#and thank you pina for the beautiful outfits

[lathbora-virann]

You know the distance never made a difference to me

I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea

Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

13 Going on 30 AU Pt. 5

Summary: You are so excited when the most popular girl in your school agrees to come to your 13th birthday party. But after a cruel prank you find yourself wishing that you were popular and older. By some miracle your wish is granted but isn’t as wonderful as it seems. You turn out to be a major jerk and you don't even talk to your best friend Peter anymore. Can you fix everything and get back to normal or are you stuck living like this forever

Warnings: none this is pure fluff, some angst and some suggestive content

Word count: 1798

At first Peter thought he had the wrong location, the place was huge and people were lining up outside the door. He remembered you describing it as a company party, so he figured it was going to be some office party in like a rec center. But sure enough the huge banner at the front had your company’s name on it in big bold letters. He watched the people that entered the party and noticed that he was severely underdressed. He glanced down at his wrinkled band shirt under his leather jacket, and his beat up converse, so old that if he pulled the sole back he could see his socks. He glanced at his watch, he was still a little early, maybe he could go home and change.

“Petey!” He looked up to see you waving rapidly at him from your limo. You leaned forward honking the horn and the driver batted you away. He laughed and moved closer to you. You hopped out of the limo and Peter felt his heart stop. You looked absolutely stunning, your hair and makeup were done up and you had on the prettiest outfit. He started to feel even worse about what he was wearing. “You came!”

“Yeah, of course. I mean I didn't have anything better to do tonight.” He joked and you playfully slapped his chest. “Though I wish you had told me what kind of party it was I would have dressed nicer.”

“I think you look very handsome.’ He blushed at your words.

“You look stunning.” You buried your face in his shoulder, embarrassed by his compliment and he stiffened up.

“You’re too nice Petey.” You pulled away after a moment and took his hand in yours. “Ready to have some fun?”

“Always.” You dragged him into the place as Peter trailed behind you, a huge smile on his face.

You guys made your way to the bar, Peter leaned against the counter and ordered two beers for you guys. The bartender handed them over to Peter and he popped the lids off on the counter hoping to impress you. He watched as you took a sip and made a face gagging.

“Peter, this is awful.” You said, rubbing the taste away with a napkin.

He smirked at you and took a drink of his own beer. “It’s good.”

You leaned against the counter with your arms crossed. “Do you even like beer?

He scoffed. “Totally.” You moved even closer to him, narrowing your eyes. He tried his best not to let your gaze break him but after a while he had to break eye contact with you. “Fine I yield.” You smiled and he spit the beer back into the bottle. “I hate beer, I can't stand the taste.” He placed his beer back on the counter. “I just got it so you’d think I was cool.”

“I knew it!” You cheered, he rolled his eyes. “So what do you like?

He played with the rim of the bottle, not meeting your eyes. “...fruity drinks with the little umbrellas.”

“That’s more like it.” You smiled and he returned it, no longer feeling ashamed of his drink preference. He had forgotten how free you always made him feel. Sure it was just a drink but his whole life he was told he had to be manly and like only manly things, hanging out with you when you guys were young was an escape from that. You let him be himself and never made him feel bad about it. Not like some of the other women he had been with lately.

You gave the two used beers back to the bartender and asked for two pina coladas. A couple minutes later you both had your new drinks in hand. You reached your glass towards his and clinked it. “Cheers.”

You had each drunk about three pina coladas and were giggling to one another. Peter had tucked one of the umbrellas behind your ear and you were throwing peanuts into his open mouth, when your boss came up to where you two were sitting.

“(Y/n)!” His voice startled you and you ended up throwing one of the peanuts at Peter’s eye, he cussed through his giggling as he tried to rub the salt out. You turned around to face your boss, Lucy was right behind him. “I’ve been looking for you all night.” His authoritative tone made you sober up real quick. “Tell me dears what is wrong with the dance floor?”

You looked around in confusion and Lucy answered for you. “No one is dancing.”

“Precisely. We need this night to go well and get good press. How does it look if no one is dancing and is leaving our party at 10!”

“Bad.” You answered with a smile, sure that you got the answer right.

“Yes bad, so what are we going to do?”

You sipped at your drink, thinking for a moment. Then it hit you, you set your drink down waving your arms wildly as you swallowed your drink. “I got it!”

You spun around to look at Peter, he gave you a lazy smile. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”You and Peter both answered at the same time. “Another pina colada!”

“Dance with me!”

“What?” Peter asked with wide eyes.

You wrestled his drunk from him and took his hands in yours. “Let’s dance, if people see us dancing then they’ll want to dance too.”

“No!” He protested trying to get his drink back from you. You held it out of his reach, your boss and onlookers watched as you two fought like children over the drink.

“Come on Petey-”

“I don’t dance.”

“Oh yes you do!” You used his drunken state to your advantage and led him over to the center of the dance floor. You let his hand go to request a song from the DJ booth. He nodded at you and took out a record, blowing the dust off of it. You silently argued back and forth with Peter as everyone crowded near the edge of the dance floor waiting to see what you would do. Peter's eyes widened when he realized what song you had chosen. He looked over at you, you guys used to dance to this all the time when you were kids. He stood frozen next to you as you started to dance to ABBA’s dancing queen.

You pointed your finger towards him singing along to the lyrics. He shook his head at you and you huffed continuing to dance around him, you motioned towards the crowd and they cheered him on, clapping along to the beat and bobbing their heads to the music. You were doing all the moves that you guys had used to do as kids, even lifting your hand up to your face as if you were looking for someone.

He let out a little laugh, watching you dance around the floor and pull people onto the floor dancing with them for a moment before grabbing the next person. They were all dancing with you, mirroring your movement and singing along to the lyrics. You turned back to him, your face flushed from all the movements. He sighed and reached his hand out towards you, you took and he yanked you closer to him. You squealed as he spinned you around the dance floor, swaying you side to side. You guys belted the lyrics out to one another, breaking away every now and then to do a little jive and then coming back together, taking turns twirling each other. As you and Peter danced you looked around and smiled at seeing all the people that had started dancing, everyone was crowded around you singing along and dancing their hearts out. You didn’t see the way Peter stared at you, a soft smile on his face.

Your boss danced next you with Lucy, he smiled widely at you. “Good job (y/n)! This is amazing!” You giggled and turned back to face Peter. You turned back to smile at Peter, he returned it. You looked so beautiful in that moment, he had to stop himself from closing the space between you two. He tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. “Hey I’ve got to go.”

“What?” You asked, your heart breaking a little bit.

“I have work tomorrow.” He gave you a sad smile, lying through his teeth. “Thanks for inviting me I had a lot of fun.” He removed your arms from around his neck and placed them at your side. “I’ll see you around.”

“Oh Okay.” You put on your best fake smile. You watched as Peter pushed his way through the crowd, wondering what you did that made him leave.

Peter shrugged off his jacket and threw it on to the bed next to him. He let himself fall back, burying his face in his hands. He should have just stayed home, if he had he wouldn’t be having thoughts like this. He wouldn’t be wondering what you would say if he asked you out and what your lips would feel like against his own. He sat up running a hand down his face.

He was falling back in love with you. All those years apart he thought he was over you and yet here he was. He couldn’t stop thinking about how happy you made him and how much he had missed hanging out with you. Some part of him had hoped that it would be awkward to see you again, that way it would be too weird to hang out and he could just distance himself. But you were somehow the same person he had loved all those years ago. It was like time had stopped and you guys had picked up right where you left off.

Peter got up, slipping out of his jeans and changing into some loose shorts. He knew what he had to do, but it was killing him to do it. He sighed and stared at the phone for a moment before picking it up. He couldn’t ignore her any longer. These past few days with you had been a nice break but he couldn’t afford to keep indulging in it, no matter how much he wanted to. He dialed her number, that familiar seed of dread settling into his heart. He felt his voice change the minute he heard her voice, it wasn’t as happy as it had been when he was with you. He sighed. “Hey Wendy.”

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[catxsnow]

FIFTH TRY IS THE CHARM

Request: You my lovely are an incredible writer!! If you have the time, can I please request a Bruce Wayne x reader (who knows about his identity) where Bruce tries to propose throughout the day but keeps getting interrupted by Bat-emergencies and eventually the proposal just ends up being somewhere totally random like in the bat-mobile? Thank you x1000 in advance!! Can't wait to read more of your stuff!

Warning: fluff

A/N: I’m tired of being stuck at home 

Word count: 2.7k

Bruce Wayne wasn't necessarily the most romantic man.

For the media, he exuded romance, but in real life that often wasn't the case. Bruce was busy man between running Wayne Enterprises and his life as Batman. He had an insane family to take care of and had his own part in the Justice League. Bruce didn't have time to be romantic, even when it came to you.

You had been with him since Tim Drake had come into his life. You helped him raise his kids and even his own blood son. You knew Bruce better than anyone. For years you were his partner in life, his lover. He had dropped the playboy facade and became head over heels in love with you.

Throughout the years, he showed that he could be romantic. On times that Gotham was quite and he could trust Dick to take care of the city, he would take you half way across the world to sit on a beach and drink pina coladas all day. Sunset walks on the beach and surprise breakfast in bed. Bruce knew he could be romantic, and most times he wished he showed it off more often.

You deserved every ounce of cheesy romance in the world, and he hated that he couldn't give it to you.

So, Bruce did everything he could. He took you to the most lavish, expensive restaurants that he could find in Gotham just to see you all dressed up. When Gala's approached, he would buy you the most beautiful outfit that would outshine everyone. He spoiled you with riches without knowing that all you cared for was his company.

Bruce wanted to make things right by you, and the best way that he could do that, was to ask for your hand in marriage. Bruce loved you, he wanted the whole world to know that he loved you.

He had the perfect plan in his head. Take you for some spontaneous vacation on a hot desolate beach and ask you just as the sun turned the sea magnificent colours of purple and pink. You hadn't even made it half way across the country when he was called back for important bat business.

As disappointed as you were, you had never seen Bruce so distraught to be called back to a mission. Without thinking much of it, you let his odd behaviour slide thinking that he just wanted to treat you. In many ways, he had made it up to you that night - but not in the way that he had originally intended.

The second try involved taking you to your favourite restaurant in the city. It stood high off the ground and overlooked the Gotham. It was the few times that you understood why Bruce leaped from buildings to building, the view was amazing. He never understood why you liked that place so much until you told him.

Bruce sat across from you in the dim lit restaurant. One hand in his lap with a ring between his fingers and the other clasped with yours. A smile lit up his face like none you had ever seen before. He seemed happier than usual, and you couldn't figure out why. Nonetheless, you took full advantage of it.

If Bruce was happy, you were happy.

It didn't last long. Just as Bruce was about to speak, to finally ask you to marry him, your gaze overlooked the cloudy night sky. The infamous bat-signal shone bright. You sighed, aware of what this meant for him. Bruce squeezed your hand, wishing that he didn't have to go. This was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Stay safe, I love you," you kissed him before he rushed off. As much as you were used to him leaving you like this, it still hurt every time. It wasn't fair that the city always needed him, they didn't deserve him. Yet, he still came, because that was the type of man that he was. Bruce was Gotham's savior, just as he was yours.

But like every savior, when duty calls, they must attend.

It was hard sitting on the sidelines so many times when Bruce put his life in danger. You hated seeing him come home at night with new cuts and bruises. When particularly bad nights occurred and he came home broken and destroyed. It was impossible seeing the man you loved hurt all the time, and yet you dealt with it every day.

So, just as many of your dates went, you left to go home while Bruce was risking his life once again. You didn't know when he would return, or what shape he would be in when he did. However, as long as he came home, that was all that mattered.

Just as you expected, Alfred was down in the cave, monitoring all of Bruce's moves. You stood behind him, watching the heart monitor like your life depended on it. There was constant fear that one day it would stop. You hoped that day never to come.

><

After several days of Bruce trying to recuperate from yet another failed attempt to ask you to marry him, he devised a new plan. Although it wasn't as romantic as he wanted it to be, within the comfort of your own home would surely lead him to be able to finally ask you.

Bruce knew that one of your favourite times with him was when he was willing to stay those few extra minutes longer in bed with you in the mornings. You loved when he let loose and was allow himself to enjoy you cuddled into his side. Those few minutes never seemed like much, but he knew that they were so important to you.

He had thought about it the night before. A night filled with an extensive time to make you happy and feeling good. Bruce slept with the ring safely tucked away in his nightstand drawer and a smile on his face. The next day, he was going to ask you to marry him, finally.

You and Bruce laid naked in his sheets. Your leg was cast over his as he leaned up against the headboard. Absentmindedly, you traced the scars along his chest. Bruce could see why you liked these moments the most, it was the time that you truly felt like a normal couple rather than someone who saved the world every other week.

"Damian and I had a really nice time the other day," You told him. "He was telling me how he never baked cookies and so we decided to make them. It was nice, seeing him so mundane like that. I think he finally felt like a normal kid for just a little while."

That was another thing Bruce loved about you. You loved his kids. Damian might not have been your own, but you sure as hell treated him as if he was, just like you had everyone else. Even Dick and Jason, who you had no part in raising were always happy to see you. That was so important to him.

You hadn't noticed Bruce reach over to his bedside table until the phone on it began ringing. Bruce's hand dropped against his bed and a loud sigh escaped his lips. Of course, something had to ruin it again. Reluctantly, he picked up his cell and answered whoever was at the other end of the line.

"It's Dick," Bruce announced as he set his phone down on the table. The hand that wasn't resting on your waist dragged down his face. If Dick didn't sound so urgent over the phone, he wouldn't have even considered leaving you. However, when his son was in trouble, he knew h "I've got to go."

"It's okay, my love," You assured him, honestly. Bruce leaned down to kiss you, he was filled with longing to stay with you. As your hand cupped his face, he knew that if he kissed you any longer, he wouldn't be able to leave. Your touch was intoxicating, and he could never get enough of it. "Even if our moments together are brief, they make up for every second apart."

"You deserve better," Bruce sighed. Getting called away so many times like this just reminded him how little you truly got to be with him. It made him wonder if this was a sign that he shouldn't ask for your utter dedication. Maybe you did deserve better than him, you deserved someone that would be there for you at every turn.

The harsh realization struck him hard, but just as always, you were there to change his mind. You were the one who constantly reminded him of the bright side of thing when he struggled the most.

"I deserve better than a man who's willing to give his life to protect the world? Not many people would be willing to do what you do, Bruce," you sat up straighter in your bed so you were eye level with him. "If anything, It's me who doesn't deserve you. I told you before, I know what I signed up for. Sometimes you have to leave, and sometimes you get to stay."

"I love you," Bruce felt himself melt. It was one of those rare times that he forgot about the Bat, the heavy weight of his company. It was you, and only you that was in his heart and mind. "I promise I'll be back as soon as I can."

"As long as you come back."

><

Bruce was getting beyond frustrated. He had attempted once more, this time ending in the same result of being called into the line of duty before popping the question. That time had been when you had taken over the kitchen for the night to make dinner for your family that still lived in the Manor.

Bruce had found you, music playing softly in the background. He scared the ever living hell out of you as he silently wrapped his arms around your waist. As soon as you realized it was him, you leaned into his body and the kisses he was leaving on your bare neck. He pulled you into a dance, swaying around the large kitchen space.

As the song ended, Bruce toyed with the ring in his pocket once more, ready to ask again. Just as he was about to pull it out, Alfred had made a presence and informed him that he was needed once more. With a disappointed sigh and a chaste kiss, Bruce was off once more.

He didn't know if he could handle a fifth time of getting interrupted.

It seemed like the next seventy-two hours that followed you had been constantly apart. He barely got the chance to kiss you, much less ask if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. Bruce hated this wait, if it was acceptable to send it over text, he would have at this point.

He told himself, the next time he saw you for longer than ten minutes, he was going to ask. No matter where you were or what either of you looked like. Bruce was at his turning point, he needed to propose. The ring was burning a hole in his pocket and he couldn't stand it any longer.

You waited in the Batcave patiently for Bruce to get back. Damian was in Metropolis with Jon and you had told Alfred to take the night off. You could handle being the man in the chair for one night - and if anything went wrong he wasn't too far away. Since it was just the two of you, Bruce seemed to be a little more chatty than he normal was.

He would say how beautiful you looked sitting there, watching over him - even though he couldn't see you. His flirty side came out and you couldn't help but reminisce about the time that you had first met him. Bruce had made you swoon with his words, and it seemed that after all these years he still had the same effect.

Thankfully, the night had been quiet and Bruce didn't run into much trouble. That meant two things that you were happy about: he wouldn't come home with any deadly wounds and he would get to come back to you early. Bruce seemed eager to get back to you as well - you assumed it was just to get you in bed.

It didn't take long for the batmobile to pull up to a stop. Bruce leaped out with ease and pulled his cowl down. He felt as if he wasted this moment that he would never get another. Every opportunity had been taken from him and if there was one thing to know about Bruce Wayne, he always got what he wanted.

He approached the chair that you were stationed at, surprised that you hadn't made a move since his appearance. Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Your arms were crossed on the computer and your head rested on them. Eyes sealed shut and heavy breaths passing your lips. You had fallen asleep.

Bruce nearly wanted to curse at the irony. As soon as you both had a moment alone, you had fallen asleep - ruining his chance once more. With a sigh, Bruce peeled of his Bat suit and carefully picked you up from the chair. Your head lulled against his chest and your knees tucked over his arms.

You stirred the second he took a step. Bruce paused, waiting to see if you were going to fall back asleep or wake up fully. It seemed to be the latter as your eyes popped open and met with his blues. A smile spread on your lips - you hand't meant to fall asleep but you were pleased by the way you had awoken.

"Hey, baby," Your voice was a little slurred from still waking up. You snuggled into his chest for a brief moment before requesting to be put down. Bruce careful did as he was told, gentle after a night of aggression. "Good night?"

"Better now that I'm with you," Bruce assured. You stretched your arms out and cracked your neck. Although you weren't sitting there for very long, it had made you stiff. Your eyes sealed shut with a big yawn - sleep still wanted to take you.

However, when you opened your eyes, you were no longer looking at Bruce's chest. He was knelt down on the ground, but that wasn't what caught your attention - it was the big, beautiful ring that was between his two fingers.

"Bruce!" You gasped. This didn't seem like the time, or place for him to be asking you to marry him. However, you didn't know about his struggles to get there, or that he felt as if he was running out of time. This moment, although not perfect, was exactly what he needed.

"(Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?" Bruce asked. A massive grin spread across your face. You could feel your eyes burning with tears at the sheer joy that coursed through you. Marrying Bruce was always something you wanted, and now, you were going to get it. You were going to be his, now and forever.

"Yes!" You excitedly agreed. Bruce slipped the diamond on your ring finger. Without hesitating, he brought you into a kiss. His hands slipped down your sides until they grasped the bottom of your thighs. Bruce hoisted you up so your legs were tightly wrapped around his waist without even breaking the kiss.

Your fingers glided through his hair, tugging at the roots as he squeezed your butt. The distance from the cave to his bed seemed far too large. Bruce needed you, he needed to kiss every inch of your skin and devour you. This love that he had, it amplified the second that you said yes to marrying him.

Bruce might not have been the most romantic, but he sure as hell was going to try his hardest for the rest of his life with you.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Crossbow Love - Chapter Sixteen - Mrs. Dixon

The work was created, through collaboration with @bladeroseocrp​ https://www.wattpad.com/user/BladeRose_18

“So after he heals we put him in a cell right?" She asks Rick "Yes, let him look at how people live away from his rule” He says. Blade nods and sighs "I will guard him while he is in the cell." She says "All the time?" He asks. Blade nods and looks over at Negan. "I’m the best one for the job so yeah I'll do it." She says “What about Daryl, do you want to move him away?" Rick sits down on the window sill and looks at her "He needs you now" He says.

Blade looks at him "This doesn't mean I don’t want to be there for Daryl. I love him, and Daryl can help watch him too." She says "Blade I know he hurt you the same way he hurt Daryl. I..." He sighs. "I want to apologize to you."  He says. Blade looks at him confused "For what?" She asks "For everything, for not saving Daryl when you asked me to. For letting that fucker hurt us all." He says tearing up. Blade looks at him and hugs him "You had every right to wait because of what he has done, and you have family to look out for, and I'm so sorry you lost Carl." She says Rick at the mention of his son cries. He is so hurt by his son's death, his passing was a blow to him "I did it for him, for him I told you to save him" He says.

Blade looks at him staring at him "That's why you saved him for Carl to make things right. Look Rick, I hate this man with every fiber of my being. But I agree with you.” She says "Daryl doesn't approve, neither does Maggie and neither do the others. Rosita hates me for it." He says. Blade nods "I can understand that but with us locking him up in a cell will be the best option we can become the people we don't want to be. Carl wanted us to work together." She says "I know," He nods, "Go and rest and I'll sit with him for a while." Blade looks at him and sighs "I can't sleep knowing Daryl is out there. I'll go check the prison cell to make sure it's prepared to put this bastard in there." She says "Good" He nods and smiles reassuringly “He will definitely come back" He says.

Blade nods and walks to where the cell is and looks around. At least there's a little window and there are cell bars, not a big heavy door like at Sanctuary. Daryl, meanwhile, is ransacking stores looking for three specific things, he has to find them or he won't come home. Blade sits in the cell on the mattress on the floor and sighs knowing he will be in here for however long. Daryl returns after dark, parks the motorcycle in front of the house, turns off the engine and sits on it for a while, staring at the space in front of him while biting his lower lip. The things in his backpack are suddenly heavy on his back, he knows it's a brave thing to do, but he's shaking inside. Blade just now walks out of the prison well and walks outside and sees Daryl and smiles softly. his palms sweating as he gets nervous, breathes deeply and gets off the motorcycle. Blade smiles and starts walking towards him and looks into his eyes.

"Where the hell have you been?" She asks Daryl to jump up at the sound of her voice, he looks at her. "I had to leave for a while" He says as he motions to the house Blade looks at him confused and sighs. "I'm sorry darling, I had a talk with HIM." She says she notices he is nervous. "Are you doing okay?" She asks "Yes I’m ok " He nods slightly and smiles gently. "I'm not mad." He says.

Blade smiles softly "You seem like you have something on your mind?" She asks "I don’t" He says shaking his head "At all..." He says entering the house, takes his backpack with him to the basement. Blade watches him and looks confused. She just decides to go into the living room and sits on the couch. Daryl returns, wipes his hands on his pants "Shall we eat something?" He asks. Blade looks up at him "Oh um sure I guess." She says softly "You make dinner, and I'll take a quick shower" He says in his hand he holds fresh clothes Blade looks at him and sighs "Oh okay then." She says as she starts making spaghetti.

Daryl takes a quick shower and is back just a few moments later, but first he goes into the basement takes something from the basement and goes back upstairs. Daryl sits with the package on his lap, hides it so Blade can't see. Blade looks up at him and smiles. "You look very handsome Daryl. I love your outfit." She says sitting down on the chair. Daryl blushes, hides his face behind his hair and bites his lower lip. Blade looks at him. "Should I go get changed to look pretty or no?" She asks about getting up. "You don't have to," He shrugs his shoulders, "But I'd like to." She says.

Blade smiles and giggles. "Alright I'll be right back." She says as she quickly goes upstairs to change. A black cloth lies spread out on the bed in the bedroom. Blade looks at it and smiles thinking about Daryl that he got this for her. "Daryl." She says smiling as she rolls her eyes and she puts it on and looks at herself in the mirror and loving what she sees. She goes to the top of the stairs and slowly walks down the stairs. "So? How do I look?" She asks him, standing his face away from her.

Daryl turns slightly when he hears footsteps on the stairs, smiles slightly at the sight of her. “The effect is even better than I thought when I saw the dress on the rack” He says. Blade smiles and turns around showing how it looks on her. "I love it. Thank you Daryl." She says "Beautiful" He smiles broadly "I have something else but it's after we eat ok?" He says. Blade smiles and blushes and looks at him confused and shrugs “Alright Daryl let's eat, I made spaghetti." She says as she walks over to the table and sits down on the chair.

Daryl remains silent throughout the dinner, his leg hopping nervously Blade looks at him as she eats and puts her hand on top of his hand. "I love you Daryl. You know that right?" She questions him. "I know" He nods "I love you too, Blade Rose." Blade smiles and blushes and finishes her plate and hides her face hiding the blushes. Daryl laughs quietly as he finishes dinner, pushes the plates further down on the table away from them and pulls something out of his lap and places it on the table. Blade looks at it confused and smiles softly "What's this Daryl?" She asks him, staring at him and then the box. "Open" He nods his nose in the direction of the box. Blade grabs the box and looks at him and smiles and stares at him. "What are you planning Dixon?" She questions as she slowly opens the box "Woman just open it." She rolls her eyes.

At the very top on there something on the black material lie,

just below them is

and under that

Blade takes the cloth off the box and smiles at the knives and then under that seeing the shirt and then sees the underwear and looks up at him and giggles and blushes. "I love all of this. I was thinking it would be something else but I love this too." She says softly looking up at him. "You said you wanted a pina colada but I couldn't find the damn drink but I got a sweatshirt" Blade smiles and giggles. "Okay what about the knives?" She asks Blade smiles softly thinking to herself thinking he was going to give her a ring but the gifts are a sweet gesture. Daryl smiles slightly. grabs her hand. "You know I have no experience in all this but there is something else" Blade looks at him and smiles holding his hand "Oh great more surprise I’m loving these gestures of love with gifts." She says softly.

Daryl takes a deep breath " I know things have been happening a lot lately, that conditions will never be perfect but..." He pulls a small bundle out of his pocket "You are the love of my life Blade Rose, you are the first woman I feel so comfortable with, someone I can tell everything to and won't judge me. For the first time I felt truly loved.” He says. He slides the paper in her direction "I will understand if you say it is too soon or that you are not sure you want to do it, would you like to spend the rest of your days as Mrs. Dixon?" He asks. Blade looks up at him tearing up as she uncovers the ring and smiles and looks into his eyes after seeing the ring and nods. "Yes Daryl I would love to. Marry you." She says crying tears of joy.

Daryl blushes but grins ear to ear and slips the ring on her finger. Blade smiles and looks into his eyes and kisses him passionately and deeply in tears holding his face. Daryl holds her face in his hands and smiles into the kiss, when he runs out of breath he pulls away slightly Blade smiles and blushes and nods "We'll organize something here among the family and you'll become Mrs. Dixon.” He says. Blade smile and blushes. "I can't wait to be Mrs.Dixon'' She says "I love you Mrs. Dixon," He whispers into her mouth and kisses her again.

Blade smiles and blushes "I love you too Mr. Dixon." She says kissing him again puts her hand on the sides of his neck Daryl finally feels complete, feels he will spend the rest of his life with this woman, even if it were to be short. Blade finally feels happy even if the world has gone to shit she is happy to have Daryl in her life to love and protect her. Daryl pulls away from her slightly. "How about you try on some underwear and put a pina colada sweatshirt over it?" He moves his eyebrows significantly.

Blade smiles and giggles as she goes to grab the sweatshirt and the underwear and goes into the bathroom that was downstairs. Daryl cleans up after dinner and smiles to himself like a fool. He looks out the window, he never would have guessed that in this world he would have a fiance, hell he never even thought about it in his normal life. Blade smiles and gets in her outfit and looks at herself in the mirror and giggles, loving the outfit she walks out of the bathroom into the living room. Daryl stands with his back to the living room and stares at the view outside the window. He can be happy even with Negan in his cell, nothing can spoil his happiness. Blade starts making a little bed on the floor in front of the fireplace and has a pillow and blankets.

"Hey honey can you make a fire? It would be nice to cuddle in front of a fire." She asks "Sure, I'll go outside for wood" He smiles and leaves Blade smiles and sighs and sits on the floor in front of the fireplace. She will go visit that asshole in the morning she wants to enjoy being with Daryl especially after being proposed to. Daryl returns with the wood lights a fire in the fireplace and sits down next to Blade. "Good size?" He slides his hand down her thigh. Blade smiles and nods and puts her hand on top of his hand. "Yes it fit perfectly. Thank you. I love you Daryl Dixon.” She says “I love you too Blade Dixon.” He says.

                                                      The End

[diamondcamefromhell]

Timeless love

Jaskier x Reader part 5

[PART 1]  [PART 2]   [PART 3]  [PART 4]

Summary: This is an AU, where Y/N is a young woman, trying to make ends meet with her freelancing writing job. She lives in her small Nottingham studio apartment along with her cat Apollo. Things change when one evening as she is waiting for her taxi, she meets what she thinks is Joey Batey, but the man in front of her is convinced he’s Jaskier, a character from her current favorite show. Y/N now has to figure out what to do.

Warnings: drinking and just some cheesy cheese

Word count: 2,637

A/N: Ahhh you guys, thank you for liking this story and encouraging me to write it, i sooo expected this to be a flop, and i really appreciate the [so far] positive feedback ahhh! we writers do fuel on comments sometimes, lol, so whenever you lot say you like it i go so soft and THANK YOU hope you like this part <333

Jaskier doesn’t look at me, keeping his gaze at his arms. I see him try to blink the tears away, but he fails, as some escape, washing down his face. I reach out, putting my hand on his.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, not wanting to disturb him. He wipes his face with his free hand, looking at me.

“It’s accurate.” His voice sounds rough and deep. I squeeze his hand. “Like, really accurate.”

“It must be scary.” He hangs his head low.

“It is, Y/N. But at the same time…” Jaskier now leans back on the coach, closing his eyes. His lashes now cast shadows down his face, making him appear so much older. “I am glad that it is, at the very least, correct. Not some fake story, just using our names and faces. It’s real.”

“I cant even imagine what you’re feeling. What must be going through your head.” I whisper as he opens his eyes, gazing at me. “But I want you to know I am here to help you, in any way I possibly can.”

“I have no doubts about that.” He reassures me, brushing hair out of his face, taking a deep breath in. “It’s scary, but it made me upset because… I miss it. I miss Geralt and Roach and I miss Velen and Novigrad.”

“You’re homesick.” He nods. “I promise we will get you home, we will figure it out. Something, somehow.”

“Thank you.” He offers me a smile, and I stare into his eyes, wondering just how much they have seen. How much of a different world, so far away? I wish I could experience that. With him. But then I also know, I belong here and he truly belongs there.

“Until then, Jaskier, maybe I should allow you to experience more of my world.” I say, taking laptop on my knees, exiting Netflix.

“I would be recognized as the guy who plays me, unless I can experience it from your home.” I shake my head.

“I should have thought of it sooner, if I am honest.” I sigh, turning laptop to him. “We have wigs. And some people wear cute little masks as fashion. We could pretend you are one of them, get a wig, and boom. You’re a different person, free to roam the world. We could go to eat out or an amusement park or clubbing or…-“

“Is it a date?” He cuts me off, immediately sending a blush to my face.

“Sure.” I stutter as he giggles, and my heart eases up a little.

So I order a wig. A blond one, spend good pounds on it. And a mask. And just more outfits. They should arrive here by tomorrow. I leave the shop, not wanting to know what my bank balance is looking like.

Then I open some more tabs. I begin grilling Jaskier, trying to distract him. I ask where he would want to go eat, if he even wants to go ride some rollercoasters. He agrees to it all, as his eyes lighten up and his shoulders relax. My hear beats faster.

The next day when items arrive, he tries them on, and while the wig is not the best, you cant really recognize him. So that same evening, I decide it’s time we go to a pub, something he is almost familiar with. We’re walking from the taxi, towards the pub just out of town, as I begin explaining it to him.

“It is similar to a tavern, in my opinion at least.” I say, as he nods. “You can go there, order some food, drinks, whatever really, just a place to hang out.”

“Sounds cool.” He says, not sounding impressed and I grin at him.

We make it inside, as the warmth surrounds us. I hear some pop music play, wondering what Jask will think about that. I guide us to a further corner, a table behind a pillar. I know some waitresses call it a “lovers nest” and that sheer name makes my heart skip a beat. Sadly, we are using it for coverage mostly.

We sit down, Jaskier’s back facing the pub, as a waitress gives us our menus, giving a weird glance to the bard, but not commenting on his outfit.

I forced him to wear a simple white shirt with a oversized colourful jacket. It had patterns of marvel superheroes, which I thought was cool, but he said wearing “green goblin” on his ass wasn’t his cup of tea.

“You can take your mask off.” I encourage Jaskier now, as he practically rips it off. Underneath, I see a smile.

“This is nice.” I hm in agreement, looking at the menu.

“We can start with drinks.” I say, turning it around to the drinks side. “Unless you’re hungry.”

“No, I’m okay on food.” I smirk, twisting his menu too.

“Then let’s drink.” He seems to like that.

We order some cocktails, although Jaskier insisted of good old ale. And some shots of different spirits. The waitress brings it, wishing us a good night, and I know she probably wont bother us much. Unwritten rule for lovers nest.

So we drink up, talking about everything and nothing. I tell him about how I find Apollo on the streets, poor boy was bones and skin, full of lice and worms in his belly. Costed me a lot, but I was determined to take care of him. He tells me about the time before he met Geralt, how he learnt to play the lute by himself.

“I would wonder the fields, singing my heart out. I wasn’t very good then.” He laughs, looking into the distance with a nostalgic look growing on his face.

“How come?” I ask, sipping my Mojito, which Jaskier didn’t like.

“The wolves would run away, whenever they would hear me.” I chuckle, and his gaze comes back, landing on me, as his lips curl into a smile. “But I learnt.”

“I know.” I say, as he grows silent. He hasn’t sung since we met. “You should, however, prove it some time.”

“Hm.” He smirks.

I almost don’t hear it, in a faintest voice, Jaskier begins to sing. In a language I don’t understand. I don’t know if he spoke one of the elder languages, if it was elven or something, but it sounded beautiful. So sad, however.

My gaze seemed to encourage him, as his voice grew ever so braver. He didn’t take his eyes off me, as if to make sure I was listening. I wouldn’t dare to do anything else. Then, as sudden as it began, it stopped.

“That was beautiful.” I say as the light above our table flickers. “Even if I understood nothing.”

“Not mine song. One of the elves I’ve met on a road taught me.” My curiosity grows as I lean in.

“What is it about?” That makes Jaskier blush, as he winks at me.

“I’ll tell you another time.” I lean back now, crossing my arms.

“Not fair.” I argue, but he doesn’t budge.

“I promise, you will learn someday. Just, not today.” I roll my eyes, easing up however, as I reach back for my mojito.

“Oh! I love this song!” I say as a slightly louder one comes on. It’s Ed Sheeran’s ‘Thinking Out Loud’

I spring to my feet, drink still at hand, as I dance to the rhythm, twirling and twisting around, not caring if I look graceful or anything. I was feeling the moment. I sing along to it, not being anxious if I sound bad. The wonders of alcohol.

I finally make eye contact with Jaskier, who seems to be mesmerized. I reach out to him, pulling him up just as the lyrics hit ‘Maybe just a touch of a hand’. I keep singing, making him dance with me. He kind of doesn’t move, his lips slightly apart, eyes wide open.

I take step back, to sing the chorus and I twirl around him, smiling. I keep singing, now mostly just waving my body side to side, looking at the bard in front of me. The whole pub seems to disappear, nothing else matters. Just me and him, in his stupid wig.

Just us, in this world. Scared and confused. Lost. Not sure of what tomorrow may bring. But for now, we were in this together, and in this very moment, I counted all of my blessings. The biggest one stood before my very own eyes. His lips still parted, his gaze still on me.

My chest tightened as the song was nearing the end and I walked towards him. Just to make sure he is real, truly here. And he was, as his hands land on my waist and he finally swings with me, as I silence my signing to a mere whisper, placing my forehead on his shoulder. Breathing him in, storing the scent in my brain. I memorize the way his hands lay, engraving it in my body, so I could remember it when he is not there to remind me.

I touched him. I smelled him. And now.

I pull away, and before I can change my mind, before worry and anxiety come over me, I place my lips on his. My eyes are shut, as I am scared to open them, even when we pull apart.

Now I tasted him too. The pina colada he just drank was still on his lips. Coconut and a mix of alcohol. But there was something else, something I couldn’t point out. I guess it was just the way his kiss tastes.

“You can open your eyes.” I hear hip whisper, as the song ends. I jump a little, opening my eyes. He gazes into me.

“Sorry.” I stutter, stepping back, as his grip loosens and I slide out of his arms.

“For what?” He furrows his brows, and I feel heat rush to my face.

“I crossed the line?” I say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement.

“Oh, Y/N.” He lets out a laugh, as it eases me up immediately. “You really didn’t. I like you.”

I stare at him, as he says it so casually. It slid off his tongue, like poison, going right in my bloodstream, straight to my heart. I go back to my seat, downing the rest of mojito. Jaskier follows suit, sitting in front of me, grinning.

“Stop being so afraid.” He grabs my hand, which I didn’t even notice was shaking.

“I like you.” I admit, not looking at him, as I blush even more. “And it’s scary to like someone, Jaskier.”

“It’s not like you like a monster.” He teases as I fix my gaze on his empty glass.

“No, of course not, but…” I stop there. No need to remind him we are from different worlds. Right now we were both here. Together. Nothing was stopping us from falling. “I don’t know.”

“There are a lot of things people may never know.” I look at him now, as he gives me a soft, encouraging smile. “Love might just manage to be one of them.”

“It really is.” I agree, leaning back. I feel my heart calm down a little.

“By the way, you sound incredible.” I open my mouth in shock as Jaskier doesn’t seem to be able to hold in a laugh, as it rings the entire pub. “You look so much more surprised by that, than me liking you.”

“Because you just said I sound incredible!” I pull my hand from his grip, brushing my hair out of my face, squinting at him. “Do you like the sound of dying cats too?”

“If they sounded like you, I might kill cats for fun.” I flush red.

“Stop.” I stutter as he giggles, clearly entertained. “I need to use the restroom.”

I spring to my feet, fanning my face as I rush past him. I find the bathroom in a basement. I go, splash some water on my face. It doesn’t really help, but it gives me a moment to calm down. I take deep breaths, bravely walking out.

I bump into someone.

“Sorry.” I say, lifting my head. My heart sinks.

“It’s okay.” Our eyes meet, as the man face grows full of concern. “Are you okay?”

“I think I might be sick.” I scramble the words, turning on my feet rushing back in the bathroom. I let out the alcohol into the toilet, flushing it, as my head aches. This can’t be happening.

“Hey, are you okay?” The familiar voice creeps in as I grunt. I know he cant hear me. I quickly wash my mouth with some water, coming out again.

“Yeah, sorry.” I cant stop my voice from shaking, as he crosses his arms, his blue eyes piercing at me.

“You looked like you saw a ghost or something.” He giggles and I manage to give a weak smile in response.

“I recognized you, is all.” I decide to say the truth, or at least some of it. “Didn’t expect to see someone like you in this pub.”

“One of my friends is from around here, we’re catching up.” I stare at him, not believing my luck. One of his, one of Joey Bateys friends lives nearby. Are you kidding me.

“Then I wont hold you back any longer.” I say, moving out of the way so he could go to the stairs, but he doesn’t move.

“You’re not holding anyone back, I am glad to meet a fan.” I grin, turning around and initiating us walking out of this basement.

“Maybe not by the bathrooms.” I point out as he snickers and now not seeing him I can pretend it’s Jask.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I shake my head.

“I’m on a date.” I say, gritting my teeth. “Thank you, though.”

“Yes, of course.” I stop in the pub now, as I see that nobody is batting an eye. Nobody else seemed to recognize the actor.

“Well, I better not keep my man waiting.” I look at Joey one more time, praying to god I don’t vomit on him now.

“Enjoy your date.” Joey says as I nod as a thanks. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“I truly hope so.” I say in a friendly voice, as he waves at me, going to a different end of a pub.

I rush to our table, practically attacking Jaskier. I grip his shoulder tightly.

“We need to go.” I hiss startling him. “Now.”

“What happened?” I don’t feel like I have time to talk, as I take my purse, pulling out the card.

“Mask on. Head down.” I order, as I speed walk to the bar, paying for the drinks.

I hear Jask behind me, so I rush to the door, glad Joey seems to be seated in the other corner, where he can’t see us flee. Once outside, I keep power walking, until out of breath Jaskier catches on and grabs my hand.

“What happened?” I look at him.

“I met Joey Batey. Inside.” I grunt, as I shake. Jaskier pulls me into a hug, patting my back.

“Hey, he’s just a guy, nothing to be scared off.” I know he’s right. I know it, but yet…

“I am not scared off him, just. If people were to see you two, next to each other…” I jumble the words, not sure if he can understand what I’m trying to say.

“So you were worried for me.” I hear a smile in his voice, so I gently punch his hand, as I pull away. “That’s why I like you.”

“Because you need someone who will look after you like you’re a baby?” I tease as he laughs.

But my beating heart doesn’t slow, so I quickly get us a taxi home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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@ultracolorfulnerdcollection ; @viyamystic ; @sleepyblossom ; @killjoy-acid-crash ; @halszka-potter  ; @apersondealwitlt <3

[lightskinrry]

I will forget you, somehow.

The one where Y/N sees Harry months later since their night together in the Hamptons and they reminisce a lot

Word Count: 3.7k

TW: angst! fluff!

A/N: Part Three of Still In Love!! I don’t know if there’s going to be more!!! All I have to say is prepare to die!!

Thank you again to my wonderful wife @belladonna-styles for reading it over!!

Read Part One here!  Read Part Two here!

You were standing next to Jeff, a proud smile on his face and even a few tears in the corner of his eyes. You looked around and saw all of your friends with the same kind of look in their eyes; proud and happy. They were all dressed in their best attires; colorful suits and dresses. All of them grinning and cheering. You wondered why you couldn’t be as happy as them; after all it was a wedding.

Weddings are happy events but you just looked depressed, miserable and when you saw her walk down the aisle in her gorgeous white dress, a blissful expression on her face, the tears ran down your face; the bluest tears.

But the real moment you felt your heart break inside your chest was when he placed the ring on her finger. When he kissed her cheek and murmured in her ear. When he promised to love her forever in sickness and health, until death do them part. You thought about all the times he told you; you would be the one he’d give the ring to, the one he’d love forever.

You felt the heartache; the sadness and a surprising rage grow inside of your body. When the minister asked if anyone opposed this union, you felt a rush inside of you and your blood boiling. You stood up and walked toward them, and with pain in your voice, you said “I oppose.”

The only thing you could hear were the laughs of Harry and Rosie and everyone in the audience booing you until the minister asked you to go back to your seat.

You woke up in a cold sweat.

You’ve been dreaming about the same awful scene for days on end, since you received the call from Jeff. He told you Rosie was getting married (he didn’t mention to who… But you knew it was just courtesy not to tell you Harry was getting married.)

Apparently you were invited to the wedding. You mulled over the idea for weeks. You didn’t want to go but you couldn’t dismiss that no matter what happened between you and Harry, he still was one of your closest friends.

And perhaps, this whole wedding thing would make you forget what happened almost six months ago.

After you left the Hamptons, you could not get Harry out of your mind. All the feelings you had for him, everything; from the crave for his touch to the heartbreak of his departure, all those feelings came back. Strangely, despite being sure you moved on, it took him only one night to make you fall in love with him all over again. Maybe you weren’t in love; maybe you just needed closure. Something he never gave to you; he left early with Rosie on the fourth day without addressing a word to you.

You’ve been living your life as usual since then; going out with your friends, working and avoiding each other. Your life just went back to what it was before that night, except that you missed him so much you’d swoon every time a picture of him would randomly show up on your Instagram (not so randomly since you started following his update accounts again).

So basically the only changes you went through after your trip in the Hamptons was being in love with your ex, again; feeling heartbroken and loosing a good friend.

Indeed, you broke up with Danny. You told her about your night with Harry and how you had a hard time getting over him. She cried a lot when you told her. You apologized a thousand times and let her know that she deserved to be with someone who only thought about her, someone who loved her. And that wasn’t you, and maybe it was never you. Of course she dismissed you and asked you not to ever contact her again.

You didn’t, but oddly she did. She called you on a cold night to let you know that she forgave you and that she was glad you told her the truth. You two had a lovely chat over the phone, and your conscience was cleared.

You felt well because you never intended to hurt her and to know she forgave you made you feel good. You were happy that the two of you left on good terms.

The wedding was getting closer and you still hadn’t given an answer yet. What if you went and you messed it up like in your dreams? What if you started crying? What if everybody looked at you because you’re the ex?

After all, that meant you were going to see his family again, all of his friends, and him, in whatever amazing outfit he’d wear, you’d see him dancing tipsy on his wedding night with somebody else… It hurt just thinking about it.

But maybe that’s what you needed, maybe you needed the hurt of realizing he was over it. Maybe you needed that for you to move on.

You decided after much reflection that you’d go to the wedding reception only for the party. You wouldn’t go to the religious ceremony, just the celebration that started at 8PM. You planned on congratulating him, having a glass of champagne and leaving as soon as possible.

The wedding was in LA but you didn’t plan on staying. You tried thinking what outfit would be best for the occasion and your heart decided on a blue silk dress that was just the right amount of slutty and classy. Harry picked it and it was always one of his favorites but you convinced yourself that wasn’t the reason why you picked it.

You pondered over the idea of Harry getting married… Was that planned before the night in the Hamptons? Was that the result of the night in the Hamptons? Was he seeing Rosie back when you two were together?

That thought cut your breath off and made you nauseous. It couldn’t be.

You flew in the night of the wedding; you didn’t care about the jet lag, you knew you’d sleep on the flight back home.

When you arrived, late as usual, everybody was already dancing; probably because your flight was delayed and instead of making at 8, it was already past 11.

The room was huge; they picked a very fancy venue in Malibu, with a high ceiling and a lavish bar. You couldn’t recognize anybody in the lightning and the music. You were moving blindly, just searching for your friends.

You didn’t want to see Harry yet. And he was probably already tipsy and being all ‘lovey dovey’ with his new wife.

God, he had a wife, now. You felt a knot in your stomach and now you only wanted to go home. You turned around and walked to the door but you felt someone grabbing your arm.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it!” Glenne offered you a warm smile and she pulled you in for a hug.

“I’m not staying long…”

“Ah Y/N! We haven’t seen you since that terrible restaurant in Manhattan! It feels like a decade!” Jeff laughed as he embraced you.

“That was last week, Jeff!” Glenne slightly slapped his arm and chuckled.

They were pretty drunk.  And you had visual confirmation when you saw them kiss in the mouth. You laughed at them for a second and a waiter interrupted you by offering a glass of champagne; that you accepted straight away.

You took a sip while looking around you, searching for the newlyweds; you still wanted to congratulate them. “Damn, that’s some good champagne!” You told yourself as you made your way through the crowd. After a few glasses and talking with your friends that you found at the bar, of course, you still didn’t have a glance of the bride nor the groom. And none of your friends mentioned Harry while talking about the wedding. It all seemed so weird.

You went over to the bathroom and ran into Rosie. She was glowing; both metaphorically and literally. She was beautiful and covered in glitter; her dress was a sparkly white dress with a bustier covered in sequins and you didn’t know what to think, you just knew it wasn’t your taste but she looked wonderful.

“Congratulations! You look amazing!” You smiled at her and she grinned back.

“Thank you! I thought you wouldn’t come. After what happened I didn’t want you here, but then I thought it was impolite and I wanted to show off a little bit.”

She laughed at your face. You understood her reaction and you couldn’t help but wonder if inviting you was Harry’s idea. Where was he, by the way?

“Yeah, I understand. Sorry about that. Where is he?”

She looked confused. “Who?”

“Your husband?”  You asked, letting a little nervous laugh escape from your lips.

“Oh!” She smiled widely. “He’s over there!” She pointed over the huge throne standing in the back of the room, that stayed empty for a while and where now, her husband, was sitting.

You couldn’t get yourself to look at him but your curiosity was stronger than you.

What the fuck was happening?

The man sitting in the throne was blonde, thin, in a plain black suit with a bow tie, and more importantly; he wasn’t Harry.

Your stunned expression made Rosie guffawed. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Yeah…” You said absentmindedly. Your brain needed time to process.

“But… I thought you and Harry were…” You needed answers now.

“I broke up with him when he told me about you two and now I’m married! That’s growth, honey!”

You looked at her flabbergasted. So Harry never married her.

“If you’re looking for him. He’s probably drunk somewhere. He came to congratulate me and then he disappeared.” She looked behind her, and then grabbed her dress to lift it up. “Anyway, I have to go.” She pointed to the bathroom door and giggled.

It wasn’t Harry’s wedding. You felt relieved. But somehow, you were still hurt. They broke up after he told her about you but he didn’t reach out. Or did he? Did you just plainly miss his calls? Did he not have your new number? Did he ask your friends?

Every possible scenario played out in your head. You rested in a corner, a glass of wine in your hand. Your eyes rummaged in the room looking for him. The music was playing and when the song finished; you lifted your head on the spot when you heard the first notes of the next one.

The Pina Colada song. Your song. You looked at the stage where the band was playing. Your jaw dropped at the sight of the man behind the microphone.

I was tired of my lady.

His voice reached your ears but your brain couldn’t comprehend the situation.

We’ve been together too long.

The people around you were either talking about the performance that clearly wasn’t planned or just ignoring and dancing. You could not fathom that he was on stage, singing this song. And he looked as tipsy as the night you met him.

Like a worn-out recording of a favorite song.

He looked at you intensely. And you saw his eyes gleam. His lips were ajar but no sound was coming out of them. He was standing awkwardly in the middle of the stage not singing, blatantly staring at you. The bassist of the band made him a sign to sing again but he just got off the stage in a hurry.

Everybody seemed confused but then the band started playing again and the original lead singer carried on with the song and people kept going with their feast.

Harry walked slowly towards you and you felt as nervous as could be. You knew this man by heart, yet it still felt like it was the first time you met him. Maybe because of the song, of the circumstances or just the stark fact that he was wearing a white suit at his ex’s wedding? Bold move you thought to yourself.

“Hey.” He smiled shyly to you.

“Hey.” You sat down on the empty seat that was behind you.

“That was a lame performance, what did you think?” He asked you, a giggle leaving his lips as he sat in the spot next to you.

“That was pretty lame, yeah.” You laughed at him. After all, he left the stage before the chorus. You could hear the song play faintly in the background of your conversation.

“Do you remember when we first met?” He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his eyes just wandered randomly around the crowd.

“Yes. Kinda similar situation.” You looked at him for a second. “I thought you were getting married.”

He snickered at your comment. “You thought that?”

“Yes. Why did you think I came all the way to LA for?”

“I don’t know. You and Rosie could’ve been friends.” Both of you laughed at loud at his answer.

“Sure. She’s my best friend.” He gazed over at you. You thought about mentioning your night in the Hamptons, telling him the way you felt, asking why he didn’t reach out, how he broke up with Rosie, asking him about whatever happened in his life during the last six months? But you chose to not say a word before he did.

“Do you remember after we met at that wedding, the first thing we did together?” His eyes shifted away from you.

“Yes. We went to a Rolling Stones show and got fucking baked.”

You chortled at the memory. You always thought it was the best first date ever.

“It was fucking sick.” He smiled distantly; he looked like he was reminiscing too.

“The first time we moved in together, when you broke your leg in the stairway because you wanted to prove that you could carry the biggest box alone. That was sick too.”

You remembered how he bragged about carrying the box on his own, and dismissed you when you insisted to help him and when you climbed the stairs and left him alone at the bottom of them, you heard a high pitched scream, only to find him on the floor the box next to him and a painful look on his face. You laughed so hard that day. Especially when he got up telling you he was fine and that he just needed a kiss to make the pain go away when it turned out he had a really bad sprain.

“You jinxed me.” He laughed loudly.

“I never jinxed you!” You slapped his arm in a playful way.

“What about that Christmas we spent at my parent’s house and you took the last cookie?”

You thought about that Christmas, the first you spent at his parent’s place. You were nervous about spending the entire holiday with them but it just went blissfully.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You raised your eyebrows at him in fake confusion and giggled.

“C’mon Y/N… It was just after I told you I loved you for the first time.”

Your breath was cut off. You remembered that night exactly. The way he kissed you so gently, the way he whispered he was in love with you, how he made you feel so safe and loved. The way he said that he wanted all of his Christmases to be exactly like this one, with you in his arms.

“Yeah, I remember… You gave me the cookie.”

“I didn’t!” He tittered softly. A silence installed between the both of you, until a waiter offered some more champagne. You looked at each other and after a sneaky smile; you both had the same idea. You took all the glasses on the waiter’s plate and thanked him. You sipped lightly on your glass.

“Do you remember that time, in the studio when Jeff walked in on us?”

He laughed. “Hell yes, I remember. One of our most glorious nights.”

You chortled at his answer. “Most glorious to say the least.”

You reminisced the night with great fondness and arousal… The steamy glasses, the recorded screams, the way Jeff gasped at the sight of you two butt naked literally fucking in the studio.

“Do you remember the church day?”

Of course you remembered. It was when you were staying at his place in London and his parents were invited to a baptism and asked you two to come. None of you were religious but you went anyway to please Anne.

You’ve spent the day joking about everything in the Church from the paintings to the literal baby that was getting bathed in holy water. Truth was you probably needed to be bathed in holy water way more than this baby, because while the priest recited the prayers, the two of you escaped and had sex in the confessional. And when you came out of the booth, to hear the choir sing; he held you in his arms, and whispered for the first time that he wanted to marry you.

“You said you wanted to marry me.” The words left your mouth and you realized what you said only when you looked at his face; his eyebrows raised and a smirk plastered on his lips.

“I said that?” His cheeky tone made you laugh.

“Yeah. You said you wanted to make me your wife.”

“I want to make you my wife.” He held the glass of champagne to his lips, his grin never leaving them.

It was probably the alcohol talking; the both of you were quite drunk by now.

“I still love you, you know.” Now you didn’t control the words that were coming out of your mouth, they were just slipping on their own.

Before Harry could answer, you shook your glass in front of his face. “But I’ll forget you, somehow.”

He looked you in the eyes. And took your glass away from your hands, he looked much more serious than he did a few seconds earlier.

“I don’t want you to forget me.” You could hear the desolation in his voice.

You didn’t want to forget him, either.

“Why did you leave in the morning, that night in the Hamptons?”

He seemed surprised by your question and looked at the ground.

“I felt terrible.”

You felt tears gathering inside your eyes. He gave you a wretched look.

“Not about our night. It was wonderful. I felt terrible because of Rosie, because of what I did to her.”

You both looked around the crowd and giggled. “She didn’t go that bad, though.”

“I felt like the worst scumbag in the world and I owed it to her to tell her the truth, you know?”

You nodded for an answer. You understood his stand; you were in the same position.

“I’m so sorry you felt left out. I just didn’t know what to do. And then you left with Danny and everyone told me you were fine and you were still with her, so I guessed you didn’t feel the way I did.”

You stopped him in his track. “What? Who told you I was still with her?”

“Herself. She called me like a week after the Hamptons to tell me that I should not try to contact you in any way because you two were together. And she sent a message a few months later to tell me you were still with her.”

You were bewildered by what you heard. You broke up with Danny a few days after the Hamptons. And now you discovered she told Harry you were still together.

“I broke up with her, like two days after coming back.”

“I tried to reach you but I didn’t want to interfere. I didn’t want to hold you back from moving on.”

“I can’t believe that.” You were dumbfounded by the revelations Harry made. You thought about calling her and settling scores but it wasn’t necessary, you preferred to just let it go. Karma would do her better than you ever would.

“I still love you, Y/N.” He cupped your face with his hands.

“I meant it when I said I never stopped loving you.”

His thumb stroked your cheek in a gentle way. He tilted his head to the side and smiled.

“I mean… I sang the Pina Colada song for you! Out of tune!”

You giggled and he brought his face closer to yours. You know he was about to kiss you, but you didn’t want just a kiss or just another night. You needed more. You took his hands off your face, and stared into his eyes.

“I need more than words, Harry. More than a half drunk kiss. More than one night in the Hamptons. This will not erased the last two years, or the hurt from our past.”

He nodded at you and held your hand inside of his. He held it tight and brought it to his heart. A dramatic gesture that made perfect sense in the light of his alcohol consumption.

“I promise you I will give more. More love, more time, more effort. I will do anything you need me to do if that means you’re willing to try again.”

Your heart was pounding so fast that you thought it might as well jump out of your chest. That was what you needed to hear. But now you needed to see and feel the actions.

“I am willing to try again.” He beamed widely. “But I need actions, Harry, not only words.”

He gazed in your eyes for a moment.

“Well, my first action is asking you if you want to start over?”

You looked at him confused.

“I’m Harry.” He reached his hand out for you to shake it. And you understood what he meant; the wedding, the song, the white suit and his drunk ass. Everything was like your first night meeting, and it was worth the try. You smiled at him and shook his hand.

“I’m Y/N.”

He giggled before the words fell from his lips, “I’m pleased to meet you.”

You snickered before grabbing his face and kissing him. You felt him smile against your lips. You were ready to start over.

But you couldn’t act like you forgot him. You would never forget him.

TAGLIST:  @tandy-mikaelson; @caringharrystyles ; @babebenhardy ; @madformichael

[tagamantra]

GUMAMELA, a Maharlika short story

GUMAMELA

[hibiscus]

[art by @msquared_art on Twitter]

IT WAS NIGHT in one part of the planet known as Pasinsya, and day in the other. It circled around a halogen sun. It had two natural satellites: one that was green, covered in trees and budding with dambanas, natural shrines to the diwata, and another that was a simple stone gray, untouched, for a celestial diwata, intelligent, nature-personification consciousnesses that inhabited various celestial bodies, lived within it, and watched over Pasinsya. These two moons were known as Berde and Niyebe.

It was in the night where the first ships came and established an outpost in a hidden, darkened ravine. They rode on strange ships of crystallized silk harnessing dying star drives, with murals and paintings scrawled upon the undersides of their ships, depicting waves. This symbolic-creation technology is what allowed these strange heron-draconic xenobeings to encompass most of their galaxy, and what gave them the privilege to expand out and start conquering others.

But this planet, Pasinsya, was not their planet. It was not their home. It was home to a number of people--one that lived by the border of night and day. Watch with me, fellow readers, as I speak into existence and then solidify, calcify, and preserve their endearing truths through my thought-writings.

This planet was--

/// WARNING: XENOBEING SALIMBAL DETECTED HEADING TOWARD YOUR PLANET’S TRAJECTORY. EXPECT HELP WITHIN 3 DAYS. BE BRAVE. IF MERCY IS UNAVOIDABLE, SURRENDER. DEATH COMES FOR ALL. LONG LIVE THE LAKANATE. ///

--oh! And as you can see: the warning came without preamble.

It was a simple message. One that was broadcast across all of the Panuos units of the quaint little barangay of Dulo, a barangay of quaint bamboo huts sitting beside concrete three floor apartment complexes, all radiating from a single stone chapel and a large and longer hut made of limestone.

The message buzzed Panuos units, waking the entire barangay up in the middle of the night. Cryptic. Like a thief, a nightmare. A message that only served to tighten the constricting ropes of anxiety already snaking about the barangay-folks’ necks.

In the morning, the barangay folk of Barangay Santolan arose immediately to panic and distress. The people took to the plaza, which was outfitted with a neat (yet unfortunately unmaintained) fountain depicting a slender figure wielding a staff topped with a five pointed star on one hand, and then a simple bolo blade on the other. That was made of stone.

The city hall was wide open. The people voiced their uncertainties by virtue of screaming it out and creating a massive ball of pure non-understandable noise.

“Ginang Akina orders silence,” bellowed a large man to the side of the elderly woman standing above a makeshift bamboo platform. The man was clearly modded: a shock of white hair, half a body made of strange steel and flesh organic prosthetics, which had strange bamboo tubes sticking out the side.

Ginang Akina cleared her throat before she spoke. “As you all know, we have been sent a distressing message from the SD-SK itself, of whose mandala we are part of. Firstly, we have no reason for panic or alarm. I have been told that the SD-SK are sending passenger ships to evacuate us before the Xenobeings attack.

“But the message said death comes for all!” said a stray, nondescript voice arising from the firmament of words.

“That is true,” replied the Maginoo. She flourished, making sure that her ankle long barong made of pina fiber was clean and immaculate and hugged her figure. The barong was, after all, one of the few uniform formal wear in Arkipelago. “However, the SD-SK will not abandon us, especially since we have been so integral to being a porting station and trading station for Horizon goods. We must all have faith.”

#

More noise, more arguing.

It eventually awoke-- no. He never slept. He wasn’t able to sleep after the message. At 0300 in the morning, he simply sat in his balcony, staring outside. He wore a simple pull-over sweater made of light rattan fiber, and pants that billowed before cuffing and hugging his ankles. Of course, the most striking feature about him was his white-pink hair, which sometimes seemed to glow when struck with light in the darkness.

He gazed at the plaza, sitting, fiddling with a leaf that shone pure blue, which he found when he fell into a cave to the far north, right at the border. The smell of hot porridge and coffee and freshly baked bread wafted from the street below him. Behind him, the door slid open, and a hand placed a cup of coffee on the small coffee table. “Hey, are you okay?”

His brother, an older one. The one that had even lighter hair than he did. He was also taller, slender, and wore glasses which only emphasized his gray eyes. A lady-killer, through and through. “Hoy, Paolo.”

Paolo nodded, forcing irritation to flee him. “I am, I am. Sorry. Thanks for the coffee.”

“The message kept you up, huh?”

Paolo nodded.

“You afraid for Santolan?”

Paolo nodded again. “If only I was older… I could’ve had a Meka by now. I could’ve been a Maharlika, and defended Santolan.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault, alright. Don’t do that.”

“I know that but... “ Paolo sighed. “Look, Alvaro, this is the first time in 10 years you’ve been here.”

“And what are you trying to say?”

“You obviously haven’t grown very attached to this barangay like I have.”

A silence. One eventually torn down by a scoff. “Sure, you could believe that. But right now, we have no choice. The Xenobeing attacks have been escalating lately. They’ve been invading more and more of Arkipelago. We’re undermanned, undefended, and abandoned. We have to evacuate.”

Paolo breathed again. “If only I had a Meka. If only Lola hadn’t died so soon and trained me more.”

Another silence. Paolo was leaning with both elbows on the balcony. Alvaro stared at him, perhaps longing, before sighing and ruffling his pink hair. “Don’t dwell in the past. Keep your ears open for updates. Diwa knows we’ll need it. Oh, and Aling Apolina has some lugaw ready downstairs. Just come down, alright?”

Paolo heard the door slide closed behind him.

With another breath, Paolo pushed himself off of the balcony. He couldn’t sulk now. He had to do something. If he didn’t he was sure he was going to live with regret.

He quickly jumped and leapt off of the balcony, pushing himself off of the stone railings. His hands caught a galvanized steel rooftop, and he pulled himself over and up. He strode across that rooftop, reached its edge, and then leapt off of it once again, this time using the propulsion systems installed onto his boots to propel him further. An entire street, crossed.

Wind whipped at his hair, sending his oversized shirt in every direction, and he hopped from roof-to-roof until he managed to climb up to the highest point of Barangay Santolan: the bell tower of the Chapel of Saint Abuayen. He pushed himself to the top of the bell tower and sat by an unused scaffolding. From there, he basked in the view of his Barangay, his beloved barangay. The City Hall, the broken fountain, the basketball court (3 of them in one street), the Church itself, his house which stood atop Aling Apolina’s Gotohan place.

“Oy! Get down from there, Paolo!”

Paolo looked down and saw Manong Juancho, wearing a simple black robe and holding a bamboo broom. “You might get yourself hurt!”

“It’s alright, I have a scaffolding!”

“Aish! That doesn’t matter! Get down here, you!”

Paolo rolled his eyes, pushed himself off of the scaffolding, and fell straight down the bell tower. “Ay, my God!” he heard Manong Juancho curse as he fell.

He activated the propulsion systems which pushed him up and out and into the main chamber of the bell tower. “You seem to have forgotten that my brother is an Altar-Factory engineer.”

Manong Juancho was holding himself up by holding on to the bell tower’s stone with one hand. His other was on his chest, grasping his heart. “Do not ever do that again.”

Paolo couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, alright, I apologize.”

“Bah! You always say that, but you do it again anyway! You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” said Manong Juancho. Silence again as he waited for the Manong to collect himself. “The barangay folk are in a flurry. We’re all preparing for evacuation. So should you.”

Paolo swallowed. “That’d be hard to do, Manong.”

Isidoro didn’t reply right away. There was a pause, a slight nuance of quiet. “Well, get along then. Get your nosy pink hair out of the bell tower.”

Paolo simply nodded. With another flourish, he flipped backwards and out of the belltower, and used the propulsion systems to buffet his fall.

The plaza floor was made of rounded stones. A beautiful kind. It was marred by footsteps and bootprints as the people had already begun to disperse, some of them preparing for evacuation, others hurriedly getting their stalls and booths and shops open. In the city plaza, Ginang Akina and her body modded cohort had already left, seemingly retreating back to the City Hall.

Paolo walked by a simple old man wearing a shirt, some shorts, and a dirty, greasy apron. In one hand he had a strange contraption: a circuit board. “Hm?” asked Paolo, tapping on the Panday’s sweaty shoulder. He had heavy dark circles around his eyes.” “Hey, Panday Ciriano: what’s that in your hand?”

“A circuit board, anak. But don’t bother me right now. I’ve got some preparing to do.”

Paolo opened his mouth to say something more, but then decided against it. Biting his tongue, he smiled and nodded. Instead, he turned around and walked toward the two establishments north of the city plaza: the stone chapel of the Priest and the bamboo hut of the Katalonan.

He opened the door of the chapel, revealing to him rows of pews and the smell of burning incense. By the altar stood two figures: one dressed in a simple black frock, and another wearing an intricate white robe over a beautifully designed okir vest and bahag.

“Father Isidore, Katalonan Silongga.” Paolo’s voice echoed against the walls of the establishment.

The two religious figures turned to face him. “Paolo, iho,” said Father Isidore. “What are you doing here? You should be back with Alvaro, preparing to evacuate!”

Paolo swallowed. “W-Well, Father, y’see… I…”

Katalonan Silongga shook her head, her white hair cascading down her broad shoulders. “I can see his heart,” said the Katalonan. “And his heart wishes to stay and to fight.”

Father Isidore’s eyes widened a bit at first, before he turned that surprise into a breath and a smile. “Iho, you are young. You have a long life ahead of you. We have no means to fight back against the Xenobeings! They will annihilate us.”

“But we can’t--!”

“Iho,” Father Isidore cut in. “You wish to become a Maharlika, yes? You wish to make us proud and fight for us in Arkipelago. How can you do that if you are dead and gone?”

“We can fight. We can! If only we had… If only we had a Meka. A NEO Gen Meka. Did the SD-SK even give a time for when their reinforcements will arrive? They didn’t!”

Father Isidore shook his head and sighed. He turned to the Katalonan. “Katalonan, speak some sense into this child. I have to attend to the evacuation efforts. Peace be with the both of you.” And with that, he walked out of the chapel through the back room.

Paolo stood resolute. He couldn’t help but think that this was not the last thing they could do. There was something more. His burning youth spurred him onward, melting away any doubts of death or non-existence of any way to fight back.

“Your heart beats just like your Lola’s.”

“Wh-What?”

“I was young when your Lola lived here, in Barangay Santolan. You do remember your Lola, right?”

Paolo nodded. Of course. She was the reason why he wanted to be a Maharlika in the first place. “Yes. She was Barangay Santolan’s only Maharlika, pledging her loyalty to Paramount Datu Prakash Arsiya of the Sandatang Sangkatauhan.”

“Her blood boils in your veins, anak. I’m sure this stubbornness and hard-headedness is the effect of that cause. You will not fall. You will not leave this home place. Just like your Lola.”

“But… Lola Zenaida is dead, isn’t she?”

“She is, with a proper burial in the Grave of Heroes. She died fighting against remnants of various Corporations from the Corporation Wars, after all.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“The truth in your heart is hard to shadow and obfuscate. My beloved anak, west of this Barangay, in the Pagitan Falls beside the borderline of Day and Night, you will find what your Lola has left for you to find. This is a gigantic gamble on my part, but you Paolo… you may not have the skill, or the attributes, but you have the heart. And perhaps, that will be enough.”

#

Paolo had prepared up a backpack filled with essentials and gear and told Alvaro that he was going to the evacuation site. It seemed, though, that Alvaro didn’t seem too invested in listening to Paolo, as he sat in front of his LiPa and typed away, a worried visage wrapped about his face.

He walked to the edge of the barangay, where the dirt road shot into the bamboo foliage. He wore something simple: a white camisa with brown pants and some slippers.

“Oy, Paolo!” He looked up to see Josefina running after him. Her short hair only cupped her brown face, and she wore a simple white shirt underneath a waist-high skirt that was woven with magnificent geometric okir designs. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Fifi, don’t bother. Please stay behind and help Aling Apolina.”

She pouted. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I…” Paolo rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the sky, his face pulled into a pained grimace. “I’m going to Pagitan.”

“The Falls? What for?”

“There is something important there that I must find. It’s… a mission given to me by Katalonan Silongga.”

“Bullshit. Don’t try to excuse your way out of explaining this, pink boy.”

Paolo bit his lip. “But it’s true! Look, go back to the barangay now and let me handle this.”

“Too late, I’m coming with you. Do you even remember where Pagitan is?”

He didn’t. “I do! Please, don’t come with me. I can’t risk it--”

“Come on then. I know a route that can lead us there in an hour flat. Well enough time for us to get there, do whatever stupid shenanigans you want to do, then get back here and finish evacuation efforts.”

#

Fifi was 2 years younger than Paolo, but he couldn’t help but think that she knows more about the world than he does. Her speech, her gait, all spoke to him that he could definitely hold her own, alone, against the world.

But Paolo knew that in Arkipelago, they didn’t do things alone. There was always family.

“Fifi...” spoke Paolo as he heard the rushing of Pagitan. Up ahead, he could already see the pall of darkness that was the Night Side of the planet of Pasinsya, this tidally-locked planet.

“We’re almost there.”

“...Why did you decide to come with me, anyway?”

Fifi didn’t answer.

Eventually, they arrived at a larger clearing. They were at the base of Pagitan Falls. They walked upstream the river where the waterfall flowed. There, the great height of the Pagitan dizzied even Paolo.

“Is this the place?”

“Yes, this is Pagitan Falls.” To the right of the falls Paolo could see a few bamboo huts on stilts, the huts they used to rest in or eat in while bathing in the falls.

“Alright, now can you tell me the truth? Why did you come here to Pagitan?”

Paolo turned and looked at Fifi and sighed. He placed both of his hands on both of Fifi’s shoulders. “You promise not to tell anyone?” Despite seeming so old, Fifi was still a head shorter than Paolo.

“Yes, yes.”

“Katalonan Silongga has told me that my Lola Zenaida left something for me to find here in Pagitan Falls. That’s why I’ve come here.”

“And you came here instead of preparing for evac because you think it’ll help you fight against the Xenobeings, didn’t you?”

Paolo licked his lips. “It’s a bit more complicated than that but--”

Fifi pulled herself from Paolo’s grasp, stomped the grass. “God’s balls--you’re so damn easy to read, Pao! We can’t do this. I’m taking you back.”

“What? No. We’re already here. I’m doing this. I can’t leave Barangay Santolan behind.”

��Yes you can. We can find a better, prettier place than this in some other planet. But right now, we have to leave.”

“No! We have to stay and fight--” And Fifi struck Paolo across the cheek.

“I really do have to knock some sense into you, huh? We can’t stay here. How many times do I have to say it? We are going to die. We are going to die here if we don’t go now.”

“No. I won’t allow it.”

“Oh, so what, you’re a Maharlika now? You’re all high and mighty,? The cavalry? Give me a break, Paolo! You’re going to get yourself killed! There’s nothing here, and even if there is, say, a Meka, you wouldn’t even know how to pilot it.”

“I’ve done simulations. I can do it.”

“Bullshit!” And another strike from Fifi. Paolo retaliated then, grabbing the Fifi by both wrists, and then rushing and pinning her against a nearby boulder.

Mouth near her ear he said, “You’re going to stop, and you’re going to help me find what it is that my Lola has left for me to find.”

“No. I’m going to knock some sense into you, and you’re going to come back with me. I don’t want you to die.”

“If you hate me so much, just leave me alone then!”

Fifi looked at Paolo with wet eyes. “I don’t hate you.” Her voice cracked.

Paolo opened his mouth to say something, but a voice from behind him stopped him. “Oh, won’t you two kiss already?” The voice was human, but accompanied by three more layers of voices, as if four people were talking at the same time.

Paolo turned around, whipping out a revolver he had at his waist.

Behind them was a simple woman, sitting by the riverbank, white haired and floating in the wind as if she was underwater. She wore simple garb: a tapis, bakya, and a vest wrapping around her chest, exposing her midriff. Her eyes were pure black, without any irises, only night sclera.

“Wh-Who are you?”

She turned her face to him. “I’m the one you’re looking for.”

“What?”

Sighing, the lady rose to her feet. “Follow me, descendant. Your Lola sure had some strange failsafes and contingencies. Who knew she could foresee something so distant and variable as a Xenobeing invasion and a young man that happened to be her grandson trying to fight back against it? Ah, the Diwa is mysterious, sometimes.”

“What are you---”

“Follow me,” commanded the woman, and Paolo did follow.

The two of them walked up the lake formed by the falls, their feet touching the water but not getting wet. Paolo’s heart raced when he realized that he wasn’t falling into the water.

Eventually they arrived in front of the rushing waterfall. With a wave of the woman being’s hand, the falls split into two, defying gravity. Behind the falls was a grand door, made of gold and stone, with a simple red orb in the middle, wrapped by large roots and vines.

The woman spoke: “UWIAN SILA opens the door.”

The red orb dilated and then turned into a burning green; the roots and vines receded like retreating snakes. The stone gate shuddered and opened...

...eventually showing a huge hangar within. A complex of roots and vines, with each root and vine having a different computer and machine interface upon them, with holograms emanating from solidified leaves and branches. The heat of the maintaining fire bellowed from within, like a beating heart.

All the roots led back to a single large holding contraption, resembling a giant strangler fig. The branches and roots and vines of this giant strangler fig all were positioned in such a way to hold up a twenty foot tall… humanoid suit.

“A Meka…” The word escaped Paolo’s lips.

“You Lola’s,” said the woman. “She called it: Himagsikan 7.”

“Himagsikan 7,” repeated Paolo, breathless.

One can see the wooden skeleton frame beneath the burning white and gold platings that protected its mainframe. The simple head which was designed to look like it wore a wide-brimmed salakot. Its chest and arms were medium in weight, but its legs were heavy and bulky, with burning lights to indicate its power. It held a round mace in one hand, and a Kapre cannon in the other. Perhaps the most striking thing is that its shoulder mount is one that gave it a set of gigantic arms.

“You are to pilot that to combat the threat of the invading Xenobeings.”

“Can I do it?”

“With my help? Yes. Now, you must go back to your Katalonan to perform the Chaining Ritual so that I can help you pilot this.”

“Understood.” And Paolo ran off to Fifi and the two of them ran back to the barangay.

#

A few hours later, they returned. On the wet land beside the falls, they conducted the ritual. “You are sure about this? Chaining a Diwata to you is something most Maharlika have to mentally prepare for.”

UWIAN SILA appeared before them. “I will be doing it temporarily, so as to not overload his mental capacity. But I’m sure he can handle it. He has been having some preliminary Maharlika training thanks to his Lola’s antics.”

Paolo remembered then: the meditation exercises, the heavy weight lifting, the bathing in ice.

Was that all preparing him for this moment?

“Very well then.” And Katalonan Silongga began the ritual. A long winded one where she danced around Paolo sitting on the ground, with UWIAN SILA sitting on the ground across him. It was an intricate dance, one interspersed with incoherent babbling and thrusts of a spear tipped with a stone blade.

He knew it ended when UWIAN SILA’s eyes turned white to him. She then closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against Paolo’s and Paolo was overcome with the feeling of cold. Just like what my Lola put me through.

It makes sense, now.

Paolo didn’t know he had his eyes closed until he opened them, and he saw the world a bit differently now. He can see the flames of the living things, the flow of life in every stone, the voice of every tree.

“I can see.”

“Kalagyo initiated. Good day, Paolo de Gumamela. I am UWIAN SILA, a Defender Principle Kalagyo.”

Katalonan Silongga knelt in front of him. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Paolo nodded. He forced himself up, and found that Fifi and Alvaro were both there to help him to his feet. He looked around, and he saw that Father Isidore and even Ginang Akina and her bodyguard were there. Paolo didn’t remember inviting them: he only invited the Katalonan and Panday Ciriano to look at the Meka.

“Wh-what…?”

“Breathe, Paolo,” said Alvaro. “Fifi, lay him against the boulder.” Fifi nodded, and she pulled him over to the stone to lie against it.

Alvaro turned to the three barangay heads. “Now, I have some important news to impart, and I did this away from the barangay so as to avoid eavesdroppers that would share this news and no doubt cause the barangay to erupt into chaotic panic.”

“Out with it, engineer,” said Ginang Akina.

“I traced the frequency and contacted SD-SK and have learned the following things. One: the SD-SK never sent that warning message. Two: the warning message used the SD-SK frequency, but didn’t come from a known source.”

“What?” The priest clenched his fist.

“I called for reinforcements to come immediately so that we could evacuate but…”

“But we are a Horizon Planet.”

“Yes,” said Alvaro. “They said it would take at least 5 days to get a passenger salimbal here for the evacuation.”

Paolo forced himself to his feet. Instead of feeling dizzier, he felt lighter, more acute. “Then I have to defend Barangay Santolan.”

“How do you think we can do that?” asked the priest. “We don’t have a Meka! A working one!”

It was then that Panday Ciriano walked out of the hangar behind the falls with gloved arm raised. “I got the Gahum Generator working!”

“Well,” said Ginang Akina. “There you have it.”

Father Isidore still shook his head. “You still can’t just put a young boy like Pao alone up against a damned Xenobeing army!”

“I just have to hold them off until you guys get to higher and safer ground,” said Paolo.

Ginang Akina nodded. “He’s right. To the southeast of here there is a safe outpost. Abandoned, but inhabitable. We can set the evacuation coordinates there and we could make the entire barangay travel there.”

“We can do that,” said the Katalonan. “We have horses and a few lifter suits don’t we?”

“Yes.”

“This is a fool’s errand!”

“You are not making sense here, Father,” said the Katalonan. “Come, we must break the news to the barangay folk.”

Alvaro turned to his brother. “Paolo, I know you have the blood of Lola Zenaida in you, but please, be careful. I will be sending you a message once we are in a safe distance. When you get it, leave the battlefield, alright? Come home safe.”

Fifi hugged Paolo from behind. “Please come home safe.”

Paolo nodded. “I will.”

#

“UWIAN SILA, activate the Meka,” said Paolo as he stood in front of the Himagsikan 7, wearing a silver and purple piloting suit that his Lola left behind for him in the Hangar’s dresser. Behind him, Panday Ciriano worked the various floating holographic displays that showcased mechanical information.

“Activating Himagsikan 7.” The Meka moved, then. Its chest burst open, revealing the cockpit within, with a tree-like spine that would connect to the Maharlika’s neural system. Its right hand let go of the mace and scooped Paolo into its chest.

Paolo settled into the seat, and the spiritual Diwa filaments connected to the piloting suit, which then seeped into Paolo’s own soul.

“Diwa Filaments connected. Soul subjectivity 50% sync.”

Paolo fought down the urge to puke. He opened his eyes and holographic screens appeared, seemingly projected by wooden branches from which more Diwa Filaments erupted.

“Let go of your mind, Paolo.”

Right, the meditation training.

He breathed, and let himself be empty.

UWIAN SILA’s voice echoed: “Neural network mapped. Soul upload complete. Soul subjectivity full sync. All systems engaged. Combat mode off. Safety engaged.”

“Himagsikan 7, GHW-S Ynaguiguinid balangkas unit. Ready for launch.”

Paolo moved, and even though he did not move within the Meka, his soul moved the gigantic construction. Step by step, every burning neural synapse burning his entire spirit as he forged forward, ahead, and soon, Himagsikan 7 was out of the waterfall.

He looked up, and through the THIRD-EYE Module of the head-unit of Himagsikan 7, he saw the invisible dragon alien laying by the bank of the lake, lying in wait.

As his soul grew accustomed to his armor, he moved faster. He raised his hand, and the Meka moved, its left hand pulling out a gun from a folding hip compartment. He levelled it and fired at the invisible thing.

It bolted to the right, completely evading the bullet, and shot straight up to Himagsikan 7. The soul, however, cuts like wind.

As the xenobeing, the Tsang-kko as they are called, these dragon aliens with bodies like serpents and manes like flowing thunder, burst toward him, its veil dissipated, revealing his shimmering azure form.

In a matter of seconds, the large gripping Mountain arms of Himagsikan 7 was upon the azure thing, and gripping it firmly, keeping the snapping maw of the dragon alien a few feet away from the head unit of the Himagsikan.

With mountain-shaking force, Himagsikan 7 heaved, and then threw the dragon alien toward the bank of the lake once again, where it crashed hard against the earth, and it flailed, and before it could get on its feet, Himagsikan 7 had used propulsors to jettison itself out of the lake, and onto the bank.

Himagsikan 7’s warhammer was high up, and it fell like a smith’s hammer on an anvil.

For all their god-like visage, the Tsang-kko still had bones, and all of them shattered when the hammer fell upon it. However, it didn’t give up. It flailed when it got hit, and then as Himasikan 7 was raising its arms, it shot up to push the Meka backwards and into the water.

Thinking quick, Paolo used the Mountain Arms to keep the Meka stable and to prevent it from falling backwards, and then used those same Arms to push Himagsikan 7 forward. Earth and lakewater were kicked up in large amounts, a corona of nature, as the Himagsikan used the momentum to bring down another hammer upon the Tsang-Kko, which was only beginning to get up once again, using its internal flight glands to float into the air.

The hammer slammed and embedded the dragon alien to the ground. It flailed, still. “REACTION AGIMAT: Aftershock Hydraulics, activate!”

“Activating AGIMAT,” replied the Meka, and the gears whirred, pistons pistoned. Movement exploded in a burst of speed, and the pistol was suddenly, aimed, locked, loaded, and fired. The bullet going straight through the head of the being.

It fell, limp, the winds about it dissipating. Himagsikan 7 stood triumphant, an omen of things to come.

#

The thundering of the Xenobeings’ salimbal echoed across the field. Panday Ciriano stood, riding a single machine lifter with rubber wheels like a tank’s, far behind him, amongst the bamboo shoots.

The Xenobeings didn’t need Meka. The Tsang-kko’s invading army stood by the precipice of night and day, their eyes revealing nothing but bloodlust. Their salimbals stood at ready to assist, but the frontlines burned with horrifying conquest.

Their larger units were larger than Himagsikan 7. Huge floating dragon-herons with behemoth scythes for claws. Burnings stars for eyes. The smaller frontline units were smaller power-armored ones, but none of them were humanoid. The Tsang-Kko had glands for defying gravity. It was their biology. They were floating serpentine dragons, not unlike the Eastern Dragons of legend.

And there they hovered, at the edge of darkness. The grass dead beneath their feet. The wind like water to their souls.

And then, with a crack of thunder, the Dragon-Heron Horde sounded a trumpet. One that reached to the heavens to make known their intent. At that trumpet sound came the beating of the drums, to signal the march. Each beat, more and more waves of Dragon-Heron Xenobeings revealed themselves from the Night Side of the planet.

The Dragon-Heron Horde charged forward, erupting from the darkness, showcasing their full might: biotechnologic marvels, scales instead of steel, green ghost flames powering flying airships with silk sails.

And Himagsikan 7 surged forward to meet them.

[geminimoonbeamx]

Naive: Part 6

A/N: In which Y/N helps Pepper loosen up and Bucky is ever the good guy.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: More cursing in this chapter because I have the mouth of a sailor. You’ll also probably gag at end, just sayin’

Summary: As the goddaughter of Tony Stark you were no stranger to the Avengers, but when you meet the newest member- you’re a little more then intrigued. Unfortunately for him, Bucky Barnes has caught your eye.

💘💘💘💘💘

You love Pepper.

You really do.

And you have repeated that notion to yourself, over and fucking over again as of late.

How many times had she gotten you out of trouble? Covered for you? Been there for you. The count was numberless. You literally couldn’t remember a time when she’d bailed on you or let you down.

Who were you to tell her to lower it down a notch with the wedding planning?

So, you had allowed her to drag you all over the city, from Queens to Brooklyn and thought the entirety of Manhattan. Running errands, non stop. Your brain was a little fried from the sensatory overload, from all of the white and lace. From the glaring lights of the many stores you frequent with her.

‘SOS, we’re at another bridal shop(gun emoji) (upside down face emoji)’

You send the text to Bucky. You’d definitely encouraged the senior citizen to start using his phone more, and the pages of text threads you had under his name on your phone made you smile. You were almost always talking to him, it was actually pretty lame the way you were constantly waiting for his next message. You couldn’t help it. He was really a funny fucker, when you got past that initial “I was tortured for decades, of course I have resting bitch face” surface.

'I’m sure you’ll survive, doll. If you need rescuing though, just holler. I’ll be there’ as usual you smile like a total loser at his message,

You follow a huffing Pepper out of the store. And into another.

You handle the near constant babble about table settings, what kind of china should she choose? Or maybe crystal? What about seating? Who should sit next to who? “We cant sit the Chinese ambassador next to Fury. They always go on about that damn gambling bet” And “The team shouldn’t be anywhere near Ross”

“Why are we inviting him again?” You’re in the fourth flower shop that you’d been to that day. On the hunt for the perfect shade of Larkspurs. Honestly, the hanging violet flowers all look the same to you but according to Pepper they’re “Too violet! I need lavender, you know like that powdery muted color”.

So with a pop of your lips, you keep your mouth closed. Wisely.

“Appearances. We’ve got to keep our rep nice and squeaky clean. Our public image has been under a lot of…stress. So the more keep it looking like everything is friendly between us and the government, the better” Pepper informs you, distracted, not looking up from the array of blossoms that lie between you.

“But things are better I thought” You implore, as a particularly fragrant array of peonies catch your eye. Their gorgeous, delicate and beautiful. You run your fingers along the lines of the petals, tracing them without touching.

“They are, for the most part”

That makes your eyebrow crook a little. What exactly did that mean? The team was back together, following rules(for all intents and purposes)… if Pepper didn’t look so distraught over the fact that you couldn’t find these fucking flowers, you probably would have pressed on about it. But you decide not to stress her out anymore, even from your place across the shop you could tell that she was wound tight.

You grab a couple of pictures of the peonies, posting them to your snapchat and other social media accounts quickly before making your way over to Pepper.

Slowly. Hesitantly. Like she was a bomb that might go off at anytime.

“Put the Irises down slowly and no one gets hurt” You instruct her with your arms held out in front of you melodramatically.

You really cant help being a smart ass. It was probably something you should work on.

She doesn’t even laugh, she just sets the bouquet down and sighs “We’re never going to find them, not in this city”

“Okay” You soothe, a little weirded out at the fact that the roles have dramatically changed and in this moment you are the parent “We’ll call the planner back and tell her that she was wrong. We’ll do some looking of our own and find where they do carry them, and we’ll have them shipped out”

Growing up is weird. Seeing your “elders” frazzled is weirder.

She takes a deep breath through her nose “I already looked, most places don’t ship because of how delicate they are”

“Fuck it, then we’ll go get them ourselves. We’ll take one of the quinjets” You’re completely serious. Even if you have to fly all the way to France, that’s what you’d be willing to do.

Pepper looks down at you, like everyone does because you’re a fucking mouse and everyone seems to dwarf you, and simpers at the promise in your voice. She could see that you were really making an effort, taking your “Maid of honor” duties extremely seriously. She knew she hadn’t been going easy on you, and yet you stayed resilient. Good natured. Keeping a cap on the complaints.

“Okay?” You conclude, giving her a look. Searching her face for acceptance.

“Okay” Pepper agrees. Thank fucking baby Jesus.

“Alright, can we do the rest of our planning at that bar across the street. I’m parched” Your feet hurt from the heeled booties you’d stupidly decided to wear and you knew the both of you could use a drank.

Well, Pepper could use more then one.

And that’s how you killed your soon to be officialized god mother from alcohol poisoning.

Again, you we’re being a dramatic asshole, but she was for all pretty much dead to the world as the two of you sat in the back of the sleek Lexus, en route of the tower. Her head was resting on your shoulder, her body slumped, her breathing coming out in soft wheezes. She smelled like a distillery, and you cant help but grin because somehow you’d managed to walk out of that bar, tipsy as hell, but still standing and Pepper was the one who was passed out drunk.

It had started innocently enough.

You two sitting at one of the booths, the tablet and Peppers wedding binder laid out in front of you as you went over the many checklists. You’d even ordered a platter of some kind of weird truffle nachos(that had actually ended up being super bomb) with your Mojito and Peppers Bloody Mary. But somehow one drink had turned to two, and two to three. After your third, you’d been smart enough to cut yourself off, knowing your tolerance level wasn’t very high. That, plus the daunting prospect of having to go and work at the Museum with a hangover the next morning had you pushing away a forth drink.

Even though Pepper kept insisting that you had another, that it would make her feel less bad if you drank as much as she did.

“I’m a horrible person” She had hiccupped, her face flushed pink from the warmth of the bar and the liquor “I shouldn’t be feeding you alcohol, I used take you shopping for school clothes. -another hiccup- Do you remember that dress you wore for your fifth grade school pictures. The one with the little monkey on it?”

“It was a koala” You defend yourself, trying not to be embarrassed at the memory of that hot mess of an outfit “And oh please, Virginia Potts, you’re the one that got me drunk for the first time”

“One. I gave you one Pina Colada at that party” She slurs before sipping the last of her Bloody Mary loudly, the ice clinging against the cup.

The party she was referring to was a fundraising Gala Stark Industries had thrown, raising money for some weird male pattern baldness charity. You had been twelve, and you had thrown up during Tony’s speech.

Not either of your’s greatest moment.

You just watched as she gets drunker and drunker, watch her inhibitions lift and the laughs that leave her. She looks more carefree then you’d seen her in…a long while. So even if you we’re technically getting her shitfaced in order to make sure she didn’t stroke out from the plethora of wedding planning stress, you felt you were doing a good thing here.

That you were gaining some major karmic points.

Although you weren’t nearly as inebriated as your copartner, you were tipsy. That kind of tipsy where you feel hot and brave and playful. Emboldend and stupid.

Really, there should be some kind of phone app that doesn’t allow you to send messages when your past a certain blood alcohol level.

'I should invent that’ you thought to yourself 'I’d be way richer then fucking Tony. Saving lives, left and right’

Unfortunately, there was no such thing.

And your texts to Bucky, well they just kept getting riskier and riskier. Your stomach clamping in anticipation every time you hit the send button.

-You having fun doll?

he’d asked when you’d told him you’d dragged Pepper to a bar in an attempt to sedate her with liquor.

-Not as much fun as Pepper is…I’d be having a lot more fun if you were here’

-That so? What would we be doing that would be so fun, mam?

-Mmhmm. And we could be doing whatever you wanted, sir.

He takes two minutes, literally to reply. More then the thirty seconds he usually does and you swear your teeth clench. You of course, send another message.

-I always have fun when your around(winky face emoji)

Why are you like this? You berate your self.

-I have always have a fun time with you too. You’re good company.

You roll your eyes. Was he not catching the fucking hint? Ugh, stupid super soldiers and their technologically handicapped brains. Ugh, them with their 40’s hardwired bullshit. Good company? What was that even supposed to mean? Who even talked like that anymore?

Screw it, you decide. If he wasn’t getting the hint, you’d have to be more straight forward.

-It’s only because you’re so cute.

You gnaw your lip as you send it. What more did you need to say to him. When would he get it?

-You just using me for my looks?

You bite a giggle at his reply. What an idiot.

-Maybe. Why, aren’t you using me for mine?

-Maybe

You swore, you could’ve scream at how this conversation was playing out. Why wouldn’t he just cave already?

-You know I think your gorgeous. Obviously.

See? Bold and stupid. And maybe a little bit desperate.

-Not nearly as gorgeous as you

Progress. Most guys would be sexting you up the wall by now, begging to see you. Pleading to “hang out”. But, you’d learned, Bucky wasn’t most guys. You had to try with him, work to figure him out.

-Well then do something about it

You sent that text, and then your attention was caught by the loud THUD of Peppers forehead hitting the table.

And those we’re the events that lead you to the present, where you we’re helping Pepper out of the back of the car, her arm around your shoulders as she tripped onto concrete floor of the garage.

“Do you need help, Ms. Y/N?” George, the driver, asks wearily and you wave him off.

“No, we’re okay, Georgie. Thanks for coming to get us, have a good rest of the night”

The little nap Pepper had during the ride home had sobered her up enough that she could walk again, leaning heavily against you for support, but she could put one foot in front of the other. She’s muttering incoherencies as you make your way to into the elevator.

“I just really want this to be special, you know?” you catch a full sentence.

“And it will be, don’t worry” You reassure her, trying not to laugh. You knew, all to well, what it was like to be the drunkest person in the room.

“You’re such a good human, you know that?”

“I try”

“I think you should start wearing your hair in pig tails again”

When you get to her and Tonys floor, the penthouse at the tip top of the building, your not expecting what greets you.

As the metal doors open, they reveal none other then Anthony Stark . In his robe, his arms folded across his chest. Of course he knew the two of you we’re coming up, he’d been watching the security cameras ever since Pepper had called him, clearly out of her mind. You’d both worried the shit out of him, even though he knew reasonably you were both capable enough to take care of yourselves.

How the hell was he not supposed to worry, at least a little bit, when it came to the two of you?

The look on his face so stern and parent like you really are almost scared again. He used to give you that look when you’d run off, when you’d get caught with boys…

When Pepper begins laughing, flat out cracking up so hard that it echos around the vast, quiet, tense space you cant help but put a hand on your mouth to stop from joining her. You fail, miserably.

Tony watches you, both of you, drunk and cackling and ridiculous. The smile that cracks across his face is involuntary.

“Come on, you lush” He urges Pepper, taking her arm, pulling her away from you. She kisses his cheek sloppily, cooing how much she missed him.

You look away. You weren’t one of those people who were like grossed out by your parental figures being affectionate…okay maybe you were a little grossed out.

“I’m going to- go. Goodnight guys” You excuse yourself, jutting your thumb back in the direction of the elevator.

“Thanks for this” Tony refers to the giggling, drunk mess of a redhead in his arms.

“Your welcome” You singsong, before the doors close again.

Its a little ridiculous, how much time you spend in elevators in this damn building, you utter to yourself. The liquor haze is starting to fade and intensify, all at once and you spin on your heels a little bit, reaching into your handbag or your phone.

The texts on the screen slap you in the face.

-You drive me fucking crazy, do you know that?

-Where are you now?

-When are you going to be back?

-Y/N

Giddy. You feel giddy and girlishly foolish at how electrified those texts leave you. Doesn’t he know that had always been the goal? Doesn’t he know he made you feel just as insane? You needed to see him, you unsober mind decides.

“FRIDAY?” You ask the nothingness around you, and she answers.

“Yes, Ms, Y/N?”

“Where exactly is Bucky’s room?” Because he was always coming to you. Your floor, seeking you out. You’d never actually been to his room before. You knew if you tried to find it on your own you’d get extremely lost.

“Mr. Barnes room is located on the 22nd floor. Along with Mr. Rogers’ and Mr. Wilsons” She answers back and you quickly press the corresponding button on the elevator control panel.

“And which unit is his?” Because you didn’t want to wake Steve or Sam up, all the damn doors looked the same in this place.

“The second on the right hand side”

You take a deep breath.

“Is there anything more I can help you with, Ms. Y/N? Would you like me to alert Mr. Barnes that you’re coming up?”

“No, thank you FRIDAY. That wont be necessary. If you could please keep this conversation between the two of us girls, though, I’d appreciate it” You inform her, knowing that in reality Tony never checked the logs…but still…

��Of course, I’ll ensure complete confidentiality of this exchange. Is there anything else?”

“Nope. Thank you FRIDAY Have a…umm goodnight?” Talking to an AI is hard sometimes. Did you come off as polite or completely idiotic?

It had been the struggle of your life. Growing up with all of these scientists. FRIDAY tells you to do the same and you wonder if she had eyes, would she be rolling them at you.

The elevator ride seems to drone on forever and your nerves have you all kind of twisted.

You rummage around and pull a compact out of your purse, checking yourself over. Reapplying your lipstick, fluffing your hair. Fixing your boobs, adjusting them in your bra to where your cleavage is perky and attention grabbing. Rollerballing the perfume-stick over your wrists, dabbing them on your chest in an attempt to make you reek less of bar smoke and gin.

Fuck, why did you look so…ugh. Your cheeks were too red. You looked too flushed, your eyes too wild. Your head is swimming with conflicting thoughts when your reach his floor.

You swear, you’re having literal heart palpitations. When was the last time a boy had made you this anxious? You compose yourself, or at least pretend to. Your chin rising as you flip your hair over your shoulder in an attempt to silence all of the chaos you were feeling. A true example of fake it til you make it. Of course you trip on your heels as you exit the elevator, barley managing to catch yourself. Yeah, real slick.

Slinking down the hallway, you hope your being as quiet and ninja like as you feel. You stalk, almost cat burglarish past the doors, the ones that Steve and Sam slept behind, and made your way to Bucky’s. Your heart was pounding in your throat and the anxious blanket that seemed to enfold you made the back of your neck perpetrate.

Be cool, this is fine. It’s fine. You’re fine. He is DAMN fine…

Your reciting this inner mantra to yourself as you rap, lightly enough that you hoped it wouldn’t catch anyone else’s attention, on Bucky’s door. Your knuckles tapping out a little rhythm.

You really think you might chew your bottom lip off, in those moments you wait for him to answer.

When the electrically operated door finally glides open, you spit out your lip, attempting to you know, not look like you were totally freaking out, and grin up at him.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s steely eyes are wide, eyebrows shot so high they near disappear into the fringe of loose hair that falls into his face… but, it’s not really his eyes that catch your attention.

Usually, Bucky’s donned in either his tactile gear, of one of his Henley’s. Hoodies maybe? Even a leather jacket or two thrown in there. He was always, for the most part, covered up. But he’s standing in the doorway of his room donning only a snug, gray t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. His arms we’re on full display, and you force yourself not to stare.

“Hey there, handsome” You hope you sound more confident then you feel.

After your little text messages, and the fact that you hadn’t replied to his own, Bucky had been tied in knots.

He didn’t know what to do. Did he text you again, he was still getting the hand of this whole texting all of the time thing but he didn’t want to seem…desperate. Did he call you? Nah, that would be even worse. So he sat, fidgeting on the end of his bed for the better portion of an hour. He couldn’t really go talk to Steve, not wanting to hear the disapproving tone he knew he’d receive.

He could go find you? Hunt you down, scower the streets of Manhattan until he located you? A bar across the street from a flower shop, there couldn’t be too many of those, right?

It’s pathetic, how long he’d debated that idea, before dismissing it. Too much, that would be too much.

He had just started to calm down, a bit, still reaching over to check his phone every two seconds, when there was a knock on his door. He grumbled as he’d risen, thinking it had to be Steve. Or maybe Sam. He really wasn’t in the best of moods, so he answers it intending on telling whichever man it may be to “kindly fuck off”. He feels gob smacked when he see’s you.

“Y/N?” He could only sputter as you gazed up at him, your arms folded over your chest. A coy, near sinful smile on your plump lips. You we’re the very last person he had expected to find outside of his room.

“Hey there handsome” Your voice is different. He’d gotten used to your affectionate nick-name and you called him it just as often, maybe more, then you called him Bucky. But there was intention behind it now. Your tone smoky. Your eyes near predatory.

“Hey doll” His eyes scan the dark hallway behind you. Had anyone seen you come in? “What are you doing here?”

Your lips pull into a little pout and he instantly regrets his choice of words.

“I mean if you don’t want me here…” You try not to visually deflate as you feel the first waves of rejection. “I could uh- I could just go”

You fail.

You’d messed up, you chide yourself mentally. You’d pushed at one of his boundaries, and you shouldn’t have.

“No! That’s not what I meant. I just- I wasn’t expecting you. You’ve never been up here, you surprised me a little bit, that’s all babydoll” Bucky can see it on your face, the hurt that had began to cloud your features and he tries to correct himself because why did his brain have to go so muddy with you? He couldn’t ever manage to say the right thing.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” You quip, that deviousness seeping back in and he cant help but grin.

“Definitely good” he doesn’t miss a beat and your flooded with warmth, with a gnawing need to touch him. There’s so much skin, so much that he usually kept covered. You ache to run your fingers along the exposed flesh, for him to allow him to touch him. For him to finally touch you the way you we’re dying for him to.

“Are you going to invite me in, Buck?” it’s a whisper. You want him to understand, that he doesn’t have to. That even though you want him to grab you, he could say no and you wouldn’t be mad(you’d be extremely disappointed, but not mad). You don’t want to push him. But as you gaze pleadingly upwards, through your surreally long eyelashes he doesn’t know how he’d ever be able to tell you no.

“Yeah, come in” He ushers you into the room and you slide past him in the narrow door frame, making sure to brush your self against him as you do, a feather light, barley noticeable touch.

He notices.

Bucky’s room is simple, you acknowledge as you look over it. Clean, the sharp modern décor that Tony had opted for, for the entire tower barley touched. There was a suede jacket thrown over the armchair near the large window like door that lead to the small, connecting. patio. There was a littering of papers and notebooks at his desk, and an open box of Oreo’s on his bedside table. Other then that- it didn’t really look like it was his. Like he’d settled into it, yet. Hadn’t he been here for nearly a year?

“What have you been up to tonight, Buck?” You start, innocently, as you toss your purse onto the armchair and take a seat on the foot of his bed.

He doesn’t know how to approach this. Well he knows, instinctually what he wants to do. What his body is yelling at his head to say. Seeing you there, perched on his bed was doing things to him. The way you were leaning back on your arms made your chest jut out, your heavy breasts on display. The thin material of your shirt not doing much to contain your ample cleavage.

You notice the way his eyes roam, it electrifies you. Thrills you.

“Nothing much, it was pretty routine. I aint got any grand stories for you, doll, sorry”

You chuckle, he’s just standing there. Looking so out of place. You cant have that, him being so obviously uncomfortable. In his own room of all places. You reach forward, your hand seeking his. The cool, prosthetic fingers are the ones you lace your own with. Tugging on them.

“Come 'ere” You urge him, voice pleading. Silvery. He obliges and sits next to you, your thighs touching you he’s so close.

He’s not nearly close enough.

Your fingers are still gripping his, and you pull his prosthetic arm into your lap slowly, gauging his reaction. He doesn’t stop you, not even when your fingertips begin to trail along the metal plates. You…he’d never given you the chance to really appreciate the appendage. It was an impressive piece of technology, the plates detailed and cutting edge. The science behind it-jeeze. Your mom would have been flipping her shit, you think to yourself. Would have been extremely fascinated by the vibranium panels. They way they moved, and reacted.

“Can you feel this?” You wonder, looking up to meet his eyes. He nods, gulping once.

“I can feel the heat, and the pressure of your touch…I cant feel the texture of your skin, though” Bucky had never had anyone handle his arm with such delicate care. With such child like curiosity. His heart was pounding in his ears.

You grab his other hand, then. The flesh one, and giving it a quick squeeze, and then flipping it, top open, so that you can trace his palm. With those same barley there touches. Your nails tickling his skin in a way that nearly had him twitching.

“Y/N” His voice betrays him. It’s something between a warning and a plea.

“Bucky” You tease back, giving him a challenging look. Challenging him to fucking finally take what he wanted.

…you could sense it would take a little more coaxing. Sigh. This man…

“I missed you all day” You confess to him, as you link your hands with both of his, holding them tight “All I could think about when I was at that bar was coming home and finding you”

His mouth goes dry, brain foggy.

You supplement his lack of words with your own. Still mojito fuled enough to continue on “And telling you that you drive me crazy too. That I want you to touch me so fucking badly, I think I might die sometimes. I want you, Bucky. I want you so bad” Your voice is cracking by the end, and you can barley look at him. So you bury your face in his shoulder, pressing a kiss against the sleeve covered vibranium.

“Tell me you want me, too” It’s an order.

It’s you begging.

Begging him to fucking stop this, to let you both out of your misery.

“I want you, Christ, you know I want you” Bucky croaks in admition as he watches you worship the physical part of himself that he hates the most. Kissing the arm he hid from the world, the one that had committed so many atrocities.

“How bad?” Your kisses are trailing upwards, over his collarbone, under his sharp jaw. Every inch of exposed skin that you can get.

“So bad” He breathes, harshly, as you nip on his earlobe. You tug it between your teeth.

“Then do something about it” you repeat your words from earlier. Hearing them, live, coming from your pretty mouth sends him spiraling and he turns his head, his lips capturing your own.

Finally.

Mystically.

Magically.

When you talk about this with him in the future you’ll tell him how kissing him made you feel like your soul was lurching our of your body, made your world spin and your nervous system scream at me; 'Bitch what are you doing to me’ as you sighed and moaned and knotted your fingers in his hair. Also, in the future Bucky will tell you that you nearly killed him. That you made him muster up every ounce of self control he had ever had.

When he’d pulled away, you’d just looked for other places you occupy your mouth. The cleft in his chin, his pretty jaw.

“Y/N” Bucky breathed, ragged, as he tried in what seemed like vein to get a hold of himself “you taste like a distillery”

You giggle at his assumption, railing upwards to his ear “What? You don’t like it?”

“No-it’s not that- We just cant do this tonight” His hands go to your shoulders, stilling you and you sigh, huffily and glare at him. Your face contorted in the most adorable pout he’d ever encountered.

“Why not?” you start “Don’t come at me with any of that chivalrous 1940’s bullshit, okay? I’m a grown woman, I know what I want and I don’t need you to think that I don’t”

He lets you rant, and he really does try to keep the smirk off of his face.

“Stop looking at me like that!”

“Look, you’re drunk and you have to be up bright and early” He tries to reason but heat fills your eyes “And I cant help the chivalrous bullshit. It’s the way my ma’ raised me and I know it aint right for us to do…anything else, not tonight”

His words are like a pick axe to your heard.

“You know, I’ve never really been rejected before” It’s a thought, that you’d intended to keep private- but your inebriated mouth had different plans.

“Hey” Bucky strokes your hair “You know that’s not what I’m doin’”

You cant meet his eyes though, you look anywhere but at him and he sighs and rests his nose against the side of your face. If you only knew how desperately he was trying to be the good guy in this situation.

“I can go” you tell him, even though you want to do anything but. No, you want to stay here forever, as cliché as that sounds. With his scruffy face pressed against your own.

“Or you can stay- I could use one of those cuddle sessions your so good at” His hand comes to your cheek, the one that his face isn’t pressed into and strokes the aple of it with a tenderness you’d never encountered. No one had ever been so soft with you before. It was always touching- grasping and needing. But not with Bucky.

Bucky was different.

You huff and turn to face him finally, running your nose against his for a moment “Fine. But you owe me”

And he did, you make a mental note of what he’d have to do to pay you back.

You fall asleep in Bucky’s bed, wrapped in his arms, the smell of him surrounding you. You sleep shitty-aly, as you always do when you’ve been drinking. But Bucky, he doesn’t remember the last time he’d gotten so much rest. He’s out like a light five minutes in- and once again, he thinks before the foggy haze of sleep envelopes his brain, he knows he’s in some deep shit when it comes to you.

———————–

Okay I know I keep promising smut and trust me guys it’s coming but every time I write these two I just see them holding each other. Like seriously this story gives me all the feels because I feel like Y/N is such a sexual character- except when it comes to Bucky. With him he brings out this whole other side to her. Okay, leave me some feedback! And again- the taglist for this story is open! Love you, babycakes!

@devenrenee @skeletoresinthebasement @kendallefire @mellifluousbabe @toniinhere @agentmstark @purplekitten30 @bellaballanda @yslbucky @arabellaaurorabarnes @prinxessofspace @supernaturally-lucky @sngforme @kyritha @the-strandedgypsy @teenagekixks @arabellaaurorabarnes  @saysay125 @papi-chulo-bucky @iamwarrenspeace

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @leothestoryofmylife!

The One with the Broken Radiator

“Oh my god, if you touch your hair one more time, I’m gonna kill you.”

Derek dropped his hand and turned to glare at Cora, who was sprawled lazily across his couch with one hand in a bag of popcorn, the other clutching a beer. “Remind me again why you’re here? I have no recollection of inviting you over.”

“Because you have HBO,” she said, through a mouthful of popcorn. “And I’m family, I don’t need an invitation.”

“Clearly,” Derek muttered. He turned back to the mirror and leaned closer. Was his beard a little uneven on the left side? Shit.

“This is really embarrassing for you, you need to stop. You look fine.”

“Just fine?” Derek asked, then immediately regretted it. Cora burst into laughter and twisted around on the couch so that she was leaning on the back, facing him.

“No, I take it back. You look super hot, and your crush is totally gonna notice you at this party. It’s high school all over again.”

Derek hated her.

“Shut up.”

Cora turned back toward the TV, still laughing. “I don’t get what the big deal is. You like this guy, and he invited you to his holiday party. Just get a little drunk and kiss him.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “It’s not that simple, we work together.”

“You don’t work together, you work for the same giant company in the same giant building. You said yourself that you only see him when you get coffee.”

“But I’m pretty sure he only invited me because I overheard him talking about it.”

Cora groaned, loudly, and slumped down further into the couch cushions. “Just leave, please. Or kill me. Either one.”

Derek double-checked the apartment number in the email that Stiles had sent him, and then slid his phone back into his pocket and shrugged off his jacket. He folded it over his arm and paused in front of the door—was he supposed to knock, or was this one of those parties where you just wandered in?

He tried a knock, a soft one, and the door immediately flung open. The woman leaning in the doorway was petite, with beautiful red hair that curled over her shoulders.

She was also wearing only a bikini.

“Hello,” she purred, with a lovely smile that bordered on predatory. “You must be Derek.”

Derek focused very carefully on her face. “Um, yes. Hi.”

“Lydia!”

Stiles appeared in the doorway, panting a little, and gently shoved the woman—Lydia, presumably—aside. “Derek! Hey. I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Uh, yeah,” Derek said dumbly. “Thanks for inviting me.”

If Derek’s brain had been working at full capacity, he would have chastised himself for such a ridiculous opening line. (Uh, yeah? Really, Derek?) But at the moment he was a little too distracted by Stiles’ nudity.

Stiles was wearing nothing but a pair of green plaid boxers, and honestly, Derek was pretty sure that he would have remembered Stiles mentioning this type of dress code.

His crush started the first time they met a few months ago, when Stiles stumbled into him in the hallway and spilled both of their coffees all over them, and it was already strong enough without knowing that Stiles looked great in a pair of short, fairly tight boxers.

Shit.

“I’m so sorry, dude,” Stiles started, and Derek jerked his head up, praying that his leering at Stiles’ abs wasn’t too obvious, “but our radiator broke, like, just a couple hours ago, so we had to turn this into an impromptu tropical-themed holiday party.”

Derek looked past him into the apartment and took in the mass of semi-clothed people, some of whom were wearing leis. “Oh. Wow, that sucks.”

“Tell me about it. I totally understand if you want to bounce, but we have, uh, alcohol and a lot of cookies…”

He reached up to scratch at his hair, his bicep flexing, and Derek blurted out, “Sure.”

“Awesome!” Stiles’ face lit up, and Derek smiled helplessly back. “Come in, c’mere.”

Stiles’ hand was hot on his forearm, even through Derek’s sweater, and he tried to think of something clever to say. “At least this will automatically be everyone’s most memorable holiday party.”

“An optimist, I love it,” Stiles said, laughing as he led him to a door at the back corner of the small apartment. “So this is my room, you can take off your coat and, uh…well, whatever else you want, I guess.”

His cheeks were red, and Derek smirked. “No pressure.”

Stiles let out a high-pitched laugh and shoved Derek into the room, closing the door behind him. There were clothes literally everywhere, but Derek found a small free space on Stiles’ desk chair. He hung his coat over the back of it and then stripped off his sweater and his shirt, folding them neatly. He thought about it for a minute and then shucked off his jeans, too. Derek would’ve picked different underwear if he knew Stiles was going to see them—he was definitely not that optimistic when he decided on his outfit—but hopefully his novelty candy cane boxers would amuse him, at least.

Derek peeked back outside. It wasn’t a huge party, maybe 30 people or so, all in various states of undress, but he definitely wasn’t going to know anyone at this party besides Stiles and Scott. He probably should have considered that more before he decided to come.

But Scott caught his eye from the kitchen and waved, and Derek nodded back as he picked his way through the crowd toward him. He walked up behind Stiles and touched his shoulder lightly, so as not to startle him.

It didn’t work, though, because he spun around and had to balance himself with his hand on Derek’s arm, his eyes wide. “Oh! You’re back. And you, um—you look like that.” He jerked his eyes back up to Derek’s face. “Nice boxers.”

“Thank you. I’m keeping to half the theme, at least.”

“Not a bad start. We’ll find you a lei, too.”

“Stiles just wanted to make ‘get lei’d’ jokes all night,” Scott explained, and Derek nodded solemnly.

“Of course.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, and Scott gestured to the woman standing next to him. “Derek, this is my girlfriend, Kira. Kira, Derek.”

“Right!” She grinned. “Stiles’ friend from work.”

She winked at him for some reason, and Derek smiled tightly back at her.

“Okay!” Stiles yelped. “Um, drinks. Derek, what can I get for you? Soda, beer? We’re trying to stay on brand, so we’ve also got margaritas and pina coladas, if that’s your jam. We even have the tiny umbrellas.”

“The tiny umbrellas are tempting,” Derek said, making Stiles laugh, “but uh, just a beer?”

He nodded. “Just a beer, coming up.”

Stiles fetched him a beer, and then Derek found himself chatting with Kira, who ended up knowing Cora, of all people, through some boxing class that they took together. She wandered off with Scott a while later, though, and Derek scanned the room until he spotted Stiles talking with two girls in the corner, gesturing expansively.

Derek wasn’t brave enough to go over there and join the conversation, so he downed the rest of his beer and then ducked into a little hallway off the entryway, trying to seek out a little refuge from all the unfamiliar people for a few minutes.

He’d just caught his breath when Stiles ducked around the corner, his face relaxing at the sight of Derek. “There you are!” Stiles touched his shoulder briefly and then yanked his hand back. “You okay, you need anything?”

Derek shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Just—loud, you know? Needed a break.”

He coughed, a little embarrassed, but Stiles immediately nodded. “Oh, no, I totally get it. I usually find myself hiding out in a bathroom by about this time at parties.”

Derek smiled. “I don’t think I’m quite there yet.”

“Well, it’s right down there if you need it,” he said, and Derek laughed.

It fell silent between them, and Derek watched as Stiles’ thumb fiddled with the lip of his red plastic cup. He wished he had a drink of his own to keep his hands busy.

“I’m really glad you came, by the way,” Stiles blurted suddenly, and Derek smiled tightly, pleased that he was at least attempting to make conversation.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“I was totally afraid you’d say no, it took me a while to work up the courage to ask you.”

What?

“I, uh—” Derek cleared his throat and tried again. “I thought you just asked me because I overheard you and Scott talking about it.”

Stiles blinked at him. “Are you serious? Is my mooning over you not obvious? Because several other people think otherwise, and I’d love to prove them wrong.”

Derek’s brain wasn’t working.

“Your…mooning?”

“My giant crush on you,” Stiles said, flinging his arm wide, “the way I can barely talk to you, the list goes on and on. Does none of that ring a bell?”

Derek’s heart was pounding in his throat, and his brain had suddenly lost the ability to make words.

“Oh, god.” Stiles scratched at his bare chest and grimaced. “I totally just—wow, we’re practically naked and I just cornered you in a hallway, basically, and came onto you. I’m so sorry, dude, I probably just made you really uncomfortable, and I can just—”

Stiles took a step back, but Derek reached out and grabbed his elbow before he could go any farther. “Wait.”

“No, seriously.” Stiles tried to twist away, but Derek held firm. “Let me just go and wallow in my—mmph!”

Kissing someone to stop them from talking was harder and more awkward than it looked on TV, but Derek was willing to make those sorts of sacrifices. Especially when Stiles made a delighted, surprised sound into his mouth and slung an arm around his neck, bringing them closer. Stiles’ bare chest was warm against Derek’s, and Derek set his hand into the curve of Stiles’ low back, his pinky brushing against the waistband of those damn boxers.

“Holy shit,” Stiles whispered, then surged forward to kiss him again. “What—what is happening here.”

“I’ve had a crush on you forever,” Derek confessed, and Stiles groaned as he leaned into him more, pressing him back against the wall. The next kiss was eager, bordering on sloppy, and Stiles’ hand slid into Derek’s hair.

“We should go somewhere.” Stiles’ breath rushed over his lips. “Somewhere that is not here.”

“But this is your party,” Derek said, amused, and Stiles hung his head with a groan.

“Okay, first of all, it’s my and Scott’s party,” he said, then made a face. “Mine and Scott’s? They both sound weird. Whatever.” He waved his hand, and Derek let himself stare at his shoulders like he’d been wanting to do all night. “And second of all, 80 percent of the reason I threw this party was to have an excuse to invite you to something.”

Derek blinked. That was…surprising. “Was inviting someone for drinks just too old-fashioned for you?”

“As if I’d be brave enough to do that,” Stiles scoffed. “That’s like—no way. You could have said no, and then I would have been crushed.”

“I just kissed you in your hallway,” Derek pointed out. “I wouldn’t have said no.”

“Well I know that now!” he said, then paused and awkwardly waved at some girl who squeezed past them into the bathroom. “Um, so about leaving the hallway?”

“Drinks?” Derek murmured against his lips, and Stiles laughed.

“Fine, yes, c’mon, let’s go.”

He took Derek’s hand and led him across the living room to his room, which was thankfully empty.

“Was the radiator thing planned, too?” Derek asked, and Stiles snorted.

“Um, no. I mean, not that it’s totally a bad thing.” His hand stroked down from Derek’s chest to his abs. “Believe me, no complaints here. But no, we thought about cancelling, but I don’t have your number.”

“We should fix that.”

Derek stepped into his jeans, and Stiles grinned at him over his shoulder from where he was standing in front of a dresser, rifling through the top drawer. “When I was thinking about different ways this party would go, I didn’t picture you putting your clothes on in my bedroom.”

“So how else did you picture it going?”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open a little bit, then he shook his head and pointed at him. “No. Put your clothes on faster, please. Because if you don’t I’m gonna be too tempted to have sex with you right here, with a party on the other side of the wall, and I’m too old to do that.”

Derek obediently shrugged his shirt over his shoulders and started buttoning it up. “Well, I have an apartment that does not have a party in it right now.”

Stiles yanked on a hoodie and grabbed Derek’s hand. “Fantastic. Happy fucking holidays.”

[ifnotforbeauty]

Mexico: day 1

Very exciting, very exhausting. We had to wake up at 3 am in order to leave the house at 4 to be at the airport for 4:40 because our flight was at 7:40 and the airport recommended being there at least 3 hours before. This part was fine. We woke up, wore the outfits we had already laid out, collected our things and left with Na. My mom woke up to wish us goodbye and I wish I could have taken her too. She has done everything for everyone in her life and she deserves a vacation like this way more than we do. All I can picture is her outline standing in front of the doorway in the dark with the light in behind her, waving goodbye. I miss her.

We get to the airport and we see our friends; Ru, Ma and Iq. Everything is fine but I can see the tension on Sh’s face. I see that she’s scared but trying to mask it with excitement. We get through bag checks fine and sit in a lounge with iPads everywhere while waiting to board the plane. Then the plane arrives... and it feels real. We enter the tunnel connected to the door of the airplane and it hits me that I, me, SA is ON A PLANE! But hush, I need to act like it’s absolutely nothing because Sh is seated right next to me. Honestly, I didn’t need to hide anything because I was genuinely excited about what it would feel like, what take off feels like and what that looks like outside the window (I had a window seat!). Let me tell you, all I could think about was Allah swt. Praying to Allah to keep us safe while being in awe of what he allowed his slaves to accomplish; we actually have airplanes that take us to different parts of the world, the planet! And look at how small the world becomes when you’re outside of it. Look at how small our bubbles are and we make everything such a big deal. Look at the land, how God has provided us with the means to travel and eat of the good things He has given us. Look at the sky, how it is divided into sections, each one having it’s own purpose. Look at the clouds, how they move and become light and then heavy enough to fall from the sky and produce the water that sustains us. Look at the other people in this airplane with me who are travelling to the same location and who would have to live through the next 4 hours with me. SubhanAllah. SubhanAllah. SubhanAllah.

We arrive, Alhamdulillah. We meet our driver who drives like a madman to our resort, the Grand and I see Mexico for the first time. I feel the heat that makes you want to grab your hat and pile on the sunscreen. I see the trees and the birds that are different from ours. I see the beautiful cement buildings that are in every Latin music video. I see the long roads lines with palm trees on each side. I see the iguanas in the grass. I see the beauty of Mexico.

We give our first tip. We enter the doors of our resort and I don’t know why I expected a huge welcoming like they do in the TV shows when someone arrives at Hawaii, but we aren’t on TV thank God! Anyway, we enter the building and the entrance is breathtaking. From balcony’s high up and all around are vines coming down everywhere and a huge waterfall. It is incredible. But you know what wasn’t incredible? Waiting 2 and a half hours in the line to check in. At least we made friends with a couple and my huge forehead pimple was attracting the attention of white man... next!

We go eat because our key won’t be ready for another hour, so we go to a buffet. Just in time before we almost collapsed and cried! We had some really good food; we had rice with beans, broccoli and cauliflower and we got to design our own pastas afterwards with croutons followed by some really delicious dessert of cakes; rice cake, red velvet and raspberry merengue with a really unique vanilla ice cream. Delicious alhamdulillah.

We go back to get our keys and that’s another hour right there. We go look for our room and that’s almost another hour but we find it thankfully and when we open the doors our rooms are so cute. So Havana! We get changed and go swimming but first we find these hammocks under the palm trees and we rest. What a beautiful little rest with Sh beside me in the hammock. Then we go to get drinks and I had such a good pina colada it was exactly what I needed. We travel aaaallll the way to the other side of the pool to find the spot with the music and on the way we get checked out by a nasty group of boys that the girls know and they almost followed us for a bit. When we find our spot I sit in the chairs and the girls go to sit by the edge of the pool when I really confident guy swims over and starts talking up all my girls! He even shakes their hands as he introduces himself! Of course though he acts as a wingman because before we know it his other two friends are swimming over and trying to get in on everything. Uhm no. My girls exit the pool and come back to my chair. The guys leave and we go back into the pool.

After coming back to the rooms and getting fresh and cute, we head to this restaurant called Dos Luna that serves Italian food. I wore my red H&M dress and put my hair up like Ariana grande. If my hair wasn’t so frizzy from the humidity I would have felt sweeter than sweet, but even after I put my hair up in a bun I felt really beautiful. The dress was beautiful and it was doing something to me. We had pear pizza with gargonzola and something else, shrimp and pesto fettuccini and spinach and feta cannelloni. Very good but the pizza was my favourite of the three. We then had strawberry cheesecake and chocolate mouse cake for dessert and those were nice too. The servers were kind as well and I can’t believe how hard working they are. They serve and clean in this heat all day everyday with such grace and kindness. May Allah swt bless them all and keep us humble. We came back and Pa and Ru wanted to explore so Sh and Ma went to supervise and I’m glad they did. Iq stayed in her room and I stayed in mine and had a good little time. I played music and cleaned, washed off my makeup and FaceTimed Mal after sending her some videos and photos. I’m so grateful for her alhamdulillah. I should definitely bring back something for all of them but I have no idea what to bring from here!

Anyway I’m writing this from my bed on day 2 as I listen to the sounds of birds I’m not familiar with. It is a beautiful morning and I pray that we continue to be safe and remain humble as we enjoy this gift that has been gifted to us by the Master of all this incredible beauty. Ameen.

[jack-redacted]

“Welcome to ________ University, home of the Flying Horses! My name is Katie! Here’s your welcome brochure, and the freshman orientation is just that way, past the flagpole.”

 Katie Yoon smiled and handed out another glossy paper pamphlet. The photos were staged and classy, the font professional and academic. She had helped the yearbook team to set up the design, and was pleased with the result. To her right, her friend and yearmate “Smike” Burne-Jones was also greeting new students and handing out pamphlets, albeit a bit less enthusiastically. Not surprising, perhaps. Smike prefered to be a bit selective about how he used his time. Katie found service projects fun and almost crucial to her energy-Smike wasn’t into volunteering, even if just for a campus welcoming team. Oh well. He was here now, and doing a great job.

“Heya, I’m Smike. Welcome to _____ University, home of the Flying Horses- Yeah, bit of a weird mascot but there you go. The orientation? Just past the flagpole, look for the crowd of Ray-Bans. Alright, see you later, darling.” 

Katie grimaced at him. 

“Darling?” He shrugged apologetically.

“There’s a fine line between friendly, flirty and patronizing. Sue me.” He responded apathetically. 

Katie smiled and repositioned her glasses. Smike handed out another brochure, then turned to get another stack from the table behind them. She looked around campus, admiring the beautiful gardens, trees and landscaping, thankful for such a cool, bright day after the intense summer heat. There was something about _____ that felt so much like home. 

“Hello? Hi, is this the orientation site, for the freshmen?” 

Katie turned quickly as the voice caught her out of her reverie. A thin girl with long black hair, pale skin and triple piercings in one ear stood hesitantly. She was simply dressed with natural makeup -and she was gorgeous. Katie was all about embracing all types of beauty, and body positivity. Everyone was beautiful. But this girl- was flawless.

“Uh-Yeah, no yeah, it’s that way, past the flagpole and the goat statue.” She handed a brochure and the girl took it without looking down. She had grey intense eyes, a little wistful maybe.

“Thank you.” Her voice was cultured, not British or anything, just precise and sounded like she had money. Was that a thing? Katie wondered. Could you sound rich? 

“No problem. I’m Katie Yoon.” The girl shook her hand, like they were settling a business deal instead of making acquaintances. 

“Taylor Lautner. Freshman.”

“ Alright, Taylor. Well, I’m a Sophomore and on the welcome team so if you need anything, just let me or Smike know and we’d be glad to help.”

The girl thanked her again and left, blending in with the crowds of students. Katie nudged Smike. He noticed and leaned in. His Nikola Tesla t-shirt smelled like some sawdusty, boozy cologne. He pointed directions to a confused Senior as he mumbled under his breath.

“Getting tired already, Yoon?” Smike smirked sardonically.

“It was the freshman- you didn’t see her?” Smike shook his head. 

“Was she that annoying? I swear, they get worse every year.”

“What? How would you know, you were a freshman last year too! And no, the opposite. She wasn’t your type, but stunning. And polite. And probably rich.”

Smike leaned back, rolled his eyes. “Rich, nice and pretty. Katie, you just described half the girls in this school.” He flicked a ladybug off his arm. 

“Half? That’s an optimistic view, Smike.” Katie laughed, and then stopped to point out the dorms for a new student. Smike waited until she was done, then continued.

“Not really. You’re nice, Morgan’s nice, Mallory is nice…. On the inside. Gael’s nice. And most of you are rich and prettyish.”

Katie punched his arm. “Prettyish? Not stunningly gorgeous, or brilliantly lovely?” 

Smike pulled away. “Shhhh! Princess Leia might hear you.”

Katie laughed. “Oh, right, can’t have the space princess getting jealous!”

“Exactly!” said Smike, grinning. “I’m so glad you understand.” 

They continued their play bickering, helping direct students and handing out shiny paper bulletins in the glorious August sunshine. Both of them were simple and childish souls, and by the time they went to dinner, they’d fully enjoyed both the day and each other’s company. Very few people had the gift of enjoying life as Katie Yoon did.

_________________________________________________________

“Come break some hearts now, tell em how…”

 Mallory Williams turned up the music on her scratched and battered iPod as she stalked her way down campus. She stalked because Mallory never did anything, even walking, without an air of boredom, suppressed rage and flair. She wore her burgundy tee like armor, her red hair cut into a Uma Thurman style bob, and her dark jeans and eyes like warning signs. The barely turning fall foliage wasn’t lost on her, neither was the aesthetic perfection of _______University. For her manner, it might as well have been.

“But be advised, No restitution comes tonight…”

The iPod continued to play the same song on repeat. She turned past the fountain and climbed the stairs to the Waverly Scott Building. Her new dorm. The suitcase she dragged after her was just big enough to hold her clothes and the few things she hadn’t already dragged up earlier that day. This was the last trip up those stupid stairs with stupid luggage. A teacher in the lobby nodded to her, but she pretended she hadn’t seen him through her sunglasses. On the second floor she changed the song.

Mallory continued her journey up to the dorm room-the same dorm room that, despite her therapist's advice and her own explicit request, she would be sharing. Whatever. The roommate wouldn't be here 'til Thursday. 

She let out a short hiss of frustration as she saw that some idiot had shut the door. Slamming down the suitcase, she wiggled the doorknob with her knee and kicked the door open. She stepped inside, throwing the bags on the floor in the corner and straightening her back with an relieved sigh as a kink in her spine cracked-which is when she realized why the door was closed. The Roommate, inexplicably, was there. Three days early.

It took Mallory a second to understand the fact of the Roommate's presence. Another second passed as Mallory reconfigured her entire mental state-"sudden changes required sudden changes in attitude" as someone once said. She changed her internal posture, her internal attitude. Then she sighed and nodded.

"And you're here early." She made sure to keep the accusatory tone light and crisp, with just an edge of amusement. The Roommate looked a bit put off, but she stepped forward and held out a thin white hand. 

"Yes. I was informed you might not be expecting me so early. I trust this won't be too much of a problem for you?" 

Wow. Rich princess. Or cultured chic, with an emphasis on cultured. Not only her words, but her inflection were impeccable, like someone who took elocution classes long before ninth grade. Not a British accent, but it wasn't a stretch to imagine it. Her manner was calm. She was holding her ground against Mallory's abrasive attitude. And so polite. It was sad. In another world, they could've been friends. 

"Well, you're here now," Mallory reponded, "So I guess I have no choice about whether or not it's a problem."

The roommate's jaw tightened, and she nodded curtly, then glanced down at her hand. She had a cup of greek yogurt in her left hand, and looked down at it with some distaste before carefully throwing it into the wastebasket. She turned to her bag, sitting on the desk by the window. Her black hair swished over her shoulder. Mallory went back to unpacking the various bags and suitcases, and setting up her area. Roommate Rich Girl had taken the left top bunkbed, and the desk by the window. She'd also put down a nice white rug on the cold floor, and a few potted cactii on the window sill, but that was all for decoration. Mallory had already set up a tall floor lamp and the nice white curtains. (Just because she had a b**chy self-portayal didn't mean she couldn't have nice things.) Mallory began pulling her huge comforters and pillows out of one suitcase, piling them onto the futon couch. Roommate turned, and frowned slightly. 

"The bottom bunk is available. I left it for you." Again, the cultured tones, but somewhat lacking in affect. For someone with such an expressive body, she had a rather toneless voice.

Mallory turned and flashed a patronizing grin.

"Oh yeah. I did see that. Thank you, but I prefer the futon, if that's not too much of a problem for you, Roommate?"

The Roommate's blue eyes turned to icy steel or whatever. She flipped her hair back and retorted.

"Taylor Lautner. I rather prefer the concept of a couch-for sitting on and studying, and friends, you understand?"

Mallory was relieved. That's what she called the odd awareness that someone was falling for her b**chy outerskin and learning to hate her on sight. Oddly enough, it felt a bit like loneliness or disappointment. At least what she read about those emotions. She ignored this internal self analysis, turning the sheet down and then standing again to face the roommate.

"Well, Sharkboy, I prefer the idea of sleeping where I like in my own dorm. But if it's such a pain for you, I'll turn it back into a couch in the morning and you can do whatever the hell you want with it. Deal?"

Taylor gave her a hand gesture- a hand curtsy? That's what it looked like-and went back to organizing her stuff. Mallory sank back into herself, turned attack mode off, and finished her own unpacking, which was much easier as she planned to leave all her outfits from her suitcase shoved under her bunk.

Once finished, Mallory unpacked a plastic bag full of her infamous pina colada kale chips.(Homemade, of course, at Katie Yoon's house last week.) She sat back on her futon/bed, and pretended to scroll her phone feed. In reality, she observed Taylor. 

Her charm wasn't in her clothes, obviously. Black pants and a white peasant top. She was pretty, sure. In an icy, dark haired sort of way. In a quiet, understated way. In a rich, flawless way. She was like baby's breath flowers. Thin, lacy, delicate. But somehow, she had a core of strength, again like a dancer who's worked their body and knows every inch of how it moves, works, walks... Her body was hers and she lived in every inch of it. She stopped finally, observed the room with a vacuous expression while fingering a silver butterfly on a tiny chain. She turned to Mallory, who jumped as she realized she was caught in her scrutiny of the other girl.

"I'm going out now. To see the orientation and talk with friends. Would you care to come along." 

She asked with no question. More of a quiet statement that no, of course, Mallory wasn't coming. Her voice was so flat.

"Nah, I'm heading out to meet friends too. I won't be back til around 11, so don't bother waiting up for me," she said with a flippant and sarcastic grin. 

Taylor nodded, picked up her sleek black phone and a leather bag and left the room, leaving behind a faint scent of fresh cotton and Chanel No 5 behind her. Mallory exhaled, then picked up her own phone and made a call. If anyone would be willing to listen to her rant about an annoying roommate, it would be her best friend, Katie Yoon.

-------------------------------------Chapter 2-------------------------------------------

"I don't want to go." 

Jaejin Kyung blew an exasperated sigh through his lightly clenched, flawlessly white, and perfectly aligned teeth.  He glanced down at his watch, his nice Rolex or Holodex or whatever that he'd got after that L.A. shoot. It was such an imperceptible gesture, and so cautious, but a succinct reminder that he still had places to go and needed to be at the airport to get to Milwaukee in three hours. A reminder that he had driven all the way to Nebraska just for her, and she was being ungrateful. It was annoying. 

"Kim, we talked about this. It will be a good experience." 

Kim doubted it. She seriously doubted it. She looked out of the car window at the huge campus of St. John's Academy. It looked like a modern-day castle, all concrete, steel and brushed with the veneer of erudite learning. It was nice, she admitted to herself, just as she had when she first saw the brochure, and when she first saw the website. 

"It's not the experience that's lame... it's just... " 

Kim trailed off, looking now in the side mirror at her reflection. Her round face looked like a wheel of cheese, and she had a feeling her pits were leaking sweat already. And it was not warm outside. Nobody else was wearing a kawaii design t-shirt, and everyone who walked past the car looked older and more sophisticated. 

She was lame.

Jaejin bit his lip. Kim knew how hard it was for him to deal with her self-pity, and how unreasonable and childish she was being. She just didn't know how to be anything else. 

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. She waited until he composed himself, looking out at the crowd of non-losers milling by. Jaejin turned, his seatbelt cutting into his muscular shoulder. 

"Look. Kim. Give it a month, okay? All this work, the applications Mom and I put in- not to mention driving all the way out here. Give. It. One. Month. If you really hate it, and can't cope, then you can... come back home, or try another college, or sit in your room for the rest of your life or whatever. Just. Try. It."

Ouch. That hurt. He was upset. Kim folded her arms, staring out the window, feeling the pressure of her older brother's disappointment. The tug of the college life pulled at her. She wanted more independence. A chance to prove herself as someone with more skills than just marathon snacking and endless Doctor Who trivia. 

She was also terrified, and the two emotions were confusing her. 

"Well?" Jaejin prompted.

"Okay," Kim said. "But I'm telling people my last name is Walker."

Jaejin was already opening the door. The tension drained, at least from his body. He pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes as he began pulling luggage from the car seats. Several girls and a few guys turned to stare at his lithe, L.A. model body, but Jaejin was oblivious. 

"Let them call you kicake. So long as they call you something." He swung a backpack on his shoulder, and she lumbered after him pulling her suitcase. She imagined herself as a chubby Asian Robin behind a cool, suave Batman. The image was not a nice one. They walked along, Jaejin passing grins and greetings to a few people he remembered, mostly teachers and Seniors. It hadn't been too long since he went to St. John's Academy, but he was already a fossil here. Albeit a very cool fossil. 

On the first flight of steps up to her dorm, her phone buzzed. She stopped, fishing her phone in its large case out of her sweatpant pockets. Jaejin huffed, dropping the bags on the sixth stair. 

"Kim!"

She grimaced. 

"Sorry. It's rainMaker." 

Jaejin said nothing, but waited for her to check her text. She knew he was annoyed, but they had an unspoken agreement. rainMaker was priority--and off limits for argument ammo. Kim was disappointed, though. Just a smiley face to her "We're here!" text.

"Okay, we can go," she said, stuffing the phone back in into her pocket. They picked up the bags, and dragged them to her dorm. She'd already met her roommate, Melissa, who was Mormon and boring but nice. Kim needed nice, and was glad to know that Melissa was very chill and very much not there at the moment. Good. Kim didn't need an audience for this goodbye.

"Well." Jaejin broke the long silence. "I guess this is, uh... See you later, for now."

Kim didn't quite meet his eyes. He was trying to make up for their arguement earlier, and really, goodbyes were as hard on him as they were on her. He just handled them better. She didn't trust herself to say anything, so she just barreled into him with the most huggy hug she'd ever given. It took him a second, but he hugged her back. They stood there for just a second, then broke apart. He stood awkwardly.

"So... I'm just gonna.."

Kim nodded. 

"Yeah, just go before I change my mind." 

They laughed weakly. He reminded her to text soon, and that he'd always be there if she needed him, and walked out with the last words of "One Month." She nodded, and waited until she felt his car drive away, down the road, and to the airport to Milwaukee.  Kim sat on the bed, just breathing in the atmosphere. She focused on everything around her. The room was quiet, almost too quiet. There were noises coming from the hall-people moving in,  and noises from outside-marching bands and cars. There were smells of cleaning supplies and microwave calzones and other people's perfume. There was a faint taste of burnt plastic in the air, and the blanket on her bed felt like a hospital sheet. And her t-shirt felt like home.

Kim started to cry. 

 She cried like a child, curled up in a caterpillar around her shirt. Silently, her mouth open and her chest heaving.  Her throat felt tight and itchy, and her eyes hurt with the effort of squinting them closed. Just a long, wet, snotty, hiccuppy sob session. Kim knew she could stop it, hold back the childish torrent of tears streaming down her stupid fat face, but from experience, she knew she'd feel much better after a good, long cry.  So she let it all overwhelm her. New school, no brother, new room, no childhood, and fifty miles away from home. It was a lot. 

It took about ten minutes for her to compose herself. She wiped off her tears, blew her nose on a tissue she'd hidden in her pocket for just this occasion, and sat up. The suitcases stood around the room like tiny sentinels. The pinkish beige carpet looked like canned cat food,  and Kim held on to that detail to keep herself steady. She got up, began unpacking her things--Then she noticed that her phone had lit up during her sob session, and she hadn't noticed. She tossed the armful of socks (rolled, of course) on the corner of the cat-food carpet, and pounced on her phone.

Three New Messages from rainMaker

rainMaker---how do you like campus kicake

rainMaker---i keep looking around at everybody wondering if i see you but i dont know its you

rainMaker---are you that bald freshman carrying a lifesize yugioh cutout to his dorm

Kim laughed shakily. She considered a moment, then typed a response.

kicake---no and i cant believe you would say that

kicake---i hate yugioh more than you hate mlp

Her phone chimed with a reponse almost instantly. She grinned. 

rainMaker---so how do you like st johns? as a sophomore, im required to make sure every freshman adores it as much as i do. 

rainMaker---its in the job description

kicake---sure it is. what's the freshman job description?

rainMaker---to be the school mascot of fresheyed innocence what do you think of the school be serious kicake

Kim stopped to consider a moment. On the one hand, she hated it here. On the other hand, she'd had a good cry and had the chance to look at the opportunity with fresh eyed innocence.  It was time to grow up, she decided. Time for new Kim Walker Kyung to explode from her heart like the parasite thing in Alien. So she paused and then sent rainMaker a text.

kicake---once i get over the cat vomit colored carpet, i think i'll like it here.

rainMaker---send me pics. 

kicake---of the carpet? 

rainMaker---of the carpet. its not that bad. 

Kim sent a picture of her hand pointing at the carpet. It wasn't the clearest photo, but the carpet, in all its feline excrement glory was visible plainly. She sent it off with the caption "its that bad." rainMaker sent back a vomiting emoji. Kim responded with a dead face emoji.

rainMaker---nice socks

kicake---how did you even notice them? 

rainMaker---xD now i know im looking for a girl who wears lilo and stitch socks

kicake--->:| 

rainMaker---hey im kidding. you said you dont wanna meet up yet, and i respect that

rainMaker---and i respect your lilo and stitch socks

kicake---thanks 

kicake---so how are you settling in

It took rainMaker a few minutes to text back, so Kim finished unpacking her suitcase and made her bed. Then she sat back on the pillows and scrolled through fanblrg until her phone chimed with his latest message. 

rainMaker---yeah its nice i semi know my roomate and im a cool sophomore

rainMaker---im just glad to be back here its probably the best 

rainMaker---im moving furniture around so i cant text back right away

Kim started to reply when the door swung open and Melissa pranced in, blond ponytail swinging. She was the kind of person who pranced, and she was a smiling sunshine person. Kim didn't mind that, though. Melissa would probably be out with friends or studying at the library most of the time, and she wasn't pushy. Right now, Melissa rumaged through her purse, grabbing keys, lip balm, sunglasses, then the whole purse and turned to Kim. 

"Hey, Kim, me and my group are heading out to grab a quick bite, wanna come? Joshua is paying, so you don't have to worry. He's that lawyer's son, so he's got money."

 Melissa laughed to show she was teasing. She and Joshua weren't dating, but they would be. They'd get married and have happy temple children with big teeth. Kim actually considered the option, which was a testament to how much she liked Melissa. Not from any personal merits, but just because she was safe. Kim Kyung of a few hours ago would have said no. Kim Walker surprised herself.

"Sure. I'm gonna get changed first-"

Melissa cut her off. 

"Oh you look fine. Marley is going in her pyjamas. It's settle in day, nobody cares." 

Kim shrugged and smiled. Her psychedelic Alice in Wonderland shirt and grey-green sweatpants with the scruffed pink hightops... sure. Kim Walker had just enough Kim Kyung not to care about how schleppy she looked. Or rather, to care, but know that a different outfit probably wouldn't do much. Plus, nobody dresses up for a pity date, right?

"Alrighty... we taking your car?"

Melissa beamed. She loved her new car, a big blue SUV with plenty of room for friends, shopping bags, coolers, and on vacations, her two golder retrievers, Norman and Frisco. She led the way out, her pink stilletos cutting tiny eye holes in the ugly carpet. Kim trekked along behind her, typing a text to rainMaker on the way out.

kicake---don't worry about it. im heading out so same.

rainMaker---okay. ttyl then?

kicake---yeah, whenever.

Kim Kyung, professional loser and sad blob had entered the dorm room of Pelosi Hall, and Kim Walker, still pathetic but willing to go hang out with her roommate's friends, was leaving. Kim felt that there had been a good exchange. The process of peeling back layers of pathetic and blobiness would be a long one, but who knew? It could be worth it in the end. She smiled as she stepped into the sunshine, and grinned as she turned up the radio in Melissa's car. Kanye West was right. It was a new dawn, and a new day. It was a new Kim.

------------------------------------------------------Chapter 3---------------------------------------------

"It sounds like you're being a bit harsh on her, Mal."

Katie balanced her lunch tray on one knee as she used her foot to open the little fridge, then bent down to grab a milk. She loved everything she came across, except criminals, and she really loved milk. Behind her, her friend Mallory Williams was grabbing a huge lemonade and a large thing of fries. She scowled at Katie's comment.

"I mean, come on. Poor little rich girl, amirite?" Mallory argued. The line moved forward and Katie handed the money to the register. She could've used her student ID, but she prefered to keep track of the money she spent. Katie juggled the food as Mallory handed her tray to her with no ceremony. Mallory liked to do things with both hands, and expected Katie to carry things for her whenever she needed. It was an aristocratic type of entitlement, with just enough absentmindedness of manner to keep it from being rude. It was bordeline rude, but Katie knew Mallory. She didn't mind carrying things once in a while. It was somewhat a requisite of being Mallory's friend- accepting Mallory. 

"Look, she's a freshman. She's probably not used to al lthis, and to being away from home, so  give her some slack. She's just trying to mark herself a little territory."

Mallory took the tray back as they headed back to their table where Smike was already digging into a pita bread wrap with his roommate Jonah. A match made in heaven, those two. Equally pleasant, optimistic people who had no trouble getting along on their first day, and sitting together for lunch every day. 

Mallory scoffed "Yeah, sure, whatever. I just hope she transfers. God. I don't like her."

Katie had heard enough to guess that Mallory was mistaken about that, but didn't want to say it out loud. It just wasn't that often that Mallory met someone who wasn't cowed by her... unpleasant demeanor or pathological unkindness. Her and Smike had known Mallory since senior year of high school, and had only penetrated her defences due to their relentless ability to see the best in people and treat everyone with the penultimate of generosity. This roommate was special. Perhaps she would serve as a good foil for Mallory...

There she was. The freshman girl that she'd seen earlier, with Smike. She was paying at the end of the line with a kind, quiet smile. Her tall, thin frame was almost lost in the crowd of insipid and loud children pretending to be adults while relying on trust funds and allowances and crisp dollar bills from the rich relatives. The freshman stood out. She was timid, maybe, but soft. She was meek because she wanted to be, not because anyone made her meek. 

[themartinsguide]

MedSailors madness, Greek style

27 May - 02 June 2017 We know we've said this before but now the time has come for our holiday within a holiday; our backpacking days have definitely come to an end. But first, The Boat... Around midday on 27 May we made our way to the marina (which, by the way, is where all the rich Athenians appear to hang out) to check in to our floating home for the coming week. As usual, we were early and our vessel wasn't ready (as it turns out MedSailors could never have prepared themselves for the force that is Team Jannah... keep reading) so we headed off to the nearest bar. After a few cheeky beverages we tried our luck again and were warmly welcomed by Will, skipper of the mighty Sadko (we never did find out what that name meant), and our fellow inhabitants, another kiwi couple, Dylan and Roseanne, Chloe the fantastic Australian (not an oxymoron we assure you), and three female Portuguese friends living in London who became known as the two Mirissas and a Silvia, for those were their names. For those of you who don't know, MedSailors is a company that runs boat charters for 18-35 year olds (although this year they accommodated their first family group in our flotilla which, families be warned, is not for the faint hearted familia group) during the high seasons in Greece, Turkey, Croatia, Italy and the Caribbean. Although numbers fluctuate throughout the course of the season our flotilla was made up of five boats, the lead yacht carrying the Lead Skipper, a trainee, the photographer and two Guest Managers (we are still unsure of what these two actually do, let alone know their names), and four guest yachts comprising a maximum of 8 guests and a skipper. The guests appeared to be assigned a yacht based on age and nationality (the majority of the guests were from the U.K., NZ or Australia) and the skippers were predominantly mid twenty year old males from well to do English families with names like William, Charlie and Harry, and were responsible for getting us from island to island, parking the yachts (which appeared to be akin to an exercise in wizardry), cooking our breakfast and lunches, attending to maintenance issues (i.e. unblocking the loo), providing great chat, and drinking with us (we think this was actually in their job descriptions). Not a bad gig, although five months of living on a boat with different groups to entertain week after week and only having Saturday mornings free, might become a bit tedious after a while. Our 6 night journey took us to six different islands and while each location was beautiful and filled with fun (more on these particular moments below), we were surprised to discover how much we enjoyed just living onboard a boat. James particularly enjoyed the few occasions when Will decided the wind was strong enough to shut down the engine and open up the sails. These opportunities were thankfully, for the more avid sunbathers of the group, few and far between. From the two minute allocated shower time slots to the kettle that took what felt like a lifetime to boil on the gas stove, we loved every minute of it. Even squeezing ourselves into the (barely) double berth was enjoyable, particularly watching the sun rise through the long, narrow berth windows and feeling the cool sea breeze drift through the open ceiling latches as we slept. We really didn't want to leave by the end of it. However, our first 24 hours onboard the mighty Sadko was some of the roughest we experienced and the group was feeling a bit disheartened having to wear warm clothes and wrap up in blankets while sitting on the deck. Pleasingly, Will ensured that we were the first to set sail from Athens to Perdika, an efficiency which he maintained throughout the week (as you know, nothing makes Team Jannah happier than an adherence to timings), and we also utilized the warming qualities of alcohol as we got to know each other a bit better. This continued into the night. And we are pleased to announce that Team Jannah were on top form and cut some mad shapes at the one "night club" on the island late into the evening. We learnt a bit about the occupants of the other boats too. One particular boat (which started out with a hiss and a roar but surprisingly became more tame throughout the week) became our rivals, although we are not sure they knew it. This boat, a group of Australian friends in their late 20s/early 30s, became known as the Pineapple Patch based on their matching outfits made from fabric covered in pineapples (think the Sound of Music) and their hosting of a flag atop of their yacht which read: Let's Get Tropical. We were all in unanimous agreement that MedSailors did a great job of separating like minded groups purely based on paper applications. For reasons which will become clear as you read on, we failed to develop any meaningful relationships with any of the other guests. Did the fun experienced on the first night outweigh the hangovers/seasickness experienced by all but two of the boats occupants the next day? We don't know, we felt fine. (We appreciate that overly conditioned livers probably isn't something to be proud of but we are considered it more of a reflection of the sturdiness of our sea legs). Unfortunately for those of us who were feeling a bit worse for wear, the first full day of our trip was the longest sailing day, a total of 6 hours. On the bright side, the weather was rubbish so valuable tanning hours were not missed. We arrived in the sleepy village of Ermioni around 4pm and we took the few spare hours before the "Punch Party" to explore the small town and Bisti (a small, pine covered peninsula housing a nature reserve with great views over the bay and the harbour) and get some steps up. Being the responsible adults that we are, we opted for an AFD (alcohol free day) and politely declined the punch concoction created by the photographer, Ryan. Not surpisingly, everyone was a little quieter this evening and most even jumped on board our AFD. Dinner was another mezze style meal at a local Taverna overlooking the Aegean Sea. It really was a beautiful spot. Feeling good as new the following morning, we stealthily crept from our cabin and went for a 45 minute jog, followed by a dip in the sea. One of the best things about being on board a boat is constantly being surrounded by water. That may sound obvious but it really is very calming and there is nothing like a sudden dip into a cold body of water to shake a hangover. After a spot of breakfast we headed off to the island of Spetses. Spetses was one of our favourite spots, and the fact that we were able to find a five star hotel that allowed us to utilise their gym was an added bonus. While the rest of the crew were off exploring the island by scooter and four wheeled motorbike (an activity which we have thrashed) we were throwing tin around. Different strokes for different folks, right? Our time in Spetses was pretty uneventful, although we highly recommend a visit. And then we were off to Hydra, via a beautiful bay where we spent a few hours jumping off rocks, swimming, rowing and paddle boarding. Hydra was our favourite spot of all. Filled with history, scenery, numerous activities (the prohibition of vehicles in the main town makes Donkey the number one choice of transport) and a great restaurant and bar scene, the place has something for everyone. On our arrival into Hydra, while everyone else threw on their togs and poured their first drinks, we jumped off the yacht and ran to the top of the nearest hill. Yes, people thought we were crazy. Did we care? No. Do we know we are crazy? Yes. Plus, it made the drinks that evening extra delicious. It was one of the Mirissa's birthdays so we all headed to a bar for cocktails and witnessed a spectacular sunset. And the pina coladas were the best we have tasted. After a group dinner, and a kilo (yes, that is the wine measurement of choice in Greece) or two of wine, we headed back to the yachts... And a party ensued... As we were the only yacht fully committed to partying, we turned the music up full bore and went for it. As other groups meandered back onto the yachts we picked up a few stragglers, and our numbers quickly swelled to 30 (including a number of skippers), music got turned up to aggressively loud, and the party kicked off. At some point between 11pm and midnight James discovered that it was one of the skipper's (Skipper X) 21st birthday, and rapidly organised an impromptu yardie of a jug filled with liquor for him to celebrate with. As Skipper X stood at the stern of the boat chugging his yardie in true Anglo-Saxon style, the youngest and nimblest skipper patted him down and surreptitiously swiped his phone and wallet. Triumphantly raising his completed jug above his head, Skipper X went flying back into the water as James landed a gentle kick to his stomach. Being good sports, James and a third Skipper plunged in after him, and then helped lever him back onto the boat. Unfortunately for Skipper X, the night would get the better of him, and after he vomited all over the floor of the yacht (thanks for getting that Will), passed out and then spent the night passed out in the lead yacht. But now Hannah realised the alcohol was running low... James in true fiend form had already stashed beers around the yacht to ensure he didn't run out. So using her best ninja moves (and some encouragement from others) she headed to the yacht moored alongside us to "glean" a few more beverages. To be fair, they had been instructed to bring all their alcohol upon entering the party, but had come suspiciously empty-handed. Slipping into their living area, she rummaged through their cupboards and found what she was looking for. Opting to go for the surreptitious removal option (as opposed to the "someone asked me to get these" route) she was caught red handed trying to stuff a 4-pack of beer and a bottle of wine through a tiny window. Upon questioning she insisted that she was up to "nothing" and casually slunk away to rejoin the party. In hindsight she really should have pushed the alcohol out of the windows opposite to where the party was taking place, on the other side of the boat. As 1am approached, numbers were receding, but the noise appeared to be growing. Hannah, in full swing on the port side of the boat, was surprised to be caught with the shrapnel of an exploding egg. The Ukrainian gentleman moored 5 metres away had completely lost his temper, and was now hurling eggs and insults in the direction of our boat. Unfortunately he had hit Hannah, who quite forcefully defended her honour with equal vigour. After James jumped in with a few well placed Polish insults (which appeared to translate well) and jovial threats, the yelling match was threatening to swell into full blown violence. As our guests made some speedy exits for their boats, the Lead Skipper appeared, in his underwear, to calm the situation. After being (surprisingly politely) told to bugger off by James and Hannah, and with the situation having resolved itself by virtue of the a 5m gap of open water, he slunk back to his yacht to deal with Skipper X. The night was considered a raging success by all involved. After a few brief apologies the next morning, we were off to Poros (although Hannah never did bother to amend inter-boat relations with respect to the "gleaning incident"). There really isn't anything like sea air for a hangover. According to the MedSailors promotional information, Poros has been popular as a residence for many writers, including the American writer Henry Miller. Poros was one of the larger islands we visited and a popular place for watersports. We opted to consume ice cream from the most amazing ice cream shop we have ever seen (38 flavours exactly) and hit the gym (yes, there really is one in every port). Given our antics the previous evening, we opted for another AFD (or near enough) and had an early night. This also meant we were able to enjoy a lovely waterfront run the next morning. En route to Perdika, our final destination, we stopped at Russian Bay for a modified version of the MedSailors Regatta. A lack of wind meant that a guest run sailing race was out of the question but a paddle board race took its place. After multiple attempts at clarifying the race rules, James, of course, took if upon himself to organise our race strategy and mode of operation. It was a competition. Against Australians. He went full James. There was no hiding the truth anymore. Hannah's attempts to calm him were wasted and before she knew it she was being fixed with a harness made from fishing line, attached to a paddle-board and being ordered to swim for the shore. Ultimately, we got second and in the process James almost drowned his wife. Seeing a rival team making its move, James changed his swimming course to run interference and in doing so left Hannah tangled in fishing wire trying to swim while being sandwiched between a number of vessels and various equipment. Let's just say that post-event team dynamics were not altogether positive. In an effort to prevent a Team Jannah sized argument, Hannah rode part of the way to Perdika in the dingy dragged behind the yacht. Perdika itself wasn't particularly notable but the sea just off the coast of the island was the most incredible we have seen. It was literally turquoise and crystal clear. We spent a good few hours appreciating its beauty. Moods had improved tenfold by this point. Our final night involved a toga party, a Lady Gaga impersonation competition (James was unanimously nominated by our group and embraced the role with gusto) using tinfoil, toilet paper and some questionable dancing (we lost to a ten year old wth some amazing dance moves... You can't beat that kind of weaponry), Greek music and dancing, and plate smashing. Surprisingly, the evening was relatively mild in comparison but this made for an enjoyable trip back to Athens the next day. We arrived in Athens on 2 June at around 1pm feeling exhausted. It was a busy, fun-filled week. After saying our goodbyes we had to get to Rome.