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onsomenewsht · 7 months ago

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< track 6 || fine.

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader, Leah Williamson x Reader (platonic), María Leon x Reader (platonic), Barcelona Femení x Reader

》 words count: +6k

》 how can I be dead to you / when we're looking at the same moon?

The second leg of the Champions League’s quarter final between Barcelona and Arsenal is scheduled ten days after the first one.

Ten days in which you do nothing but think about this game. About welcoming your former club in your new home. About the tactics and the plays that didn’t work out quite as you wished, about what to do and not do to be better.

About Alexia.

Alexia’s a constant thought, and for the first time since leaving Barcelona, you allow that thought to invade every single corner of your mind.

I hope you found what you left for

The conversation you had on your favourite spot replies over and over again in your head. Lying in your bed as you relive it all late at night or surprised by a sentence in the middle of practice, it’s always with you in some way. You let her smile pop up out of nowhere and let one of your own grow on your lips without a reason. You indulge yourself in speaking about your relationship, about her, about how you felt with her and how you feel without her.

You try to forgive yourself now you know she doesn’t hate you.

To the point you permit yourself to send a text to Eli and Alba and invite them to watch the game in the family and friends’ section of the Emirates Stadium. They obviously declined, but you didn’t expect them to actually take in your offer - it was a symbolic gesture.

However, the entire Putellas family accepts your invite out for dinner that same night, even if Alexia insists on paying since they just kicked you out of the Champions League.

“You’re my guests, I’m gonna pay”

“Vale, I’m paying next time then”, she smiles.

Despite all the analysis and the tactics and the effort the entire Arsenal team and staff put into the game, despite the immense support of the fans who fill the stadium and cheer from the start to the final whistle, you lose.

Tecnichally, you tie. Claudia manages an incredible equaliser in the eightieth minute, crushing your hopes as the harsh law of football enforces the advantage Barça needs to get through the semifinals.

Your former teammates are reluctant to come to you after the game, but you accept gracefully their hands and words of encouragement. The tension none of you realise is there dissipates as soon as Alexia invites you into a group hug, surrounding you in Blaugrana’s colours briefly before you escape with Claudia’s jersey.

“As a reminder you could be playing for another Champions League if you stayed?”

“No, as a reminder to never piss you off again”

María is unusually soft in her teasing, letting a few jabs pass by and taking you in her arms when she senses that you need a place to let go of your disappointment without getting caught by the cameras.

“No te pongas triste, nos veremos pronto” (Don’t be too sad, you will see me again soon)

“Don’t you dare ask me to be a bridesmaid or something”

“¡A la mierda!”, the defender’s laugh might be able to fill the now half empty stadium, “Pero te necesito para elegir mi traje” (But I need you around to pick my outfit).

“You still don’t know what to wear?”

“Necesito buen gusto de verdad, no puedo permitir a mi futura esposa de ayudarme” (I need someone with a real fashion sense, it’s not like I can let my future wife help me).

“Frido?”, you try to ask.

“Está de su parte” (She’s on Ingrid side)

“Alexia?”

You and María exchange a knowing look. The Catalan is the most helpful person in most situations, but definitely not the right one for this job.

You bid your goodbye with a promise of a trip back to Barcelona before the end of the season, an away kit in your hand and a plan for dinner with your ex’s family.

The atmosphere in the changing room is tense, your teammates are upset about the result and not really in the mood to talk.

“Well, we lost to them and ten days later we tie”, you manage to draw their attention to you, “next time we face them we’re gonna win”

It’s stupid, it’s a risky attempt to break the ice in the room, but the different and loud reactions you get from all the girls tell you you’re all gonna be fine - even if you have to dodge a pair of boots to prove it.

I hope you found what you left for

That day, that loss, somehow and in some twisted way, gives you permission to feel everything you need to feel.

You let yourself be upset about getting kicked out of the Champions League by your former team, but you also let yourself celebrate every single win with your new club. You let yourself feel the bittersweet taste of a second place in the championship, but you lift the FA Cup with the same excitement you lifted every trophy in Barcelona. You let yourself miss your teammates-turned-friends when you go each on your own ways for the off-season, but you also invite them to spend time at your place that feels every day more like home.

Leah is delighted to see more than a faded shadow of who you are, this new version of you every day more present and every day clearer.

“You know, Keira used to talk you up so much back when you played together”, she says as you try to pack everything you think you need in an oversized luggage.

You will pay the extra tax, better than being unprepared.

“I don’t meet the expectation?”

“Definitely not”, she ducks just in time to avoid a pair of socks.

“She described you as this outgoing, always up for a joke person, and we got a moody footballer who barely spoke to us outside of the training centre”

The English captain is not wrong, the first weeks in London were very challenging both physically and mentally as you tried to adapt to a different style of play and a different view of yourself.

I hope you found what you left for

It took you some time, Leah and all the other girls’ patience, an overwhelming heart to heart talk with your ex girlfriend, and a devastating loss to reveal the first results of your slow healing process.

“Look at me now”

“Yeah, I don’t have to force myself in here anymore. You even cook for me willingly”

“Well–”, you’re not as fast as her when she throws the socks back at you.

Luggage filled and closed, silence spreads in the room when both of you want to address something but you don’t want to start a conversation that’s most likely to make the other uncomfortable.

“Last meal?”

“I’m leaving for a week to Barcelona, not to a war zone”

“In some sense–”

You ignore the blonde, yet go into the kitchen to cook something for the two of you. She offered to help you pack and drive you to the airport tomorrow, the least you can do is feed her one more time before letting her on her own devices.

Alexia’s comfort meal is what you go for. The ingredients are the only ones available in your fridge, and, honestly, the food looks comforting to you too this time.

“I don’t mind this version of you”

“You’re such a good friend, Williamson, have I ever told you?”

“Several times actually”

You don’t think you are the same person you were back in Barcelona, but you don’t think that is a bad thing either.

Maybe you’re not as outgoing as you used to be and you don’t find yourself involved in all the jokes your friends plan, but you’re letting yourself relax around the people you feel close to and you don’t hide your emotions anymore - sad nor happy ones.

Not a shell anymore, you can feel this new version of you growing out and taking down the wall you built around yourself one brick at a time.

You left to find yourself, even if you had no idea where to start your search.

You keep finding some pieces you thought were lost forever, others you never realise weren’t with you anymore. Some pieces you drop along the way, others you carefully say goodbye to to be buried deep down. Some new pieces you pick up yourself, and right now, you don’t care if they will stay with you forever or just till you need them.

You’re moving and, wherever you’re heading, you’re finding yourself on the way.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Leah’s reaction to your question caught you off guard, she almost choked on the food she’s devouring as a famished kid.

“Did you just fucking ask me to be your plus one at a wedding the day before you leave for said wedding?”

“What can I say, I’m known for my perfect timing”

You hand her a glass of water, knowing she’s most likely able to see right through you even if your eyes are fixed on the now empty plate.

“Are you scared to go to your friend’s wedding alone?”

“I need a buffer”

“You need a bulletproof jacket”, she really sees right through you.

“You need a new knee but I’m not here pointing it out, am I?”

It’s not like you’re scared to attend María and Ingrid’s wedding alone, and it’s not like you need a comfort blanket to hold on while surrounded by your friends and former teammates and people from your life back in Barcelona.

“Look, I’m flattered, you’re cute at everything but—”

“Ew, no, if you don’t shut up right now I’m going to break your good knee”

Leah knows that’s not the reason why you’re asking her to be your plus one, she just wants to poke at you and get the words out of you.

It takes her a couple of more quips and annoying comments to let you admit the real reason.

“Mapi let slip Alexia’s taking someone”

“Oh, sweet little Trotter, you’re asking me to make two time Ballon d’Or winner Alexia Putellas jealous–”, she doesn’t have the time to end her sentence as you sprint toward her and she has a feeling you’re not joking anymore about kicking her.

Leah ends up taking you to the airport the next day, insisting to drop you off as a kid on their first day of school. You have a feeling she doesn’t accept your invitation because the short notice doesn’t give her the proper amount of time to pick the right outfit, nothing more.

Another English girl picks you up when you land under the barely raised Barcelona’s sun, you almost feel like they take turns to babysit you.

“Keira, not to sound ungrateful, but I genuinely can’t think of anything worse than being your guest”

“Ouch! Do you wanna be left on the side of the road?”

“I’ll be fine in my fancy hotel room by myself, really”

“By yourself, uhm?”

The seatbelt is the only thing preventing you from hitting your head on the dashboard, despite your best effort. Of course they gossip about you. Whatever you tell Leah, you know it’s like you tell Keira too and vice versa. You even found yourself in the middle of one of they’re gossip sessions once, your life is their favourite topic lately.

They’re lucky you can admit you own them your sanity.

“I don’t know who she’s bringing”

“I didn’t ask”, you scoff as if the question isn’t on the tip of your tongue for weeks.

Well, you’re gonna find out in a couple of hours anyway.

Keira reluctantly drops you at the hotel you’re staying at, voicing once more you could have stayed with her or any of your other friends who she knows offered their home.

Your former teammates are way nicer with you now they’re once again Champions League winners.

Maybe it’s also because you stopped hide and actually made an effort to stay in touch.

Both can be true.

Once settled in your room and ready to leave, you’re so anxious one could think you’re the one getting married as you retouch your makeup every five minutes and keep fixing non-existent creases in your maroon strapless dress. It’s a beautiful tailor-made piece you never found the excuse to wear till now.

It’s a call from María herself that stops you from spiralling again about the shape of your eyebrows.

“If this is a getaway call, you must know I have no car nor intention of helping you”

“Idiota! Dónde estás?” (Where are you?), she asks with a well hidden note of anxiety in her voice.

“I’m not gonna be late and take the spotlight away from you, don’t worry”

“¿Puedes venir aquí por favor?” (Can you come here, please?)

“María, I’m gonna kill you”, you state, sliding your heels on with one hand and calling the reception to hail a taxi with the other.

You stay with her on the phone the whole ride to the venue, thankfully just ten minutes away since you planned this visit meticulously to avoid any “accident”.

You definitely didn’t plan this though.

As you storm into the room your friend tells you to find her, you should have seen it coming.

“If you need a getaway car or a pep talk, you know I’m not the right person”

“¿No tienes un discurso para convencerme de casarme?” (You don’t have a speech to convince me to get married?)

“You don’t need a speech”

“Ay, no, no lo necesito” (No, I don’t), she confirmed as you take in the grin and the attire she’s wearing, “Pero tu sí” (But you do).

María is relaxed and ready to walk down the aisle, saying goodbye to who you think is the makeup and hair team. You could have punched her if not out of respect for the incredible job they did. Just then you notice all the people in the room, Alexia in the corner with a sympathetic smile on her perfectly traced lips.

She’s stunning.

The long royal blue dress she’s wearing shows just the right amount of tanned skin, gold jewellery complimenting her features and making Alexia glow in a way you will never forget.

“I told her it was a stupid idea”

You must have been frozen in place for a second too much.

“Quiero que te levantes y digas cosas bonitas, Nena” (I want you to stand up at some point to tell some nice things)

“Just ask like a fucking normal person, María!”

“Lo hice, dijiste que no” (I did, you said no)

“So you made me think you wanted to ditch the whole thing?”

“Estás aquí temprano, ¿no? Tienes tiempo de escribir un buen discurso” (You’re here early, aren’t you? You have time to write something good)

The relaxing methods your new therapist drilled into you the past weeks better work, you’re really close to making your friend get married with a black eye as payback for the heart attack she got you.

“You’re so lucky I love you”, you sigh as the defender kisses your cheek and leads the way out of the room.

Apparently, you better hurry up as your outbursts pushed the schedule five minutes back what it’s supposed to - much to the wedding planner’s annoyance.

Alexia slows down her pace to walk next to you as you follow the indications given to you.

“Finally”

“What?”

“I can finally see you in this dress”, her smile is way too honest for the day you’re both about to go through, “Worth the wait”.

The ceremony is short and sweet. You’re not sure how María Pilar León manages to stay still for so long, but Ingrid’s hand intertwined with hers the entire time must be the main reason.

There’s some sort of light surrendering your friends. It may be the stunning yet intimate venue they choose or the Barcelona sun hitting at the perfect moment as they smile at each other. It may be the love you can feel radiating from the couple or the support and genuine excitement all the people in the room are sharing for the occasion.

Whatever it is, you’re happy to be part of it.

María and Ingrid exchange their vows with tender words and silent promises you know they’re making to each other. At some point you even have to hold on Frido’s arm, sit on your left side, as you start to cry big tears that are most definitely ruining your makeup.

Feeling Alexia’s eyes on you the entire time is not helping.

You have no idea that the wedding photographer is snapping a couple of pictures of you and the other guests in their emotional state, as per Mapi’s request. It surprises you way later when the Spanish defender posts the photo on her socials on your birthday - you block her for a month just to spite her.

When the sun sets and you manage to compose yourself a bit, the party starts and Ingrid takes it upon herself to make you lose your composure, handing you the first drink of the day.

You’re pretty sure the wedding planner hates you as he finds out you’re not only the reason why arranging seats and tables was so unnecessarily difficult, but he also has to brief you at the last minute about the little moments they planned and when you’re supposed to make your speech.

You know for sure he hates you when you tell him you actually still have to write it down so a delay in the schedule is needed. He leaves you with some paper, pen and cursed words.

It looks like everyone wants to talk to you and you find yourself the centre of attention way more times you’re comfortable with, even more than the newlyweds - much to their amusement.

A lifesaver comes in the form of Lucy Bronze, the buffer you didn’t know you needed, but you’re glad is around to help you deal with the Spanish excitement that surrounds you all over.

The English girl, who you now understand is the bonus member of the blonde squad that for some reason hunts you, is acting as your personal bodyguard since Keira is already not sober enough to be helpful.

“Please, tell me you wrote your speech”, Lucy’s eyeing your second refill of the day.

It’s an open bar, after all, you’re not letting María’s mother warm embrace and some girl you don’t remember the name of - but met maybe twice while celebrating a trophy’s win - messing with your mind more than what you’re already doing by yourself.

“I wrote a complaint and a draw of a monkey throwing shit”

“Classy, I can’t wait to see what you’ll go for”

“I told María fucking Engen-León not making me do a fucking speech”

Pages of scribbled words later, you’re back in Barcelona for your best friends’ wedding with no speech, no idea of what you’ll say and not sober enough to write down anything nice about a certain defender.

“Language, por favor”

You almost drop your glass when you feel Alexia’s hand on your back to get your attention and a teasing grin on her face. The desire to trace her lips with your finger is stronger now the first drinks are hitting.

“She can still scold you?”

“You have no idea the things she can still do to me, Bronze”, you mutter as you practically bottom down your drink.

“Can I steal you for a moment?”, she asks with a softer smile.

“I’m pretty sure the words were–”

Lucy doesn’t have time to finish her sentence as both you Alexia hit her without taking your eyes off each other. She gets the hint and leaves with a laugh.

“My date wants to say hi”

You’re pretty sure her words just triggered a malfunction in your already damaged brain. You could have been less shocked if she had asked to marry her right now and there.

“What?”

“Vien conmigo” (Just come with me)

Alexia is way too amused for your liking, but you follow her lead without real hesitation - leaving behind your empty glass and probably what’s left of your sanity.

As the two of you approach the table her family is sitting at, her hand finds a place on your back in a comforting way when you spot Eli, Alba and another tiny brunette you immediately know is about to make you cry.

The kid is too focused on her drawing to notice the two approaching, Alba nudges her, and the little girl retorts back with a hit. As soon as you are spotted, the colourful paper and the annoying woman are both forgotten.

Alexia’s little cousin, Zoe, comes at you at full speed and you’re able to welcome her into your arms fast enough just thanks to your professional athlete’s reflexes.

You hold on to her green dress as the girl jumps in your arms, too excited to see you again after more than a year to realise she’s speaking rapidly at you.

“En español, monita, por favor”, Alexia intercepts.

“¡Estás aquí!” (You’re here)

“Yeah, estoy aquí”

Alexia can’t hold back a laugh as you try to keep up with the little girl’s energy, who is set to tell you everything she has done since the last time she saw you. You were around when Zoe was barely old enough to walk properly.

Four years is a long time when you’re as young as the kid is.

The two of you were a pair who always managed to drive Alexia crazy and fill her heart with love at the same time.

“Ale me dijo que ya no vivis juntos, ahora tu juegas para Inglaterra” (Ale told me you don’t live together anymore, you play for England now)

“Juego para un equipo inglés” (I play for an english club)

“¡El equipo rojo! Pregunté Ale tu camiseta” (The red one! I asked Ale for your jersey)

“¡Ay, ¿de verdad?!” (Oh, did you really?), you notice Alexia’s blush immediately, keeping up the teasing thanks to the little girl.

You manage to calm Zoe enough to make her sit back. She’s mostly on your legs as the two of you keep talking and taking turns picking colours. All under the watchful sight of Alexia, who was instructed to sit down too by her cousin.

When the draw is finished and signed, you can feel the young mind running. The little frown in the middle of the forehead is a sight you’re way too familiar with.

“Qué está pensando, monita?” (What’s on your mind?)

“¿Estás de vuelta?” (You’re back in Barcelona?)

Alexia tries to divert the conversation, sensing her cousin is about to ask or say some things that are way too difficult to explain - despite being such easy questions. However, you smile and nod to let her know you can deal with it.

“He vuelto para Mapi’s boda y podemos celebrarlo juntos” (I’m back for Mapi’s wedding, so we can celebrate together)

“Lo sé, Ale me dijo que estarías aquí y quería saludarte” (I know, Ale told me you could be back and I wanted to say hi)

“Siento haber desaparecido, intentaré venir saludar más” (I’m sorry I disappeared, I’ll try to come say hi more when I can)

“¿Prometes?” (You promise?), Zoe holds up a tiny finger, mimicking a gesture you taught her years ago.

You wrap your pinky around hers firmly, shaking it three times. It’s another promise you’re not going to break.

“Tienes que prometerlo a Ale también, ella te echa de menos” (You have to promise Ale too, she miss you)

“Lo sé” (I know)

The way Zoe is tracing coloured lines around her drawing is a tell that she still has a lot of questions for you, probably not satisfied enough with the answers she got from Alexia.

The pair of you spent a lot of time with the kid as you always encouraged the Catalan to spend as much time as possible with her extended family too, knowing it pained her to have a little cousin who looks up at her with such admiration but not actually seeing her much.

Also, babysitting Zoe was so fun for you and an excuse to tease Alexia in so many ways you took the chance on any possible occasion.

“¿Aún la amas?” (You still love her?)

The chair you’re sitting in is strong enough to keep you still even if the entire room is spiralling, and you’re pretty sure there’s a huge hole under your expensive heels. You caught Alexia’s panicked face out of the corner of your eye too.

It takes you a moment, but when you answer Zoe’s question you’re the most sure you have ever been in the past year or so.

“Siempre la amaré” (I’ll always love her)

Ironically enough, the wedding planner is the one saving you from yourself and the innocent questioning of a kid.

You stand in your designated spot with a microphone in one hand and a piece of paper in the other - blank if not for the doodles you let Zoe draw on it. You will play the part, props at all.

There may be no speech planned or intention to do one in the first place, but you know what to talk about when talking about love.

After a short introduction of who you are - even if almost everyone knows you for some reason or other - and a couple of football related jokes, you manage to buy yourself enough time to find a pair of soft eyes in the crowd.

You saw María and Ingrid growing a supportive and caring relationship, you know both of them enough to describe how wonderful their love is and even landing some good jokes on Mapi’s expenses.

You know how being in love feels like enough to get some people emotional, you know how being loved feels like enough to make some other cry.

“Finally, I would like to propose a toast”, you raise your glass and wink at the wedding planner - he may have had a heart attack during a questionable part of your speech, but you definitely saw him shed a tear or two at the end.

“To Ingrid, who is one of the thoughtful human beings I have the honour to look up to in my life. You don’t even need words to let people understand your love for them, it’s the most important thing you taught us and the one I’ll try the most to remember when my mind and my mouth will fighting against each other”

The Norwegian woman looks at you with a warm smile as she raises her own glass, reaching for her wife’s hand.

“To María, who is one of the most annoying human beings I have the privilege to call family. You taught us that everyone deserves to be respected and taken care of, that you don’t even need to know someone to make them feel welcome. I’ll never forget you proved it to me the very first day we met, and I’ll keep trying to grant myself the same care you unconditionally show me”

Your friend is crying as you smile at her, trying to let her understand how much you appreciate everything she did and does for you, how much you appreciate her firm support despite her opinion on your choices.

“To everyone here, who is witnessing a celebration of love that’s never going to fade as we’ll keep it alive”

Alexia’s eyes on you make you believe your own words more than anything else.

As the night progresses, most of the guests are gone. The ones still standing are the closest to the couple and the ones who managed to take the most advantage of the open bar.

You’re obviously among those.

The break from dancing you treat yourself with is filled with rapid words from Ona, Lucy, Aitana and Keira, all engaged in a conversation about your performance at Arsenal and how you can do better next season.

It’s not really talk shop as they’re making fun of you and the unfortunate episode that saw you tripping on the ball while attempting a quite impressive shot outside the box.

You found your footing and the back of the net shortly after, so their amusing is quite frankly unnecessary if you can say yourself.

“Mary let that ball pass ‘cause she was laughing so much, that’s all”

“Fuck you, Bronze!”

“She’s right, I saved the video and I watch it every time I miss you”

“You’re worse than Mapi”, you don’t dignify Keira with an answer as you leave the group to refill your drink.

“Lo siento en mi corazón cuando hablas de mi” (I can feel in my heart when you’re talking about me)

Out of nowhere, María appears in front of you, and as the magician she apparently is tonight, it makes your glass disappear, all while dragging you toward the bubble of loud dancing guests.

You could be mad at her if not for the genuine laughs that are surrounding you, making you miss those girls but convincing you to enjoy this occasion even more.

“Gracias por hoy, Nena” (Thank you for today)

“Estoy tan feliz por ti” (I’m so happy for you)

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the beautiful day you’re having or the fact your best friends just got married and you couldn’t be happier for them, but you sense this is an emotional moment for the two of you.

The Spaniard holds you in her arms firmly, whispering barely loud enough for you to hear, “I want you to be happy too”

“I’m getting there”

The moment ends when the soft smiles on both your faces turn into grins and then open laughs as you start getting loose around all your friends.

You accept Jana’s hand gracefully as she drags you between her and Claudia, the two dancing as no one is watching and taking you down in a mindless movement of arms and hair.

“Still no rhythm at all”

You’re sure you’re drunk enough to imagine Alexia’s hands on your waist as she gets closer to make fun of you.

To be fair, out of the two of you, the Catalan is the one with the worst moves. She is just lucky to be incredibly sexy as she dances.

“You were sober enough to remember that night out after our first Champions League”

“¡Ajá, cállate! Someone tripped me”

“Yeah, your own feet”

The music is loud and the bodies around move in a way that you have to stay basically pressed on her to keep the teasing conversation going.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you grip her arm to let a carefree laugh out.

“You were sober enough to kiss me that same night, what does that say about you?”

“That I have the worst timing ever!”

You mean nothing but the truth, Alexia knows and she keeps you close despite your friends trying to involve you in a group dance - the two of you too wrapped in your own bubble to notice.

Keira does though and she openly calls you out on your behaviour, reminding you this may not be the best time or place to dance with your ex girlfriend as this is your own wedding.

The party slows down late in the evening, the last guests bidding their goodbyes and congratulating the happy couple once again.

You’re next to María as she hugs Alba - Eli and Zoe declared the night over a while ago. The defender’s hair is messed up, and a thin sheet of sweat from the dancing and the emotion of the day is covering her forehead. She never looked better.

“When are you leaving?”, the younger girl asks when is your turn to hug her.

“I’ll stay for a couple of days, I planned the off-season under the Italian sun”

“¡Vale!, you can come at dinner one of those”

“I’ll see what I can do”, you smile as you lightly push Alba and her knowing smirk away.

When you admit the day is officially over for you too, María and Ingrid both wrap you in a tight embrace to shower you with kisses and rapid words of gratitude in three different languages you’re way too tired to even try to understand.

At least you can tell they’re happy about your speech.

“I can take you to your hotel”

“You keep offering me rides, you sure you’re not thinking of a career change?”

“I don’t see myself getting a taxi license anytime soon”, Alexia’s attempt at a serious tone is making you giggle way too much for such a simple joke.

The walk toward her car is a silent one and it doesn’t turn uncomfortable when you get cosy in the passenger seat, taking your heels off with a sigh of relief.

The Catalan smiles as she remembers you tend to drop your manners when happily exhausted.

You look at her changing her shoes, a pair of sneakers always in the car for a safe ride, and you keep your eyes on her as she connects her phone to select a playlist.

It’s a ten minute ride at best, but she has not asked where you’re staying, and you’re too curious to find out what she’s planning to point it out.

You’re content and tired enough to admit every minute more you get to spend with Alexia is a win in your book.

She’s the one breaking the silence, turning the volume down a bit and keeping her gaze on the street even if the traffic light in front of you is glowing her features bright red.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable with Zoe”

“I was happy to see her again, she’s getting so tall”

“Yeah”

“Lo siento” (I’m sorry)

Leaving Barcelona meant leaving Alexia, but it was your choice.

And it was your choice to leave every single one who reminds you of her too. Ignoring your friends and finding excuses to not face the consequences of your disappearing. Avoiding Eli and Alba’s calls, too ashamed of the pain you inflicted on the most important person in their life.

It was all your choice.

“We broke up, I didn’t expect you to keep in touch with my family”

“You didn’t expect me to break up with you in the first place”

Alexia turns to look at you for the first time since the ride started, no one behind you calling out to move as the light turns from red to green to red again.

“I can be held accountable for my own choices, Alexia”, you nod at her as she restarts the car to a still unknown destination.

“I was honest with Zoe”

“Lo sé”

“Tú eres mi corazón, te amaré por siempre” (You’re my heart, I will always love you)

“Lo sé”

A full moon high in the dark sky, the view from your windows is getting unfamiliar, but the woman next to you seems to know exactly where she’s going. The pace she’s keeping is slow enough to calm your nerves but fast enough to keep you awake.

There are so many things you want to say, so many useless apologies and unnecessary confessions on the tip of your tongue.

It could be so much easier if she’d hate you.

“I knew you would leave”

“What?”

“I knew you would leave, I knew you found the ring”

Her words manage to steal the breath from your lungs and stop the rhythm of your heart, you go from feeling nothing to everything in a split second. The music is suddenly too loud, the fancy car is crushing on you, and your own body is failing to respond to your commands.

Alexia immediately notices your distress, stopping on the side of the road and lowering your window to let the fresh night air hit your face. She wants to touch you, to ground you as she learned to do, but she’s aware she may make things worse.

You reach for her hand, holding on to her as a lifeline and she does everything she needs to to take you back.

“Sorry, I didn’t see that coming”, you say when you’re ready to think properly again, your attempt to joke landing just because Alexia knows you well enough to understand what you need right now.

“Yo–”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“¿Por qué no lo hiciste tú?” (Why didn’t you?)

The million dollar question, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you let her know? Why didn’t you just talk with her about your feelings and your fears?

You pay your therapist enough to answer those questions for you.

“I don’t think it could have changed anything”

“You couldn’t know”

“And I’ll never, it’s all done now”

You need her to hate you, you need her to hate you and not want to do anything with you ever again.

You need her to leave you.

Not like you left Barcelona, you need her to leave you behind and move on. It’d be so much easier.

Instead, you’re both moving on and you both are still moving in the same direction.

“You would have said sí”, it’s not a question.

“Of course”

You realise you’re still holding on to her just when the Catalan squeezes your hand three times, keeping you grounded and keeping herself together. Your confirmation is both unnecessary and needed, hurting and comforting.

“I want you to love yourself as much as I do”

“I’m trying”

It’s a whisper, it’s a confession you’re not sure you’re ready to hear yourself.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready”

“Alexia, no–”

“Sí”, she drops your hand just to firmly hold your face, guiding your gaze and your tears filled eyes on hers, “I’ll be here when you’re ready, here in Barcelona or wherever here will mean for us”

“I can’t ask you that”

“You’re not asking”

Tears are falling freely now, her thumb tracing your flushed cheeks and your fists holding desperately on her dress. The position you both are in is uncomfortable, the air from the open window tickles your neck, and Alexia’s honesty is crushing your heart, but you never felt better.

“I know you could do whatever I ask, stay in Barcelona or marry me. I need you to know I could do whatever you ask too”

“Then we’re stuck”

“No, we’re both moving”

“You wanna see where we end up?”

“Wherever it will be, we’ll find each other”

replay to start from track 1 >

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #mapi leon x reader #leah williamson x reader #barcelona femini x reader #now playing universe #woso #my wo(rd)so #here we go again #last track for this one #what a journey #thank you all #as always if you see a mistake #no you dont

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kpopfanfictrash · 2 years ago

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Love to Hate (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: dirty talk, mentions of cum pay + pregnancy kink (no explicit content in the chapter)

Word Count: 4,133

"Y/N, the groom wants to see you."

Startled, you glance up from the water glass you hold in one hand. “Right now?” you ask. “Seriously?”

Lifting a brow, Seokjin casually leans against the door. “He specifically asked for you.”

“But…” You glance down at what you’re wearing. “Isn’t it considered inappropriate to see the groom before the ceremony?”

“That only applies when you’re the bride,” Seokjin says with a cluck of his tongue. “Now, get moving before Hoseok has a full-on panic attack.”

Rolling your eyes, you catch Olya’s gaze in the mirror. Surrounded by multiple make-up and hair artists, she winces when someone pulls a strand of her hair into an up-do.

“Go on,” Olya laughs, waving a hand. “I’m all covered here – promise.”

Although you hesitate, you nod and push yourself upwards. Olya’s sister stands near the fireplace, currently steaming Hoseok’s mother’s dress. According to the schedule she circulated last week, you don’t need to be ready in hair and make-up for another two hours.

“Alright,” you say, setting down the glass. “But tell Hoseok if he’s thinking of running away, he’ll need to get through me first.”

Olya laughs again since the idea is ludicrous. Hoseok would go nowhere without Olya; that much is certain. More likely he’s misplaced his cufflinks, or your brother drank all their champagne.

Slipping your feet into fuzzy slippers, you follow Seokjin outside and pull the door shut. He leads you down the hall, footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath you. Passing a large bay window, you glance out at the manicured gardens. The inn Olya found is stunning; especially now, overflowing with flowers and bright hanging lights.

If only the air conditioning were a little less vigorous. Shivering slightly, you wrap your robe tighter and rush to catch up.

Glancing over his shoulder, Seokjin looks you up and down.

“Is that all you’re wearing?” he asks.

You glare back at him. “Are you asking if I have a second outfit hidden beneath the robe?”

Seokjin sniffs. “Well, when you put it like that, you make me sound ridiculous.”

“All I have is my robe and bridesmaid dress.”

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Seokjin says, coming to a stop. Placing one hand on the door, he turns to face you. “Okay, Y/N – I must warn you before we go in. What you’re about to come face to face with may shock you.”

You lift a single brow. “As long as everyone is dressed, I don’t care.”

Seokjin shrugs in a way that implies it’s your funeral and pushes open the door. Stepping over the threshold, you see Hoseok and pause.

“Oh my god – Hoseok!” you blurt, rushing forward. “You’re bleeding.”

He flinches. “Hey, Y/N,” Hoseok mumbles, a handkerchief pressed to his forehead.

Seated in a gilded chair on the opposite side, he seems thoroughly dejected. Namjoon and your brother hover alongside him, the former steadily searching through the hotel bathroom kit.

Ever since you began dating Jungkook, Namjoon has blended seamlessly into your friend group. As the COO of Jeon Energy, he’s become particularly close to Jason – both are in charge of company operations. Hoseok even asked Namjoon to be his officiant; he has the right voice and temperament for the role.

Sneaking a glance around the room, you can’t help but notice Jungkook is missing. There's no time to wonder where he’s run off to, though – not with Hoseok bleeding before you.

Coming to a stop before him, you cross your arms. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok insists. “I was trying to get my bag from the shelf, but it got stuck and I pulled it too hard… which was when it came loose and smacked me in the face.”

Sounding utterly miserable, your friend slumps in his chair. You can’t say that you blame him. Olya’s entire family flew in and are likely expecting a groom without a busted face. Shaking your head, you glance at Namjoon.

“Any band-aids in there?”

Namjoon sets the bag down. “Nope,” he sighs.

“We were hoping you’d have one,” Seokjin chimes in behind you. “That’s why I came and got you.”

Slowly, you turn to stare. “Why didn’t you say that before dragging me off? My purse is in the other room!”

“Is there a band-aid in your purse?” Jason asks, hopeful.

“No,” you mutter.

“What about make-up?” Holding out both hands, Seokjin squints and frames Hoseok’s face. “We can wait until the bleeding stops, and then Y/N can cover Hoseok’s bruise with foundation or something.”

“There’s bruising?!”

Hoseok’s alarm prompts Jason to gently pat him on the shoulder. “You hit your head pretty hard, man,” he says.

Exhaling, you tap your foot. “Why is your overnight bag even here, Hoseok? Didn’t you stay with Namjoon last night?”

Hoseok’s face turns beet-red. “Well, uh –”

“He and Olya snuck out,” Seokjin declares.

Shooting him a glare, Hoseok drops the handkerchief to his lap. “That’s private.”

“Not when it’s necessary context.” Seokjin grins, devilish.

Unable to help it, you smile. Hoseok and Olya would be that couple so gone for one another, a single evening apart was impossible. Tradition be damned.

“Okay,” you announce, clapping your hands. “First things first – Jason, go to the bridal suite. Tell Olya’s make-up artist we need to add another person, and for her to swing by when she’s done. Seokjin,” you add, glancing around.

He straightens. “Yes, captain?”

“Did Yoongi drive you here?”

Although the tips of his ears turn red, Seokjin’s expression softens. Nearly two years into dating and still, Seokjin is an utter mess whenever Yoongi is mentioned. Bets have been flying as of late regarding who'll propose first. Your money is on Yoongi – Seokjin’s proposal ideas are so extravagant it’ll take him years to pull them off.

“He did,” Seokjin confirms.

“Good. Text Yoongi and see if he can run out to get cotton swabs, antiseptic, tiny band-aids and –”

The door to the suite swings open behind you.

“No need,” Jungkook says, breezing into the room. Jason follows close behind, holding a large plastic bag. “The front desk had all that and more.”

Seeing him, the errant noise in your mind muffles. Two years and still, this is the effect he has on you. When he sees you, Jungkook comes to a stop.

He’s already in his tuxedo, albeit with both jacket and tie discarded. Taking you in, Jungkook sees what you’re wearing – or not wearing, you suppose. Noticing how short the hem of your robe is, his jaw tightens.

“Thank god,” Seokjin says, grabbing the plastic bag. “You actually found stuff.”

Shaking his head, Jungkook clears his throat. “Hang on,” he says, turning to Seokjin. “When Namjoon said to get help, I went to the front desk, and you went to – Y/N?”

Holding the bag out to Namjoon, Seokjin collapses in the nearest chair. “She always has so much stuff in her purse. Remember that time I needed floss, and she had a whole overnight kit?”

“Okay,” you say. “You can't make fun of my purse if you've taken stuff from my purse.”

Setting the bag down on a table, Namjoon rummages through it. “Okay,” he says, retrieving cotton balls. “Let’s clean off the blood and see what we’re dealing with.”

The rest of them get to work, so you cross the room to stand beside Jungkook. While the others fuss over Hoseok, you glance sideways.

Jungkook is already looking at you.

“Hi,” you exhale.

Casually, Jungkook side-steps until he stands close behind you. Sliding both hands around your waist, he pulls you against him.

“Hey,” he says, low in your ear.

Melting into him, your entire body relaxes. Jungkook’s left hand – gold ring catching the light – drifts lower to rest on your stomach. He pauses, as though searching for something and you feel your lip twitch.

“Dr. Zmierski said we wouldn’t feel them kick until the second trimester,” you quietly remind him.

Jungkook huffs. “I know. I can’t help that I’m optimistic.”

“Mm. And?”

He pauses, as though waiting until finally, he sighs.

“Nothing,” Jungkook admits.

Smiling, you turn around in his arms. Jungkook stares back at you, his gaze full of warmth. The past two years have been a whirlwind. Six months into dating, Jungkook proposed. Some may have found it too soon, but you knew it was him the moment he appeared at your launch party.

Rarely have you been as sure as you were when you said yes. After all, you told Jungkook you loved him only a month into dating. That day is ingrained in your memory – partly because of its sweetness and partly due to the panic which followed Jungkook’s confession.

You had slept at his place for the fourth time that week. Although the two of you had discussed moving in, you deemed it too soon. It wasn’t your alarm clock waking you that morning, but Jungkook, leaning across his bed in a crisp, navy suit.

Still mostly asleep, you managed to open one eye. Dante and Bam (Jungkook’s newly adopted puppy) sprawled across your legs in an sweaty heap.

Brushing a kiss to your forehead, Jungkook started to pull away.

“Don’t go,” you mumbled.

Startled, he looked and saw you were awake. Expression relaxing a tad, a piece of his hair flopped over his forehead. “I have to go,” Jungkook murmured. “I’m a very important person with a very important job, you know.”

“Your full-time job is in this bed. Between my legs. We discussed this.”

Jungkook nearly choked at this, and you stifled a grin.

“You’ll pay for that,” he growled, bending closer. “Tonight.”

“Oo, I’m so scared,” you said and then sighed. “Can’t believe you love your job more than you love me. How tragic.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything as much as I love you.”

Suddenly, you opened your eyes to stare. Jungkook froze in place, seeming to process what he’d just said. A moment passed, maybe two before you gathered yourself enough to speak.

“You… what,” you breathed.

Jungkook seemed equally shocked by his own proclamation. The moment you spoke though, his expression shifted to one of determination.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “I love you.”

“You… love me,” you repeated, dumbstruck.

The furrow between his eyes deepened. “Was that too soon?” Jungkook said, worried. “I’m sorry if it was. I’ve just felt this way for a while, and thought now might be the right time to –”

Cutting him off, you pulled him down for a kiss – morning breath and all. Eventually, you let go and allowed Jungkook to breathe.

“I love you, too,” you said, matter-of-fact.

Jungkook’s entire face shifted, the happiest you’d ever seen before he kissed you back. Dante and Bam were kicked from the room shortly thereafter, and Jungkook never ended up making it into the office that day (much to Namjoon’s dismay).

If he’d asked you to marry him that morning, you would’ve said yes. Jungkook waited though, until what he considered a ‘respectable amount of time’ had passed. He told you it took him that long to find the perfect ring, but Yoongi said in confidence that Jungkook bought your ring two months into dating.

Your wedding was planned in six months. Not because it was extravagant, but because it took a while to find a weekend everyone you loved was free. A year after the launch party, the two of you were married at sunset overlooking the ocean. Jungkook cried. You say you didn’t, although certain photos betray you being misty-eyed.

The afterparty lasted until the early hours of morning. The only members of your combined family to attend were Jason and Aunt Jeanette – exactly as you wanted it. Jason gave you away, and Hoseok officiated. The wedding was quiet, and you only issued a press statement weeks later as a courtesy.

It would’ve taken longer for your parents to forgive you if a second reception hadn’t been held for their friends. Jungkook’s father wasn’t invited, which you expected. Having met him once, you deemed the experience more than enough. Bitter at being cut out of Jungkook’s life and the company, Mr. Jeon spiraled quickly.

According to Jungkook, his father’s alcohol abuse started when he was young, but grew worse when his mother was diagnosed with cancer. Because of this, he was removed from the board of Jeon Energy. Last you heard, he’d successfully completed rehab, but Jungkook hasn’t reached out. You stand by him on it. If Jungkook ever decides to make contact, you’d support him, but a history like theirs isn’t solved with well-wishes.

It surprised you when Jungkook brought up kids so soon after the wedding. You’d discussed it before but thought Jungkook would want to wait longer to try. He was serious though, when he came to you six months into marriage, and you’ve been trying for four months now to conceive.

Attempts which came to fruition six weeks ago. Dr. Zmierski, your obstetrician, confirmed the news for you last month but since then, you’ve been cautious. Not wanting to pull focus from Hoseok and Olya’s big day, you haven’t told anyone – not to mention it’s still early on. According to your doctor, pregnancies are uncertain before twelve weeks’ time.

Tightening his arms around you, Jungkook brushes a kiss to your cheek. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmurs low in your ear. “It’s taking everything in me not to tell everyone you’re pregnant.”

“Well, don’t,” you whisper. “It’s a secret.”

“What are you two talking about?” Seokjin asks, appearing from nowhere. “There are no secrets amongst groomsmen, Y/N.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not one, then,” you joke, turning to Seokjin. “Speaking of which – I need to get back to Olya. I still need my hair and make-up done.”

Letting you go, Jungkook looks you up and down. “You look beautiful to me.”

Near the fireplace, Jason makes a gagging sound. “That’s my sister, man,” he complains.

“Sorry,” says Jungkook, not looking it in the slightest.

Your smile widens, unable to stop. Ever since you became pregnant, Jungkook has been simultaneously overprotective and – well, ravenous. You wouldn’t have imagined pregnancy would turn him the way that it has, but Jungkook's been voracious. Not that you’re complaining – it’s led to some truly memorable nights. And mornings. And mid-afternoons.

Heat steals across your face, forcing you to look away. Jungkook seems to understand where your thoughts are, based on his incorrigible grin.

Hoseok glances between you. “Is that what I’m like with Olya?” he wonders out loud.

“Yes,” choruses the room.

“Oh.” Hoseok considers, then grins. “Well, tough. After today, we’re going to be even worse.”

Namjoon laughs, squeezing antiseptic from a tube. “Okay, Romeo. Put this on your cut.”

Lowering the cotton swab from his forehead, Hoseok obeys, and you exhale in relief. Without blood, the cut is barely noticeable. Olya’s makeup artist should be able to fix it, no problem.

“Okay, now I really should go,” you say. “This was a giant waste of my time, but it’s good to know the groom isn’t running away.”

“Running away?” Hoseok seems offended. “You’d have to physically stop me from walking down the aisle, Y/N. Handcuffs would be involved. A defensive line would be needed. The moon itself would fall from the sky before I –”

“We get it, man, you’re whipped,” Seokjin drones, topping off his champagne. “Y/N, at least take something to drink before you go.”

“No!” blurt you and Jungkook at the same time.

The entire room stops, heads turning to stare.

Cheeks burning, you don’t dare look at Jungkook. “I mean, uh – no thanks,” you say quickly. “The bridesmaids promised Olya not to drink before the ceremony. Don’t want to trip down the aisle.”

“Oh.” Seokjin’s brows furrow. “Okay, suit yourself. Bye, Y/N!”

“Bye,” you call, hastily slipping out the door.

Only halfway down the hall do you allow yourself to exhale. Shit, that was close – too close. It’s becoming more and more difficult to keep this from your friends, especially with the tiny bump beginning to show beneath your dress.

When the door opens behind you, you don’t need to look to know that it’s Jungkook. Warm hands find your waist, pulling you into the closest alcove with ease.

“Jungkook,” you whisper-laugh, pressed to the wall. “Someone will see.”

“Don’t care,” he growls, lowering his head to your neck.

“But I do,” you say, breathless. You’re having a hard time remembering why, though when he does that thing with his tongue.

Lifting his head, Jungkook presses his hips to yours. Cupping your jaw with one hand, he tilts your chin upward.

“This is the hardest thing you’ve ever asked me to do,” he groans. “Not telling people you’re carrying our child. Not bragging about what a literal goddess you are.”

“Goddess? Not princess?” you tease.

“Nope. Creating literal human life warrants a promotion.”

“You can brag all you want in four weeks,” you remind him.

Sinful and slow, Jungkook strokes his thumb down the exposed column of your throat. When your breath hitches, he smiles, other hand grasping your waist to pull you closer.

“The hardest thing,” Jungkook reiterates, his voice low.

“I doubt that’s the hardest thing between us right now.”

Lips twitching, Jungkook dips his head to lightly bite your shoulder. Laughing, you grip his arms tighter and pray no one walks past. When Jungkook lifts his head again, his eyes gleam.

“Careful,” he warns. “Before I drag you back to our room and ruin the ceremony. There’s nothing I want more than to watch my cum dripping from your perfect cunt.”

“If I recall,” you say, breathless, “that’s what got us into this mess in the first place, Jeon.”

“If by mess, you’re referring to our child, then yes. I’d love to make that mess happen again.”

You can’t help but burst out laughing. “Sorry, but I think we need to wait until this one comes out.”

“Oh, I can wait.” Jungkook’s expression is carnal. “I think you’ll find I’m a very patient man, Y/N. When I want to be.”

“And when you don’t?”

His grip on you tightens. “You’ll find out tonight.”

Lifting your chin, you meet his gaze – only for a door down the hall to open. Deflating a little, you glance over his shoulder. A beat passes, then another and when no one appears, Jungkook turns back.

“I really should go,” you say, reluctant. “Olya will want an update on Hoseok. I doubt Jason made it to their room, and I still need to get dressed.”

“It just seems a shame,” he murmurs, focusing on your lips.

“What is?”

“For you to get all dressed up only for me to tear the dress off you.”

Breath catching, you stare. “That’s kind of the point, in my opinion. Now, go,” you chide, gently pushing his chest. “Before you convince me to follow you into a broom closet or something.”

Jungkook lifts a brow. “Aren’t you even curious about how I would convince you?”

“Would it start with undoing my robe?”

“Oh, no.” Eyes glinting, he leans in. “I have something much more effective.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“A heaven on earth,” he murmurs, close to your ear, “I have won by wooing thee.”

Hissing an exhale, you lean your head to the wall. “That’s not fair,” you mutter. “You know what quoting Shakespeare does to me.”

His thumb traces, feather-light, over your hip. “Mhm. In fact, I believe that’s how this one was conceived.”

“How what one was conceived?”

Hearing Hoseok’s voice, the two of you frantically disentangle from one another. Hastily, you straighten your robe as Jungkook steps sideways, shoving one hand through his hair.

“Nothing,” you squeak. “Um, we were just talking about how our relationship was conceived. Remember, when I told you how Jungkook quoted Hamlet?” you say, forcing a laugh.

Unconvinced, Hoseok glances between you.

“That doesn’t make sense.” His brow wrinkles. “You two are acting weird... and you stopped Y/N from drinking. If I know my soon-to-be-wife, there’s no way Olya banned the bridal party from alcohol. Which means – oh my god.” Hoseok's jaw drops. “Y/N, are you pregnant?”

Your expression must be more damning than any response since his expression quickly shifts from astonishment to joy.

“Y/N!” Hoseok cries, rushing forward – only to pause. “Hang on. I want to hug you, but is that okay? I don’t want to crush the baby.”

Chuckling, Jungkook steps closer to slide an arm around your waist. “I don’t think that’s how it works, man,” he says lightly.

“Definitely not.” You roll your eyes. “Not sure how humans would’ve lasted if babies disappeared when the mother was hugged.”

“Right, right.” Hoseok laughs. “So, have you told anyone else?”

“No one,” you say. “And we don’t want to. Not yet.”

His face slowly drops. “So, wait – you want me to keep this a secret?”

“Please, Hobi?” you sigh. “I’m only eight weeks pregnant, and all the guidebooks say to wait until twelve. Anything could happen and we don’t want to get people’s hopes up.”

Exhaling loudly, Hoseok blows hair from his forehead. Now that it’s stopped bleeding, you’re glad to see the cut is hardly noticeable.

“Ugh,” he groans. “You’re asking me to keep a secret from my fiancé on our wedding day, Y/N. That can’t be good luck.”

Jungkook takes a subtle step forward. “I’ll tell you what’s not good luck,” he says, his voice hardening. “It's not good luck to upset my wife, who’s currently carrying my child.”

Hoseok looks at him, amazed. “Are you… threatening me?”

Mildly, you pat Jungkook’s arm. “Apparently, he’s an overprotective father. We’ll have to work on that.”

Never mind the fact that hearing him defend you – even from a non-threat such as Hoseok – sends a shiver down your spine. Jungkook glances at you, offended and you drop him a wink. Appeased, he turns back.

Hoseok groans and rubs a hand down his face, clearly torn.

“You can tell Olya if you want,” you relent. “But no one else – please?”

After another moment, he nods. “Alright,” Hoseok agrees, lowering his hand. “I don’t want to pull focus from Olya today, either – I’ll keep it a secret until after the ceremony.”

“Thank you!” you blurt, breaking free from Jungkook to hug your friend. Squeezing him tightly, you forget Hoseok’s injury until he lets out a grunt. Immediately, you release him and take a step back. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I forgot.”

Slipping both hands in his pockets, Jungkook glances around. “Why are you here, anyways?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?”

“Olya’s makeup artist wants me to stop by,” Hoseok explains. “Said she wanted to ‘assess the damage,’” he adds with air quotes.

Grinning, you grab Hoseok’s elbow. “Okay, I’ll escort you there. Make sure you don’t see your radiant fiancé before the ceremony – oh, hang on,” you say, coming to a stop. “You already ruined that when you slept over last night.”

Jungkook starts to laugh, while Hoseok looks sheepish.

"We didn't do anything," he mumbles. "Just slept together."

"I don't know if that's better or worse," you tease him.

“I’ll let the others know where you are,” Jungkook says, putting Hoseok from his misery. “I need to head back soon, anyways. Seokjin made me promise to listen to his best man's speech.”

“Good luck,” Hoseok says grimly. “From what I heard, there are several lighting cues. And a twelve-foot-long scroll. I warned Seokjin he’ll be played off with Oscars music if he goes over ten minutes, but we’ll see.”

You laugh at the mental image, although Jungkook looks stricken. Patting him on the arm, you turn to leave, but Jungkook reaches out and grabs your wrist. Pulling you towards him, he brushes a kiss to your forehead.

Surprised, you look up. “What was that for?”

Hoseok grumbles something about PDA in public places and leaves you. Left alone, Jungkook smiles down at you.

“I just want you to know,” he says softly. “I’m happier than I ever imagined I could be.”

Heart swelling, you stare back at him. Stepping closer, you feel his arms close around you and let your head rest on his chest.

“That makes two of us,” you tell him.

A beat passes, quiet until Jungkook says, “How long do you think until he cracks and tells Olya?”

“I bet she already knows.”

He laughs, the noise rumbling through you. “My money’s on after the ceremony.”

“Wanna bet?”

“You’re on.” Brushing his lips to your temple, Jungkook pulls back. “Win or lose though, one thing’s for certain.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

His arms tighten, lowering his face to yours. “I’ve already won. I have you.”

Unwittingly, you melt. “If you keep saying such cheesy things…”

“You’ll what?”

You smile. “I’ll never leave.”

“Perfect,” he murmurs, kissing you again.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading and to everyone who has been following this story since the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed :) This is the last part of this series. I do not have a tag list, so please do not ask to be added or ask about updates. My writing progress can be found in my updates schedule, linked in both my header and FAQ!

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©kpopfanfictrash, 2022. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook au #bts au #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook series #bts series

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 3 months ago

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A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 13

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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I wake up – still on the couch – to the blaring of my alarm at 6:30am, feeling a sense of deja vu. I curse myself for even beginning a fitness routine, even though it’s only been one day. But then I remember I have the opening shift today, and I’m actually thankful for the distraction. I quickly shove the half read and now slightly crumpled papers back in the envelope and into my backpack along with a pen. Now short on time, I slip into the first pair of clean clothes I can find and leave without breakfast. After impatiently waiting for the elevator for approximately 10 seconds I sprint down the stairs and all the way down the street to the cafe.

When I get to the door, the sign’s already flipped and there’s a lineup at the counter. I dump my bag and don my apron as quickly as possible while apologising profusely to Stewie who’s taking orders.

“Just get to work, the order’s are stacking up already.”

I do as I’m told and start rapidly making coffees, fancy hot cocoas and plating and heating treats from the display. I hand off the finalised orders to my coworker who had been rapidly cleaning the kitchen after Stewie’s busy morning. Through fractured conversations between orders I find out that the line up started earlier than usual after word had gotten out that a celebrity had dined here before Christmas. So far though, everyone seems oblivious that I’m the woman in the photo, or if they know they are just shrugging it off as me doing my job and serving him. I’m just thankful for the lack of probing and focus on turning out order after order.

Despite bringing the paperwork with the intention of reading and signing it during my break, with the influx of fans around me think better of it. Instead, I keep my head down and focus on just getting some food into my stomach during my break. After lunch I prepare to go home, when my coworker reminds me, I promised to work a double to swap my New Year’s Eve shift. I sigh, but nod, remembering the deal I made weeks prior. I retie my apron and set about delivering orders to tables. A few keen-eyed fans recognise me from the photo but to my pleasant surprise they just ask about what he was like and what drink he had. I claim to not remember as I serve so many people, but of course I remember every detail of that day, how could I forget?

After successfully evading questions all day and serving at least twice the normal number of customers, I’m utterly exhausted as I flip the sign. Yet, I push it aside to clean the whole cafe till it shines, still feeling guilty for being late and not helping with the early influx.

Needless to say, the paperwork is still burning a hole in my back and mind when I finally get home well after dark. Even so, I know I don’t have time tonight now. I need to spend the little remaining energy to completely finalise the plans for the Bachelorette party tomorrow night. I pull all the sashes, the dressup bridal tiara and plans out of the cupboard and lay them out on the coffee table. I organise everything in individual party bags; one for each bridesmaid and a special one for the bride herself. Each bag is complete with a sash, personalised hangover kit, and monogrammed cup in each lady’s favourite colour, along with the prepaid entry wristbands to a Moulin Rouge themed bar across town. The bride’s bag has all of that plus the tiara and a necklace with her birth stone and Future Mrs. Everhart on it. The whole event with all the gifts have me set back at least a few months in afterpay expenses – not to mention the drinks I’ll undoubtably end up buying on the night – but I know it will all be worth it when I see Stella’s face. She’s done so much for me, it’s finally my turn to attempt to return the favour. It’s after midnight by the time everything is completely ready to go.

Knowing I’ll be out well after it crosses into the new year, I force myself to push aside everything else and get as much sleep as I can, but not before deleting that exercise alarm. I figure that until I can afford to factor in a gym membership, I can be content with taking the stairs – which I already do most days – and being on my feet all day at the cafe. I shake my head at myself; already throwing away resolutions and it’s not even the new year yet.

It's well after nine when I wake up, which is the latest I’ve slept in, in a long time, but I know I needed it. I spend what’s left of the morning going through the NDA and finally sign it. I’m about to send a text to Jensen telling him as much along with an apology, when Stella calls. I know she took a half day today and tomorrow off completely to enjoy tonight, so I just know her excitement levels are through the roof. I answer.

“Hey bride-to-be! Ready to party tonight?”

“So ready! You coming over beforehand? Since you’ve kept it all a secret I need help with what to wear!”

“Always planned to. Uber is booked from your place after all. We’re all meeting there for predrinks and then heading out, sorry I didn’t ask, but I knew you’d be fine with it. I’ll head over soon. Nick’s Buck’s is tonight too right?”

“For sure! Sounds perfect! And yep! Though, knowing him I think it’ll be a pretty chill night. Mine better not be though, it is New Year’s Eve after all!”

“We’re going all out, don’t you worry! You’re gonna love it!”

“The other girls on board?”

“100 per cent! They love it as much as I do, and I much as I know you’re going to. Now stop fishing for hints! I’ll see you soon!” I hang up before she can try to push any further. I look around for something big enough to fit the party bags in as well as my outfit for tonight. After looking everywhere I settle on the box from Jensen. I rip off the postage label to avoid questions if the other girls see it and then take out the dress. I lay it on my bed and then pack everything into the box.

I manage on the subway with surprising ease, having managed to fit everything in a single box. I mentally thank Jensen for sending it because I really would have struggled otherwise. I sigh, he’s helping me in ways he doesn’t even know and yet I pushed him away. I quickly push away the thought, I can’t afford to think about any of that tonight; my complete focus needs to be on the bride-to-be and ensuring the best Bachelorette party she could ever dream of.

When I finally get to her place, I can tell she’s over excited because she opens the door before I even get on the porch. She tries to take the box but I hold tight. “Not yet! You have to wait until the others get here! Patience!”

She pouts and I giggle. She lets me in and I place the box down so I can pull her in for a much needed hug. Sticking to – at least some of – my resolutions and determined to make this day completely about her, I don’t say anything, but I relish in her warm comfort. When I pull away I take the box up to the guest room to take away the temptation for her before she drags me into the master suit so I can help pick out her outfit. I’ve been in close contact with the bestman to make special plans, so I know that Nick will be leaving before us, but I still want something that will surely overwhelm him at the end of the night. I’m also looking for something that will match the Moulin Rouge theme without ruining the surprise.

I explore her closet, rifling through her dresses, most of them are business casual, but I know that she’s a partier, so I just have to find those pieces. In hindsight, I probably could have picked her up something from the thriftstore where I got my outfit – which was surprisingly brand-new with the tags still attached – but I knew she’d have something appropriate. After shifting through and discounting her simple little black dresses, maxi dresses and short clubbing dresses I find one that I’ve never seen her wear. I give her a questioning look as I pull out the stunning, red sequined dress with a mesh midrift and slit in the thigh; it’s almost identical to mine except, mine is a deeper shade of maroon and is velvet instead of sequins. I can’t believe the chances.

“Did someone spill?” I ask as I hold the dress out to her.

“What? No? Is this a hint‽”

“When’d you get this dress then? I don’t remember it?”

“Nick and I planned to go to a fancy dress party a while ago, it was like a gala for a client I was trying to pitch, but that was when I had that terrible chest infection; lost the deal and missed the party…”

“That sucks! Well, tonight’s your chance. This is for sure the one!” I hang it on the back of the ensuite door before she leads me into the ensuite so we can both start doing our hair and make up. I turn on a party playlist to pump up the energy as I help brush and curl her shoulder-length auburn hair. She then returns the favour, curling and putting my hair into a half-up, half-down style with a bun, secured in place with silver and faux-diamonte pins. When I turn around and see her handiwork, I praise myself for buying the tiara, because she truly needs and deserves to stand out. We both then work on the base layers of our own makeup before helping eachother apply the finishing touches.

Just as we’re almost done, Nick appears in the doorway. “Alright, ladies…Trav’s here, I’m headed out.” He comes closer to Stella and goes to kiss her but she keeps him at an arms reach.

“Don’t mess with the makeup, it’s still setting. I love you, babe. Have fun! Let loose for once!”

He shakes his head at her with a fond smile. “I love you too. I’ll try. All I ask is that you be a little responsible, but have fun.” He leans down and pecks her neck instead, respecting her wishes to not mess the makeup. Then he looks at me, “Look after her.” I nod. Satisfied, he leaves.

I check the time on my phone; half an hour till the bridesmaids arrive. “T-minus 30 minutes! Time to get dressed and accessorise!” I help her slip into her dress carefully so she doesn’t mess up her hair and makeup. She swaps out her stud earrings for a dangly set that pair with a silver diamonte necklace. When she reaches for a sparkly headband I stop her, “I’ve got that covered.”

She sits on the bed to strap on a pair of silver, glittery stilettos and then puts the essentials – lipgloss, ID, money and her phone – in a matching purse before leading me back to the guest room to help me get ready. Her jaw drops when she see me in my dress, the resemblance really is uncanny.

She wolf whistles as she makes me do a spin. “Sexy! Let me take a photo! You have to send this to Jensen!”

“No, come on, tonight’s all about you!”

Despite my protests she takes both my phone and hers and takes photos of us both while I finish getting ready, putting my maroon block heels on, swapping out my jewellery for a fancy silver set my parents got me for my birthday, and then grab the quite pleasantly matching maroon purse I found at the same thrift store as my dress. The final step is to give Stella her tiara, I place it on her head, careful not to catch or mess up her hair. We both take a few more photos in the living room, at the bride-to-be’s insistence until the doorbell rings.

Stella drops everything and runs to the door to welcome in the two other bridesmaids: Felicity and Gabby. They’re both dressed to the nines in slightly revealing short sparkly dresses that resemble flapper dresses, Felicity in Gold and Gabby in a deep blue. I’d associate them a little more with The Great Gatsby but I know they’ll fit right in anyway; I saw that style dress come up when researching and in the movie that Stella and I have watched together numerous times. We all take more photos before I hand out the fancy gift bag. After gushing over everything, Stella pops out the wine and we each enjoy a drink out of the fancy, reusable, personalised cups. We also all put on our sashes and wristbands and take evenmore photos.

Before long the Uber is beeping out the front. We all pile in, just slightly buzzed, and joke around and converse noisily all the way to the bar. Stella’s jaw drops and she squeals the second she sees Moulin Rouge in flashing lights. “No way!”

“Yes way! I know it’s your favourite,” I tell her. She tackles me in a massive hug the second we step out of the Uber. We then flash your wristbands and ID for the security guard to skip the already growing line. Her excitement is palpable as she takes in actresses and barmaids and men dressed up in themed attires. A few men and a few ladies compliment our outfits as we push through the crowd to get closer to the dancefloor. Felicity disappears to get the first official round of themed cocktails while the rest of us dance and attempt to sing along to a DJ remix of the music from the movie.

After a few drinks I make sure Stella gets a dance with one of the professional performers and take video for her to relive it once the hangover wears off and she can’t remember a thing. The whole night, despite also getting lost in the fun, drinks and atmosphere, I manage to keep an eye on the time. It’s almost 11:30 when I start to try and move the party. I get the confirmation from the bestman that they’re also on the move, and start speeding things up.

“Another round?” Felicity asks loudly but I shake my head firmly and shoot her a warning look, trying to get her attention and remind her of the plan. Eventually she nods in understanding and stands up from the stools where we were resting after hours of dancing.

“Come on girls, let’s go get some air,” I say. Felicity joins me and Gabby finally catches on. Stella whines but obediently stands up.

“You promised me the night wouldn’t end before midnight!” she slurs, “It’s only half past 11.”

“Who said anything about the night ending? I just suggested a change of scenery.”

She huffs as we squeeze through the crowd and out onto the street. I ignore her pouting as I hail a waiting cab and show him the address on my phone, so as not to ruin the surprise for my best friend. My leg bounces to relieve my nerves as the driver swerves through the traffic. I know they’ll love seeing each other, but I also know Nick’ll be concerned about how much she’s drank. I can only hope Travis held up his side of the bargain and helped Nick let loose a little too. After what feels like an eternity of the girls trying to distract Stella, the driver finally pulls a park around the block from our destination at my request. I hope the little walk in the cold night air will help build the suspense and sober Stella up, if only a touch. I pay the driver as everyone gets out.

We take in all the flashing billboards, advertising all sorts of music, movies and appliances. Despite living in New York for years now, I rarely come into Times Square, except for when I do auditons. Coming from a small rural townin Texas, the packed streets make me feel extra claustrophobic, but I’m willing to push past that tonight for the sake of your best friend. So, I do. The four of us walk among the crowd of people all headed towards the same destination to watch the highly anticipated yearly ball drop.

Sure, to many it’s just a giant ball sliding slowly down a metal pole, but for many New Yorkers this is a rite of passage. Plus, what better location to secure my best friend her New Years kiss with the love of her life. I couldn’t think of anything she would love more. Thus, were shouldering our way through throngs of sweaty, drunk people – much like ourselves if I’m honest – to find the groom party at the agreed meeting place outside the Disney store.

As soon as we spot the boys, we start pushing into the middle of the closed-off street to get a better view. I watch Stella and Nick run into each other’s arms – or more like drunkenly stumble in Stella’s case – just in time for the countdown to begin. I watch in awe as the crowd calls out, counting down in time with the MC over the loudspeakers. My eyes flick between the ball, the crowd and my best friends. But as the countdown gets to one, there’s only one person on my mind.

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Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy, @winchesterwild78 @kr804573

#jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic

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evergreensandthunderstorms · 17 days ago

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Hey @gatoplanet I’ve been trying to live inside your polycule universe on AO3 and this is what comes of it — brain worms :) your series has been my absolute favorite and this is nowhere close, just inspired by, but I had to share anyways. xo your obsessive faithful commenter azazella99

Lestat’s make up artist is new here.

“I look like a bridesmaid in full glam, ce n’est pas— this is what you call rocker chic?! We have less than ninety minutes to fix—“ Tufts of lurid feather boa fly off Lestat as he shifts into impassioned French.

Celine looks near tears.

“He needs to look messier. Like he got gangbanged after hair and makeup,” Sam interrupts helpfully.

Everyone looks up at that: Daniel from his recline on the chaise, eyebrows raising from behind the latest Rolling Stone; Armand, from his kneel next to the chaise, definitely a violation, but Louis is distracted. Lestat licks his lips, looking at Louis. Celine blushes.

“Thanks, Sam. Celine, I think you’ve done all you can, here. You two take off.” Louis’ voice is low. Maitre, Daddy.

Sam is gone before Louis is done speaking — very in character. Celine fumbles with her kit, sends a few tubes of lip gloss rolling onto the carpet. “That’s fine, honey, you can leave that stuff here. We’ll see you later.” Daniel calls unsubtly from the chaise. He’s sat up, now, a hand resting on Armand’s hair. The girl scurries out of the room.

#amc iwtv #devils minion #diabolicule #armand #daniel molloy #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac

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srorgana1 · 4 months ago

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Vinyl Dreams

Rockstar Kylo Ren x Reader/Knights of Ren/D'Kar Staff

A day in the life of Y/N and Kylo: a normal work day gets interesting with a new hire.

Requested and inspired by my beautiful friend @ladyzimmerman and her love of Enzo Vogrincic ❤️ and a huge shoutout to my lovely Beta @mrs-zimmerman

"Y/N, Chewie would like you to join him for his two o'clock" Amelia's lightly spiced voice floats through your headphones. You nod your head subconsciously as you change channels on your headphones. "Okay, thank you Amelia. Let him know I will be there shortly" You hear her acknowledgment as she clicks off the line.

You turn back to see Ushar at the kit working through some different beats and cadences, toying with what the band had previously recorded. Kuruk and Trudgen are on the other side of the room, shooting the shit and fiddling with their instruments. You smile, seeing the glint of Trudgen's wedding ring on his hand, just recently returned from his honeymoon.

It was a wonderful affair to be honest. A small weekend getaway in Cabo San Lucas. His bride Carmen had asked you to be one of her bridesmaids and you will never forget their romantic ceremony on the beach at sunset. You also will never forget how Kylo looked alongside his band mate, his eyes glowing gold in the dying light and the way the salty sea breeze played with his long dark hair.

"Hey guys, I'll be back in a bit,” you say through the speaker. Ushar nods as he starts up again, his bare shoulders rocking to an unknown beat. You put the system on standby and take off your headphones, smoothing down your flyaways. You slide your feet back into your sandals and stand up, stretching out your back.

You head out the door into the busy hallway, the energy of the building making your smile grow. So much is happening here, so much positivity and creativity. You feel blessed you are a part of it. You head down the hallway, nodding a greeting to a couple interns and artists. They respond with a wave and smile.

You make it to the conference room and knock lightly. You wait to hear Chewie call you in. Walking in, you notice how nicely the day has turned out, the moody morning clouds passing to allow Los Angeles a perfect sunny afternoon. "Hi Y/N," Chewie says, a wide smile peeking through his beard. You nod back as you shut the door behind you.

That’s when you notice you are not alone. Sitting in the lone chair opposite Chewie is a young man who couldn't be more than twenty five. You watch his hand fidget with his shaggy hair, pushing it out of his eyes as he peeks at you with a nervous look.

You are stunned for a second at the similarities to Kylo. Similar dark rakish hair, dark eyes and facial structure. He bites his plush bottom lip and looks away. His eyes are darker then Kylo's, more olive than amber, but still hold that captivating nature. You shake yourself out of it, introducing yourself and offering him your hand.

He looks at your hand for a moment before stumbling out of his chair and takes it in his, giving it a firm shake. You hear Chewie chuckle behind you.

"Sorry" he says "just nervous. Chewie didn't tell me I would be meeting anyone else. I'm Enzo Roldán."

You nod, giving him a wide smile. "Welcome to D'Kar Enzo, Chewie told me he was doing some interviews today and told him to let me know when he had a good prospect" you say, giving him a wink as you let go of his hand.

You hear him swallow thickly as his cheeks pinken a bit as you all take your seats. He's adorable in your opinion. You suddenly think this is probably how Kylo would've looked when he first got picked up by First Order, all fresh faced and full of dreams.

You give him another warm smile, hoping it will calm the poor kid’s nerves. Chewie chuckles and shakes his head. "I know Y/N, I see it too" he whispers lowly in your ear. You watch Enzo's brow furrow as he seems to chew the side of his cheek, a look you are so familiar with. Creepy.

"So Enzo, I see you come highly recommended from your internship at Echo Station Records and your academic accolades are impressive, but why should we choose you for our junior producer position?" Chewie inquires as he eyes the young man. You know what he's doing. He's making Enzo prove he is the right pick. He did the same thing to you so long ago.

Enzo takes a breath and sits up straighter in his chair, his jaw set hard. You can see that fire in those dark eyes, his passion rising to the forefront. “Ever since I was a little kid in Uruguay, I have been in love with music. It was my safe space, my outlet for my feelings and emotions. When my family immigrated to the US, it was exposed to even more and it took over my life. I took every opportunity to learn everything I could and through that, I found my passion in the production/technology side of it. I moved across the country after college because I wanted to learn from the best. Echo was great, but I want to learn more and D’Kar is the best of the best. I promise you with everything I am, I will not let you down if you pick me.”

You see that glint in Chewie’s gaze as the young man finishes his speech. You know that look but hold your face in neutral, not wanting to give anything away. Enzo looks at both of you nervously, awaiting his fate. You allow yourself to relish in his similarities to Kylo: the tips of his ears peeking out of his mane of dark hair, how he nibbles on his bottom lip when in thought.

This type of passion is what D’Kar prides itself on. As an independent company, it was built on hard work and love of the craft. This kid has it, you decide. He will be a great addition to the D’Kar family.

"Well, Mr. Roldán, consider us impressed and we would like to offer you the junior music producer position. We feel you would be a great fit here. What do you say?" Chewie asks, pulling out a stack of papers and sliding them over to the stunned young man. You want to giggle at the awe-struck look on his face.

"W-what? R-really?" he stutters, rubbing his hand through his hair. Chewie lets out a large bark of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the side.

“Yes kid, really. We are looking for fresh insight and talent and you are it. What do you say?”

You almost let out a snort of laughter of your own at how quick Enzo sits up in his chair, causing it to wobble and creak under his weight. “Yes, oh my god, yes. I accept. You honestly have no idea how much I have hoped for this,” he rambles quickly, his cheeks reddening with emotion.

“Well Enzo, I’m glad you're as excited as we are. If you are okay with a quick break, I’ll call in our HR team so we can talk about benefits and the other boring bits,” Chewie pushes his chair back a bit, signaling the end of the interview. “Y/N, would you be so kind to show Enzo around and have him back in 15?”

You nod as you stand as well, gesturing towards the exit. “C’mon Enzo let’s show you around.” You hear him grumble as quickly collects his items and the folder Chewie gave him, clutching it close to his side. He is nervous, you remind yourself, don’t overwhelm him too quickly. You hope in your mind a certain someone doesn’t show up unannounced, as it was his day off after all.

Chewie opens the door for you both, giving one of his big grins which makes his eyes go squinty. “Have fun you two” he says as he ushers you through. You side eye him for a second, wondering if he has some ulterior motive. He chuckles again and begins lumbering to his office, his hands pushing in on his lower back.

You can feel Enzo’s eyes on you as you turn from your meddlesome mentor. “Well he was not what I was expecting” he mumbles dryly.

“Yes, Chewie can be a conundrum at best at times. But I promise he is the best boss I have ever had,” you praise, leading him down the main hallway. “Now on this side are the…”

You stop suddenly at a very familiar cackle of laughter coming from the studio rooms. Fuck. Before you can turn Enzo around, Vic’s head pops out from around the corner. His wide smile falls a bit into a slack expression, his wide eyes stuck on Enzo. Oh, double fuck.

“Holy Fuck Y/N he looks just like K…”

“Hey Vic, this is Enzo, one of our newest Junior Producers. Enzo, this is Vic, lead singer for The Knights of Ren, one of the bands we work with here” your words rush out quickly, praying to any deity who will listen for Vic to not finish his sentence. You motion to the awards and the album displayed on the wall before you. “Their album went multi-platinum and are currently working on their next one aren’t you Vic?” landing your sharp gaze on him.

He seems to get the message, his face slipping into a smug smile as he rounds the corner and offers out a hand. “Welcome Enzo, and yes we are. I can attest it’s some of our best work yet” he beams with a wink. You see Enzo is stiff in his movements as he shakes Vic’s hand, shocked that a famous rock star is talking to him.

A commotion starts up behind Vic as Trudgen, Kuruk and Ushar tumble out of the studio room. Of fucking course this couldn’t get worse now. You see Ushar holding Kuruk in a headlock, laughing loudly as his bandmate curses and bitches at him messing up his hair.

Ushar lets go and pushes him playfully, finally looking over at the three of you. “Holy shit Y/N! He looks like a younger Ren,” he announces loudly, making the other two men turn in interest. You feel so bad for Enzo at this moment, stuck under their interested gaze.

He clears his throat and pushes his hair back with his hand. “I’ve heard I have some resemblance,” keeping his voice steady.

“More than some”' Vic says with a smile, slapping his shoulder in a brotherly way. “No matter though, he’s one of the newbie producers, boys, Let’s show him around.”

“Actually he has to meet with Phasma and the HR team here in a bit, but you guys can come with us as I show him around,” you put a hand on Enzo’s shoulder. You needed to take control of the situation, the last thing you want is Enzo being scared off by these crazy fools.

“If that’s what the baby girl commands” Trudgen responds in jest, his shoulders shaking as he tries to control his humor.

Enzo now looks at you, his heavy brow furrowed in confusion. “Baby girl? Y/N, I feel like I’m missing something. What am I missing?” You take a breath, knowing you cannot run from it now.

“So you have obviously heard of Kylo Ren, right?” You watch him as he nods, his eyes stuck on you. “He is my husband. We aren’t super public about it yet, but around here, it is well known. He calls me “baby girl” and the guys just roll with it.”

You see a wash of understanding pass over his face as he looks over you quickly, noticing your rings and tattoos. “Oh! Oh okay, I get it now. The guys at Echo talked about you two often, how great of a team you two are and if something else was going on. Congratulations. He is an amazing musician and I am happy for you.” You can feel the stress leave your shoulders and give him a smile back.

“Thanks, but I think I am the lucky one.”

A series of awws and kissy noises erupt from your side. “Okay okay you all!” you yell. “Thank you for giving Enzo such a warm welcome, but now I only now have 7 minutes to show him around before I have to return him.”

You nudge Enzo forward with your elbow and he gets the hint. “It was great meeting you all and I can’t wait to get to get to know you all,” he says as he steps forward beyond them.

“Sounds good Enzo, see ya around” Vic says with a big smile. Trudgen and Ushar mumble their farewells as you two pass. “Bye Lil Ren!” Kuruk pipes up behind them. He lets out a peel of wild laughter as grumbles start up again.

You walk into the break room and stop before him. “I am so sorry about them. Neither Chewie or I really wanted that to come up today. Didn’t want to overwhelm or scare you off.” You see his eyes soften as he nods his head.

“No, I am okay, Y/N, and it’s not your fault. I heard stuff like this at Echo from them over there. I think it’s a funny coincidence now”. You smile and go on to show him the break room, the office lounge and sleep room before leading him back to the main hallway, with only a couple minutes to spare.

“Well Enzo, you enjoy your HR talk. Most likely you will be assigned to me so I will see you around. Don’t be surprised if that little nickname sticks around” you giggle.

“Oh joy, but it’s honestly better than my last nickname” he mumbles dryly, running a hand down his face.

“And that was?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not telling you, but I will allow you to guess'' he says with a wink.

You both turn when the conference room door opens and Chewie’s face pops out. “There ya are! I was getting worried.”

“No worries, Chewie. Our tour got held up by a couple rowdy members of you know who,” you say with a smile as you watch Enzo join Chewie.

“Oh yeah, I heard Kuruk going on about something… Lil’ Ren or something crazy like that.”

Chewie laughs loudly as Enzo’s cheeks flush at the confirmation that the nickname is already circulating on not even his first day. “Told ya Enzo, I guess you're stuck with it. I’ll see you guys later,” you say as you begin to head towards the lobby to check in with Amelia. You hear the two men say goodbye and the door shut behind you.

That was interesting, you think. You wonder how Kylo will react to a younger version of himself wandering around here. You don’t even make it to the lobby when you hear Kylo’s voice coming through a phone speaker very loudly followed by Ushar’s goofy laugh.

Oh joy, you think as you head that way, knowing you will be needed soon. You hear your name being yelled from the lobby as your phone begins vibrating in your back pocket. You cannot contain your laughter over the ridiculousness of it all and Kylo’s overdramatics. What a life you live, you think, but it’s amazing and wouldn’t change it for anything.

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Here is the whole collection (include the original story)

I hope you all enjoy, lemme know what you thing either here or on A03 🤘❤️

#rockstar! kylo ren #kylo ren au #kylo ren x reader #kylo x y/n #kylo fanfic #star wars au #knights of ren #musician au #music au #rockstar au #kylo ren #adam driver #enzo vogrincic #kylo x reader #knights of ren rock band

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haveamagicalday · 2 months ago

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Duel of the American Girl Dolls: Food and Drink Accessories (Round 1)

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penvisions · 3 months ago

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dev's fave movies

rules: list five of your favorite movies and let your followers decide which vibe fits you best

thank you so much, my lovely kit (@justagalwhowrites) ♡

np tags: @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @tuquoquebrute @evolnoomym @itsokbbygrl

@littlemisspascal @hiddenbabynyc @hier--soir @macfrog @joelsgreys

@jolapeno

#dev answers #dev's tagged games #movie game #i love love love movies #but it takes me three business days to finish them sometimes

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jrob64 · 1 year ago

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Silly Songs With Killian - a CS Modern AU One-shot

You can blame @sotangledupinit for this silly, but sweet, little story! She posted a prompt on Discord which caused my muse to jump to attention, and I wrote it in two days. If you're not familiar with the Veggie Tales videos, you'll still be able to enjoy this, but do yourself a favor and check out the songs on Spotify here. You don't have to be a kid to enjoy them and I guarantee they'll make you laugh!

Special thanks to Kit for making young Henry look even younger for the pic set, Mary for being my beta, and Krystal for being a second set of eyes for the Silly Songs lyrics and also for the pic set I created. It pays to have wonderful fandom friends!

Summary: After a frustrating and exhausting day, Emma Cassidy is relieved when her little boy, Henry, is entertained by a gorgeous musician at a restaurant, giving her a chance to sit back, relax, and enjoy the music (and the view!) It gets even better when the singer, Killian, sings some of Henry’s favorite Silly Songs from his favorite videos, Veggie Tales.

Rating: T

Words: 3946

Also posted to Ao3 and ffn

*********

It’s been one hell of a day. It wasn’t supposed to be this exhausting, but of course my ex, Neal, had to complicate things.

I was looking forward to going wedding dress shopping with my future sister-in-law Mary Margaret and her other bridesmaids, sipping champagne and giving my input on each of the possibilities. It was going to be so much fun.

And then...remember the saying that was popular many years ago - shit happens? Well, Neal can be used interchangeably with shit - they’re one and the same.

It was his scheduled weekend with our three-year-old, Henry, which was one reason why Mary Margaret chose this day. Then on Friday, almost an hour after Neal was supposed to pick Henry up at my apartment, he sent me a text: Something came up. Can’t make it this weekend. Tell Henry I’m sorry.

Apparently he turned off his phone after sending it, because he didn’t answer any of my increasingly volatile texts - eighteen of them, to be exact - or phone calls. I had to sit Henry in front of the television so I could go into my bedroom to leave some choice words on Neal’s voicemail.

Fortunately (or unfortunately for my sweet little boy) Henry is used to being let down by his father. In the eighteen months since we called it quits, Neal has skipped out on more weekend visits than he’s kept. I guess being a lying piece of shit takes up way too much of his time and he can’t spare any for his son.

Also unfortunately, all of the people who usually babysit for Henry were unable to watch him. Most of them were included in the shopping trip, my brother David was busy because he was painting the living room of the house he and his fiancée just bought, and Ruby’s Granny was off bowhunting with her new beau. (Bowhunting with her beau has been a running joke ever since she left a week ago.)

So instead of enjoying a carefree day of shopping with Mary Margaret, Belle, Ruby and Elsa, I had to keep an active, inquisitive toddler entertained in one bridal shop after another. We were all relieved when he finally fell asleep in the third shop, until the manager woke him up by screeching about how he was going to drool on the green velvet upholstery. That cost her any business she might have had from us (though in all honesty, her gowns were all hideous and looked like something only the Wicked Witch of the West might wear.)

Eventually, Mary Margaret said ‘yes to the dress’ in the fifth shop late in the afternoon, then we all decided to get an early dinner at a nearby restaurant that serves kids’ meals and has outdoor seating. If Henry has to spend one more minute inside today, I think he might have a complete meltdown.

After placing my order and getting Henry situated with the provided coloring sheet and obligatory four crayons, I hear someone speaking into a microphone and look over to see a guy standing on a small stage with a guitar. A very, VERY attractive guy.

“Good evening, everyone,” he says, and my jaw drops at the sound of his British accent. “My name is Killian and I hope you enjoy the music tonight. I do take requests. Feel free to sing along or dance in this nice, open area in front of me.”

“Oh, wow!” Belle gasps. “He’s very handsome, isn’t he, Emma?”

My jaw snaps shut and I turn to look at her. Seeing her sly smile, I teasingly say, “Why are you asking me? We all have eyes, you know.”

“Yes, but we all have significant others, too,” Ruby adds, which is completely unnecessary but, sadly, also completely true.

While my self pity begins to set in, the guy - Killian - strums his guitar and launches into the Eagles classic “Take it Easy”. Henry, who by this point has scribbled all over the coloring sheet, somehow managed to break his crayon into at least four pieces and, judging by the color of his teeth, took a bite of it as well, looks up with bright eyes. Since I allowed him to kneel on a chair instead of trying to strap him into a booster seat, he takes advantage of it and hops down.

Before I can chase after him, he makes a beeline for the open space in front of the admittedly gorgeous singer and begins jumping around in what passes for a three-year-old’s version of dancing. I sigh and start to get up, but Mary Margaret stops me with a hand on my arm. “Let him go. He’s been very good all day and deserves to burn off some energy. Besides, he’s only a few feet away and we can see him clearly from here.”

It doesn’t take much convincing for me to heed her advice. If someone else can entertain Henry for a while, I’m not going to complain.

When the song comes to an end, Killian acknowledges the smattering of applause and plays the extremely recognizable first chords of “All Right Now”. Henry doesn’t miss a beat, throwing himself around like a rag doll while all of us at our table, as well as most of the other diners, laugh delightedly at his exuberance.

By the time Killian is in the middle of his third song, “Old Time Rock and Roll”, our food arrives and I face the dreaded task of dragging my son back to the table to eat. I nibble at my fish and chips until the song ends, then dash to the makeshift dance floor to cajole Henry. When he shows the expected resistance, Killian chuckles and helpfully says, “Go with your mum, lad. I’ll play a slow song that’s not as much fun for dancing.”

True to his word, he croons the song “Everything I Do, I Do It For You” as Henry acquiesces and comes back to his seat to shove French fries into his mouth as fast as possible. It might not be a good song for Henry’s style of dancing, but Killian’s smooth voice singing the beautiful lyrics is sending pleasant chills down my spine.

Another song with a slow tempo follows, during which my little man polishes off his fries. But when Killian starts “Footloose”, all bets are off and Henry is back on the dance floor with a chicken nugget squeezed into both of his chubby fists.

After we finish our meals, Belle, Ruby and Elsa leave to spend the rest of the evening with their boyfriends. Mary Margaret lingers, telling me she’ll stay to keep me company, because she’d rather not have to help David clean up his painting mess. We don’t want to take up a table, so we move to some empty seats along the edge of the patio from where we can still see my little dancing king.

“You’d think his battery would run down soon,” Mary Margaret comments.

“Are you serious? That kid is like the Energizer bunny, plus he’s been cooped up in stuffy dress shops all day. My money is on the singer wearing out before Henry.”

She’s uncharacteristically quiet for several minutes. When she finally speaks, she says quietly, “He really is very handsome and seems like a nice guy.”

Her statement is out of left field and I’m confused. “Who?”

“The singer - Killian,” she clarifies.

I narrow my eyes at her. “What’s your point?”

“No point. I was just making a comment,” she shrugs, all innocence.

I don’t believe her. Mary Margaret is the queen of set-ups and wears the crown proudly. She introduced Belle to Will, Ruby to Jefferson and Elsa, well, she introduced Elsa to Victor, but that didn’t work out very well. Elsa met Graham on her own.

“I’m not looking for someone to date, Mary Margaret. I’m still dealing with my idiot ex and trying to concentrate on raising my son not to follow in his father’s footsteps.”

“I understand, but…”

And it’s at this point I resign myself to the fact she’s going to spout some argument that’s going to weaken my resolve not to date.

“If Henry had a really good male role model in his life, it would help you in raising him to be a gentleman.”

“Seems to me David does a pretty good job of that, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I know,” she sighs, “but between working, getting the house ready and planning the wedding, his time with Henry is very limited.”

“The house will be ready before you get married and the wedding is in less than five months. After the honeymoon, he’ll have more time.”

“Oh, but then we’ll have children of our own, and you know how much time that takes.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re pregnant, Mary Margaret?”

‘’What?” she gasps. “No! I’m just saying…”

“I know what you’re saying and I hear you. If the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t be opposed to dating him, but I’m not gonna try to force something to happen.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a date for the wedding, though?” she presses.

“Henry will be my date. He’ll be very dapper in his little tux.”

“But…”

“No buts, Mary Margaret. I don’t want to be set up with someone just so I don’t look pathetic at your wedding.”

We both fall silent as we watch Henry continue to dance in front of the bemused musician. Glancing at the time on my phone, I realize he’s been at it for well over an hour and isn’t showing any signs of slowing down. It’s beginning to get dark and I know I’ll have to wrangle him into the car before too much longer for his bath and bedtime.

I feel a little sorry for Killian, though. Nobody else has taken him up on his offer to dance, despite his repeated invitations. In fact, most of the diners aren’t paying attention to him at all. I hate to take his number one fan home, especially when I’m able to sit back and relax while listening to some seriously good music.

“I’m going to take a little break and then I’ll be back,” Killian announces, lifting the guitar strap over his head.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue to take Henry home,” I say to Mary Margaret.

“I suppose so,” she agrees. “Let me say goodbye to him and then I have to be on my way, too. According to his text, David is anxious for me to see how the living room turned out.”

We both stand up and move toward the stage, but I stop in my tracks. Killian is squatting down in front of Henry, listening to him with a huge smile on his face. I don’t know what Henry is saying, and I’m not sure Killian will be able to understand it anyway. Henry has an extensive vocabulary for a three-year-old, but I listen to him with ‘mom ears’, which means I can actually decipher what he’s trying to say.

When we reach them, Killian looks up at us and whatever I was going to say flies right out of my head. From a distance, the man is handsome. Close up, he’s nothing short of breathtaking. Carefully trimmed scruff covers a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, his cheekbones would put every male model to shame, and his dark hair is swept back from his forehead with a few rogue strands hanging down enticingly. Even his slightly pointed ears are adorable.

But it’s his eyes that shut down the functioning part of my brain. To say they are blue is like saying the sun is a tad bit warm, and the way the waning light catches them makes them shine like sapphires. I’m aware that my mouth is hanging open like a fish on dry land, but I can’t seem to make it form actual words.

“Hello, Killian. We’ve been thoroughly enjoying your music tonight, even if we haven’t been showing it as much as this little guy.”

Thank God for the natural chattiness of Mary Margaret.

Killian reaches out to ruffle Henry’s sweaty hair, then stands up. “I’m very happy to hear that,” he says in that beautiful, lilting accent. “I was just telling young Henry here that I’ll play some special songs for him after the break.”

I finally find my tongue. “Oh, but I was coming to tell Henry it’s time to go home.”

My little con artist turns his baby browns on me. “Please, Mommy. I be a good boy, I pwomise.”

That’s just great. Now if I take him home, I’ll have to forfeit my Mom of the Year award.

Mary Margaret laughs. “Well, Henry and Emma may be able to stay, but I really have to go.”

Why did she emphasize my name so much? As if I don’t already know.

She hugs Henry and me, tells Killian goodbye, and winks at me as she passes by. Even without trying to set me up, she’s setting me up.

I look back at Killian, who finishes chugging a bottle of water and grins at me. Reaching out to take my hand, he shakes it and says, “It’s nice to meet you, Emma, and little Henry.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Killian. Thanks for entertaining my son tonight.”

“It’s been my pleasure. I love how uninhibited kids are, and how joyful.”

“Well, his day certainly didn’t start out joyfully at all.” I shouldn’t have said it, but I’m still boiling about what Neal did to his own son, especially when this stranger seems so happy to spend time with him.

“No?” Killian questions. “May I ask what happened?”

I glance down at Henry, not wanting to bash his no-good father in front of him. He’s happily lining up little stones he collected along the edge of the patio, oblivious to the conversation going on above him.

“He was supposed to be with his dad this weekend, but he canceled. Again. So Henry was stuck shopping for wedding dresses with us all day.”

“I see.” He ponders for a second. “Would that wedding dress be for the lovely lass who just left…or someone else?”

“Yeah, it’s for Mary Margaret. She’s engaged to my brother.”

“I’m very glad I was able to make Henry’s day better, because his dancing did the same for me.” We watch Henry play, babbling to himself. “He seems like a happy little lad,” Killian observes.

“I do my best, but as a single mom, I make a lot of mistakes.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Love. All parents make mistakes. It’s a good thing kids have perfect aunts and uncles,” he says with a smirk.

“So, are you an imperfect father or a perfect uncle?” Am I really flirting with him right now?

“I have two nieces, so that would make me the latter.”

“Do you get to see them very often?”

“Aye, they live just a few miles from me, so I spoil them as often as possible. They’re my brother Liam’s girls.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re originally from the U.S., if you don’t mind me saying.”

He chuckles again, rubbing his finger behind his right ear. “We were born in England and lived there until I was fourteen, then my father took a job here so we moved across the pond.”

“That explains the accent.”

He nods and checks his watch, blowing out a breath. “I should probably get back to my set. Will you allow young Henry to stay for a few more songs?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Sure. What’s another fifteen minutes in the grand scheme of things?”

A genuine smile splits his face. “Excellent! I think he’ll particularly like the next three or four songs I play.” He looks around and grabs a nearby chair from an empty table, setting it down beside me. “Won’t you please have a seat, Emma?”

“Such a gentleman,” I say, sinking onto the offered chair.

“Oh, I’m always a gentleman.”

Somehow I don’t mind him flirting with me.

He steps back on the stage, slips his guitar into place, and positions himself in front of the microphone. After giving me a wink, he announces in an overly accented, squeaky voice, “And now it’s time for Silly Songs with Killian. The part of the show where Killian comes out and sings…a silly song.”

I burst out laughing at the very familiar words. Henry is addicted to Veggie Tales, the wacky shows featuring talking fruits and vegetables. I love them because they teach good moral values; he loves them because they’re hilarious. His favorite part of every video is Silly Songs with Larry the Cucumber, which we watch over and over and over again. Apparently he conveyed this obsession to Killian.

Killian closes his eyes, somberly strums his guitar, and sings, “Oh, where is my hairbrush? Oh, where is my hairbrush? Oh where, oh where, oh where, oh where, oh where, oh where, oh where, oh where, oh wherrrrrrrre…is my hairbrush?”

Henry is jumping up and down like a kangaroo on a pogo stick, shouting, “Mommy! Mommy! It’s the Lawwy song! Keeyin is singin’ the Lawwy song!”

Wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, I look around at the half-dozen people at the tables, who are looking at the musician like he’s lost his damn mind. Bunch of sticks in the mud. Lighten up.

But Killian isn’t bothered by their response, or lack thereof. He smoothly transitions to another of Henry’s favorite silly songs. “Oh, everybody’s got a water buffalo. Yours is fast, but mine is slow. Oh, where’d we get them, I don’t know. But everybody’s got a water buffalo, oooooo.”

Henry is beside himself with excitement. He’s running around in a circle, waving his arms in the air in his best impression of a rabid chimpanzee.

Killian moves on to sing a few lines of “I Love My Lips” (I can’t help thinking I’m quite fond of them, too), followed by “The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything”.

By this time, the diners have relaxed, laughing and clapping along with the crazy tunes. Meanwhile, my son has finally worn himself out, collapsing in a small heap in front of the stage, looking up at Killian adoringly.

“...and we’ve never been to Boston in the falllllll,” Killian concludes with a flourish and takes a deep, dramatic bow.

I dig into my purse and pull out a twenty dollar bill. I always try to watch my budget, but I’ll skip getting a chocolate caramel latte for a few days to compensate. It’s worth it for what Killian did for Henry tonight.

Walking up to the stage, I drop the bill into the tip jar, smiling up at the singer. He’s between songs, so I say, “Thank you so much, Killian. You’re my hero for entertaining Henry tonight. It was great and he loved it, didn’t you, kid?”

Henry jumps to his feet. “I weally did, Keeyin! I love Lawwy songs!”

“What do you tell him?” I prompt.

“Thank you, Keeyin,” he says obediently.

“You’re very welcome, lad. I play here again in three weeks. Perhaps you can stop in and see me again?” He’s talking to Henry, but he’s looking at me.

“Can we, Mommy?” Henry pleads.

I know we probably can’t. This restaurant is all the way across the city from where we live, plus it’s pretty expensive. Mary Margaret footed the bill today, but twelve bucks for a kid’s meal is a little steep and I won’t pay it. I don’t want to say any of this though, because my tired son is walking a thin line between lingering happiness and an emotional collapse. So I use the parental standard, “We’ll see.”

Taking Henry’s hand, I say, “Thanks, again, Killian. Have a good evening.”

Something that looks like slight panic flashes through those gorgeous eyes of his and he speaks into the microphone, “I’ll be back in five, folks.” He slides his guitar around to his back and steps off the stage, placing himself directly in front of me. “Emma, if I may be so bold, and if you’re not already dating someone, would you consider going out with me?”

“Wh-what?” Apparently, getting asked out by the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on renders me a bit stupid.

He lightly wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me further toward the side of the patio for some privacy. “Even though we just met, I would really like to get to know you better.”

“But…but you don’t even know my last name.”

“What is it?”

“Cassidy.”

“Mine is Jones, so now we know each other a little better already.”

I stare at him, trying to think of a single reason why I should say no to him. “I…we…um…Henry and I, we…uh…we come as a packaged set.” That’s the way, Emma. Use your kid to try to scare him off. And you did it so gracefully, too.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m really quite fond of your son. That’s not a deal breaker,” he states firmly. He still hasn’t let go of my wrist and now he’s rubbing his thumb over it. I find I don’t mind at all.

“I…”

“Mommy, potty!” Henry announces.

Oh, geez. Killian has to get back to his set and Henry has to pee. I’m running out of time.

Dropping Henry’s hand, I rummage through my purse, trying to find a pen. “Got a piece of paper?” I ask, mid-rummage.

Killian dashes to his guitar case and pulls out a piece of sheet music, returning with it just as I locate the elusive pen. He plants his foot on a chair and slaps the paper down on his knee so I can scribble my number on it.

When I finish, I lift Henry into my arms and take off to find a bathroom. Before disappearing inside the restaurant, I glance back at Killian. He’s still standing where I left him, a broad smile on his face as he grips the paper in his hand. Raising my free hand, I give him a little wave and he returns it.

After I’ve had time to think about it, I might regret giving him my number. Right now I just have to keep my kid from peeing down the front of my dress.

*********

A year ago, Killian Jones was my hero for giving me a chance to relax while he entertained my son. Five months later, he was once again my hero by being my date to Mary Margaret and David’s wedding. Today, he’s still my hero because he’s continuously proving that not all men are incomparable asses.

On the contrary, he’s everything I dreamed a man should be, once upon a time. Killian Jones is talented, intelligent, funny, considerate, masculine, caring, loving, passionate, and a great conversationalist, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous (if I didn’t mention that, it would be a crime.) He’s the total package and I’m head-over-heels in love with him.

Oh, and he’s a fantastic role model for my little boy. I usually hate to admit when Mary Margaret is right, but in this case, she was unequivocally correct. He and Henry absolutely adore each other and it makes my heart so happy. They do everything together - read books, play Star Wars with lightsabers, build block towers, climb trees, ride bikes, you name it.

And Henry loves singing silly songs with his soon-to-be stepfather. What more could a mother want for her son? Except, perhaps, a sibling.

Killian and I are working on that…and thoroughly enjoying every second of it.

*********

Thank you for reading. I hope it brightened your day!

Tagging: @hookedmom @kmomof4 @cs-rylie @qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @wyntereyez @the-darkdragonfly @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @julesep3026 @courtorderedcake @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @captainswan4life85 @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @huntressandlioness1 @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @laschatzi @zaharadessert @jennjenn615 @yasbio2015 @lyssapup27 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @singersdd @mie779 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @bdevereaux-blanche @soniccat @searchingwardrobes @jarienn972 @apiratewhopines @softkilly @goforlaunchcee @kymbersmith-90 @captainswan217-blog

#csff #silly songs with killian #cs modern Au #one shot #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #captain swan fanfic #henry is little #anti-neal #emma & neal are divorced #killian is a musician #cs fanfic #silly songs from veggie tales

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cyraclove · 2 years ago

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my little bit of something blue

Explicit

Chapters 1/2

Eddie Munson/Chrissy Cunningham

“You, um…you said something about Nancy?”

“Yeah, right. Yeah. You hear about her and Byers?”

Eddie had gone on to explain that Johnathan called not only to tell him about the engagement, but to ask if he’d be a groomsman. There had been a subtle shift in his attitude towards the whole thing when Chrissy said that she’d already agreed to be one of Nancy’s bridesmaids, like he’d been told that an upcoming exam he had been dreading would be open-book.

The lingering dregs of winter melted into a spring that bloomed into summer. Chrissy helped Nancy settle on lavender for the bridesmaids’ dresses and peonies for her bridal bouquet. Eddie watched while she hemmed a pair of Wayne’s old suit pants for him, pins in her teeth and her grandmother’s sewing kit on the picnic table behind her. Chrissy kept lying to her mother, and Eddie kept making peanut butter sandwiches.

July eventually came, bringing Nancy and Johnathan’s wedding day with it.

#new fic new fic #cyraclove writes #hellcheer #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #munningham #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction

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rereadanon · 1 year ago

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✨Tag Game Tuesday✨ oops Wednesday again!

Thank you for the tags friends @celestialmickey @thepupperino @deedala @gallawitchxx @mikhailoisbaby @whatthebodygraspsnot @michellemisfit it felt like a hug that I really needed!

name: anna 🍌

age: 38

how many hours of sleep did you get last night? I think 5.5? We are on vacation and my toddler is not vibing well without his bed.

which do you use more: tumblr mobile or desktop? Like 90% mobile. I visit the site when I need mental breaks while I’m doing homework (so like every 5 minutes) and there are a couple things I don’t know how to do yet on mobile (copy and paste?)

a hobby you’d like to pick up: I have a few cross stitch kits waiting for me, but also I did stained glass in high school and I really want to do that again!

if you were a crayon, what color would you be? I really want to say purple glitter 💜

what was your average screen time last week? It’s high and I don’t feel bad! (I feel badly but I’m a WIP)

a song you put on every playlist: WAP by Cardi B. feat Megan Thee Stallion. I said what I said.

something on your bucket list: cooking classes all over the world

you’re invited to a costume party, what are you dressing up as? Melissa McCarthy’s character from Bridesmaids, the airplane/air marshal scene.

what show takes up the most space in your brain? Shameless duh. But probably The Office otherwise, I can practically recite the first three seasons from memory.

and finally, share something you’re looking forward to: my summer class being over! Going to Maine in August! This toddler sleeping through the night! My bestie’s baby being born! Getting to know all of you better! The next The Menagerie update! More words from my friends! More art from my friends!

Tagging @heymrspatel @gardenerian @whaticameherefor @palepinkgoat @vintagelacerosette @arrowflier @creepkinginc @crossmydna @energievie and anyone else so inclined to participate! Sending everyone some love!

#tag games

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saintalectoshomeforwaywardgirls · 11 months ago

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12/10/2023: It's a very, very exciting day at St. Alecto's! It's the arrival of our first boy resident and he's just in time to celebrate Hanukkah!

Everyone, please meet Palamedes Sextus, necromantic heir of the Sixth House and Master Warden of its Library, the other half of Camilla's soul and Dulcie's beloved as well. (He's an unaltered Just Like You 76.)

As you see, Pal arrived at the party slightly before his girls; Dulcie and Cam were just coming in when they saw him. Cam got first dibs to hug hello, and then it was Dulcie's turn.

Then they brought him in to join the Hanukkah celebration with new friend Rebecca! Dulcie isn't Jewish, but she very much wants to be a part of the celebrations and learn about their culture because she loves her people; Pal and Cam are, by decree of headcanon, Jewish, though obviously not Orthodox about it. And of course, Rebecca is canonically Jewish!

Dulcie is wearing, admittedly, Elizabeth's Quilted Cloak; I'm sure Elizabeth will join the family someday, but she hasn't yet, and she'll just have to get a different cloak because this one is perfect for Dulcie. Her blouse was part of a set by JessicasDollCloset on Etsy; her skirt and shoes are from the Junior Bridesmaid Outfit circa 2002. She's also, you might notice, using the official Arm Crutches; I'll be discussing her mobility aids/disability in a separate post later.

Cam is wearing Kit's Winter Coat, which maybe she'll give back to Kit if Kit ever arrives here or maybe Kit will get a different one. They're also wearing the School Jumper dating back to 1996, except the headband and boots (her boots are just ones we have in our collection already); feminine presentation is not so much Cam's thing ("demigirl" is probably the closest word) but this is straightforward and not too frilly. They're also using this scarf from agdolltreasures on eBay as a prayer shawl.

Pal is wearing the shoes he came with, because he hasn't gotten better ones yet. His coat comes from Karensdollkreations(and doesn't he look like a little Doctor Who in it); his pants are from Treasuredmomentssj; his blouse (with a floral pattern on it, because Dulcie has rubbed off on him) is from IZAFashionsOfficial; for Hanukkah he's wearing a little kippah from BedsnBlankies. All of those shops are on Etsy.

Rebecca is wearing her first Hanukkah dress with the boots from her school outfit. She's so thrilled to have friends to celebrate with! The Hanukkah set is also the official American Girl one.

#saint alecto's home for wayward girls #american girl #american girl dolls #american girl doll customs #american girl ooak #dulcie #camilla #palamedes #rebecca #hanukkah

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nothing0fnothing · 5 months ago

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When I was 17 my mother befriended a girl I'll call Amy.

Amy was a sweet, trusting, under confident 24 year old girl with a messy family life. She was no or low contact with her family, she was a single mum escaping a 6 year abusive relationship and she was an incredibly talented makeup artist.

I'm not saying she was just good at makeup, she was, but she had just left beauty school and was doing incredible things with makeup even as a freshly minted beautician. She had scored a couple of theatre and music video gigs doing makeup for small productions. She is incredibly talented and that talent shone through even in the very early days of her career.

So the incredibly talented Amy had met my mum in a really complex part of her life. She wasn't working because her son was too little to be in school and as a single mum she was his only caretaker. She had no help and support and when my mum came on the scene, so my mum became everything she needed. Childcare for her son, fronting money to buy her an entire makeup kit to replace the one she had to leave behind when she fled domestic abuse, acting as a friend and confidant. Amy thought the sun shone out of my mums arse, and she'd tell me every time I saw her. I can't really blame her.

So, after my mum fronts the money for the makeup kit and plays babysitter to her son for a few months she starts getting her "work". And by work I mean experience. My mum wanted Amy to do makeup for a big wedding of a woman she kinda knew. A big job working on a bride and her 7 bridesmaids alone. For free. My mum then hosts her own event and not only do her and her posse need their makeup done but also they need someone to paint kids faces. The event cost a bomb to produce but made my mum a lot more. Amy worked for free. My mum is renewing her vows and she wants a makeup artist for herself and her 2 bridesmaids. Amy worked for free on that too.

Then my mum decides if Amy can be a damn good MUA, how hard can it be? Enrolls herself in beauty school and decides is going to be so easy because she has a private tutor on call whenever she needs her. And Amy helps my mum all the time, but she's a busy woman. She has a son and her work is picking up and she is busy, she can't just be available at the drop of a hat every time my mum is stuck on her coursework. So she starts declining to help, suggesting they make plans for later in the week and my mum hated that. How dare Amy not be available to her 24/7 after all she did for her?

So my mum starts declining to watch her son. Making plans with her then cancelling last minute. Amy loses out on real work because my mums a flake and is trying to punish her.

Then the biggest issue happens. Some dude my mum barely knows drunkenly hits on Amy at my mums friends New Year's Eve celebration. Amy tells my mum in tears, my mum initially pretends to be on Amy's side, but after talking with her friend about it, decides Amy's at fault or lying or is a slut who wants to ruin her life or something I don't know, only she does because she's crazy.

My mum tells Amy that she needs to give her the £10k she spent on her professional makeup kit a year ago. My mum didn't spend £10k on that kit. Amy also never asked my mum to buy it for her, but here was my mum threatening not only their friendship but legal action if Amy didn't pay it back.

Amy didn't pay it back. Their friendship ended. My mum never pursued legal compensation and a month after it all went down Amy was never mentioned again.

#wild story #narcissistic abuse #vent post #raised by narcissists #toxic parents

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soupsnakessss · 1 year ago

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Exactly 10 years ago… nearly to the date! Mindy and BJ were in Montana for her friend Christina’s wedding, where Mindy was a bridesmaid. 10 years later and they went back to Montana but with Kit and Spencer in tow 🥰🥰🥰

#❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️#mindy kaling #bj novak #then and now

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skyler10fic · 2 years ago

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To Have and to Hold: Ch. 3 Taste of Success

By Skyler10

Read on Ao3

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

Daisy had a slow week at work and was able to launch a simple wedding website by the following weekend. One page included their story, ending with their coincidentally mutual Christmas proposal. She uploaded photos of the two of them at various stages of their relationship and one of their rings. Daisy remembered with a start that they hadn’t taken engagement photos. Oh well, that shoot could come later even if they just had a friend take a few on a nice day. On the location page, she added a few photos of the chapel she had taken on their visit and typed its address. The registry page would have to stay blank for the moment. Eventually, she’d make a digital RSVP option as well, but before they could decide on and send invitations, they needed to decide on a caterer to know if there was a meal option—and whether they wanted a meal at all or just hors d’oeuvres.

There were still so many decisions to make. Late one night as she stressed about their long to-do list, Carol reminded her that not every conversation they had at the end of the day had to be wedding choices and researching their options. They needed to also just relax together and talk about other things. Carol had said it gently, trying to avoid a fight, but Daisy surprised her by being relieved at the reminder. They had time. Not much for some things, but enough to still live their lives outside of planning and decision-making.

They decided to keep the wedding itself small, and the wedding party even smaller. Carol’s lifelong best friend, Maria, would be her bridesmaid with her young daughter, Monica, as flower girl. Daisy’s bridesmaid would be Jemma, with her husband, Fitz, on piano and Elena on violin playing, “She Keeps Me Warm” by Mary Lambert.

“But just the two instruments,” Daisy clarified. “No karaoke track cheese, please.” Which Fitz teased her relentlessly about, especially saying that he was going to program a drum kit. Daisy reminded him she had earned her black belt before graduating high school, and that put an end to the teasing… for a while.

The question of who would walk them down the aisle came up during a video call with Daisy’s parents, during which Phil offered both arms if they wanted to walk down together, but Carol reassured him that her Aunt Wendy would do it. Melinda would walk down first, escorting her parents to their seats, then Wendy and Carol, and then Phil and Daisy.

Elena’s husband, Mack, was ordained as a minister in their small, progressive church, so he volunteered to officiate. And Elena would help their adorable toddler son, Alfie Jr., in his ringbearer duties.

That left the people they would need to hire, including catering for the reception, a bakery for the cake, and a photographer.

—----------

The second Saturday in March, they had a cake tasting at a small but renowned bakery across town. Daisy shoved her laptop into her bag as Carol pulled the car into the bakery’s parking lot.

“Okay, we only have one shot if this is the one we go with, so we have to each pick our top three possibilities, not just what sounds good today,” Daisy said like she was a coach at timeout.

They got out of the car and walked up to the bakery, but before they went inside, Carol pulled Daisy to the side of the door.

“Hey, let’s enjoy this okay?” She took Daisy’s hand. “It’s a cake tasting! Possibly the most fun part of wedding planning. Just breathe with me, okay?”

Daisy took in deep breaths, as instructed. “Right. You’re right. It’s just cake.” She turned and saw a sample wedding cake in the window with two grooms. “Oh thank god.”

Carol noticed too. “Is that what you were really stressed about?”

“Well!” Daisy shrugged. “It’s been in the news for years with the courts and stuff, I just, I don’t know, didn’t want to get yelled at when they realize I’m not your bridesmaid or something.”

Carol squeezed Daisy’s hand. “I promise. I made sure every bakery I called knew this wedding cake is going to have two little brides on it and they were fine.” She gestured to the two-groom cake on display. “Can we go try sample bites of cake now?”

“Yes, please,” Daisy said in a bashful voice. Carol opened the door and they went in, determined to enjoy the moment.

And they did, for the most part. A few of the flavors were not to their taste.

“Hm.” Daisy scrunched her nose. “Not that one, sorry.”

Carol’s eyes widened as she put a different flavor in her mouth. “Ooo! This one.” She pointed with her fork and then had a different idea. “Here.” She put a bite on her fork and lifted it to feed it to Daisy. Daisy helped guide Carol’s hand so they didn’t make a mess.

“Oh! Wow. Yes.” Daisy reacted once she’d had a moment to taste it. “That might be the one?”

Carol gave her an “I told you so” look. “I think I could eat that every day and not get tired of it.”

The baker, a middle-aged man with twinkling dark eyes, returned just in time to see their impressed reaction. He clapped his hands once and inquired, “How are we doing over here, ladies? Have we found a winner?”

Carol and Daisy exchanged glances and both said, “Yes” at once.

“What is this one?” Daisy asked.

“Ah, that flavor is called Happy Ever After. It’s a vanilla with a hint of raspberry and almond and my secret ingredient.”

Carol took this as a challenge. She leaned her elbows on the counter and narrowed her eyes. “Hmm, butter?”

The baker laughed and winked. “That’s no secret. Plenty of real butter here. And our traditional recipe buttercream, also with a special ingredient, of course.”

Carol couldn’t tell whether there really was a secret to the buttercream or if he was just teasing her, so she just nodded. “Ah. Of course.”

��Now.” The baker plopped a heavy photo album on the counter. “Let’s talk design.”

None of the designs were exactly what Daisy had been picturing so she showed him some photos on her laptop, and he flipped to a different section. In 20 minutes, they had exactly what they wanted all planned out. The baker took notes on each part, from flavor to decoration to a topper. As it turned out, the little brides cake topper would be metaphorical, as they decided on a cascade of flowers wrapping from the top down around the sides of the three small tiers and to the base.

“And what are your colors?” the baker asked, writing and sketching on his notes. When they hesitated, he looked up.

Daisy blurted out, “Lavender, silver, navy, and gold.” She looked to Carol for approval.

“Yeah!” Carol blinked in awe at how easy that was. “That was the palette I picked, though. Are you sure?”

The baker turned his sketch around so they could imagine the colors on it.

“I’m sure.” Daisy placed her hand on Carol’s on the counter to assure her it really was what she wanted too. “It’s us.”

“Excellent,” the baker hummed, more to his notes than to them, lost in his artistic visions.

And so that was two decisions down, with a million more to go.

As Daisy and Carol left the bakery, Daisy’s phone rang.

“Hey, is this Daisy Coulson?” a young woman’s voice asked.

“That’s me,” Daisy answered as she got in the car and closed the door. “How can I help you?”

Carol waited to start the car until Daisy could tell her what was happening. Daisy noticed and put the call on speaker.

“This is Nadia, from Delights Catering. I know this is super last minute, and I told you before that we didn’t have any tasting spots open today, but, um, we’ve had an opening.”

Daisy picked up on her stress. “Rough day?”

Nadia admitted, “Not as rough for me as for the couple whose whole wedding party got the flu last night and just now called to cancel. But their order of nearly everything on the menu is almost done, and it might as well be used. We’ll have everything ready if you can be here in the next half hour. And bring family or your wedding party if you want. We’re prepped for 100 over here. And I’ve only got five other couples left on my list to call.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows in silent question to Carol who nodded enthusiastically. It was past lunchtime and they were getting hungry. Those little cake samples hadn’t been filling.

“Sure thing, Nadia. We’ll be right over.” Daisy programmed the address of the convention center the catering company operated out of into Carol’s phone and used her own to send a group text to the wedding party, at least their friends in town. Phil and Melinda were too far away, but she sent them a separate text updating them on the cake and colors decision and telling them they were headed over to the caterer.

Melinda sent back a thumbs up, a sunglasses smiley face, and a cake emoji. Phil sent a gif that said Great Work! and said to let them know how the menu tasting went.

Carol neared the exit and realized they hadn’t ever decided on what time of day the wedding would be exactly, which would determine what food they decided on from Delights Catering’s menu.

“We have the venue all day,” Carol reasoned, “so it would be up to us.”

“What if…” Daisy hesitated to say it, as unromantic as it was. “What if we see what Nadia has on the menu and pricing, and that determines the timing?”

“Okay, besides food though, when are you picturing this? Evening ceremony with dinner and a reception where we dance into the night? Or more like early afternoon so we can see the park around the chapel with an outdoor reception? I could go either way.”

“Before I answer that, here’s another factor.” Daisy paused to point to the side street Carol needed to turn down. “Do we want to leave for our honeymoon that night or spend our wedding night at home and then leave the next day? And also, where are we going?”

“Or, we could stay downtown in a fancy hotel honeymoon suite, so we wouldn’t be far from the airport, and then leave the next day. To wherever.”

“Yes! Oh. I like that.” Daisy added “find honeymoon suite and destination” to her to-do list.

Nadia’s cooking and her team’s friendly service didn’t make the decision easy. The basic dinner menu, especially for a small wedding with their approximate guest list number, was definitively in their budget, and the hors d’oeuvres were also delicious.

“Okay, this lemon pepper chicken, though,” Daisy said to the table, but mostly Carol.

“And this pasta is amazing.” Carol picked up the menu to see what it was called. “Pasta Barbara.”

A blonde woman at the table observed them with an amused smile.

Daisy noticed and caught her eye. “Is it that obvious we are new to this?”

“No, no,” the woman assured. “It’s just a new menu item inspired by an idea I had. I’m Barbara. Or, well, everyone calls me Bobbi.”

Carol and Daisy introduced themselves as well.

The man next to Bobbi spoke up with an English accent. “And you can call me Hunter.”

Carol finished her pasta and put down her fork. “Are you two getting married soon?”

Bobbi and Hunter laughed. Bobbi explained, “We’ve been married.”

“And divorced,” Hunter added.

“And married again,” Bobbi concluded. “Now we do the wedding thing professionally. We’re photographers, and I got in the decorating and floral business so I could have more input on the backgrounds and settings for the photos. The photos are what hold your memories of your day for generations to come, so I take it pretty seriously.”

“And I carry all the equipment.” Hunter smirked.

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “And he shoots the video. We’re a team. And are you two here to plan a wedding or just friends of Nadia’s called in to help with leftovers?”

Carol slipped an arm loosely around Daisy’s shoulder as Daisy replied, “Planning our wedding. But it’s coming up pretty quick, so we have a lot of decisions to make.”

Carol looked to Daisy and then back at Bobbi. “We’re actually looking for everything you said you did. We’ve got this great wedding chapel through the parks department on a pond, so it’s a great setting, but the chapel itself is bare bones plain inside.”

“And the reception hall is just a big empty room, basically,” Daisy explained.

“So,” Bobbi jumped in. “You need a photographer who could do outdoor shots in the park and indoor, and you need a decorator and florist who could handle a small wedding on a budget?”

Hunter relaxed back in his chair, looking even cockier as Bobbi read their situation exactly. Daisy could tell that though he hid it behind bravado, he was smitten with his wife and partner.

“Yeah, that’s it exactly.” Daisy blinked in surprise at fate landing them at this table with the very people they needed to meet. “You can do all that?”

Hunter raised his glass to her. “That’s our specialty.”

“Well, I contract out with florists, but I’d handle all the details.” Bobbi searched in her purse and pulled something small out. “Here’s our card.”

She handed over a business card with their logo, website, phone, and email address.

“Take a look, rates are all online, and we can work something out,” Hunter said.

“Thank you,” Carol replied. “This is a huge help.”

Bobbi shrugged. “It’s why we’re here. Nadia helps us and we help her. The wedding business can be pretty cutthroat, all about the right connections, so we formed our little alliance with those we like to work with. She gets the job done right every time, and we get better photos when everyone is fed and happy.”

Daisy hadn’t considered this, but it was smart. Bobbi’s dedication to her craft to the point that she’d expanded into other areas, formed networks, and knew something about people impressed Daisy before she’d even seen a single photo. And Daisy suspected, if Bobbi had chosen Hunter not only as her husband but business partner, he must be good at his part as well to earn that smug look on his face as he glanced around the room searching for more couples to introduce themselves to.

Nadia made her way over to their table. “How are we doing, Daisy and Carol? I see you’ve met my friends, Bobbi and Hunter?”

“They were just telling us about their business,” Carol informed her. “Also, I have to tell you, I love this pasta.”

“And the chicken,” Daisy reminded her. “We have to have the chicken.”

Nadia got out her notepad. “Okay, so that’s a dinner menu then, we’ve decided?”

Bobbi spoke up. “Definitely do dinner. Hors d’oeuvres are great, but—no offense, Nadia—it’s easy for people to get skipped over or miss out on their favorites, or they feel like they are chasing plates around if you have wandering waiters.”

Hunter added, “And if you do a buffet, people wonder why not just do the real food.”

Nadia said, “It’s up to you two, though, and time of day I know was still a question.”

Daisy and Carol decided together silently, and Carol said aloud, “Dinner, for sure.”

Nadia wrote down their picks from the menu and promised to follow up on Monday more formally. She called to one of her assistants, who brought them to-go bags of leftovers to take home. It was far too much food for the two of them, so they texted Jemma and Fitz to come over for dinner that night.

—--------

After dinner that night, the four friends moved to the living room and settled in front of the TV after dinner. Daisy sat on the couch near the end table with her laptop and started it up.

“Mmm wow,” Jemma groaned, “that pasta was so good but now I’m so full.” Fitz patted her hand as he settled in next to her on the couch.

“Right?” Carol agreed as she set up the TV so Daisy could cast her laptop screen to it. Carol plopped into their Papasan chair and set a pillow on her lap so she could write their impressions of Bobbi and Hunter’s skills on her tablet.

“Ready!” Daisy said, navigating to Bobbi and Hunter’s website. She clicked on their wedding portfolio first and opened just one slideshow of many demonstrating their talents. “Ooo, I like that one.”

Carol took note of the poses and ideas they oohed and ahhed over, as well as ones she or Daisy didn’t like or Jemma and Fitz warned against from experience just a year before.

Daisy clicked on more slideshows—some with more creative shots and some more cliche—and they continued until they got to one with outdoor photos, including some at sunset, with two brides.

“Ohhh,” Daisy exhaled as she paused on one. The sunbeams highlighting the couple’s silhouette were perfect. The couple touched foreheads, with one’s fingers entwined and loosely resting on the back of the other’s neck, and the other’s hands at her bride’s waist.

“Gorgeous,” Jemma said softly.

Daisy looked over to Carol with hope shining in her eyes. They had to have one like this.

“Already got it,” Carol confirmed. She squinted in thought. “Sun sets around 8 in June, so if we want it as a wedding shot, we would have to time it right.”

Jemma reasoned, “Or, remember, we did wedding photos in advance. We didn’t want to have to worry about it the day of, and I didn’t mind if he saw me in the dress ahead of time.”

“I said it was bad luck.” Fitz shrugged.

Daisy made a pshh sound. “The rain was a sign of good luck. Plus you’re both British, aren’t rainy wedding days sort of the standard where you’re from?”

“Yes, but see, we live here now,” Fitz pointed out.

Jemma took his hand. “Rain the day of is all the more reason I’m glad we did them in advance.”

Carol was still distracted by the photo on the TV. If she had a shot of Daisy and her like that, she’d have a print done for their bedroom. She could already picture where to put it on their wall.

“Moving on,” Daisy announced. “Yes, we’ll try to get some shots with Bobbi and Hunter scheduled in advance.” She added that to her to-do list, which seemed to grow every time she took something off of it.

Jemma pointed to the screen. “So it sounds like you’re decided then. You’ve got a photographer. And all the other things, yeah?”

Daisy worried her lip. It was a multipoint commitment—and not a cheap one. She caught Carol’s hopeful, subtle nod from across the room. They were doing this.

“Yeah,” Daisy confirmed as she clicked through to the florals and decorations pages. She had to admit, Bobbi was good. “We’re doing this.”

Jemma elbowed Fitz, who let out a little “ow!” of surprise.

“Tell them,” she insisted.

“Oh, alright,” Fitz sighed. “My cousin Deke is a deejay who does wedding receptions. If you’re looking for someone.”

Jemma jumped in. “He was the one who deejayed ours, as you might remember, but he’s very popular. He’s probably done 100 since he started a few years ago.”

Fitz added with a tone of derision, “He wants it to be his full-time job, and he dropped out of NYU to ‘build his business.’” He did air quotes around the last part.

“Very successfully!” Jemma defended. “Fitz is just jealous. Deke sold his virtual reality simulator to a video game company so he doesn’t really need the work, but Fitz thinks he’s wasting his potential.”

Fitz rubbed at his neck. “He’s also very … perky.”

Jemma translated, “He’s American and a bit enthusiastic, even for over here. But exactly who you’d want in a deejay.”

Daisy and Carol exchanged amused glances. Carol spoke up, “Sure, send us his contact info and we’ll get in touch.”

Having a baker, a caterer, a menu, and leads on a photographer/decorator and now a deejay was a lot for a full day, but it also helped them feel like it was really happening. Their wedding was not just a dream but a real event they were hiring vendors for and making decisions about—decisions that would become their lifelong memories.

#daisy johnson #carol danvers #aos #agents of shield #captain marvel #daisy x carol #carol x daisy #wlw #sapphic fic #femslash #lesbian carol danvers #bisexual daisy johnson #skywriting #wedding au #jemma simmons #leo fitz #fitzsimmons #bobbi morse #lance hunter

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