bomberqueen17 · 8 months

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oops

lol yet again i missed doing my friday update schedule. in my defense, a lot's been going on. before I say anything else I should also say-- DMs on Tumblr currently do not work for me, the message thing shows me the preview but if I click on it, I absolutely cannot open the window, it will hang for literal days. I have the square blank in the corner of this tab as I am composing and no longer remember what I was trying to get it to open. So if you send me an IM on Tumblr I will only be able to read whatever of it is in the preview! So don't be offended if I never respond, because I can't write back because the window literally never opens. I got one to open yesterday but it was about 45 minutes and a lot of window reloading. I think it's safe to say that feature's just gotta be dead to me. RIP.

Anyway what's been up! my BFF from high school came thru Thursday night with her kids to stay in my cabin and i was a bit frantic getting the place ready, as it's not exactly listed on AirBnB. (She was like "oh wow this is a lot bigger and nicer than i thought" girl you were going to cram your children and yourself into a tiny half-finished shack with me? what??? jeez) and at the last minute Dude was like "oh i'm coming too" which, fortunately, I had put myself into a full-size bed on the pull-out couch so there was room for him to be there too but if this were any smaller a tiny house that would not have been possible. see, this is why i didn't actually build a tiny tiny house, it wouldn't have worked.

Anyway they left friday and i spent the day making sausage as fast as i could, and then in the afternoon dude helped me package it and then! i had! two full days! off! (ok i'm in the second of those days rn) so

saturday being My Birthday I made a snap decision that we were going to go see some art, so we drove over to the Clark Institute in Williamsburg MA (like a long half-hour away, it's not far) and saw some of my good buddies in the permanent collection.

(Mom used to take us kids there when we were little, and there are a lot of Renoirs and John Singer Sargent and some Frederic Rembrandt and Winslow Homer and whatnot, many of which I have seen so often as to consider old friends. (This Bougereau, Mom had a poster of on her bedroom wall, and I have always loved it. Apparently, my grandpa upon seeing it-- not the letters grandpa, the other one-- exclaimed of the one whose back faces the viewer "Oh Betty, it's you!" Betty being my grandma.)

I discovered quite by accident, while fucking around on my phone, that there was a Pokestop out in the courtyard, and the Pokestop was titled something about Jenny Holtzer, and i was like wait what and sure enough. There's a set of four white granite benches out there with Jenny Holtzer engravings on them.

This one is fucking brutal, as her shit tends to be:

[image description: a white granite bench engraved with the following text, somewhat darkened by pooled rainwater: "BY YOUR REPONSE TO DANGER IT IS EASY TO TELL HOW YOU HAVE LIVED AND WHAT HAS BEEN DONE TO YOU YOU SHOW WHETHER YOU WANT TO STAY ALIVE, WHETHER YOU THINK YOU DESERVE TO, AND WHETHER YOU BELIEVE IT'S ANY GOOD TO ACT."]

There was also a temporary exhibition of paintings and woodcuts/lithographs/prints by Norwegian artist Edvard Munch, yes including a lithograph of That Painting. Fairly stunning! Running thru October, I recommend it if you're in the area!

ok idk what else has been happening. i am so tired. i might play some pokey mans today but i also might just. not. really. do much of anything. which is boring and dumb and won't make me feel better next week when i have to go back and do more work and have achieved none of my personal goals. but sometimes brain no worky, and that's that.

#about the author

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dokidokiliteraturegirls · 7 months

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Hey everyone! Feel Less will be going on a short hiatus... but we're not going anywhere!

Allow me to explain~

So, I gave a similar explanation last time, but because I'll be introducing some new characters, I need some time to finish all the art. I thought I could do it last week, but the extra week I took only allowed me enough time to finish Anna's sprites and cutscene graphics from the latest update, which I hope you enjoyed~ but I have to be honest with myself, and admit that in order to finish everything I want I need to take way longer than just 1 extra week.

You see, things in Feel Less are about to get fuuuuuuuuuucked up real interesting! [REDACTED] isn't the only character that's getting introduced you know~ The Some Things Are Better Left Unknown story route includes at least 3 other characters that could potentially join the party! And they're not gonna draw themselves lmao. Besides the new characters, there's also some very important story beats that are coming, which will also require original art. I could of course do everything with the sprites and backgrounds, but that'd be sacrificing some of the quality of the comic, and I don't want the story to suffer just to get it out on a self-imposed deadline, you know? This is not to mention the backgrounds needed for the new locations so... yikes! This is definitely gonna take longer than a week! Especially because I have a job besides posting comics online (sadly, I wish I could just do this full time aslkdmakldmml 😭)

Another important thing to note is that we'll be disabling player interaction for a bit, at least until all the important story points have been covered, which I think should be the next 3 updates.

Now, what do I mean by "we're not going anywhere"? Well, because this blog won't be going radio silent until everything's done, like I used to do in the past! I'll be streaming most of my art process on my twitch channel! I usually play games on there, but I'm going on an Art Stream Marathon until all the art for Feel Less has been completed! (I really, really want to prioritize this. Neon White can wait.) For those of you who don't know, I stream every Thursday and Saturday from 2:30 pm EST, to around 5:30pm. I'll be posting links to the streams on this blog every day I do them, so come say hi! 💖 There will be slight spoilers for character designs, but not plot points, so dw~

I want to close by saying that, to be completely honest, I never enjoy putting my works on hiatus. Keeping momentum going on a webcomic is difficult, but I have to make sure Feel Less is 100% something I can be proud of and not a rushed product. There's some cool stuff coming, and I want it to have the impact it deserves.

As always, thank you all so much for your support! The fact that you guys take the time to read my webcomic makes me so happy~~ 🥰 Also, important to mention that while the story's on hiatus the inbox will be wide open! So feel free to send questions and stuff, I'll still be here~ See you all soon!!!

-Yui Wrong 💖

#announcement

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auroracalisto · 1 year

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stupid for you

modern!eloise bridgerton x gn!reader, 1.3k words tw: cuss words. a/n: this is a college au!! title is from the song by Waterparks. it came on while i was writing this so,,, felt like it fit. reader and eloise are stupid for each other and we love them for it

There was just something about that girl in your feminist literature class that you couldn't quite get enough of.

The lilt of her voice as her excitement gets the better of her when she speaks to the teacher, the way each and every thought of hers bodes well and earns each student a new way of looking at the passage. The feminism in her was strong, and her adoration for literature was even stronger.

She was exactly what you wanted to be in life—talented, educated, and outspoken. Effortlessly beautiful, effortlessly incredible.

Or maybe, she's just the person that you really wanted.

To be with. To wake up to after a late night together. To drink iced matcha lattes and eat overpriced bagels while talking about your lives.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, as three o'clock rolled around, you found yourself waiting for the moment you could hear her voice. See her beautiful face. And you hadn't even learned anything about her other than her name—not to mention her gall, but that’s not important.

What’s important is the fact that you hadn't even talked to her. You hadn't asked her for notes or asked for her help with your many essays for the class (even when you knew you truly could have used it). You couldn't tell if you really did like her or if you didn't want much to do with her. After all, if you really did like her, you would have said something.

Maybe.

Maybe you would have.

God, you don't know if you would have.

Just the thought of seeing her sweet face made your cheeks burn and your palms grow sweaty.

You were down bad, but you hadn't a clue as to how you were going to tell her.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, as three o'clock rolled around, Eloise Bridgerton found herself more and more excited to be in the same room as someone as profound as yourself.

She had never been one for superficial things such as someone's appearance, but my god, did she think you were beautiful. She had never liked someone as much as she liked you, and she hardly knew anything besides your name.

Her mother had told her to go for it—ask you on a date. Because after all, the semester would be up in a matter of weeks. You would no longer have classes together unless the Universe decided that's exactly what you would need.

Her elder sister told her she was being silly, and if she really did like you, she just needed to say something. After all, despite the apparent shyness Eloise had at times, she quite truly was an outspoken woman. She could do anything she put her mind to.

But the more she thought about it, the more she became nervous.

Did she need to even tell you?

You probably had a partner. Someone like you surely would.

Right?

Right.

She was down bad for you, and she hadn't a clue as to how she was going to tell you.

But maybe the Universe knew exactly what to do.

Class had been cancelled that Thursday.

Your professor had sent out an email earlier that morning, so you had been running around, getting things done. But it seemed as if things only multiplied as soon as you finished something else.

You found yourself standing in line for a coffee at the campus Starbucks, needing whatever energy it would give you. Or maybe you would get a tea. Hell, you didn't know. This week had beat your ass, and really, you didn't care what you ended up getting.

You told the barista—the guy who sat behind you in your psychology class—what you wanted, and it only took a few minutes to make your drink. After, you made your way over to sit in a booth, tossing your backpack to the side.

Did you even want to do your work?

You had so much you needed to do before the semester was up. You were up to your eyes in Google documents and peer-reviewed journals flooded your tabs—you counted 19 just the night before, out of curiosity.

As you internally debated yourself, you spotted Eloise in the corner of your eye.

She was with her friend, Penelope, and someone else you recognized from your feminist literature class—but you hadn't bothered to remember his name. He never really spoke much. Maybe it was Timothy? Thomas? Something with a 't.'

Penelope scanned the room with joy-filled eyes, a smile growing on her lips as she moved to nudge her friend's arm. You couldn't make out what she was saying, the noise of the student center not helping the fact you couldn't read her lips.

Eloise rolls her eyes, looking back at Penelope.

Thomas—Timothy?—gently pushes Eloise forward, saying something about getting a table.

And then the two left Eloise standing there, alone.

The woman fiddled with the straps of her backpack before she finally looked over at you, her shoulders relaxing almost instantaenously.

She began to smile.

Wait.

Was she smiling at you?

No. No, she wasn't. She couldn't—oh hell, she was walking your way.

Shit, shit, shit, ran through your mind as you sat up straighter, eyes growing wide.

Eloise stopped in front of your table, lips parted in a soft smile. Her hand gripped tighter onto the straps of her yellow backpack, knuckles faintly turning white as she stood just a few feet away from you.

"Hi," she softly said, her voice just as sweet as you remembered.

"Hi."

Shit, say something else!

"You—we have lit together, yeah?" she began, anxiety getting the best of her. Of course, you had lit together! That's how she even knew you to begin with. Eloise silently berated herself, her breath hitched in the back of her throat as she watched you.

"Yeah.. yeah, we do." you paused, looking towards the seat across from you. "You, uh, do you want to sit down? I'm alone and it's not like I'm waiting for anyone, so… I mean, if you want to go to your friends, go ahead, please don’t think I’m gonna make you—"

The smile on her face made you pause.

"I would love to," she said, sitting down across from you. She stuck her bag beside of her, looking over at you from where she now sat.

Your cheeks flushed, a steady burn reminding you just how real this was. It wasn't a dream. She really was right in front of you.

"I'm… sorry for not talking to you, sooner. I always love hearing you speak in class, and I suppose I've just… chickened out every time I've tried to speak with you," Eloise said.

You blinked slowly. "Every time?"

"Yes," Eloise said with a soft laugh. "You think I’d be better at this sort of thing, I know, but you are just… amazing, as far as I can tell. I didn't want to mess anything up. And I tend to do that often, so I just… wanted to be sure."

And with that, her cheeks begin to burn. Panic settled within her and she folded her hands in front of herself, averting her gaze.

"Uh, I mean—"

"—honestly, it's the same for me," you interrupted, unable to hide your smile. "I've been meaning to talk to you ever since the semester started."

She looked up at you with wide eyes. Slowly, her smile returned.

"Well, then. I’m so glad to finally meet you," she said. “Perhaps… perhaps we could plan to hang out sometime soon? Not on campus. Get away from it all for a little bit.”

“Really?” you countered, tilting your head with a smile. “I would love that.”

Eloise only smiled more, and in the corner of her eye, she saw her friends give her equally big smiles and thumbs up. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes falling back on yours as the prospect of getting to know you better became apparent.

She couldn’t wait to tell Daphne.

#eloise bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x reader #modern!eloise bridgerton #modern bridgerton #modern au #eloise x reader #eloise x gn!reader #eloise bridgerton au #au #fanfic #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #college #college au #daphne bridgerton #violet bridgerton #penelope featherington

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years

Note

Can we pretty please get a part 3 of vampire Yuta pleaseee

Part One, Part Two

***

There's nothing wrong with a routine.

Two weeks into this whole ordeal with Yuta and you've devised a strategy. Unfortunately for you, you've had to take a leave of absence at work, still too scared to even set one foot out of your apartment. Too often have you risked a glance outside your window only to have him appear a moment later, eyes sharp and pleading for you to let him in once more.

Luckily, your little self-threat has held up so far, your groceries being delivered periodically every few days. You've now set it up so that every Monday and Thursday, you get a delivery that Yuta will not go near. Or so he promises.

And it had worked, for two more weeks after that. After all, there's nothing wrong with a routine. Until there is.

Yuta, on the other hand, was going insane. Here he was, ready and willing to take care of your every need, yet you still refused to even look at him because he made one little slip up. Hell, if his compulsion bothered to even work on you, the both of you wouldn't even be in this mess in the first place.

He couldn't take it. Not being able to see you was one thing, but having to watch someone come and go periodically from your place when he couldn't even get near you? Unacceptable.

So, he decided to put your courage to the test. A huge risk on his part, but he's tired of waiting for you to open yourself up to him again. Besides, he knows you, better than you think, and if his plan works, you'll finally be back in his arms once more.

Thursday. The day you purposely order a few extra items for over the course of the weekend. Though, your courier was running a little behind today. An oddity, but not a rarity. Still, you couldn't help but furrow your brows at the text you had received notifying you of the delay.

Worry creases your brow. You've worked out with Yuta a thirty minute delivery window for your groceries, and the longer your courier is delayed, the more likely Yuta can and will intervene when the time is up.

A knock at your door has the tension immediately releasing from your shoulders. That must be your delivery.

Sure enough, opening the door reveals a man standing there with a few bags in his hands. Carefully, he passes them off to you as you glance at the items inside. Looks like everything's there.

Just as you lift your head to thank the courier and bid him a good evening, a glint catches your eye.

A gasp escapes you as a sharp pain fills your chest with every breath you take. Your bags drop from your hands as you look down to see a knife protruding from your diaphragm, your courier ripping it out of you in the next second.

Immediately, you stumble back, eyes wide as your hands come up to cover your open wound.

Blood drips from the tip of the blade onto the floor as he takes a menacing step into your apartment. Your blood.

"No, please," you attempt to retreat further into your apartment and away from the threat that is your courier only for him to reach out and grab your wrist in the next second.

Through all of your panic and your pleas, you fail to realize just how glazed over his eyes look, his movements almost robotic.

A pained cry leaves your lips as you feel the knife embed itself into your other side. Tears line your vision as you collapse onto the ground, watching as your attacker looms over you. Only, he's no longer advancing towards you, simply standing over you. Watching. Waiting.

"Please," a single tear trails down the side of your face, your voice above a whisper, "I don't want to die."

You blink, and suddenly you see an all too familiar face standing just outside your open doorway. Oh, how badly do you wish you could wipe that smug look off of Yuta's face, but you're in too much pain to care.

"We can either do this the easy way," his eyes flash as they meet your own before pointedly looking at where the courier stands off to the side, almost as if he's now waiting for orders, "or the hard way."

"You bastard," you seethe, words like venom on your tongue, "you compelled him to attack me."

"You were the one so eager to die all those weeks ago," he hums. "I'm simply offering you a way out."

"Then enjoy watching me die," you cough up blood, pain shooting through every inch of your body.

For an instant, you swear you see his resolve falter. That is, until his expression darkens.

"You would rather die by someone else's hands than your own?" He spits. "You would rather die than let me help you? Who was it that was just pleading for their life?"

"Death is better than whatever hell there is with you."

Yuta swallows the sudden dryness in his throat, his heart aching from your harsh words. "Suit yourself." Turning to make eye contact with your courier, his eyes flash, "continue."

As soon as the command leaves his lips, the man is advancing towards you once more, knife raised in the air.

"Yuta, please," your gaze flits between the approaching man and the vampire standing just outside your door, "don't do this."

"I don't want to, but you're forcing my hand," he sighs. "Just two little words and I could help you. Make all your troubles go away. You just have to let me in."

You swallow, backing up as much as you can as the man stalks towards you. The purposefulness of his slow pace does not go unnoticed by you, your heart pounding in your ears as blood continues to pour from your stab wounds. Your whole body throbs.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," you choke on a sob, meeting Yuta's surprisingly soft gaze as he stares at you. "I hate you." Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch the knife get closer with each step. "I hate you."

"Let me in and I promise I'll fix everything," he pleads, worry lacing his tone. He really didn't think you would be this stubborn when faced with a threat like this, and now, he's not so sure that this was a good idea. Besides, your actual death would shatter his already broken heart, if your words haven't already.

"I hate you," you continue to sob just as the man leans down to grab your neck, going to hold you in place as he brings the knife down one final time. You close your eyes. "Come in."

Yuta breathes a sigh of relief. It seems he was right: your will to live is stronger than your defiance in wanting to die.

In an instant, he's beside you, having already gotten the man to back off for the moment. After all, Yuta isn't done with him just yet.

Carefully, Yuta holds you in his arms, the smell of your blood near intoxicating to him at the moment. Only, he has more important matters to deal with for now.

Biting into his wrist, he places the now open wound against your lips. "Drink this, you'll feel better."

The whole time he keeps his wrist pressed against your lips, you keep your eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge what just happened. You cannot believe you let him play you like this, but more than all of that, you cannot believe your resolve was not as strong as you thought it was.

Gently, he coos at you, whispering sweet nothings as he holds you close and brushes his free hand over the top of your head in what you assume is supposed to be a comforting gesture. For you, though, each stroke seals your fate.

Already, you can feel the effects of his blood working, the pain practically having disappeared. Your eyes flutter open to see him gazing at you with that same fond look you've come to know from him. It makes you sick.

As soon as he takes his wrist away from your mouth, you know exactly what you need to do. Unfortunately for you, it seems as if Yuta knows exactly what you're thinking.

"I'm sorry, my love," he smiles sadly, causing you to frown at his words. Your hand grips his wrist as his, which had been stroking your head, moves to the side of your neck. "This was the only way."

Your eyes widen for the briefest of moments until a resounding crack echoes throughout your apartment.

Finally, Yuta removes his wrist from your lips, your unseeing eyes staring up at him in shock. Blinking back tears, he holds you close, wishing that things did not have to end up this way.

This was certainly not how he ever envisioned your turning going.

Now, all that there's left to do is wait, and this time, Yuta finds himself eager. Now, there's nothing that can come between the two of you. Now, you'll be inseparable.

#ask #yandere yuta #yuta drabble #yandere nct #nct drabble #drabbles #vampire au

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ladylooch · 6 months

Note

Don’t be shy, tell us all about how daddy Timo embarrassed himself on the phone. I just know Kevin hears Emma in the background trying to wrestle it away from him 🤣

Don't be shy ☠️

The way I made this so soft in the end 🙈 I CANT HELP IT!!! THEY’RE MY BOYS!!!!!

Kevin is unassuming when he sees Timo’s name pop up on his phone.

“Hey.” Kevin answers, putting the phone on speaker so he can continue to put the groceries away with Sam. He holds her hips to wiggle past her in the pantry, stifling a groan at the way she brushes against him just right. He can’t wait for Lena to head to her friend’s house for the night.

“Hey fucker.”

Both Kevin and Sam pause, looking at each other with questioning eyes. This is new.

“Ah, what’s up?”

“You tell me what’s up. What is this I hear about your kid dating my daughter?”

Kevin and Sam had talked to Luca a few days ago and he mentioned spending time with Livia Meier while visiting Switzerland for the summer. Kevin thought it was great. The Meiers are close friends. Him and Timo grew up together. Luca finding someone to relate to as a hockey player’s kid and growing up outside of Switzerland seemed like a great fit.

“I heard the same thing earlier this week.” Kevin confirms. He stops putting things on the shelves.

“This is fucking bullshit, Kev. My daughter deserves better than your scrub of a son.”

“Timo!” Kevin hears Emma’s voice in the background. “Give me the god damn-” Her voice cuts off with the closing of a door.

“Scrub?” Kevin scoffs, looking at Sam who is still perplexed at what is happening. She holds her hands up, decidedly staying out of it. Her husband’s eyes are beginning to get squinty. She wants no part in this discussion and smartly leaves the pantry.

“He has to be coming from your balls.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Kevin scoffs.

“You what the fuck! How close does the apple fall to the tree? He like to whip through the rotation every week like daddy? Is Liv the Friday or Thursday girl?”

“Hey.” Kevin hisses, taking him off speaker. He prays Sam didn’t hear that. “That was one year in Sweden, okay. I’ve come a long way since then. Also, I wasn’t the one who had my dick sucks by the girls tennis team on my way out of town to Canadian Juniors.” Timo is silent on the other end. Ha, Kevin thinks.

“I am fucking serious. Your kid hurts my daughter I’ll end his life.”

“You hurt my kid and I’ll end yours.” Kevin snaps back. Tension races through the silence between the lines. “And he has more Sam in him than me.” Kevin finishes with a heavy sigh. He forces his shoulders back down, trying to relax. Timo contemplates.

“So he’s a good midwestern boy?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far.” Kevin says honestly, thinking about a certain position he found his son in last year on the couch. Luca is lucky it was him who came home early and not Sam. Kevin never told his wife, but he did immediately have the safe sex talk again.

“Fuck me.” Timo wails.

“I get it, man. I’ve got two daughters.”

“Why is this so much harder with her? With Lio it was.. a breeze.”

“Because you remember what it was like being 19.” Kevin’s small smile fills his voice. Timo sighs.

“Yeah. I wanna go back and kick my own ass now.”

“I can do it for you?”

“No you can’t… pussy.” Kevin laughs, loud and easy. Damn, he’s glad him and Timo are still friends.

“I’ll take you anytime, old man.”

“You’re older.”

“Yeah but I played longer.”

“Cause you’re a pussy.” Timo can’t even get through the sentence without busting out laughing.

“Again, you’re welcome in Minnesota anytime, bud.” Kevin opens the door to the pantry, stepping into the kitchen where Sam and Lena are beginning to make chocolate chip cookies. Lena had a good grade on her final test that she was nervous about, so Sam is rewarding her with homemade cookies. Kevin watches them for a moment and thinks about their last conversation with his oldest child. “Look, I know you’re worried, but I wouldn’t be. He’s a good kid and… I think he loves your daughter already. I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam nods her head along to Kevin’s words.

“I’m still gonna scare the shit out of him when he comes over.” Timo insists.

“Good. He could use some practice for dealing with washed up veterans next season.”

“You’re an ass.” Timo hisses.

“Not as big as you though. I gotta go. See you in a couple weeks for your ass kicking on the course.”

#tm: loving & leaving #letters in your last name au #Liv X Luca

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alelathedragon · 7 months

Text

Word Girl AU: I almost killed her...

Part 3!!!!

TW: insinuation of Death. Loss. Problems communicating and bottled emotions. Struggle happens and theres indication of breathing problems

During his grounding, Tobey was still required to be at school and for almost half the week he noticed that Becky was avoiding him at every opportunity… Not like he completely minded since they didn't get along very often, however: she was the only kid that he knew well in most of his classes and trying to approach others was awkward, but he still wanted to feel like he had a friend to talk to and compete with over things. On Thursday, he managed to catch Becky by the wrist, panting pathetically because he wasn't the most in shape kid you would meet and he had to literally sprint to catch her before they got to their next class. Holding up a finger and taking a moment to catch his breath as Becky rolled her eyes.

" Tobey, you're going to make us late for class, whatever it is, can't it wait? "

" N…n-no.. pant be-cause… Huff… You'll avoid me again! Ahem… Foo.. mmm!! Becky Botsford… I know we don't get along well in class, but this is the first time I've seen you flat out ignore me! You know it's not easy to talk to anyone else! "

B: " Maybe you'd have better luck if everyone didn't know that you terrorize the city every now and then, " she said with raised eyebrows and he could only imagine a smug grin under that…

" Why are you avoiding me? And what is with the mask? "

B: " I've been avoiding everyone.. Well, I still talk to Violet and Scoops, but from a distance because I got sick… It's been getting worse and worse every day and we already have a sniff h-hold on please… " She paused to lower her head and raise up her arm and sneeze. The mask was still on, so he didn't see the point, however mannerisms will stay, he supposed…

" Blesh you… And let me guess: seeing how I am, you, the nice girl, wanted to just stay away from me so I wouldn't get all blown up over you being sick. "

B: " Mmhmm yup. That's the reason. "

He shook his head some. " While I appreciate the thought, you can still talk to me from a distance can't you?? I erm… I'm …"

He moved his hands around some as he fumbled his words and just made noises- struggling to get out how he felt as it … It… It was ridiculous!!! He shouldn't be having to feel this stupid emotion that he doesn't know how to put into words! This.. this feeling of everyone being all buddy buddy while he's left alone with no one to talk to- and Becky was the only one that seemed to enjoy his petty competitions even when he took it a little too far. She liked going up against him and his little robots he brought sometimes. Why should anyone care if he messes up the city a little when he wouldn't even destroy the entire thing anyways? He only threatens to biiiig deeeeeal. His robots are awesome and he builds them with so much talent that they can easily battle anything! Why doesn't anybody…. Acknowledge his efforts ….. And why is it so hard to talk about something?!! It made him MAD!! MADE HIM WANT TO DESTROY SOMETHING!!! Well… Luckily for Word Girl, he's going to be ungrounded soon and be able to get his revenge for her ending their playdate EARLY!!

" OWWW! HEY!! "

Becky had pinched the boy genius to snap him out of it, she quickly backed up once again with a sweat. " You completely zoned out, I was talking to you and you were staring off into space. I got worried that you passed out on the spot or something, so I pinched you to see if you were still… Awake. "

Tobey rubbed where she pinched before cradling it like he just had gotten bitten by a dog. Clearing his throat and scowling at her, " Forget anything I said, get over your …. Sickness soon I guess and farewell once more.. time to rush toward class!"

The bell rang and they both sweat- running toward class, but Becky more or less left Tobey in the dust in the process.

Time Skip to the following week and Tobey is no longer grounded. He has spent his week so far looking for more lexonite to put into his machines to once again force Word Girl to his level. However, this time he upped the ante a little bit, so she can't crash the party while he's sleeping.. During these days Tobey has had a difficult time calculating just how much of the meteorite he should use against Word Girl. Even if she can't die in his view, she can still get hurt and he didn't enjoy that either. The meteorite sent her to the ground so fast last time, so maybe he could use enough just to make her casually go down on her own?

Not to mention the dreams …. Tobey keeps on having weird dreams that make him run to his mother in tears and he doesn't understand them one bit as they mold around his feelings that he doesn't understand. He's begun having trouble falling asleep at night because of it and his mother has to seek help for him since he's too much of a lil brat to do it himself and accept it less she forces it onto him..

Narrator: " It was a beautiful Friday afternoon in Fair City as Tobey Wobey went home from his day of school to work on evil plans to get back at Word Girl and completely ruin his cha- "

" I'm going to pretend that I don't hear you calling me names like a C H I L D. "

Narrator: " Ohhhhh. I'M the childish one for using robots to get my way all the time ooooo scary. "

" SHUT!!! UP!! I am not using the robits to get my way… I'm simply using them to enhance my skills even further and only this once.. against Word Girl. "

Narrator: " You've used robots against Word Girl every single time you go to the city, what are you talking about 'Just this once' and didn't you already try Lexonite? "

" Indeed, however I learned from my past mistake. "

Narrator: " Oh really? "

" And THIS TIME!! I'm going to use enough that she can't beat them in my sleep! "

Narrator: " And that's why I didn't get my hopes up.. oh, Tobey, why don't you just try to tal- "

" NO " His voice cracked as he basically screamed up at the sky while throwing his arms down… Huffing some and catching his breath as he reached up to grab his shirt to tug on it some " N-no talking…. I…… I can't… Narrator… I just…."

There was silence and Tobey started to walk again.. his mother made him walk home once more for his exercise since he usually rides home with her, not wanting to be on the bus so upon getting back he was extra frustrated. He went upstairs and grabbed his remotes in his secret back room before leaving through his secret exit in order to head to the city… Having the robot he was currently riding stomp down a car or two on the trip as he giggled devilishly to it. Ahhhh~ A little destruction… What a normal way to get things off your mind!! Destroying just enough to get Word Girl's attention and then make the robots simmer down some because of what he did.

Pulling up his tablet with a camera feature, he started to scroll through each robot in search of the heroine… Nothing… Humm?? He had his robots play with the cars on the street like a toddler playing with toys then checked the cameras again. ….Nothing…. He started to get frustrated once again. Where was Word Girl!?! She'd usually be here by now!! He stayed there for what felt like an hour before he heard something below, a bus honking its horn.

He used his cameras to gaze at the bus only to see that Word Girl was… Coming off of it looking really pale to be honest, which turned his frustration into worry. Immediately having his robot put him down so he could go over to her. " Word Girl! What's happening?? Are you okay??!? "

Her and Capt. Huggyface's eyes both met Tobey's with utter rage, making him back up with a sweat. The heroine wanted to say something, however she collapsed on the spot, the monkey sidekick catching her the best he was able however she ended up on the floor breathing heavily as Tobey panicked and dropped his robot remote.

" Please! What's going on, I-I- what's happening to you!?! "

She looked at him with tired eyes as she pants, seeming to struggle to breathe before shutting her eyes and continuing to focus on her breathing. Capt. Huggyface made some angry monkey noises before running over to pick up the remote and waving it in Tobey's face. The boy took it and sweat hard… Every argument in his brain was shut off in that moment… How could she be lying in this state … How could she fake this…. Every inch of his body wanted to refuse… However his guilt overpowered him and he pressed the button to command his robots to go away, making them all individually go into the ocean to short circuit themselves to a watery grave.

Slowly… Color started to come back to Word Girl's face and her breathing became more steady too… Just standing there and watching over her 'til she was able to get up once again. He once again wanted to say something, however this time was cut off by the heroine almost: ALMOST… Slapping him. She stopped herself seconds before actually hitting his cheek, the force and sudden action, he didn't even flinch as his body accepted that he deserved this. The feeling of tears collecting at the corners of his eyes as he blinked and the water slid down his face slowly.

" I- I … I didn't- "

WG: " WHY WOULD I L I E , TOBEY!!!???!!! WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT MY HEALTH, THE RISK YOU WERE TAKING AGAINST ME!???? WHY WOULD I DO THAT YOU …. YOU YOU IDIOT. "

She basically screamed at him, she was so furious at him. He raised his hands some as his arms were shaking. He stuttered, " I-I … I th-thought… I … Yes .. it-it was stupid I admit it! I… There… But… How was i supposed to know!? There… No data… Villains don't share tips I..I… I did the research.. the BEST I could! "

WG: " And you still used it!! Even when you didn't know!! Isn't science supposed to be something where you test everything before putting it into action!?!! I ALREADY LOST ONE FRIEND TO SCIENCE CRAP, I DON'T NEED TO LOSE ANOTHER OR WORSE!!! DIE MYSELF BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO PRIDEFUL TO LISTEN TO ME!!! "

Something inside him snapped, like a fragile twig being chewed on for hours. His face got warm with a slight bit of anger as he slammed his foot down, his arms still shaking wildly. " LISTEN TO YOU!?!? LISTEN TO YOU!!! That's all I ever …. EVER!!! Have to do!!! You never listen to ME!! I can't… I can't find…. The words!! To talk, I can't… I can't… Express…. I.. TRY, to let it out, I TRY to…. "

He grit his teeth as his bottled up feelings once again capped themselves off, unable to communicate what he wanted to say. He suddenly turned around and ran away…. Word Girl did not pursue… Tobey went home to be grounded once again, however this time he didn't care. He went up to his room and threw himself at his bed to hug his pillow and cry very loudly. He didn't understand what took over him… He had no right to yell at Word Girl like that … And yet he was still mad….no… Upset? …. Upset…. He almost killed her….. ….. …. He almost killed her

….. ….. ….. ….. ….. ….. ….. Two weeks since the incident, Tobey has been avoiding nearly everyone and keeping to himself while also being thrust into therapy by his mother to try and help him with his constant nightmares he's been having. So far, he hasn't made much of a connection with the therapist and his mom has scheduled a new one for him to try again fresh knowing well that the only way it will help is that if he and the therapist get along first. He didn't see the point… However he couldn't just say no.

Two weeks and the fact he almost killed Word Girl was at the top of his mind. He couldn't face Becky as if he would hurt her too just by being around her and any other friends he's managed to make. The lunch room felt like juvenile detention with a bunch of faces.. looking at him… Scowling… Judging… The lights got darker and darker until it was just him staring at an empty void as the predators around him watched from the shadows, waiting to strike and take him down or get an opportunity to use him. It was horrible… He got home that day in particular and started to research homeschooling…. So he wouldn't have to interact with anyone again until he was an adult…. But as he was studying he heard something familiar: destruction in the city. It was a habit, to turn on the TV and watch the news. He didn't know why… But he did…. Listening to the news reporter complain about the trouble only to gasp,

" It's Word Girl! Come to save the day!! " He couldn't help but smile in a bittersweet way as the camera turned to watch her battle against Mr. Big and his mind controlled…. Robot..?? Tobey got up so fast as he recognized the robot. But how!?! He put all his robots into the ocean! It shouldn't be functional!! NO!! WORD GIRL!!!

He ran from his spot and into his lab, rushing around to build a remote to counter the robot Mr. Big had. No thoughts came to his head but the urge to save Word Girl from dying. He's never worked so fast in his life to build not only a remote but a robot that would fly him to the city! He saw the foot of the other robot going down to squish Word Girl and sent himself and his robot down immediately to intercept!!! Catching the foot right before it was able to get Word Girl.

" YOU CHEATER!! USING MY ROBIT TO FIGHT WORD GIRL!!!! HOW'D YOU EVEN GET THIS!!!? " the boy yelled at the top of his lungs, as he had his much more superior robot start beating the crap out of the mind controlled one. Mr. Big seemed shocked and very offended.

Mr. B: " WH- HEYYYYYY STOOOOP THAT!! You're going to ruin my mind control to get rid of Worrrrrd Girrrrrrl WAAAH HAAAAAHHHH…. " He grumbled some and pressed buttons to have the robot fight back, but it was clear he didn't know Tobey's machines as well as the boy did.

" As for the answer to your question!! After seeing your fight with Word Girl last week and how you WUSSED out of finishing her off because 'you felt bad' ooooo booo hoooo… I took the opportunity to un-sink some of your robots and get them working again! "

Tobey flinched… There was… More than one?? He looked around to notice the robots that he failed to see earlier were starting to close in and he looked down to Word Girl to see her coughing and using a building to keep her self up when she suddenly yelled, " TOBEY!!! GET OUT OF HERE!!! IT'S DANGEROUS!! "

He didn't answer and only turned back to the fight, finishing off the first robot. He was surrounded… he didn't account for more than one of them. If they all attacked at once, his robot would be overwhelmed and defeated…. He grit his teeth before having his robot reach down to Word Girl and Capt. Huggyface

" Captain Huggyface! Assist me, if you would. I have an idea… "

The monkey looked hesitant.. however climbed onto the robot hand to be lifted up, Tobey pointed to Mr. Big who was across from them. " Monkey throw? "

The monkey got a huge smile and determined look in his eyes, nodding: " OOOEEE AH AH!! "

Tobey nodded: " I'm counting on you to distract him long enough that I can protect Word Girl.. ready? "

" EEE EEE! "

" Alright here goes… ROBIT MONKEY THROW!!! " He had his robot absolutely YEET Capt. Huggyface - nothing the monkey wasn't used to, he gets thrown at his enemies all the time.

Mr. Big let out a very girlish scream before his entire body was pulverized by a monkey, knocking him down onto his back and being wrestled by Capt. Huggyface, with no clear chance of winning as Leslie did not look like she had her morning coffee and didn't want to deal with this: so she sat down and watched… Lucky him… He focused on the army of robots, taking them one by one as Capt. Huggyface kept Mr. Big too busy to make them all attack at once, and by time the man got the monkey off of him… All the robots were defeated and being thrown back into space by Tobey's current robot, which he built with a catapult for this intention only.

Panting a little as the sudden WOOSH of Word Girl flying again, she caught Mr. Big in a millisecond and rushed him off to jail before Tobey found himself getting something he never would have dreamed of getting…. A hug…. From… Word Girl….

WG: " TOBEY!!! That was amazing!! And… And you saved me! I thought I was a goner, I thought nobody was coming to save me… But you came! "

She suddenly pushed away. " Wait… Why'd you save me? …. I thought… I thought that… Well… Since two weeks ago- "

He raised a hand to cut her off, taking a minute to himself in complete silence… His cheeks didn't even get red from the hug as his eyes were fixated on the current floor of his robot's shoulder that he was standing on… Words… He once again… Had no words… He just looked at her with regretful eyes and rubbed his arm. " Be more careful, "

was all he could manage to say before he pressed the button on his remote to take him home.. sitting down on the robot's shoulder, Word Girl tried to stop him, but he just shook his head. " Please…. Leave me alone, Word Girl…. I… I just can't right now…. "

Word Girl looked sad, but left him as he requested.. upon getting home, he sent his robot to the ocean to retrieve the rest of the previous army to send them back to space so nobody else could use them.. his mother squished him in her arms as she said things that he only heard as a ringing in his ears ….. Going upstairs to lay his back on his bed and stare at the ceiling…. ….. ….. ….. What did he just do???? ….. ….. ….. What….was happening… To him?

Thanks to @femboi-rayne for proof reading!!

#TW breathing struggles #TW death insinuation #TW death #tw violence #TW communication issues #writing #fanfiction #word girl au #Word girl fanfiction #theodore tobey mccallister iii #tobey mcallister #captain huggyface #word girl #becky botsford

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laufs-very-serious-medical-blog · 10 months

Note

Hi i'm curious mostly about the pre-surgery side of things: how did you fare with getting the process started? did you encounter any resistance/stalling from healthcare staff? did you feel like you were given adequate control over the process (f.ex. what kind of surgery would be performed and by whom), or just generally did you feel listened to and respected during the whole thing? how much did it end up costing you (i'm presuming public healthcare didn't cover the entire thing &/or you had to go at least partially private?), and what kind of payment plans were available (i.e. did you have to pre-pay or will you be billed later, are the installments reasonable, &c.)?

This is a lot of questions lol sorry, feel free to answer only partially or just whatever bits you feel cool about sharing! And thanks in advance. I can't access trans medical care in my country without going private (which is unreasonably expensive here) so I'm curious if things are any better in iceland (& if I should add 'better healthcare' to the list of reasons to move there since i already have a citizenship)

I would say the process of getting started went very smoothly for me. The first step was to contact Transteymið (the trans team) and ask to be put on a waiting list to get a gender dysphoria diagnosis. You no longer need a referral in order to contact them and can simply email them yourself. About a month after I applied I went in for my first appointment with a therapist. You have to do four appointments over the course of six months, two with a therapist and two with a psychiatrist. Due to the waiting list for hrt being so long at the moment and the fact that I was completely sure in my decision I got lucky though and they graduated me from that program after only four months.

After that they put me on the waiting list for hrt and since I said I wanted top surgery they asked if I was planning on going private or public. There are two surgeons in Iceland that do top surgery, and I knew the public one had a rather long waiting list and I could afford to go private so I opted for that instead. After that I called the private clinic to book a consultation and I got incredibly lucky because I called on a monday and they asked if I could come in to see them that thursday. I had heard from a friend that it generally took about a month or two to get a consultation so I honestly cried with joy over how quickly I was offered an appointment.

At my consultation I was examined and we immediately dicussed surgery options then. My surgeon told me I was eligible for a few different types of surgeries, and we agreed that double incision surgery would be best for me as it had the lowest complication rate and would give me more natural looking results. After checking that my referral was in I was able to book the surgery date that very same day and had no further consultations until the surgery itself, where we decided to not only do a double incision but a keyhole incision as well because I was scared of developing necrosis in case my nipple grafts didn't take. Overall my surgeon was very accommodating and professional, in the period between my consultation and the surgery itself I emailed him multiple times with various questions and he was always quick to answer. Throughout my entire process from contacting the trans team up until the surgery itself I generally did feel respected by the medical professionals treating me.

The surgery ended up costing me 195,000 ISK (~ €1,308 / $1,429 / £1,129), whereas without my referral it would have been something like 600,000 ISK (~ €4,024 / $4,395 / £3,472). I transferred the entire payment over because I could afford to do so, and as far as I'm aware of they don't offer the option to pay in installments (it must be paid in its entirety no later than 20 days before the surgery) but then again I didn't ask.

#ask #infernalhomo

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progressivemother · 1 year

Text

Decluttering my home

I have been watching a lot of decluttering and frugal videos. I have been adding the tips from these to the rules I already use.

Decluttering is key right now. My house in general is clean and I don't have a lot of clutter. I did not know this until I started decluttering. But I have come to realize that I can still further minimize so that I am not as overwhelmed and it has helped a lot. I feel much more accomplished.

I am far from done but I have gotten a lot done. I am minimizing to the point that a room should only take five minutes to clean up and twenty minutes at most to vacuum, mop, dust, etc.

Here are a few tips on decluttering:

1. Start small. The process doesn’t have to be overwhelming. Start small. Pick one area in your home that you would like to simplify. A desk drawer, a cabinet, your purse, a bookshelf, or a toy bucket. Make three piles; keep, donate, and trash.

2. Buy less. Do not buy things you don't need and avoid temptation. A simple rule is to wait three days. If you want the item after three days, then you can consider buying it.

3. Use what you have. Use what you have before buying more items. Food, makeup, toiletries, etc. Make sure you go through things before buying more.

4. Make sure counters, stove, tables, and floors stay clean. No matter how clean and organized a house is if these areas aren’t clear it makes the room feel cluttered. When simplifying your home, make it a point to keep your surfaces as clean as possible.

5. Borrow before buying. If you can borrow or rent an item that you will probably only use once or twice, do that rather than buy something that will only take up more space.

6. If you Don’t Use it, Lose it. For example, clothes. As women, we tend to have clothes that we think we will wear but we don't actually wear. This was what it was for me. I have come to realize that I prefer comfortable clothes over fancy. So I got rid of all of the clothes I knew I would never wear even if I really wanted them.

7. Clean Out Spaces Routinely. When it comes to keeping up on decluttering, it's easier to do a weekly or monthly organization and decluttering. I do it monthly.

8. Keep one memory box per person. Create a memory box for each person and only keep what is most important to you. My daughter prefers her drawings and art for hers. Each kid gets special stuffed animals. I only have some items from my grandmother.

9. Keep a give away box. Keep a box in your closets and in rooms where you can put items that you no longer want or need that you can donate later.

10. Clean spaces routinely. For me, I have a daily task list, a weekly task list, and a monthly task list. These are all only cleaning tasks. It works well with keeping the home as clean as possible and doing it little by little is much easier than you would think.

11. Create a weekly task list. For me, once a week on Thursday is the day I get all of my errands done, meal plan, order groceries, do the budgeting, and plan the rest of my week until the next Thursday.

Here are a few tips on living frugally:

1. Have a no buy month. Only buy essentials for a month. I like doing this after the holidays in May. The large holidays are over and it is before the kids' birthdays.

2. Shop second hand. I tend to only buy through a thrift store. It is better for the planet and better for my wallet. If I cannot find something similar to what I want, then maybe I would buy it new. But it is rare.

3. Scrounge for dinner or do a leftover night. I usually do a leftover night but if there are not any leftovers left, then I will find a way to cook something up with what I have around.

4. Cut your own hair. I have always cut my own hair. There are many tutorials on how to do this on YouTube if you need to use one. It is a big help financially.

5. Cut on guilty pleasures. Mine was ice coffee. I was buying it every day. I decided to cut it down to only once a week. It has actually saved me over a hundred dollars a month.

6. Cut on consumption of meat. Yes, I know a lot of people like their meat. My husband is included in this. But we understand that it tends to cost more than other items and have cut it down from every night to a few times a week. It has saved us around $80 a month. It's not a lot but it goes toward something we can use it for.

7. Track your spending and check your bank account on a regular basis. Doing this can actually help you understand where a lot of your money is going and it can help create a habit of spending less.

8. Plan your meals and stick to them. This saves a lot of money. I create a list for a month and that is what we eat. I do not deviate unless I absolutely have to. For example, if the stores are out of the products I want.

Well, that is a a lot but it really does help. I feel less stressed trying to do things last minute and I have less in the house to clean up or deal with. You can transform your home and life into a haven with a little effort. I hope this helps you as much as it helped me.

#love #children #marriedlife #relationship #marriage #family #progressive #declutter #frugal #frugality #decluttering

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mydarllinglover · 9 months

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SafeHouse || Three

I spent most of the time in lessons looking out for Malfoy and waiting for his arrival, dont ask me why, I had no idea myself, but I would tell you it was to make sure he was okay, for Hagrids benefit.

The rest of the time was spent in the library, trying to catch up on my studies and incase I had missed anything from the two years I spent at Beaubaxtons on a different learning course.

I hadn't seen a lot of Ron and Harry, only really Hermione and that was mostly just in silence as we both studied.

It was Thursday, in potions class with the Gryffindors when Malfoy swaggered in, his right arm bandaged up and wrapped in a sling, he was acting as though he was this heroic survivor who had just slain a dragon to save a poor village, not a prick who decided to piss off a Hippogriff.

"How is it, Draco?" Pansy simpered after him "does it hurt much?"

"Yeah" Malfoy replied, putting on a brave grimace. But I as well as the rest of the class caught the wink he sent to his two cronies when Pansy looked away, making me roll my eyes at the show.

"Settle down, Settle down" Professor Snape told the class, I rolled my eyes again at the fact that the only people who were talking was Malfoy and Parkinson.

We were making a shrinking solution today.

Malfoy decided to set up his cauldron next to Ron and Harry so they would be preparing their ingredients on the same table whilst I worked on a table with Hermione.

I heard Malfoy call out to Professor Snape "Sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots because of my arm-"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoys roots for him" Snape had instructed my twin without looking up.

I watched how my brother went Brick red

"Theres nothing wrong with your arm" I saw him hiss at Malfoy.

I looked at Hermione, her giving me a grimace back as we sensed Ron would be losing it very quickly, and with Snape in charge this surely would end badly for my dear brother.

"you dont mind do-"

"Go, make him switch with you, its fine" Hermione told me

I walked over to Harry and Ron, trying my best to go unnoticed By Snape, I may be a Slytherin, but it didn't mean he was that keen on me.

"Hey, Ron do you mind switching with me, I cant quite see the board from my place, but I don't wanna leave Hermione on her own" I hinted to him

"Really? maybe you should just write to mum, she can- Ow, okay, see ya Harry" He finally got it after I kicked him in the shin, then picked up his own stuff and brought it over to my old spot.

"Thanks" Harry mumbled to me, probably glad that he wouldn't have to pull Ron off of Malfoy and most likely ending up in detention.

"I'm pretty sure Snape meant the other Ginger, but you'll do, I guess" Malfoy rolled his eyes.

I returned it as I cut up his daisy roots neatly, knowing nothing else would be good for his Majesty "will that be all your royal highness?" I asked him with no emotion.

Instead of answering me, he called to Snape again "And, sir, I'll need this Shrivelfig skinned" he told the greasy man with a malicious laugh

"Potter, you can skin Malfoys Shrivelfig" Harry made quick work on it, throwing it back to Malfoy, almost hitting me in the face with it in the mean time.

"Seen your pal, Hagrid lately?" Malfoy asked us quietly

"Mind your business" I whispered back at him, not bothering to look up just to be met with his stupid smirk.

"I'm afraid he wont be a teacher much longer,' Malfoy explained, putting on a voice of mock sorrow, as if he actually cared "Fathers not very happy about my injury"

"I'm sorry Malfoy, I don't remember asking, I'm much more interested in making this potion" I snapped, finally breaking to lift my head up to face him, I could hear Harry let out a chuckle next to me, making sure to keep his face well out of sight.

Malfoy didn't find my comment near enough as funny as he furrowed his eyebrows, a glare of hatred seeping onto his dull pale face, but before he could say anything my attention went to poor Neville, and Snape who had a ladle of his potion and sneering at him.

"Orange, Longbottom" He dropped the ladle back into the cauldron, letting it splash so that everyone in the class could see. "Orange. Tell me boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours?" my jaw dropped at how cruel that horrible man could really be, no wonder he was Slytherins Head of House, no offence to myself.

"Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly that only one rat spleen was needed? didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? what do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville was pink and trembling, any more and he sure would be a fountain of tears.

"Please, sir" Hermione pleaded "please, I could help Neville put it right-"

"I dont remember asking you to show off Miss Granger, Longbottom at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

"Sir" I couldn't help myself as I grabbed his and the rest of the classes attention

"Keira, what are you doing?" Harry hissed at me

"Yes, Miss Weasley" He drawled

"Dont you think that if Neville is constantly messing up his potions in your classes, but hes good in everything else, that maybe, you're the problem? Hm, because, aren't you the teacher?" I saw Ron and Hermiones eyes bulge, but a proud smile on Ron's face that I actually just said that to him

"Detention Miss Weasley! I will not accept those sorts of accusations in my Class, Your lucky you're in my house, other whys there would be a lot more of Points missing for the hourglass, Back to your potions, all of you!" He ordered all of us

"Keira, well done! why would you do that, its only gonna come back and bite you!" Harry lectured me" Who knows what he's going to make you do in detention"

"I cant stand bullies!" I rolled my eyes

"Maybe your dumber than I thought, Weaslette" Malfoy chuckled

"Nice one, Weasley!" Seamus Finnigan told me as he came up beside Harry. "Hey, Harry" he greeted him as he leaned over to borrow his brass scales "Have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning- they reckon Sirius Black has been sighted."

"Where?" Harry asked him, Malfoy lifting his head to listen closely.

"Not too far from here" Seamus said excitedly "It was a Muggle who saw him. Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles just think hes an ordinary criminal, dont they? So she 'Phoned the telephone hotline'. By the time the ministry of magic got there, he was gone."

Catching Malfoy still eavesdropping I thought it best No more was said until it was safer to talk

"Thanks Seamus, for letting us know" I gave him a smile

"Anytime, Keira, see ya round? maybe up Hogsmeade for a butterbeer?" He asked me

"Seamus, Haven't you got a potion to explode?" My brother called from his table, making Seamus glare at him and walk back to his table

"Wait was he asking me ou-

"Yes, Weasley, wow your obliviousness is really astounding, you could give Potter a run for his gold" Malfoy said

"You should have finished adding your ingredients by now. This potion needs to stew before it can be drunk; clear away whilst it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's ..."

Harry and I packed up our unused ingredients, then met Ron at the Wash basin as Hermione mumbled instructions to Neville out of the corner of her mouth.

"Your an idiot, Keira!" He told me

"Gee thanks" I deadpanned "love you too"

"You should of just kept your mouth shut, dont be surprised if mum sends an howler"

"Wow, didn't realise talking bad to a teacher is as bad as stealing a flying car and getting caught by muggles and ending up on the front page of newspapers"

"Sorry, mate but she's got you there" Harry chimed in

"shut up Harry!" Ron said

With the end of the lesson in sight, Snape was by Nevilles Cauldron

"Gather round" Snape told us "And watch what happens to Longbottoms Toad. if he managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. if, as I dont doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

I held my breath as the Gryffindors looked fearful and the Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Nevilles Toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into his now green potion. He trickled a few drops down the toads throat.

There was a moment of silence, in which it gulped, followed by a small pop and a tadpole was wriggling in Snapes palm.

The Gryfindors and I broke into applause, clearly dampening Snapes mood, as he fixed the tadpole, bringing back a toad.

"Five points from Gryffindor" said Snape, cutting short their cheers

"What!?"

"Something to say , Miss Weasley, you've grown into the Gryffindor Cheerleader lately, we might have to have another sorting ceremony" Snape said in a bored monotone voice

"Sir, how is that fair?! Your taking points away, because your student got a potion right, I would've thought that would make you glad, that your teaching seems to be working"

"Miss Weasley, if you speak again during this lesson, you will be in detention until you finish seventh year!" He told me.

I could feel everyone's eyes on me now, Most of the Slytherins laughing amongst each other, all but Malfoy.

After class, instead of joining my friends for lunch I went to the library, this time just to cool down and be by myself for a while until my next class.

I hated potions with a passion, it was a class I was good at but everything about it just pissed me off, especially the professors that taught it, I've never met a good Potions Professor.

I had managed to fall asleep where I was sat at the library, meaning I would be late for my Defence Against The Dark Arts class, once again with the Gryffindors.

I raced to the classroom, throwing the door in a rush but luckily Lupin wasn't there yet, but everyone had their eyes on me as i stood there panting. Luckily Hermione had saved me a seat, as I rushed to get my stuff out of my bag

"Where were you?" Ron asked me, rather louder than I would of liked, from the table next to us "And why weren't you at lunch, you've been skipping a lot of meals lately, mum wont like that"

"Shut up Ronald, its not like you dont eat enough for the both of us" I sneered

"Har har, but why are you late, you coulda got in trouble if lupin wasn't late either"

"I fell asleep in the library, alright, why are you so bothered" I rolled my eyes.

Lupin then walked in, looking a considerably lot better than when we saw him on the train.

"Good afternoon, would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands,'

Ron and I met eye contact Instantly, curiosity obvious in both our eyes.

Lupin led us to the new classroom "What d'ya reckon we'll be doing?" I asked the other three

"Whatever it is, I hope it has nothing to do with Cornish Pixies" Harry grumbled

I quirked an eyebrow in confusion "is this another long story thing?" I asked them

"Not really, lockhart brought cornish pixies to our lesson last year, and caused chaos, poor neville even got stuck on the chandelier, bless him" Hermione sighed at the memory

"Glad I wasn't there than, I hate heights"

Turning a corner we were met with Peeves, who I had met very quickly when Fred and George planned a prank with him after telling me they were going to give me the Fred & George grand Hogwarts tour, there was nothing grand about it.

Peeves was floating upside down in the air and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

"Loony, loopy lupin" Peeves sang repeatedly, we waited for Lupin to put an end to Peeves shenanigans as most teachers did but were surprised to see him still smiling

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole, if I were you, Peeves, Mr filch wont be able to get in to his brooms." After the only reply he got in return was a loud wet raspberry, Lupin sighed and took out his wand.

"This is a useful little spell,' he told us "please watch carefully"

he pointed his wand to shoulder height "Waddiwasi" than pointed it at Peeves. I watched in amusement as the Piece of gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves left nostril, causing the poltergeist to zoom off with a string of curses.

I let out a laugh, some of the class joining me

"Cool, sir!" Dean Thomas said, his eyes shining bright with a smile up to his eyebrows as if he just met his idol

"Thank you, Dean, Shall we proceed?" He asked us as he put away his wand

We started of again and I took notice how most of the class looked at our Professor, with much more respect.

We finally got to our destination "inside, please" Professor Lupin ushered us in.

We were stood in a staff room, full of mismatched chairs was empty apart from one teacher.

Professor Snape, he looked surprised to see us coming in, before Lupin could close the door, he interrupted him.

"Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this" Getting to his feet he strode past us, his black robes billowing behind, giving him a dramatic flare. Before stopping at the door. "Possibly no ones warned you, Lupin but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear" He sneered. Neville had gone considerably scarlet.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation" Lupin replied "and im sure he will perform it admirably." Wow, Lupin was making fast work of becoming my favourite Professor already.

Snape curled his lip, clearly not liking the response "Miss Weasley, you must not forget your detention tonight, you might want to discuss with some of your beloved Gryffindors on how to properly clean things, maybe" and with that he left, shutting the door with a snap. it was now my turn to turn red as some of my fellow Slytherins laughed

"How the hell did you become hated by your own Head of House so much, Miss Weasley?" Lupin asked me, making my eyes go wider

"Wow, thanks Sir" he gave a laugh at my reply

"Now, then" he beckoned our attention back to the class and leading us towards the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old Wardrobe. Lupin went to stand next to it.

I jumped back as the Wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about" Professor told us calmly "There's a boggart in there.' for someone who told us not to worry, he was sure going the wrong way about it. "Boggarts like dark enclosed spaces,' said Professor Lupin as he continued to list spaces that Boggarts like.

He then asked us what a Boggart was, and of course Hermione answered, giving an answer that belonged in an cyclopedia, then Harry answered a question, trying his best to concentrate with Hermione a bundle of answers ready to untangle.

I was starting to get nervous about the practical, if we really had to go up against a boggart, what even was my biggest fear that would scare me so much, surely it wouldn't be heights, how scary can that be when I know that i'm safe and on the ground.

Luckily my last name was Weasley so there was probably a fat chance that I would even have to go up against it in the time for our class, I don't think I could stand the humiliation of someone knowing one of my weaknesses.

I tuned back into what was being discussed when professor Lupin told us "The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practise the charm without wands first. After me please, ... Riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus" we chanted after

"Good, very good. But that was the easy part, i'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville"

The wardrobe shook again, all I could think was, better him than me, As Neville walked forward.

"Right, Neville."

•

"Whew, thank God for Harry Potter" I sighed as I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead as the class walked out of the room

"Gee thanks, glad to be of service" He deadpanned

"Thanks to you, I didn't have to be humiliated by having whatever my worst fear shown in front of the whole class, ugh, I could kiss you right now" I gushed as I cupped his face in my hands, his eyes going wide

"Wait, really?" He looked at me with this sort of hopeful look in his eyes as I held his face

"No!" Ron said as he pulled the back of my robes away from his friend

"You're no fun, Ronald" I complained.

"So, Harry whens Quidditch starting again?" Ron asked, quickly changing the subject

"I dont know really, I kinda just wait for Wood to tell us, my own personal alarm clock" Harry joked

"Who's wood? sounds like a pretty weird name"

"He's Gryffindors quidditch team Captain, he's in seventh Year" Hermione told me as we neared the Great Hall

"Wait, hang on, So this kid-

"Keira, Hes seventeen"

"Anyways, He rides brooms, team captain, and his names wood, that's the most boring but funny thing I've ever heard" I laughed

"Potter, I wanna talk to you about the upcoming season" A Scottish voice said behind us, I turned to see who had coincidentally brought that up after just discussing it, and I was met with the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life.

I was transfixed as I stared at him, how could someone be so perfect, i'm pretty sure this is what love at first sight was

"What are you doing?" I broke out of my trance to see My friends had left with Captain dreamy and Malfoy had took their spot

"Who's that?" I pointed at the love of my life

"Him? Gryffindors captain, Oliver Wood, he's got this weird obsession with Quidditch, its like his only personality trait" Malfoy drawled

"Thats wood?!" I stopped still, My future husband was an athlete, better yet, captain.

"Yeah, why?"

"Is he single?" I faced Malfoy now

"He's like four years older than you" He blinked at me

"You didn't answer my question" I sighed after Wood had completely left my vision

"whatever Weasle- wait where are you going?" He jogged after me as I walked away from the Great Hall and to the dungeons

"To my dorm? to mentally prepare myself for my detention with Snape" I told him the truth

"What, and your not going to have dinner?"

"No, I don't wanna sit at the table, and its more stricter at dinner, anyways, its none of your business, bye Malfoy" before he could say anything else, I sprinted away from him so I could nap.

I was currently in the freezing cold dungeons in Snapes Classroom, cleaning up the mess from this morning as Snape marked Homework.

As I cleaned I was singing a muggle song "just the two of us" under my breath, to keep my spirits bright.

"Weasley!" Snape shouted over my singing as I got louder without even realising

"yep, yeah, sorry sir"

"Just...the ...two of us" I started again, pretending as if I were singing into a mic

"Goodbye, Miss Weasley!" Snape pointed at the door.

Score, that wasn't even my intention.

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