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justlookfrightened · 4 years ago

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Home Sweet Home

Prompt: house hunting

“Bits, did you have anything special planned for today?”

Jack sat at the island, the remains of his peanut butter toast and protein shake pushed to the side while he tapped at his laptop keyboard.

“Special? No,” Bitty said, staring at the coffee maker like he was willing it to brew faster. “I wanted to go to the market, and there’s a couple of new recipes I want to try out for my vlog. But nothing important. Why?”

Bitty arched an eyebrow at Jack.

“Now that you’re all sweaty from your run, did you want to go back to bed?”

“Tempting,” Jack said, “but --”

“But if you want to do that, you’re in charge of changing the sheets later,” Bitty said.

“Fine,” Jack said. “But that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Okay?”

“You know my birthday’s next week,” Jack said.

“Of course,” Bitty said. “We’re having a party, remember? You’re going to grill, I’m doing desserts and sides, your parents are coming down … ”

“I know,” Jack said. “Remember when you were asking what I wanted for a gift?”

“DId you come up with something?” Bitty said. “Because I have been thinking on it, and I’m drawing a blank. When you want something, you usually buy it, and that makes gift-giving a little difficult.”

“I want a house.”

“What?”

“I want a house. We’ve had this condo for four years, and it’s nice, but I have four more years on my contract,” Jack said. “We’ll be here a while. And I think this is going to be home for us. Providence, I mean. So, yeah, I want a house.”

“Jack,” Bitty said, finally turning completely away from the coffee maker, “I can’t buy you a house. I mean, things are going pretty well for me, and the new book is out in a couple of months, but …”

“Of course you can,” Jack said. “We can afford a house.”

“You can afford a house,” Bitty said.

“We can,” Jack said. “Community property, remember? We share a bank account.”

“But that’s just the checking account,” Bitty said. “For like, groceries and utility bills. And sure, maybe I spend a little too much on clothes and baking supplies. And I know you can afford a house, but how is that a present from me to you?”

“Because I want you to do it with me?” Jack said. ”I want to pick a place out together, and to decorate it -- well, mostly for you to decorate it -- and I want it to be our home. I want there to be space for us to have guests, and for us maybe to have kids one day. I’m going to be thirty years old, Bits. I want to live like a grownup.”

Bitty looked pointedly around the condo, from the kitchen with its matching dish towels and oven mitts to the painting over the sofa and the plants in the corner.

“This … is not living like a grown-up?” Bitty said. “Going to bed at eleven and up by seven for a run, even on Sunday?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jack said. “I just thought that, maybe it’s time for some more space? We can get you a bigger kitchen.”

“Fine,” Bitty said. “But because it’s something you want. You are not buying me a house for your birthday. What did you want to do about it today? Because don’t we need to, like, find an agent and everything?”

“I guess,” Jack said. “Maybe once we know what we want? I found a few open houses we can check out. Look.”

Bitty pulled a stool closer and turned the laptop towards him. Jack watched his eyes as he read, looked at pictures, scrolled down and read and looked again.

“Jack, those houses are all over a million dollars,” Bitty finally said, looking a little pale.

“I know,” Jack said. “But they’re nice. And did you see the kitchen in the one on the water in Cranston?”

“The one that’s over $2 million?” Bitty said. “We could build a big house that’s half kitchen for half that much.”

Jack shrugged.

“Probably not in that location. It’s a quick commute to the arena and the training facility. But if you want to buy property to build something, we might have to go further out,” Jack said. “Would you rather do that?”

“Build a house?” Bitty said. “Jack, I don’t know the first thing about building a house, and neither do you.”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking we’d build it ourselves,” Jack said. “We’d hire someone. Unless you want to bake a house.”

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, we are not living in a gingerbread house.”

“But do you want to go to these open houses?” Jack said. “Get an idea of what we want and what’s available? For my birthday?”

Jack tried to do that thing Bitty did to him, where he looked up with huge, pleading eyes, but he was pretty sure he just looked like a demented seal instead of a cute puppy.

Bitty probably thought so too, but he laughed and said, “Fine. The farmer’s market opens in fifteen minutes. Let me go before all the good stuff is gone and then we can go look at houses.”

There must have been a lot of good stuff, because it was nearly noon by the time Bitty was back and had the shopping stowed. Then he had to shower and change. (“I need to look like a potential homebuyer, Jack, not a grocery shopper!” “What’s the difference?” Apparently, in Bitty’s mind, homebuyers dressed like they were going to casual office jobs. Except with khaki shorts instead of trousers because it was nearly 34 degrees outside.)

“Come on, Bits, I don’t want to be late!” Jack said.

“What, you’re afraid all the good houses will be gone?” Bitty asked. “I mean, is there seriously one house you have your heart set on? Because otherwise, I don’t think we have to worry. We’re just going to get an idea of what’s out there today, right?”

“Right,” Jack said.

As soon as they were in the car, he headed for Cranston. There were several places in that area that had open houses, including the place on the river. Two and a quarter million -- more than that even -- was a lot, more than Jack had ever spent on anything in his life, but he had the money. They had the money.

All it would take would be a call to his people. Well, to his lawyer, the one he counted on for everything except contract negotiations. Shelby would call his financial people and take care of everything.

The house was … a lot. Bitty did like the kitchen, especially the double oven and what looked like acres of counter space. There was an island with a breakfast bar where they could eat and where Jack could sit to watch Bitty bake, and look out the windows and over the deck to the water.

“My husband does video segments about baking and writes cookbooks,” Jack told Aila, the listing agent. “So the kitchen is really important.”

The master bedroom wasn’t huge, but neither he nor Bitty were the type to loll in bed all day. And there was a guest house where the parents could stay when they visited.

“The property can be sold without the guesthouse,” Aila said as she not-so-helpfully followed them from room to room. There were no other lookers at the moment, so it made sense, but Jack would have preferred a bit more privacy. That would have helped him sell Bitty on the place himself.

“No, if we bought it we’d want the guesthouse,” Jack assured her.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too … I dunno, grand? For us,” Bitty said, looking down from the second floor landing.

“My parents’ place is bigger,” Jack said. “You seem comfortable enough there.”

“Now we’re competing with a movie star and a hockey legend?” Bitty said. “We’ve never owned a house before.”

“Can we walk around outside?” Jack said, steering Bitty toward the French doors that led off the dining room.

“Of course,” Aila said. “You’ll notice the sophisticated multi-level outdoor living space!”

“What does that even mean?” Bitty muttered, before trudging across the deck and into the grass to look back at the house.

He came back to Jack and said, “Let’s go. This isn’t the place for us.”

“What?”

“Unless you were sure you wanted this house specifically?”

“No. But --”

“Then let’s keep looking,” Bitty said.

“It’s like you saw a ghost,” Jack said. “Is it haunted?”

“Might as well be,” Bitty said.

“What?”

“We can’t move here,” Bitty said. “It’s not big enough.”

“A four-bedroom five-bathroom house with an in-ground pool and separate coach house isn’t big enough?”

Jack knew he sounded incredulous. He was incredulous. The house Bitty’s parents lived in -- the house Bitty had lived in as a high school student -- had four bedrooms, sure, but it was about half the size of this place. Without the coach house. And it only had two bathrooms.

Besides, Bitty usually opted for practicality over ostentation. The only really expensive things he seemed to covet were kitchen appliances.

“All that building?” Bitty said. “On a lot that’s just over a half-acre? Where would we put the rink?”

“What rink?”

“The outdoor rink that you want to build in the backyard for little Johnny or Sally to learn to skate on,” Bitty said. “So they can skate and come in for lunch and go right back outside.”

“We don’t have to have a rink,” Jack said.

“No, we don’t have to,” Bitty said. “But when you talk about when you were little, you talk about skating with your dad all the time. And you get this little smile, like just thinking about it makes you happy.”

“Maybe our kids won’t even like skating,” Jack said.

“But you still will,” Bitty said. “So if you don’t absolutely love this place already, let’s move on.”

“But the kitchen is so great,” Jack said. “Did you see the breakfast bar?”

“We can remodel the kitchen in another house if we want to,” Bitty said. “But we can’t magically make more property here. Do you have other places to visit?”

“There’s a list,” Jack said.

From Cranston they headed south to Barrington, where Jack had seen a few open houses advertised. One house was too small (despite four bedrooms and three bathrooms) and one Bitty ruled out immediately (“I know it’s on the water and it’s beautiful, but $1.35 million for a place with no air conditioning?”). Bitty made the same complaint about an 1894 six-bedroom house on the market for just under a million, but turned down a house a hundred years newer (with central air) because it was part of a suburban development and didn’t have a big enough yard oir mature trees.

When they got home, Bitty started pulling out ingredients for a strawberry rhubarb pie.

“I thought you had some new recipes to try,” Jack said.

“I do,” Bitty said. “But right now seems like a good time for comfort food.”

“Can we make a list of what we want in a house?” Jack said. “What’s important and what’s negotiable?”

“We need space,” Bitty said. “A big yard for a rink. Even a smallish rink will take a lot of space.”

Jack wrote that down.

“It might be better to look further out, then,” he said.

“I’d also like to be close to the city,” Bitty said. “But maybe that’s not as important. I don’t want to build new, though. Not for a first house. My Aunt Judy and Uncle Bob built themselves a brand new home on a lake in Georgia, put in a home theater sound system to watch movies in the great room, and it turned out you could hear it better in the bedrooms upstairs than sitting in front of the TV. I don’t want to make mistakes like that.”

They could probably find and hire a better architect -- and a sound engineer, if it came to designing a home theater -- than Bitty’s Aunt Judy, but Jack kept that thought to himself. If Bitty didn’t want to supervise the construction of a house, Jack wasn’t about to make him, and there was no way Jack could do it during the season.

“It needs to have a good kitchen,” Jack said instead. “I mean, we can get new appliances and do some remodeling, but there has to be enough space for you to work and for us to eat.”

“For you to distract me, you mean,” Bitty said, but he looked fond, and didn’t object, so Jack added it to the list.

“Good schools,” Jack said. “A patio or deck, or at least room for one, and space for a decent gym. And mature trees.”

Bitty nodded at all of that, then said, “I think maybe we should set a budget, then you can talk to Shelby about how we pay for it? And who to work with as a buyer’s agent?”

“You thought two and a half million was too much,” Jack said.

“Unless the house cleans itself and shovels its own snow in the winter,” Bitty said.

“A million and a half?” Jack said. “As a target?”

Bitty shook his head like he was exasperated, but then he grinned.

“It’s your money,” he said.

“No, it’s our money,” Jack said.

The next day, while Bitty was on calls about the next cookbook, Jack called Shelby.

“Bitty and I want to buy a house,” he said. “But we need help.”

“Okay,” Shelby said. “Help how?”

“Help with finding an agent, knowing what questions to ask, how to do the money part of it,” Jack said. “I mean, I think we can afford most places, but I don’t know the mechanics of it.”

“We can help with that,” Shelby said. “Let me make some calls and set you up with a buyer’s agent. They can help with the search, and getting a home inspection and all that. And I’ll get the financial team together to run some numbers. It might make more sense, tax-wise, to get a mortgage, or you might find a seller who will give you a discount for cash. Do you have an idea about the budget you’re looking at?”

“Well, Bits and I went out to a few open houses yesterday,” Jack said.

“You did?” Shelby said. “Oh, my gosh. The agents must have been falling all over themselves. If they recognized you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jack shrugged. Maybe that was why the agents followed them around so much.

“The most expensive place was listed at $2.35 mil,” Jack said. “I thought it was pretty nice, but Bitty thought it was too much.”

“Too much money? Too much house?” Shelby asked. “Do you remember the address?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, and read the address off his phone. “Too much money, yes, and he said it was a bit too grand. But he also thought the property was too small. He seems to think we need room to put in an outdoor rink in the winter.”

“He wants a rink?”

“He thinks I want a rink.”

“Do you?” Shelby asked.

“It would be nice,” Jack said. “I guess. Especially if we ever have kids. But it’s not a deal-breaker for me.”

“What is it that you want?”

“I want Bits to have a great kitchen,” Jack said. “But Bitty pointed out that we can remodel the kitchen, as long as there’s room.”

“Sounds like you two spent some time talking about this,” Shelby said.

“Yeah,” Jack said.

“Okay, let me look for a buyer’s agent,” she said. “I can have some names to you tomorrow. And Jack, congratulations. I know this is a big step.”

Things moved quickly after that. Shelby provided a list of possible agents, along with her recommendation, whom Bitty and Jack agreed to hire. By the Thursday of that week, they had a meeting with the agent, Melissa Field.

“It was so nice of you to come to us,” Bitty said, seating Melissa in the dining room. “Can I get you coffee? Tea? Pie?”

“Shelby said your pie is not to be missed,” Melissa said. “So yes, please. Coffee, too, if it’s not any trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Bitty said. “I have a traditional cherry pie and a ginger peach.”

“Ooh, ginger peach,” Melissa said.

“Good choice.”

Jack took a seat as Bitty disappeared into the kitchen.

“Did I pick right?” Melissa asked.

“They’re both great,” Jack said. “Though I think I prefer the cherry, so yeah, perfect choice. More cherry for me.”

“Can you tell me about why you decided now was the time to buy a house?” Melissa asked.

“It’s not just my decision,” Jack said. “It’s Bitty’s too. But I am turning 30 next week, and my contract will keep us here for at least the next few years, and it seemed like time to put down some roots.”

Melissa nodded.

“Do you want to wait for Eric to talk about what you’re looking for?” she asked.

“That would be best,” Jack said.

Bitty bustled in and out, first bringing coffee with cream and sugar, then tea for Jack, then three slices of pie: two ginger peach and a sliver of cherry for Jack.

Melissa took them through a very long checklist of what they wanted, what they didn’t want and what they just didn’t care about. Baseboard heat? Built in shelves? Gas fireplaces?

“But air conditioning is important,” Bitty said.

“Okay,” she said. “It’s a buyer’s market, especially just now with school about to start, and there are several properties for sale that might fit the bill. Let me send you information tomorrow and we can make maybe two or three appointments for the weekend. If we have to, we can do the same thing next week, and the week after, until you’re comfortable making a choice.”

“Sounds good,” Jack said.

On Saturday, Melissa had three appointments set up. The first was an 1890 Victorian in Warwick, with five bedrooms and three and half bathrooms and more than two acres of property.

It had been updated inside, Melissa said as she led the way inside, with central air and new plumbing and electrical systems.

Bitty let out a bark of laughter as soon as they entered the living room.

“Dog people, I guess?” he said, nodding at the oil portrait of the German shepherd over the fireplace.

But he wasn’t laughing at the open kitchen, or the laundry room/mud room/butler’s pantry, which had an extra fridge and stove. It was also well within the budget at $1.2 million.

Next was a house in North Smithfield with four bedrooms and six bathrooms, which seemed disproportionate to Jack. But the kitchen was spacious, as was the yard, and it already had a play set, which made Jack imagine what it would be like with kids. Listed at just over a million dollars, the price was no obstacle,but it didn’t have as much character as the first one.

“I’ve saved the best for last,” Melissa said, driving them toward Lincoln. “This is the biggest of the three, with two separate in-law units, an adjoining workshop or studio that you can use for a gym, an in-ground pool, six-car garage and more than four acres.”

The main house, whose oldest parts dated to 1812, was gorgeous, with a stone exterior and clean lines. But the adjoining garage and workshop didn’t seem to match the aesthetic. Then again, what did Jack know about aesthetics?

Bitty was taken with the open land, Jack could see.

The inside of the house was also good, until Jack saw the kitchen. How could a six-bedroom house have a galley-style kitchen?

Jack knew Bitty was disappointed in the kitchen as well, but he didn’t say so in front of Melissa.

“Any thoughts?” Melissa asked.

“Let us talk for a while,” Jack said. “Can I call you this evening? Or tomorrow. I know it’s Sunday.”

“Either is fine,” Melissa said, dropping them at the condo building.

“Come on, bud,” Jack said, heading for Bitty’s favorite diner instead of going upstairs. “Let’s talk about it over food.”

They settled into the booth, ordered and waited for their meals before getting down to business.

“It has to be the last one,” Bitty said, after inhaling half of his grilled cheese. “It’s the biggest, and has the most property, and it has plenty of room for people to stay, and for a gym, too. And it wasn’t any more expensive. Less than the one in Warwick.”

“But the kitchen is small,” Jack said, pulling the toothpick out of his turkey club.

“Maybe we could add on?” Bitty said. “Or not. The appliances are good. I liked the double oven.”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “It’s in the old part of the house, so I’m not sure an addition would work. What about the one in Smithfield?”

“It ticked all the boxes” Bitty acknowledged. “But didn’t love it. I can’t really say why. Too boxy, maybe?

Jack nodded in acknowledgement, chewed and swallowed. “That leaves the one in Warwick.”

“With Rin Tin Tin?” Bitty said.

“We don’t have to keep the portrait,” Jack said.

“It only had a one-car, detached garage,” Bitty said.

“That would probably be easier to expand than the kitchen,” Jack said.

“Or not,” Bitty said. “You don’t know that.”

“I didn’t really like that whole six-car garage thing in Lincoln,” Jack said. “It’s basically attached to the house, but it’s like a big shed. We could do so much better expanding the garage on the one in Warwick. And it has a view of the water.”

“From the third floor,” Bitty said. “How’re those knees holding up, Mr. NHL Player?”

“Fine,” Jack said, a little stiffly. “What do you have against the house in Warwick? You liked it when we saw it, especially the butler’s pantry and laundry room.”

“Nothing,” Bitty said. “Well, besides the dog picture. Could you imagine that room with Lardo’s painting? But we would need a bigger garage, at the very least.”

“I really don’t think that would be a problem,” Jack said. “It’s old, but it’s not landmarked or anything and there’s plenty of room. And it’s not far from Marty and his family. Why are you so set on the one in Lincoln?”

“It seems like a better deal,” Bitty said. “More space -- bigger lot, bigger house, more bedrooms -- for less money. You shouldn’t turn that down just so I have a bigger kitchen to mess up.”

Jack dragged the last of Bitty’s fries through a dollop of mayonnaise.

“I still don’t understand how you like that,” Bitty said.

“It reminds me of home,” Jack said. “And that’s what it is about the kitchen. For me, home is the place where I sit and watch you bake, and eat what you cook, and listen to you go on about butter and shortening and a thousand other things. If I can’t do that, the house won’t be home, no matter how many cars will fit in the garage.

“I want that, and if we do end up with kids, I want there to be room for them to sit in the kitchen and have a snack after school, and do their homework, and talk to us. Remember the way everyone gravitated to the kitchen in the Haus? It wasn’t like that before you got there, but I want it to be like that.”

“So you like the million-dollar house in Warwick because it has the potential to be more like the falling-down frat house we lived in in college?”

“Yes,” Jack said.

“Then let’s buy that one,” Bitty said.

“You’re sure you don’t want to see more?” Jack said.

“Do you?” Bitty said. “I do like that house, and I loved the view from the kitchen. As long as it passes the inspection and all that.”

“Then let’s do it,” Jack said. “I’ll call Melissa when we get home.”

On Monday, Jack woke up to a bouncy Bitty who was already tying his running shoes.

“Coming with, bud?”

“Yep,” Bitty said. “It’s your birthday. And I intend to follow you into the shower when we get back. Fair warning.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Bitty laughed, then said, “You have to pick up your parents after lunch, so we have to take advantage of our opportunities.”

The run was fine, the shower was better, and the post-shower romp in the bed was best of all.

“Is it weird that I’m thinking about how this is the last birthday we’ll celebrate here?” Bitty said, snuggling up to Jack afterwards. “We’ve had some good ones.”

“This is already a good one,” Jack said. “At least from my point of view.”

“Hush. I have to get up to start getting things ready. Your parents land in two hours, so you don’t have that much time either, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack had groaned and stood up, ready for another shower, when his phone rang.

“Jack? This is Melissa. I have good news,” she said. “The owners accepted your offer, at least verbally. Well, of course they did. You offered what they were asking. But I’m going to work with Shelby to draw up a contract and we should be looking at closing before your season starts.”

“Wow,” Jack said. “That’s great.”

He looked around the bedroom with a sudden rush of nostalgia. The new bedroom in the new house would be good too, he told himself.

“What is it?” Bitty said, rubbing at his hair with a towel as he came out of the bathroom. “Everything okay?”

“They accepted our offer,” Jack said. “They’ll draw up the contract and we can close in a few weeks.”

“That is great,” Bitty said. “Even if the change is … a little disconcerting?”

“It’ll be fine,” Jack said. “We’ll do it together.”

That evening, after steaks and portobello mushrooms were grilled, and the guests stuffed themselves with salads and homemade bread and three kinds of pie, Jack stood and tapped his wine glass.

“Everyone, I have an announcement,” he said.

“But he already married Bitty,” Tater whispered to Shitty. “You think they have a baby coming?”

Shitty shrugged. “I dunno,” he said.

Jack could hear every word because Tater’s whisper … wasn’t.

“Not a baby,” he said. “But we are putting down roots. Bits and I are buying a house. Our offer was accepted today.”

His parents hugged him, and Bitty pulled out his phone to show off pictures.

“Look at that portrait of the dog, Lardo,” Bitty said. “Can we commission something else to go there?”

@jackzimmermannturns30

#jack zimmermann turns 30 #zimbits #omgcheckplease #omg check please #my fic

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officialthiamlibrary · 4 years ago

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Hi guys, welcome to our new weekly segment: Feature Friday. Once a week, we’ll be hyping up one of your favourite authors and recommending five of their fics, some old and some new, so that you can re-read all of your old favourite stories, or maybe even discover a new favourite! If you have someone you’d love to see in this segment, send us an ask here on Tumblr, or message one of our helpful mods on discord.

Sorry for taking a week off, preparations for the Big Bang obviously took a lot of time and effort, but we’re back into it this week with sunshine personified, @manonisamelon Since early 2018, manonlemelon has written 25 Teen Wolf fics about the many and varied ways Theo and Liam fall in love. She balances funny, fluffy stories with heart-wrenching angst, expertly weaving heartfelt emotion into every word. She’s hands down the best commenter in the fandom, and we’ll fight anyone who says otherwise!

Exhibit(ionism) [ Explicit // 7K // Complete ]

Theo and Liam have a date at the zoo. Shennanigans happens.

This fic is just pure silly fun, with just a dash of smut thrown in. There’s horrified old ladies, adorkabears, and dark nooks aplenty in this fic, and you’ll be shaking your head and grinning from start to finish at Liam’s shenanigans. What cames across most though is how seriously gone on each other these two boys are. A beautiful and hilarious fic!

***

Let's Go Crazy [ General // 5K // Complete]

Theo loves figure skating, he has a favorite skater and the olympics are here. It's an emotional time full of joy and stress over the performance. Luckily he has a boyfriend ready to support him.

The author’s love of figure skating definitely comes across in this story. The way she describes every elegant move on the ice will draw you in as you experience the same wonder through Theo’s eyes. The way that Liam supports his partner’s interest is absolutely adorable and is sure to melt more than a few hearts. We strongly recommend this fic if you’re obsessed with figure skating as well, or if you just love pure, sweet, fluffy goodness.

***

Be Careful What You Wish For [ Mature // 55K // WIP ]

Back before he was sent to the ground all Theo ever wished for was power, to be an alpha, to have a pack. Now he knows better, knows that power isn’t as easy as it seems. All he wants now is to try and stay alive, try to be good enough to one day be part of the pack and protect the beta with anger issue. During a fight with an alpha gone feral Theo is given power he doesn’t want anymore. Now he has to learn to live with what he had wished for so long ago.

We all wondered what it would be like if Theo has actually taken the power of an alpha in season 5. Now we can finally have the answers, but with the redeemed Theo instead! Take a stroll through this story about coming to terms with the things you want while trying to hold onto your former life and falling in love at the same time. You’ll laugh a little, definitely cry a little, and call Thiam idiots about a million times.

***

Underneath the Mistletoe [ Teen // 7K // Complete ]

Mason and Corey have enough of seeing their friends hopelessly pine after each other and decide to do something about it. Luckily it’s the holiday season and what better way to get two people to admit their feelings than a mistletoe kiss? Or the fives times Mason and Corey tried to make Theo and Liam kiss under the mistletoe and the one time they succeed.

The greatest thing about this fic is that it’s told from Morey’s point of view! It’s so cool to see such a fresh idea and to have a healthy heap of our favorite canon gays! We love seeing Theo and Liam from an outsider’s perspective, especially those of their closest friends, and ultimately this fic has you feeling like you’re part of the story and in one Morey’s schemes. We love it!

***

Kiss The Bartender [ Teen // 3K // Complete ]

Theo has a job as a bartender in a shot bar where some shots are linked to dares. Liam makes him sneak him Corey and Mason in. Dares happens and maybe one could finally lead to Liam and Theo admitting their feelings.

Truth or dare fic? Yes please!! This is so great and just fun because the dates range all over the place and you get a few great chuckles from it. It’s a fantastic way for Liam and Theo to connect and FINALLY get their first kiss. It’s a good time all around and we ship it hard!

#feature friday #manonisamelon #thiam rec list #mod:alicia #mod:tara

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sheislearning · 4 years ago

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Sometimes I think something is wrong with my mom.

** this is going to be a really long story, I'm sorry, but I needed to get rid of all of this**

I have been living with a depression (non diagnosed, because I don't have the money to go to a psychologist) for some time now.

The thing is that I've thought about taking my life more than once since being s teenager, but specially this last year (I'm 24 y.o. now).

I haven't done it mostly because of my mom, and also my dad. I don't want to cause them suffering.

Recently I've been really bad into the depression, but at least I could convince my mom that I do have a depression (she thought I was exaggerating before). She's been pushing me to try to focus myself, because I don't have a job (I live in Spain, and here it's really difficult to find s job nowadays, specially if you are young and inexperienced). I'm going to Germany to visit some family and get better at German, and at last to try to find a job there maybe.

Today I told her about trying to buy a skate there to do some exercise and to learn skateboarding, something I've always wanted but were too scared and embarrassed to do (I'm a woman, and idk I just don't look like a teenager, I have a more mature body and somehow it's embarrassing to do skateboarding when I don't look like a teenager, idk why). I asked what did she think about it and she said it wasn't a good idea, that it was not something easy and to focus myself in what is important.

Then I told her that I'd like to maybe go and have some little adventures there, not expensive ones, little ones, but adventures after all. She turned serious and said that I couldn't do that, that I have to think about my future. That I can't expend my family's money in those things.

I understand. I do. The money I have comes from my German family because my mom's a single mom and we don't have any money. But I've been responsible all my life. I didn't go to parties while teenager or in my early 20s, because of money. I haven't traveled at all. I didn't do Erasmus (it's studying at other universities for a semester) because of money. I haven't lived at all. I spent all these years worrying about my future, my future job and the boyfriend I had. Never thought of myself.

And now that I'm burned. That getting up every day is an effort, that I can't focus in anything, that I find difficult to do almost everything that demands some concentration, that I don't even get any pleasure by doing things that I really enjoyed before...

Shouldn't I be able to live a little bit? I really need a reason to live. Seriously. I don't have any. I'm struggling to find something in this world worth living for. Seriously. I'm scared of myself. I'm driving sometimes and I just think that it would be so easy to just turn the steering wheel suddenly and, by that, stop all of this. I sometimes think that I don't have any future, that there's nothing worth this suffering, that I'm not enough and will never be.

And today, when she told me that, what I said before, I answered saying the truth: that I think she doesn't really understand how bad my mental health is, that I've really thought of su*c*de, that I've always been responsible and I think now is my time to just enjoy a little bit. I told her I wasn't too ambitious, I didn't plan on going to a big trip to other countries, as many of my friends have done. I was just talking about going to a city that is 3h from the city my German family live. Maybe staying one night in a cheap hotel or whatever. She still thought I was selfish because I was spending her family's money.

I do understand. But when I started really crying after confessing about wanting to end my life, she came, hugged me and said: focus yourself (basically focus on finding a job/future).

Wtf. I just told you I've thought about ending my life more than once. What the..? Your daughter tells you that and instead of, oh, idk, trying to comfort her and tell her that you are by her side, that you understand, that you are going to help me, that you can try to guide me... You just... Say... Focus? That's it?

And then I squeak something like: focus? Really? That is just like if you said "calm yourself" or "keep calm" to someone in the middle of a anxiety attack. She complains a little and I answered insisting. I go to my bedroom. And she...

She just...

She just keeps watching tv.

Wtf.

Are you fucking serious? Are you a fucking psychopath?

The only reason why I don't k*ll myself is you, damn. And you... You keep watching tv. If I did k*ll myself... Would you still keep watching tv?

I'm trying to stay afloat. I'm grabbing what little force and will and hope I still can have and I'm trying to use it to survive. I'm trying to talk about my feelings, to not keep everything inside me... But she...

I swear I'm trying but sometimes I don't see the point in living. I don't see the point in trying anymore.

I know I look like a lazy person, waking up late, spending my whole day inside my bed, reading... Eating a lot. Sometimes going out with some friends. Laughing every now and then. I know I look ungrateful.

Don't you thing, mom, that I don't feel that? That I don't feel not useful, that I don't feel good enough, clever enough, independent enough, strong enough, beautiful enough, kind enough... Whatever enough? I do.

What you don't see is the lack of everything. I get up late because I don't wanna wake up. I don't wanna be here. I want to be in a world of dreams where I don't have to live any more stress.

You don't see I don't get up early because I go to sleep late because I'm finally feeling something at night reading, after hours trying to feel anything I finally focused enough in my book that I'm actually enjoying it and feeling *something*.

You don't see that spend my whole day in bed because I don't see the point in doing anything, I don't know what to do, or i don't want to see the world, I don't have the energy in me to face it.

You don't see that eating is a way to feel. Eating chocolate sends endorphins into my brain. I don't get many endorphins nowadays anymore. Eating makes me feel something. Eating fills me inside, distracts me, makes me full of something, even if it's just food and not joy.

You don't see that I'm not lazy, I just don't have any motivation. I burned out. I kept burning through the last years. I gave everything in me.

I know I'm not the most responsible person or the most active one, I am not saying I'm not lazy at all. But it's not why I'm in bed.

I'm sorry, mom. I don't know how to say this. And you won't understand me anyway, because you are too fucking proud to see it. But you have never really supported me.

I know you shouldn't live for your kids, you shouldn't give all of yourself to them, you are your own entity, you have a life of your own. But I've never felt you by my side.

When I kept asking you through all my childhood to stop smoking, or at least stop smoking infront of me? You didn't give a fuck. You kept smoking your filthy cigars/whatever in front of me, you didn't give a shit about my health. Not even when Opa died of lung cancer. I begged you more than once. That was something important for me. You said I was wrong when I said that smoking was more important for you than I was, but that's what you showed me. And actions speak louder than words.

When I was lost and didn't know what to study at university? You said you supported me. But supporting is also guiding sometimes. And I was truly lost. You said you talked to me about it, but you are wrong. You never researched with me, never spent hours looking for different career paths, subjects, possible jobs,... You didn't. You said you didn't know about how it worked. I didn't either. But I had you do it by myself. I was 17yo. You were 49yo. I needed a guide to support me. You weren't there.

I'm sorry, that was wrong. You were there. You were there to give judgement when I failed at my first year at university. To say: I told you so, that wasn't the degree for you. And then pushed to the degree you wanted for me. Did you ever researched a little about what future I could have studying that here in Spain? Should I say it? No, you didn't. What future do I have here? None, apparently.

When I finished my degree...where you there to help me finding a job? Creating a curriculum? Finding courses or something? No, I'm sorry but you were not there. I know I didn't ask for help. That was my mistake, I just wanted to be strong and show you I could do it. But I was so lost. You told me once that you couldn't have helped me anyway because you didn't really know how to find jobs, because you've had the same job for forever. Do you think I knew how to do all that? I didn't. But you could have spent some time researching with me, guiding me with whatever experience you had.

I'm really sorry, but you've supported me with words, and not even that sometimes. You complain that I don't enjoy spending time with you, but have you wondered why? Maybe because I feel that I have to demonstrate something to you, because when I'm not strong enough you remind me of it, instead of supporting me. Not just with words that usually feel more like judgment than support. But with actions. Because actions speak louder than words.

And you know what would have spoken loud? Maybe renouncing to your smoking or maybe to cut some other fun expenses to maybe pay for an hour with a psychologist once a month (that like 50/60€) to save your daughter's life. Don't you think so? I'm not trying to attack you or judge you, but it's what I feel.

That being said... Guys, if you feel something similar to what I do, speaking about depression, ask you help, in any way possible. I hope you'll get more help than I do.

#actions speak louder than words #heartbreak #lost #relatable #feelings #i'm fine #mental illness #mentally ill #mentally unstable #numb #love #mom #suicide

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countessofravenclaw · 3 years ago

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It could never happen... but you can't know about the future

It's my birthday, so I am releasing something special out of my usual schedule!

So this started as a school assignment, where we had to write a fairytale with 1300 characters (like you could write a good engaging story with that lenght), so I wrote one page very summed version of this and after I turned it in I expanded and finished it and this is the result. This is just something fun, kind of an AU, but I would categorize it as a dream sequence. We can't know if it happened, maybe it did or didn't. Here is the original version if anyone is interested

Nina’s phone dinged. She looked at it. It was strange, she usually didn’t get any messages. You see, she didn’t have any friends who would text her. Her parents usually just straight up called when they had something to say, which was usually a lot since her mother was an epiphany of a helicopter mother. It was a record that her mother had not called her today yet. She just had to accept that her daughter was growing up.

Things had changed quite fast for Nina. She now actually had a friend. She used to have friends when she had been a child, but starting school they all had vanished. She had been left alone and she didn’t know what to do about it. She couldn’t just go and talk to people, what if they hated her. But then Luna had just appeared out of Mexico just before school had started. She was colorful, loud and noisy, everything that Nina was not, but they complimented each other.

Luna had gone to get something from the library and to her surprise, Nina had not joined her. She practically lived in the library. Books had been her only friends for so long. Maybe Luna had not found what she was looking for and was now texting Nina for help. Luna was a rare sight at the library so it was no wonder that she had gotten lost. You needed a certain connection with the library before you could navigate it.

It was Nina’s second year at the Blake South College. She had been totally alone all of her first year, so she had used all her time to studying and had quickly become the top student in her class. The Library had been the only good thing about the school until Luna had arrived… that was not exactly true… there was another thing that made Nina happy that she was at Blake.

This reason was something that only her heart knew. She could never say it out loud and never tell it to anyone, not even Luna. Luna would definitely laugh at her if she ever told her. She was being delusional after all. It was her dark secret.

Nina looked at the message again. The message was from an unknown number. Nina hesitated for a moment if she should even open the message. Her mother had always told her to never communicate with anyone online, but she was not a child anymore. Her curiosity got better of her, nobody ever texted her outside of Luna. Nina opened the message and just stared at it for a moment.

“Be happy, with love. Your future is bright. Don’t let it go. From: Felicity” the message read. Nina was confused. What was she supposed to not let go? Who was this Felicity?

Attached to the message was a video. The file had an odd name. It said: “J&R 2017”.

Nina clicked on it and almost fainted on the spot. In the video, she saw herself walking to the locker rooms of Roller, but she looked different. She was older, her hair was longer and she clearly had done something to it. She was wearing much different clothing too. Nina could admit she looked beautiful, but something was off about her. She looked older, more mature, and happier.

Her breath got hitched in her throat. Her legs went weak, and she had to lean on the wall so she wouldn’t fall. There was someone else in the video, who entered the locker room after her. He was holding her hand…

Nina almost forgot how to breathe for a second. Holding her hand in the video was… was… it was Gastón. He looked older too, and if it was possible, even better looking. He already was tall, but he looked even taller and his gorgeous face looked more defined. And she didn’t even dare to look at his arms. It was a good thing that he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt. His hair was also lacking the blonde highlights he had. Nina loved those personally, or she loved looking at those from afar.

She had done that for years, ever since she had met him. On the first day of Blake, she had been frantically looking for her classroom and bumped into him and dropped all her books. She had expected to him just walk away as everyone did, but he didn’t. She didn’t know how it had happened, but just one look at those brown eyes made her get lost in them. She always got lost in them. I might have been foolish to fall for someone so fast, but she did not control her heart. Otherwise, she should have never fallen for him. Being madly in love with a person who never could notice her… it was not easy. All she could do was just wait for her feeling to just go away.

He was the most popular guy at the school, he and his friend Matteo. One day, Nina had found out that they were into Roller skating and actually followed them into Roller. She was a bit ashamed to admit that she had been a bit of a stalker, but what else could she have done. Looking at him at school was not enough anymore. To her surprise, she actually got quite fond of the place and started to go there for her own benefits, not just to watch Gastón.

She snapped out of her thoughts and focused on the video again. What she saw made her head spin. She was sure she would pass out. What was this cruel trick that the universe was playing on her? What she saw, had only happened in her dreams. Something that could never be reality.

In the video, she had been saying something, but he interrupted her by pulling her closer and leaning down to kiss her. Nina heard herself saying something about some cameras, but she couldn’t focus on herself. Gastón had a mischievous smile on his face. Nina loved his smile, she loved everything about him, but she wished she didn’t. The feeling she wished could go away, only got stronger every time she saw him. She lost focus on the video for a moment and got lost thinking of Gastón, but she finally focused back on it.

Her legs went weak. He was leaning down to kiss her and pinning her down on a wall behind her. She could never admit it to anyone, not Luna, definitely not to her mother, but she had imagined herself being in that position with him, - multiple times - when she wanted to be extra cruel to herself. But before Nina was able to see his lips touch hers, she fainted. Maybe it was by choice, she could probably never get that image out of her head if she saw it, and it would drive her mad.

Nina woke up leaning against a wall at school. What had happened? Everything started to come back. Images flashed through her mind. She frantically looked at her phone, but all the signs of the message were gone. Of course, it had been just a dream, even if it had felt do real. Typical of her, daydreaming of a future that could never happen.

Nina leaned her back at the wall again. She was smarter than that and she should not need to waste her time for hopeless thoughts. She knew that it was something that was not going to happen, but her mind was devious and the false hope and the imagined scenarios always crept into her mind.

“Nina!” Luna’s voice rang and snapped Nina out of her trance finally.

“Are you alright?” Luna asked. “I am fine,” Nina said while standing up from the wall. She wanted to tell Luna that she had been daydreaming about Gastón, again, but she couldn’t. What would Luna think if she found out, that Nina was pining after a guy who was way out of her league?

“Did you find the book?” Nina asked, trying to distract herself from her thoughts. “No, I ran out of time. That place is a maze. But we need to go to the class now. You can go and find me the book later. I would just get lost again”.

They headed to the class and in an hour Nina had almost forgotten her strange daydream, but one thing had still lingered in her mind. Felicity, there was something about that name that inspired Nina. Even after, when she could not even remember where she had learned the name from, it still was on her mind. Little did she know, Felicity changed everything about her future and things that she thought never would happen… actually happened.

***

Nina shook awake. Her hair was spilled over Gastón’s chest and his arms were still tight around her even when he was dead asleep. That had been a weird dream, it was almost like a memory of something that she had long forgotten about. She usually didn’t remember her dreams, not anymore, since she had all she could ever dream of. She lowered her head back on Gastón’s chest and closed her eyes. Sometimes she wished that she could send a message to her younger self, and tell her that everything would be okay.

#Gastina #Soy Luna #Dream sequence #soy luna fanfiction

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yoificfinder · 5 years ago

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Hi! Hope you’re doing well! Do you have any recs for Magic AU fics? Thanks in advance and stay safe! 💖

Hi nonnie, here are some fics where they have magic--categorized into HP/Hogwarts AU and Other Magic AUs (I excluded superhero AUs tho as there's already a masterlist for that):

HP/Hogwarts AU

Canis Major by @yuripaws [G, 8K]

Viktor Nikiforov: Head Boy. Quidditch Captain. Outstanding in all his O.W.L.s. Excelling in all his N.E.W.T. classes.

Something about his eyes reminds Prefect Yuuri Katsuki of the strange dog that likes to patrol the corridors with him at night.

darling, we both know by @astoryaboutwar [E, 31K]

You can grow up with someone and be simultaneously better and worse for it.

(Or: the HP Wizarding World (not set in Hogwarts!) AU where they meet as preteens, fuck as teenagers, fall in love as adults, and occasionally find time to magically figure skate.)

Defying Gravity series by rinsled05 / @dreaming-fireflies [T and E, 58K]

Summary of first fic:

Imagine if Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after the demise of you-know-who, started accepting foreign students in an effort for greater unity among wizarding communities around the world. Imagine that, in this changing climate of diversity and social acceptance, Hogwarts also decided to host an exchange programme with select students from Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for a semester.

Imagine, then, if a young Japanese wizard by the name of Yuuri Katsuki had transferred to Hogwarts to escape his past, just in time to meet a Russian Quidditch player who would blow open the very doors he was trying so desperately to close.

A story of love, magic, and teenagers trying to find themselves.

Falling For Your Charms by Reiya / @kazliin [T, 32K]

Professor Katsuki’s crush on Professor Nikiforov is supposed to be a great secret.

So naturally, the whole school knows

Open At The Touch by @kiaronna [T, 6K]

Maybe Nishigori got ahold of a lock of Viktor's hair, and some Polyjuice potion. Maybe it's all an elaborate prank. With this as his only reasonable explanation, he steps forward, snags Viktor by his robes and tugs him in.

"Nishigori," he says in Japanese, "this prank isn't funny. Your English is better than when I left, though."

"Ah," says the fake Viktor Nikiforov in English, voice dipping, and is he blushing? "What was that?"

"Maybe I got hit in the head by a Bludger," Yuuri muses. Viktor's smile grows ever wider, tightening at the edges. "Maybe I never came home from my international Quidditch competition. Maybe I'm lying in the hospital right now, hallucinating."

There has to be an explanation, mystical and magical or medical, for the best Seeker in the Quidditch world showing up at his door; something besides his portrait, which won't stop talking to Yuuri anyway.

Technical Support by @possibleplatypus [T, 18K]

Research had needed a new field-tester (they always needed new testers, as most Aurors would “test” an artefact only once before screaming to be reassigned), and thus the most decorated Auror in recent history was currently shouting into a modified “smart phone.”

Viktor was quite certain that phones were not alive, so he did not understand how they could be intelligent. He found that when it came to Muggles, it was best not to think too deeply into things.

“THIS IS NIKE,” Viktor bellowed into the thin, rectangular case. “CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?”

The Dance of the Veela by @satbiym [M, 17K] *WIP

Listen, Victor has a lot on his plate, not only is he dealing with the dreaded Veela Maturity in a den of iniquity (ahem Hogwarts ahem), but he also has to find an appropriate Consort for his upcoming Veela Maturity Ball, held during the Winter Solstice, amongst the hundreds of people he is surrounded by everyday.

But How Does He Know?

A Fairy Tale in 3 Arcs.

Viktor is Luna Lovegood: The AU series by seventhstar / @pencilwalla [T, M, and E, 33K]

Magical theory nerd Viktor is determined to win quidditch prodigy Yuuri Katsuki's heart. Luckily, Yuuri is too busy crushing on him to notice his throngs of admirers.

warm-up hogwash series by antikytheras [G, 16K]

Summary of first fic:

Viktor Nikiforov is a genius. He tops the level without having to study and he can perform most spells without his wand. He was the second-ever first-year Seeker in the school, and the first Slytherin one at that. He’s a Parselmouth and he’s tamed the other basilisk hidden in the school’s plumbing. He has washboard abs and really defined hipbones. He’s the only son in a long line of pureblood Slytherins and he’s half-Veela and he can speak Mermish and he was born as Voldemort’s secret daughter which is why he’s prettier than half of the girls in school and—

‘Where do you even get all these?’ Viktor asks, eyebrows drawn together in bemusement. 'I'm not even a pureblood, I'm Muggleborn.'

Other Magic AUs

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by @orchids-and-fictional-cities, @iruutciv [M, 41K]

Katsuki Yuuri has been cursed to spread misery and grief to those who dare to come close to him. Viktor Nikiforov has been sentenced to wander the earth, unable to die, granting wishes to mortals in the hopes that one of them might give his life meaning in exchange.

They meet in a tempest of April snow.

in distant castles mirrors broke by lily_winterwood / @omgkatsudonplease [E, 7K]

Yuuri had discovered his powers at a very young age.

For as long as he remembers, people have talked in hushed whispers around him, about him. About how the Northern Lights had shone at the hour of his birth, about the stars that had burst into existence alongside him. Yuuri has known, from a young age, that he’s destined for some sort of greatness.

The problem is, he’s not sure what sort of greatness it is, or if it’s even really greatness at all. After all, everyone says that sort of stuff about princes.

in which there is a moving castle by @fireblazie [T, 3K]

When Viktor opens his eyes, Yuri is staring at him with a horrified expression.

Granted, Yuri greets him with that face every time Viktor opens his mouth, so Viktor doesn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation at first. But then it comes to him in stages: a gradual ache settling in his lower back, a peculiar stiffness in his joints, and, most horribly of all—

He runs towards the nearest mirror and freezes at the reflection that gapes back at him.

His hair.

Viktor screams.

(A sort of Howl's Moving Castle AU.)

My Name On Your Lips by @feels-like-fire [E, 108K]

Yuuri Katsuki has been betrothed to the High King's son, Victor, since he was just a child; furthermore, as an omega, he's forbidden from practicing magic in combat. For years, he's been able to put off the former because the Prince was traveling abroad, and gotten around the latter by practicing with his mentor in secret.

Now Victor Nikiforov has finally returned home, and Yuuri is being summoned to the capital for their wedding. He needs a plan to put off marriage long enough to find a way to break the betrothal, while keeping his practicing from being discovered.

If only the Prince didn't have other ideas.

Roses of May by @cuttlemefishwrites [E, 46K] *WIP

At age five, all children are assessed for talent and beauty in the City of Hasetsu and the other eight cities of the Empire. Every year, five are branded with the mark of a rose before being carded off to the Emperor’s palace where they are trained to become Roses, or sacrifices to be sent every May to the Ice Spirit that lives in the castle at the top of the mountain. Roses never return, except for Katsuki Yuuri, who shocks the Empire when he appears again two years after his departure with a silver crown on his head and a blond baby in his arms, demanding the Emperor step down or face the wrath of his husband, the Ice King. But, not everything is what it seems.

to the water's edge by @ebenroot [T, 84K]

Once upon a time, in a secluded tower that rests upon a cliff and is surrounded by tall trees, there lives a young man that faces a certain conundrum:

Katsuki Yuuri has fallen in deeply in love with a man he has never met.

Your Breath, My Skin by @lavenderprose [T, 5K]

"What did you do?" Yuuri mutters as Viktor takes off his coat and scarf.

Viktor's mouth moves soundlessly for a moment, then gestures for a pencil and pad. Yuuri yanks his way through several drawers and finally finds a grocery list pad and an old charcoal. He throws them in Viktor's direction and shuffles into the kitchen to turn the kettle on. Viktor tugs on his sleeve eventually, like a timid child, and Yuuri turns to see what he's written.

"A succubus?" Yuuri demands, teeth going on edge. "Viktor, oh my God. What did you do?"

Or: Viktor needs to stop finding new and creative ways to get himself hexed. Yuuri is Suffering.

---

ETA - Other people's rec:

A Story of Withcraft and Wizardy by @sophialala1 (She also recs other magic/fantasy AU fics in the replies and here's her ao3)

Magic & Ice by @ajwolf84

when the ice melts in the snow (that's when you'll love me) by lilithiumwords / @amberstarfight

Thanks for the rec, @alistairvt! ❤

#yuri on ice #yoi #yoi fic rec #victuuri #harry potter au #hogwarts au #magic

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do-i-say-something-witty · 4 years ago

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Okay but picture this:

Caleb possessing Nick but Nick still having some control.

So, Nick resurfaces at awkward times. Sometimes asking Julie what time it is and what's happened but Julie shakes it off because maybe Nick is having a hard time at home or something.

Throughout the season, we see Willie and Alex getting closer.. Alex and Willie have a moment where it's late at night, Willie is skating and he suddenly gets flashbacks to the night he died. It causes Willie to fall and for a split second, he's back there.. laying on the ground, paramedics all around him. The driver of the car is hyperventilating on the side of the road. Willie is officially dead. He feels cold and scared and he just wants to go back home and laugh as his mom worries for the 10,000th time that his "adrenaline hits" are going to really hurt him one day.

And before he realizes it, he's breathing hard and crying. Alex doesn't know what to do when somebody else is having a panic attack so he just tells Willie to look at him.

He starts turning his spare drumstick in his hand; slowly. He counts softly as he does it. When Willie is calm enough, Alex holds him because there's really nothing else he can do. And even though there's no heartbeat, Willie still closes his eyes and hums to its beat all the same.

Luke and Julie are getting closer too. Now that they can actually touch each other, he's taken to sneaking up behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist and even though he does it once a day, Julie still jumps and screams. Their song writing has gotten better and better and Flynn notes on it by saying often which one of her beats matches them

Julie has started to think about how long this'll last. How long until the guys -Luke included- really do have to move on. Or how long until Julie does? Because she is growing, she's maturing and she can't necessarily introduce Luke to her family over awkward-first meeting-dinner.

But Luke still holds her tight when she gets overwhelmed and she thinks that enough for now.

Bobby/Trevor has been obsessed with figuring out just how his former bandmates could be alive...well, alive enough. Carrie still harbors a grudge but she doesn't roll her eyes when she passes Julie and Flynn in the hall so that's something.

Richie has been visiting his folks a lot.. moreso his little sister. She's grown up to be a beautiful young woman who loves to write. She writes letters to Richie whenever a monumental occasion happens. She stuffs them in a little box underneath her bed and says a silent prayer that he's okay.

Then the final ep is of Caleb taking full control of Nick; taking Julie and Willie hostage. Bobby provides the abandoned garage. Now that he's possessing Nick, Caleb can touch humans which means he can hurt humans. And so he hurts Willie. "Because I'm not a barbarian" he says. He tortures Julie another way, by using his magic to make her see Luke dying, her mom dying, EVERYONE DYING because Julie can't cope with being alone; not fully.

The guys found out and Luke wants to go all in, barging through the doors and saving Julie. Alex does his best to be calm and just remember Willie's humming. Richie does a quick check-in to see if his sister is in her room- she's not.

END OF S2

#julie and the phantoms #season 2 #Juke #Walex #julie x luke #willie x alex #Richie #netflix #kenny ortega #willex

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amydancepants-peralta · 5 years ago

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37 or 64 for the prompt thing, please? :3

37: “What did you break this time?” and 64: “You know, it’s a really long story.”

@b99peraltiago Adele, I’m very sorry to be so late with this ... but I’ve combined the two into an AU that I hope you enjoy!

crash into you

Series 3 of her favourite podcast, Lingthusiasm, is playing at just the right decibel through Amy Santiago’s earphones as she diverts her Thursday afternoon walk to a soft patch of grass in order stretch out her aching muscles. According to the majority of her research, a steady pace of 3 to 4.5 mph was the optimum standard pace to maintain fitness. In order to excel, she had increased to a regulated 5.5mph over the past few days, and her body was not being subtle in its protest.

She’s not to know it yet, but in the coming days she will be grow to be beyond grateful for the existence of said earphones - as they act as a complete distraction to her surroundings - and as a result Amy does not sense any impending danger until a shrieking “EEEEEEE! WatchoutIcan’tstopIcan’tstopOHGODICAN’TSTOP!” manages to cut through the otherwise dulcet tones of the host Gretchen’s voice.

A mere second later, she finds herself falling to the ground as a confusing mixture of weight, cologne and wheels crashes into her, an unfamiliar pair of arms wrapping themselves around her middle as they attempt to absorb the brunt of their descent.

The blades of grass are cold against her bare arms as she struggles against the sudden oppressive weight, the scent of dirt mixing with this mysterious cologne as she throws her head side to side. “What the …?”

The weight is lifted as suddenly as it arrived, a steady hand planting itself into the ground next to her neck as the rest of Amy’s senses finally begin to regain control. With her sunglasses knocked off during the fray (and therefore temporarily out of reach), she squints against the bright rays of the sun, struggling to make sense of what on earth just happened.

Obviously, somebody had crashed into her. But she still wasn’t sure of the who or the how - or the why, really.

But what Amy could be sure of, as her mind slowly began to focus on what was directly in front of her, was that she was currently looking into the most expressive pair of eyes she’d ever seen in her life. Coupled with a prominent nose, strong jawline and tousled brown hair - it’s messy curls almost begging to be toyed with - the sight was distracting, to say the least.

There’s a dull sound in the back of her mind, a soft baritone that she doesn’t recognise, and as her brows knit with focus Amy realises that the beautiful stranger above her is talking. Tearing her attention away from the warm gaze in front of her, Amy shakes her head in obvious confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Are you okay?”

It’s a simple question - one that should come with its own simple response. She thinks she’s okay - her breath is a little shaky from the shock, and her ankle is throbbing a little from the thwack of what she suspects might be roller skate wheels against her skin, but nothing feels broken. Her voice seems to be coming and going as it pleases, though, and Amy doesn’t quite trust herself to speak more than a few words, and so she gives a feeble nod.

With a relieved sigh the man shifts, moving to sit slightly upright on the grass next to her. “I’m so sorry about that. I called out as loudly as I could, but I don’t think you could hear me until it was too late.” Shaking his head, he gestures down towards his feet, and Amy lifts her head just a little, taking in what she had correctly suspected - a pair of roller skates, strapped to his feet with bright pink and yellow laces.

Clearing her throat, Amy slowly props herself up onto one elbow, angling herself towards her assailant. Her heart still felt like it was beating a little erratically, but no longer seemed to be lodged in her throat, and so she tries speaking something more than just a few words. “I heard …something, but you’re right. It was definitely too late. Maybe a little of ‘I can’t stop’?”

The man nods, changing the motion to a shake immediately after as he reaches down and begins yanking the laces undone. “There are literally no brakes on them. Man, I am truly terrible at this. I haven’t done it in years, and I guess some skills just don’t stay with you over time.”

“Unca Jaaake!” A tiny voice appears, seemingly from nowhere, and Amy props herself up onto both elbows to gain a better view. Skating effortlessly towards them was a young girl, no more than six years old, with soft red hair and a bright smile. Bending her toe towards the sidewalk as she nears Amy and the stranger (Unca Jake seems like a pretty good guess), she comes to a smooth stop in front of them. “You went off so fast! I couldn’t keep up. Isn’t this FUN?!”

“TOTALLY fun, Iggy! So much so that I swept this woman off her feet with all my awesomeness.” Wincing, he looks back over at Amy. “I really am sorry, Miss …?”

Smiling, Amy shifts herself into a half-sitting position before offering a hand to shake. “Santiago. Amy Santiago.”

His hand feels warm against hers, covering her palm with his gentle grip as he responds politely. “Jake Peralta. Or ‘Unca Jake’, as this one likes to call me.” Returning his attention towards the skates, he yanks each one off of his feet with a triumphant shout. “She and I thought it would be a great idea to go skating in the park. Obviously, a better decision for one more than the other.”

Looking up, Amy watches with a grin as the girl in front of them launches into a series of twirls, holding both arms out in the kind of carefree manner that only a happy child can do. “Yeah. I hate to break this to you, but I think she might be a slightly better skater than you.”

“Oh my god, what did you break this time?!” A new, definitely more mature voice cuts into their conversation, and from beside her Jake sighs.

“She didn’t break anything, Gina. This was all me.”

A tall redhead screeches to a stop in front of the two of them, one hand reaching out to adjust the strap on her elbow guard as she throws Jake a withering stare. Her eyes flit over towards Amy, her calculated glare making Amy feel oddly self-conscious, and with a roll of her eyes she returns her attention back to the man beside her. “I’m not talking about Iggy, you doofus. I know it wasn’t her - my girl can glide like an angel. Clearly, if anybody was going to break anything today, it was you.”

“Wish somebody had thought to tell me that,” Jake mutters, balling his hand into a fist and pushing it into the grass as he lifts himself up. Once standing he turns towards Amy, offering her his hand, and she accepts with a smile. His hand really did feel nice and welcoming.

“So you’re just going around knocking down strangers now, huh?”

“You know it was an accident, Gina. I’m just thankful that nobody ended up hurt. This is Amy, by the way.” He gestures towards Amy, and she waves at the redhead in response. “The lovely woman who was innocently walking through the park before I appeared out of nowhere and bowled her over.”

Reaching out her hand, Amy takes a step towards the other woman before stopping in her tracks with a sharp intake of breath. “Ouch!”

Jake is front of her in an instant, reaching out a comforting hand and resting it on her upper arm for support. “Whoa, did I hurt you after all?”

Using her free hand to shield her eyes from the sun, Amy looks at the man in front of her, once again picking up on the obvious concern in his eyes. She gives her ankle a little test wriggle, grimacing slightly as it throbs again in protest. It’s definitely angry; but she can still move her foot without impediment, and so she shakes her head, offering Jake a comforting smile. “No, I think my ankle’s just a little irritated, post-skate attack. Nothing a little ice and elevation can’t fix.”

His hand remains on her upper arm - a fact that Amy is becoming increasingly aware of - and Jake’s eyes watch her carefully as she gives him a friendly shrug. “Are you sure?”

“Moooooom … I’m bored!”

“Me too, Iggs. Me too.”

Holding back a laugh, Amy nods. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Reluctantly Jake pulls away, throwing a quick glare in his friend’s direction before returning his attention to Amy, patting the pockets of his jeans. “Okay, uh … look. I’m a doctor.” Fishing a card out of his back pocket, he smooths the worn edges before handing it to Amy. “If you start to feel worse at any point in the next 24 hours, I want you to call me, okay? Any time, day or night.”

Plucking the card from his outstretched hand, Amy reads the inscription with surprise. Jake Peralta: Oncologist. Who knew her routine walk would ever be interrupted by a roller skating oncologist? She grins, holding back a giggle as she looks back up at the man in front of her. “Okay. I’m pretty sure I’m fine, but … thank you.”

“Day or night. You could have a concussion, or bruised ribs … I’d hate to have you hurting. So, you know. Call me if you are.”

Amy nods, bidding her goodbyes as she slowly begins to step back, snatching up her sunglasses and trying her very best not to limp in any obvious way as she goes. “Will do. Thanks for the card, and … hope you get better at roller skating.”

Jake’s blindingly bright grin is the last thing Amy sees before she turns around, missing his raised hand’s departing wave as she begins to make her way home. It was ridiculous, but part of her couldn’t help but notice the tiny butterflies that began fluttering through her stomach the moment that man had smiled at her. Not to mention the way his hand had felt so perfectly warm against her own.

Or his kind eyes that seemed to absorb everything she said, when really she hadn’t had much to say at all.

Shaking her head, Amy digs her house key out from its hidden pocket in her leggings, unlocking her front door and heading straight to the kitchen for an ice pack and a glass of wine (in that order). It made absolutely zero sense, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just developed a massive crush on an absolute stranger.

And she had no idea what she was going to do about it.

As it turns out, a few glasses of wine with your ankle propped up on the couch gives a normally shy woman a certain amount of courage; and so later that very night Amy sent a polite thank you text to the number on Jake’s business card. (She is, after all, a massive advocate for thank you notes - or any kind of well-mannered correspondence, for that matter.)

Responding within minutes, Jake is obvious in his relief: thankful that he hadn’t left her completely damaged after his horrible attempt to keep up with a six year old.

I honestly would have felt like the worst person ever, his text read, and Amy smiled at his candour. Her thumb is still hovering over the keyboard, trying to figure out a casual way to keep the conversation going (even though it has only just begun, she really doesn’t want it to end just yet) when her phone vibrates again in her hand - this time with a photo of Jake on the ground, obviously having fallen again on his way home. She’s replying with the laughing emoji before she can stop herself, and when he responds with a facepalm and a longwinded description of just how he managed to stack it on the concrete path near his house, Amy gets that warm feeling all over again - like they’ve known each other for way longer than just half a day.

Before she knows it, over half an hour has passed, and her phone has had a steady run of Dr Peralta messages the entire time. Her eyes are still sparkling from all the laughter when the texts seem to pause for a minute or two, and with her heart leaping out of her chest Amy reads his latest message - a shy fragment of sentences, asking her to dinner the following evening.

It’s all she can do not to respond with a oh gosh yes! - choosing instead to type out a less manic version of I’d love to, adding in the blushing emoji and ignoring the throb in her ankle as she begins a happy celebratory dance in her living room.

It’s hard to explain, this feeling she gets whenever they speak, but Amy has the strongest instinct that this could be the start of something amazing.

Jake sits across from her the following evening, the nerves obvious on his face as he fidgets with the napkin on the table, and Amy would like to say she’s faring a little better, but she definitely isn’t.

Smoothing her hands against the red dress she’s had hanging in her cupboard for months now - waiting for just the right occasion for it’s debut - Amy wills her legs to stop bouncing with restless energy as she waits for the waiter to finish taking their order. There’s a glass of white wine to both of their lefts, and while part of her is dying to empty the glass right away, there’s another part that wishes they had just ordered a bunch of shots instead. According to her oldest friend Kylie, her reactions seem to vary dependent on the amount she consumes, but there’s something to be said for the influx of Liquid Courage.

He’d told her she was beautiful when they’d met outside the restaurant earlier, his eyes so wide and sincere that all of the first date jitters that had been simmering in Amy’s stomach on the walk over had immediately turned into an inferno. Had held the door open for her, giving her a gentle smile as she passed him by, and when she caught a whiff of the same cologne she’d noticed the day before, her heart had skipped a tiny beat.

It was ridiculous, this pull she felt towards somebody that had literally been a stranger two days ago, but Amy wasn’t even slightly interested in stopping it.

Handing over his menu to the waiter as he departs, Jake flickers his gaze in Amy’s direction, raising his eyebrows slightly when he notices Amy is already looking his way. His hesitation is obvious as his nerves get the better of him, opening his mouth before closing it just as quickly, and Amy - the woman who has attended more Toastmaster courses than most - decides to pull him out of the deep end.

“So … you’re an oncologist?”

He nods, a tiny smile of relief growing on his face. “Yeah. I’m based at Brooklyn Methodist most of the week, and every other Friday I do a little pro-bono work for community health.”

She nods, already invested in hearing more. There was a handsome man sitting across from her in a pale grey shirt, a dark grey blazer and a smile that rivalled the lamp on every table for brightness. He could start reading from the paper, and she’d be invested. “That’s an interesting field to go into. What led you down that path?”

Amy watches as the slightest tinge of pink begins to creep over his cheeks, and damn it if it isn’t incredibly endearing. He hesitates for a moment, eventually raising his hand in a half-dismissive wave. “You know, it’s a really long story.”

She waits, cocking her head slightly to the side, and after a minute Jake breaks out into a grin.

“Okay, fine. It was just me and my Mom growing up, and she was working two or three jobs to pay bills and whatever, so a lot of the time I would stay at my Nan’s until I was old enough to stay on my own. We got really close, because my Nan was awesome, and when I was in my sophomore year of high school she got really sick.” His face falls slightly, and he reaches for the glass of wine to his right. Letting the wine trickle down his throat, Jake studies the glass a little more than necessary, and when he finally turns his attention back to Amy the look on his face makes everything else in the restaurant turn dim. “We couldn’t afford a lot, but we went to so many doctors, trying to find answers, ya know? And nobody seemed to be able to help.”

Amy’s hand seems to move of its own accord, reaching across the table to rest against Jake’s wrist before she even realises what’s happening. His eyes flickers down to her touch before returning to her eyes, and the softness of his gaze only makes her squeeze gently in silent encouragement.

“And … you know, this was a time before Google made everyone doctors, or even a reference point like WebMD, so it wasn’t too long before I found myself down at the local library - literally any chance I could get - just reading and studying and …. I dunno, trying to figure out what I could do to save her. I was just completely in the zone. Honestly, the library lady thought that I had been possessed by some other kid.” Rolling his eyes, he gives a little shrug. “They weren’t entirely wrong, if I’m being honest. I simply couldn’t bear the thought of sitting back and just … waiting for this thing to destroy somebody I loved.”

Nodding slowly, Amy leans forward and uses the leverage to start a soothing stroke up and down her date’s forearm. This is far more contact than she would normally offer on a first date - heck, maybe even more than a second date - but she cannot ignore this instinctual need she has to comfort the man across from her.

Out of the corner of her eye she notices their waiter walking towards them, bottle of wine in hand ready for the pour, and she gives him a subtle shake of her head. There was a story to tell here - she could see it in Jake’s eyes - and even though she’s fairly certain she knows where it’s going, she has no interest in rushing him through it.

Bringing his right hand up to the table, Jake fiddles with his dessert spoon, tracing the smooth outside edge with his thumb as a distraction. “Anyway. Despite all my hopes of becoming some kind of overnight Doogie Howser, things just kept getting worse for Nan, and … yeah. Too little, too late.” Scooping the arm of the utensil up with his fingers, he flips it over a few times, keeping his eyes locked on the flashes of metal against the beige tablecloth.

Taking a deep breath Amy stills her hand on Jake’s arm, waiting until he’s looking back at her before continuing. “I’m really sorry to hear that, Jake.”

He smiles, an action that barely meets his eyes, his face so soft it makes her heart ache. “Thanks, Amy.” His hand stills, foregoing the spoon to scratch an itch along his jawline. “Anyway, by the time all that happened I was like … two months away from graduating school, and medicine had pretty much become the only thing I knew. Add that to a surprisingly good SAT score, and next thing I knew I was on my way to medical school. Broke as hell, studying during the day and working through the night, but … what little inheritance we’d gotten from Nan, my mom insisted it go towards my education, and I was not going to waste that opportunity.”

Chewing slightly on her lower lip, Amy studies the man in front of her. “I think it’s amazing that you’re able to help so many people now, Jake.” He shrugs, and she continues. “No, really. It takes a special kind of soul to be able to take the pain and make it into something stronger.”

“I mean, it’s not all perfect. I’m still paying off the tuition fees, to this day. My da- someone was going to help me with it, but that’s a whole other story.” He sighs, pursing his lips slightly before continuing. “In saying that, I’ve think I’ve been able to help a decent amount of people. And Gina - the woman I was skating with yesterday? - she’s been my friend since childhood; and now she’s my administrative assistant. She has a surprisingly great way of sensing what my patients want to hear while they’re waiting for their appointment, and just provides the perfect distraction every time. So yeah, I think it’s turned out kinda okay.” The table falls silent for a moment, and just as Amy is about to break the hush, Jake blinks rapidly, shaking his head. “God, I’m sorry. I just blurted out like … half of my life story to you. I don’t even know where that came from, I’m so sorry.”

Tightening her grip on Jake’s arm, Amy shakes her head quickly. “No, please don’t apologise. I really loved hearing about it.” Slowly, she began to pull her hand away. “And for what it’s worth, I bet your Nan would have been really proud of you.”

Watching as the blush returns to his cheeks, Amy takes a deep breath in as Jake’s smile begins to return. He nods, his voice suddenly a lot softer. “Yeah, she definitely would be.”

Glancing around the room, his hand runs down the middle of his dress shirt, fingertips skimming over the pale coloured buttons as he gives Amy a sly grin. “I should probably confess something, though. I was really, really glad when you texted me to say you were feeling okay - and not just in the ‘thank god I didn’t break a stranger’s ankle’ kind of way.”

“Oh?”

Jake’s still-fidgety right hand runs through the back of his hair, his expression turning sheepish. “Yeah. I mean, obviously I would have had you come in right away, strapped up your foot or whatever, but … it also would have meant that you’d have become my patient.” He pauses to swallow, rubbing the underside of his ear. “And if you were my patient, I technically wouldn’t have been allowed to ask you out, and that’s just … I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m really happy that we were able to do this.”

The tip of Amy’s ears begin to heat up and she ducks her head slightly, quickly tucking her hair back before looking back up at Jake with a smile. “Me too, Jake.”

Grinning, Jake’s teeth dig slightly into his bottom lip, and he nods. “Anyway. Enough about me. I’m dying to know more about you. What do you, when you’re not getting barrelled down by lunatic doctors in open fields?”

Chuckling at her date’s description of yesterday afternoon, Amy sits up slightly as she answers proudly - “I’m in the NYPD. A detective, actually.”

“No way! That’s so badass. I bet you kick butt.” Jake’s eyes light up, and he leans in closer, arms brushing against the edge of the table as they are relegated to his lap. “Die Hard was not-so-secretly my favourite movie growing up, and for the longest time I was certain I was going to be a cop just like John McClane.”

Amy nods in understanding. At least two of her brothers counted Die Hard as one of their all-time favourites, and she has spent many an evening stuck on the couch, watching the action thriller. “Ah, I see. Well … I’m sorry to tell you this, but I haven’t once jumped off the roof of a burning building. Or climbed through ventilation ducts to save a bunch of hostages from certain death.”

“Yet. You haven’t jumped off the roof of a burning building, yet.”

She laughs. “You’re right. My mistake. I’ll be sure to call you when I do.”

He beams. “I hope you do.”

To the approaching waiter they must have looked particularly odd - the two of them sitting in total silence as they smiled at each other from across the table - but Amy genuinely cannot remember ever feeling as comfortable on her first date as she does right now.

Their easy conversation rolls on throughout their meals, ranging from stories about Amy’s most memorable collars to the patients that Jake has never been able to forget, and Amy is halfway through a story about which brother gave her the scar on her right elbow when the waiter reappears, quietly letting them know that several hours have passed and the restaurant was now ready to close.

She’s still blushing slightly as Jake pays the bill, smiling apologetically at the staff as her date holds out her coat. In the blink of an eye, they had managed to spend the entire night talking, and yet somehow she still wanted to know more.

Jake’s touch feels light against the small of her back as he leads them towards the exit, and as they step out into the night Amy leans her head back to take in the peppered light of the stars above. She’s never been one to believe in fate, but maybe when it came to this, she needed to make an exception.

His hand reaches for hers after the third or fourth block, and as they walk together Amy begins to realise that of all the years she’s spent as a detective solving puzzles, she’d never actually found her own missing piece - and maybe, just maybe, the sweet and charming man beside her was going to be the perfect fit.

They walk for longer than either of them intended, the stories from earlier in the evening picking up as though they were never interrupted, and when they finally end up outside Amy’s apartment she cannot hide the sadness that begins to wash over her.

He kisses her goodnight, and it’s the kind of kiss that begins so soft and delicate, before turning into so much more … even though she knows it’s impossible, Amy swears she can hear the fireworks sparking above them. His arms keep her close to his chest as they both lean in for another, the pounding beat of both of their hearts fighting through the fabric of their coats, and when he finally bids her goodbye, Amy knows that already she is falling, falling, falling.

By the end of the following week, there have been two more dates (and perhaps one sleepover), and in a few years time Gina will tell an entirely different version of how they met to their family and friends at their wedding reception.

It will be a couple more years before their family begins to expand; but as they grow, Amy is always happy to remind their children that her knight in shining armour turned out to be a doctor with ill-fitting skates - and that sometimes, you just have to let your future crash into you.

(And when the time comes to actually teach their kids how to roller skate, maybe Amy chooses to do it on a day when her husband is already tied up with work.)

#my writing #peraltiagoau #grand plans of having this ready by your bday fell victim to Time #consider this a belated gift haha #I hope you enjoy!#b99fanfic #b99au #jake x amy fic #b99fic

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epochofbelief · 5 years ago

Text

Breath Control, Chapter Six

An A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team AU

All characters belong to SJ Maas!

Feysand.

Warnings: mature content, cursing

Let me know if you want to be tagged:)

Enjoy!

SIX

We pulled up outside the family house--an enormous, Colonial-style building, complete with six bedrooms, too many bathrooms to count, an enormous kitchen, and several living areas. My father had purchased it as soon as his business had started flourishing again in the middle of last year. I’d never understood why he’d bought such a large home for himself alone. I figured it was something about overtly displaying just how much wealth he’d regained to everyone in our home town. I didn’t concern myself with it too much; I’d never actually lived in the house anyway.

Nesta had for a few months before she’d moved down to Prythian to live near me and Elain. I’m pretty sure she’d lived on the opposite side of the house from my father to avoid running into him as much as possible until she’d saved enough money from her flight attendant job to get a place of her own. . . Out of the three of us, Nesta got along with my dad the least.

Rhys charmed Elain instantly, asking her questions about her baking, her gardening, her nursing classes. He skillfully avoided all talk of significant others, for which I was grateful, and by the end of the car ride Elain was half in love with him.

Elain hopped out of the car as soon as she pulled onto the enormous bricked driveway. I remained inside with Rhys for a moment. I twisted around in the backseat to look at him.

“Here is my final warning and disclaimer to you. I love Nesta, don’t get me wrong. But she will be a bitch to you. I don’t know how my father will act around. . .” I trailed off.

“Never brought a boy home, Feyre darling? I’ll try to pretend I’m not immensely flattered at the idea.”

Heat bloomed in my cheeks. “Of course I’ve brought boys home. You’re not that special.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Archeron. Let’s go meet your family.”

If I was being honest, his eagerness scared me a little. I took a deep breath and followed him up the front walk, bags in tow. Elain burst into the house and I timidly followed her through the enormous entry way, painted a pleasant cream above the dark wood flooring. Past the staircase and to the right, we found my father and Nesta in the kitchen talking.

More like arguing, They weren’t yelling, though, which was progress for those two.

“I don’t like you working as a flight attendant, Nesta. You got an engineering degree for a reason, you know.”

“I don’t care. Working on planes is much more fun. I get to see new places during long layovers or overnight stays. So butt. Out. Dad.”

Elain cleared her throat. Realizing they now had company, they both shut up rather quickly. I was grateful. I wanted to spare Rhys from the family theatrics for as long as possible. Even if things had been better between all four of us for the past year or so.

“Feyre!” My dad exclaimed, unusually perky. It was probably for Rhys’s benefit. He moved to hug me and I acquiesced, glancing at Nesta out of the corner of my eye. She shrugged.

“And you must be Rhysand. I have to say, I was quite surprised when Feyre told me she was bringing a boy home for Thanksgiving dinner who wasn’t Tamlin.” My cheeks were absolutely flaming at this point. I decided to stare at my shoes.

Also, how could he mention Tamlin? He didn’t know a thing about our relationship except that we were broken up and I never wanted to speak of it again. Oblivious to all the embarrassment he was currently causing me, my father extended his hand to Rhys.

Rhys gripped it tightly, his crutch wedged underneath his arm. I was pleased to see that his grip was firm. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Yes.” My father had suddenly become quite solemn. “And what are you majoring in, Rhysand?”

Oh dear.

“International Relations, sir.”

“And what do you plan to do with that?”

And God bless him, Rhys didn’t miss a beat. “My father is an Operations Manager for a large global company. I plan to follow in his footsteps to manage a large company, particularly--”

I decided that that was enough. “Okay, Dad! I’m going to give Rhys a house tour. What time’s dinner?”

My father gave Rhys a look as though their conversation wasn’t over as I grabbed his arm and hustled him out of the kitchen.

I forced Rhys up the stairs. “Oh my god. What right does he have to give my friends the first-degree as soon as he meets them? He didn’t try to parent me in high school, so why start now? It’s not like you’re my--”

“Boyfriend?” He smirked. “It was fine, Feyre. I know what I plan to do with my degree.”

“You shouldn’t have to answer to him.”

“Relax,” he said as he followed me up the second flight of stairs. “By the end of this week, your father will love me.”

He met me at the top of the stairs, seeing as I’d stormed up them and he’d had to carefully ease his way up with his boot and crutches. Barely a hand’s breadth between us, he stood with his back to the stairs as I stared up at him.

“Why waste your time trying to make such a good impression?” I couldn’t take my eyes away from his face. I realized suddenly just how much taller than me he was.

“Consider it a long term investment.”

“Why invest in that?”

He edged around me and set off down one of the hallways. “Show me the house, Feyre darling. Isn’t that what we came up here to do?”

I could think of other things. The thought coalesced inside my mind, unbidden. I was the only one who lived on the third floor of this house. Those things I was thinking of doing . . . wouldn’t be difficult to accomplish here.

Nope. No, no, no. Not an option.

But as I followed Rhys down the corridor, I couldn’t help. . . wondering what it would be like. Kissing him, touching him, calling him mine. . .

“Archeron! You coming? I don’t actually know where I’m going.”

I puffed out my cheeks. Shit.

We worked our way through all the bedrooms and living rooms on the second floor and finally made it to the staircase that led to my room, alone on the third floor. It was quite a spacious room, actually, with an amazing attached bathroom. What I didn’t realize was how Rhys would get up the extremely narrow staircase. Technically, the third floor had been something like the servants’ quarters a hundred years ago, now remodeled and modernized. But the fact remained that the staircase was much too narrow for Rhys to get up with his crutches.

“You don’t have to see my room. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about it,” I said, glancing down at his foot.

He set his crutches against the wall. “I’m seeing your room, Feyre,” he said confidently.

I raised my eyebrows. “Well, okay then. Do you want to go first?”

“I can walk perfectly fine, Feyre. Chill.”

“Boys,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just get your ass up the stairs.”

“Bossy. I like a woman in charge.”

“Get your ass up the stairs, Rhysand!”

He chuckled. And began his slow ascent. It wasn’t that he was weak, it was that his boot was big and clunky and he wasn’t technically supposed to put his weight on it very often, according to Madja. On the narrow staircase, maneuvering the boot would be difficult. But he made his way up, giving me an extremely convenient view of his ass through his jeans as he climbed. I followed him until we reached the top and then squeezed past him on the tiny landing.

“Prepare to be amazed. My father ensured I had the room of my dreams even though I’ve never truly lived here. Parental guilt for not really providing for me all through high school.”

Rhys stood, arms crossed, waiting.

I sighed. This felt strangely intimate. I’d never had a boy in my room before. I mean sure, Tamlin had visited my dorm a few times but because he was older we had almost always ended up at his place at night. And my room wasn’t really “lived in” seeing as I’d never lived in the house. But it was mine, and I’d gotten to choose all the decorations, all the pictures… everything.

“Okay.” I turned the door handle and stepped briskly into my room, eager to get this over with.

Rhys hobbled inside, his gaze floating over the white-covered, four poster bed pushed against the far wall, two large windows on either side. His gaze floated over the dark wood floors, covered by a gray rug under my bed and a pale blue one under the sitting area, complete with a fireplace, couch, and two arm plush grey armchairs. It floated over my bookshelf, filled with all the books I didn’t have room for in my townhouse back at school. And landed on the grey walls, covered with paintings.

Every one of them painted by me.

There were landscapes, and abstracts, and a few canvases covered only with my favorite book or movie quotes.

He stepped into the center of the room and halted, turning in place, staring at the paintings. “Did you paint all of these?”

I leaned against my door. “Yeah…”

He kept looking.

“That bad, huh?”

He tore his gaze from the walls of my bedroom. “What? No. The exact opposite. This is--these are-- These are amazing, Feyre. I had no idea you were a painter.”

“I’ve sort of run out of time for it in college. Haven’t painted since. . .” I hadn’t really painted since Tamlin and I had gotten together. “Since the beginning of my freshman year. I miss it,” I said, and suddenly felt the urge to march downstairs and into the garage to retrieve all my old paint buckets, brushes, and the canvases that I knew were waiting for me.

“Wow. I’d pay money for one of these. You have an incredible talent, Feyre.” His eyes alighted on the painting hung above my fireplace. “Is that your mother?”

I nodded, smiling a little. “I painted it based off of a picture of her my dad has. She died before I really picked up the hobby. But that’s her.”

“She’s beautiful.”

I nodded and decided it was safe to enter the room. My paintings were a part of my soul. And I realized that if Rhys had looked at them and insulted them, or worse, just skated over their existence, I would have been crushed. Thank goodness he hadn’t. I collapsed onto my bed. I was suddenly exhausted from the morning practice that felt like it had been days ago and the following four hour drive spent with Rhys. He limped over and sat next to me as I stared up at the ceiling.

“This is why you were so nervous to bring me up here?” He asked softly.

I nodded.

“Anyone would be crazy not to be impressed by your art.”

“It was kind of a weird hobby to have in high school. I mostly kept it to myself. Not sure why the kids at my school thought painting in your spare time was weird.”

He was silent for a moment, as though debating what to say. Then-- “Well I, personally, find painting in your spare time to be hot.”

I sat up, my face coming within inches of his. If I moved forward just a bit, my lips would meet his.

“Incredibly hot,” he went on.

It was almost as if my body was leaning forward of its own accord.

“In fact, it might be one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard.”

I rolled my eyes. “Now you’re just making things up.”

He smiled and I might have melted a little bit.

“Maybe.” I could feel his breath on my cheek. Minty. Was there anything about him that wasn’t perfect?

I leaned closer. Consequences be damned. We were inches apart, so close my eyelids had fluttered closed, when--

“Feyre! Dinner!”

“Shit,” he whispered.

I swallowed. “We should go.”

He nodded. “Mmhm.”

I led him back across the landing and down the stairs. I’d reached the bottom step when he swore (again) and---

“Shit!”

I almost felt him trip before he stumbled forward, and I whirled around, gripping his shoulders in an effort to steady him at the bottom of the stairs. His hands reached out and grabbed my waist as he regained his balance.

“You good?” I asked, breathing more heavily than I should have been. Heat flared up and down my body from where his hands had set themselves around my middle.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He still hadn’t let go. I didn’t want him to.

“Dinner. We have to go eat dinner. Your father probably thinks I’m doing unspeakable things to you right now, Feyre darling.”

Heat flooded my cheeks again. “Right.” And shaking my head, I released his shoulders and as I walked down the stairs to the kitchen, I chided myself for my weakness, for the desire to kiss him that had been growing steadily all day, all week.

------

Later that night, after a tense dinner with my father, I came downstairs after my shower to find Rhysand and my dad shouting at the television together. Prythian University’s men’s basketball team was on the screen, playing some school I’d never really heard of. Rhys and my father were berating the referees as I took a seat on the couch next to Rhys--a healthy two feet away from him.

Just to be sure.

“I didn’t realize either of you were so invested in college basketball…”

Rhys tore his eyes away from the screen to gape at me, openmouthed. “You go to Prythian and you don’t care about our basketball team? They were in the top four in the country last year.”

I shrugged. “I’m just not that into it.”

“I can’t believe I’m friends with you.” He placed a special emphasis on the word “friends.” I prayed my father didn’t notice his change of tone.

“Hey!”

My dad chimed in. “Can’t say I blame him, Feyre. Neglecting to educate you in team sports has been the biggest regret of my life.”

“Oh, please. You’re both making me feel like public enemy number one in my own house.”

Rhys poked me in the side and I hissed, then settled back on the couch for the next hour as the pair of new-best-friends shouted and raged and cheered at the screen until, in double-overtime, Prythian won out.

“Thank God that’s over,” I mumbled, although I was secretly happy Prythian had come out on top in the end.

“I’m dragging you to a basketball game when we get back to campus. Athletes get free tickets. You know that right?”

“Of course I know that.” Nevermind that I’d never used that particular advantage.

My dad stood up. “Well, kids, I’m headed to bed. Feyre, Rhys knows where his room is, right?” He gave me a look. Then bestowed another, different look, on Rhys.

“Yes, Dad. Good night.” I narrowed my eyes and he (thankfully) departed quickly.

That left Rhys and me, alone in the dark living room. Nesta and Elain had gone off to bed hours ago. An awkward silence ensued.

“Well,” I stood. “I guess I should get to bed.”

Rhys followed suit. “Yep,” he said lamely.

As he crutched after me toward the staircase, I spoke up, just to break the silence between us that hadn’t been there moments before. “I can’t believe how fast you charmed my father.”

He chuckled. “I hate to be so predictable, but I am a man and I do love televised sports.”

I sighed. “I’m not judging.”

We made it to the top of the stairs and I walked him to his room. He paused in the doorway. “I really am grateful though, despite your rather unfortunate lack of interest in sports. Grateful you invited me here.”

“What are teammates for?” I said, remembering what he’d asked me on that night a month ago.

He smiled a little, as though remembering that night too. “Good night, Feyre.”

“Good night, Rhys.”

It was difficult to refrain from inviting him up to my room to… just to have him near me. But I made myself turn away from him and climb the narrow staircase to my solitary bedroom at the top of the house.

I’d just crawled into bed when a text came through on my phone. I lunged for the nightstand, knocking my phone to the floor in the process. Relieved that no one had been around to witness such a display of grace and decorum, recognizing how obviously desperate I was for Rhys to text me, I reached down, scooped up my phone, and pulled up my messages.

Tamlin Spring: I heard you took Rhys home with you for Thanksgiving

All the air left my body.

Tamlin Spring: You never took me home to meet your family. I didn’t realize you were such a slut. Did a year with me mean nothing to you?

Tamlin Spring: I would take you back--if you got on your knees in front of me and begged

Tamlin Spring: You were only ever good on your knees, anyway

Now it felt as though all the blood had left my body too.

I threw my phone against the room. I sat up in my bed, face in my hands. I should just ignore his messages and leave it alone. He had no right to comment on what I was doing. Who had even told him I’d invited Rhys home with me for Thanksgiving, anyway? Besides, it was just friends helping friends. Rhys being here didn’t mean anything. It certainly didn’t make me a slut.

But as my phone buzzed again, and then again, as I tried to shut my eyes and shut out what he’d said. . . I couldn’t stop rereading his texts inside my head. Was I just a slut? A traitor for having these feelings for Rhys so soon after ending things with Tamlin?

He would still take me back? Like that was going to happen. But. . . I remembered what he’d said when he’d kidnapped me and forced me to drink…. Something about just giving me space, as though he didn’t think we were actually broken up...

But if he was telling me I was a slut over a text… He’d probably spread that rumor to the rest of the team by now. Along with a story about how I was a cheater too. After I’d worked so hard to stay out of the drama and sexual intrigue so abundant on my swim team. Against my will, tears leaked from between my fingers.

My phone buzzed for a third time and I dragged myself out of bed to retrieve it. I was determined to silence it and cry myself to sleep, but instead of another text from Tamlin, three from Rhys popped up.

Rhys: What was that bang?

Rhys: I’m in the room underneath yours, I think

Rhys: FEYRE ARE YOU ALIVE

As I read them, another popped up.

Rhys: Don’t make me come up there

I started typing my response, telling him I was fine and to go to bed when a soft knock sounded at my door. I padded over to it and pulled it open.

“How did you get up here so fast?” I whispered.

“Texted as I walked. Obviously.”

“Well you didn’t need to waste the trip. I threw my phone at the ground.”

“Your phone is enormous. The bang caused the elaborate chandelier over my bed to swing ominously. I feared for my life.” He was teasing me. But then the smile melted from his face as he noticed what I was wearing.

A large grey t-shirt that came to rest mid-thigh. And nothing else. I didn’t even have it in me to blush, I was so intent on not letting him see the tears left on my face. He looked down only for a moment, though, before his gaze settled firmly above my neckline.

“Thanks for checking on me, Rhys.” I turned to go.

Slut. The word echoed through my mind. I was sure to return to the team to find myself at the center of all the gossip. What would Cassian and Mor think? Would they believe the rumors? We hadn’t been friends for long. I’d barely interacted with Amren and Azriel at this point. They’d surely believe the rumors.

Rhys caught my arm, taking a few steps farther into my room. “Feyre. What’s wrong? Why did you throw your phone at the floor?”

I had no idea why I gave up so easily, but I brandished my phone at him. He took it from me and I stared at the wall beside his head as he found the texts from Tamlin and read them.

“What. An. Asshole,” he said through gritted teeth.

“It’s fine.”

He gave my phone back to me. “No, no it’s not. He needs to leave you the fuck alone. He’s not your boyfriend anymore.”

Now I really did turn away. “I don’t need the encouragement, Rhys. He’s right, yeah? I’m just a slut. Moving on way too quickly.”

He raced around to stand in front of me. “No. You are not a slut. Your relationship is over. You ended it the right way. And for good reason, too. Nothing he just texted you has an ounce of truth to it. You should block him and forget about it.”

I didn’t say anything, just kept my eyes glued to the ground. I didn’t trust myself to look at him. I’d probably try to act on my “slutty tendencies” if I looked into his violet eyes.

Two fingers hooked under my chin and pulled my face up to his. “Feyre. I promise you. You’re doing nothing wrong.”

I couldn’t stop the fresh tears that escaped me. How had a few text messages from an asshole managed to upset me so much? Or maybe I was crying in relief that Rhys was so vehemently disagreeing with what Tamlin had sent. Either way, the tears kept coming as he looked at me. And then, slowly--so very slowly--he removed his fingers from my chin and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me toward him.

I stood there for a moment as he held me, arms hanging uselessly at my sides. And then I hugged him back, my arms coming up and over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. I slid one hand into his soft black hair. “Thanks for coming for me,” I whispered. “And I don’t just mean tonight.”

He huffed out a breath. “Anytime.”

I didn’t let go for a long, long time. Until I realized…

“Where the hell is your boot?”

He pulled back, his hands still resting lightly on my waist. “Uh…”

“Rhysand Night!” I whacked his arm. “You walked up here without your boot! Don’t you want to heal?!”

He put his hands on his hips. It was then that I noticed he wasn’t putting a whole lot of weight on his injured foot. “I heard a large thump and came up here prepared to defend you from a murderer or something, and this is how you thank me?”

I pushed him backward, forcing him to take a seat on my bed. “I can kill my own murderers, thank you very much. Now sit. I’m going to get your boot right now.”

But he reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me roughly toward him so I stood between his legs. My hands came to rest on his shoulders to steady myself. “I’m trying to make sure you can train sooner rather than later, you know,” I managed to say, but the thrill at being so close to him like this was overriding nearly every other thought in my mind.

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

And then he kissed me.

I was stunned for only a moment before my hands moved from his shoulders to thread through his silky black hair. His lips pressed against mine, so soft. His kiss was firm, neither too gentle nor too rough, and mere seconds passed before his tongue traced my lips and I opened my mouth, letting him in.

His tongue swept in and he inched back on the bed, keeping his mouth firmly planted against mine, pulling me onto the bed after him. His size hit me again, then. I was so small compared to him. He removed his lips from mine and he eased me onto my back. Turning, he leaned over me and his mouth claimed mine again, this time slightly more eager, as his right hand moved from my hair, down my side, coming to rest at my waist. I kept one hand firmly entangled in his hair while the other ran down his chest. He was so damn muscular.

I’d always been a sucker for swimmer’s bodies.

He pulled away for a moment. “So…”

I let out an irritated squeak of protest, but he slipped a hand beneath my shirt and flattened it against my stomach. I shut up.

“Earlier you said something about moving on too quickly.” His hand slid up a little bit.

“Hmm, I don’t recall…” I breathed, in a very futile attempt to hide how desperate I was for him to keep touching me, kissing me. More, more, more, I wanted.

His hand inched up, his thumb now caressing the skin just beneath my breasts. I was definitely not wearing a bra.

“What did you mean by that, Feyre darling?”

I tried desperately to suck down a breath as his hand slid up. . .

“Aren’t you smart enough to figure that out yourself, Rhysand?”

“Rhysand? You cruel, beautiful thing.”

His hand flattened against my breast and I lost all control as I pulled him down to kiss him again.

He smiled against my lips, and the joy that flooded through my body as a result of his happiness was almost better than how good it felt to feel his hands on my body, his lips on mine, his weight against me. Almost…

We stayed like that for quite a while, kissing, not going much farther, before he crawled under the covers, tucked me against him, and we fell asleep.

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

TAGS:))

@sleeping-and-books @musicalfae

#acomaf #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #acomaf au #acotar au #a court of thorns and roses au #a court of mist and fury au #feysand #feyre #feyre x rhysand #feyre x rhys #feyre archeron #high lord of the night court #books #sarah j maas #reading #breathcontrol ar ff

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lukatastrophe · 5 years ago

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When she’s worth the efforts.

Merry Christmas @sasami-mashiro !! I was your @mlsecretsanta this year ! I hope you will like it !

Thanks to my dear friend @chattheblackcat who was my beta reader and helped me fixing the flaws !

Marinette was rushing all around her room, she was already late. So very late. An akuma attack had delayed her preparation time. All she could do now was quickly put on a dress and grab her coat before leaving. Having her hair down helped to keep the cold off her neck a little. As she started running the bitter cold night air, began to turn her cheeks and nose red. The freezing air burning her lungs, but right now none of that mattered. After all Luka was waiting for her. He had invited her to go out on Christmas eve, and she didn’t hesitate for a second when asked. She wanted to give things a chance with him. She genuinely liked him after all. Luka soon came into sight. Wearing a beanie, a big scarf that couldn’t even hide his red cheeks and a fairly long dark blue coat. He was blowing in his hands, trying to warm them up. He also had a backpack on his shoulder.

Marinette called out to him and smiled. He lifted his head and she couldn't believe his face had now turned even redder than it was seconds before. The night was already dark and so many lights hung up everywhere around them. He smiled and had the softest look you could give to another person. But a frown quickly crossed his face. A smile followed by a little sigh when he looked at her. “What is it?” She asked, worried there was maybe something in her teeth, or something else.

He took off his scarf and put it around her neck. “You truly are a funny girl Marinette. It’s freezing cold outside and you didn't even cover yourself up properly.”

“I was running late.” He simply smiled at her. Oh that wonderful smile, that damn smile that she never understood. ‘How can someone hold so much tenderness in their face.’ Marinette thought. His expressions towards her never lacked any warmth. She always felt that she really mattered to him. But overcoming Adrien was one of the hardest challenges she ever had to face. And Luka knew it all so very well.

“Shall we go?” He asked softly, holding out his arm to her. Marinette nodded and wrapped her arm around his. She had no idea where they were going. But she would know soon enough. Luka had so many things on his mind. ‘Maybe get a bite to eat and go ice skating? Or maybe she would prefer eating after skating?’ Perhaps she would like to walk around the Christmas market?’ He needed to stop thinking, it was almost 7:30 and they had a reservation to get too. It’s almost incredible he could have a table on Christmas eve. But he worked his ass off to earn the money to invite her. So there would be no turning back now.

As they walked he watched her from the corner of his eye. Her pale long pink coat was giving her the sweetest look, and it really complimented her skin tone too. As well as showing her thin waist so well. Her legs covered by black wool tights along with heeled boots. ‘How did she even manage to run in those boots?’ He thought. He smiled at the cute way his scarf was around her neck, well somewhat around her neck that is. It was a bit too thick to stay only around her neck, and was hiding half her face actually. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how she looked so perfect either way.

Marinette looked at him confused by his chuckle. “What is it?” She asked, the sound of her voice muffled by the scarf.

Shaking his head slightly Luka brushed the question off. It was nothing, please don't mind me.”

And so after a few minutes of walking, and small talk. Marinette decided to ask Luka the reason he laughed earlier, but he stayed quiet and as if saved by the bell arrived at the restaurant he booked. She didn’t look up at the sign though, too annoyed with Luka’s silence on the reason why he laughed.

Once they enter the restaurant a waiter welcomed them and asked if he could take their coats. Luka helped Marinette with coat first, then turned around to give it to the waiter along with his beanie, backpack and coat. It was at this time Marinette was taking off the scarf. When he turned around and he could swear his heart stopped beating at the beautiful sight before him. She was holding out his scarf to him, her cheeks and nose were still red from the crisp night air. And the way her eyes were reflecting the restaurant’s lights. Had him feeling like the luckiest guy in the world. It was at this he finally got to see what she was wearing. His eyes carefully took in the sight before him as he looked down at her outfit.

She was wearing a strapless green dress, and a dark belt around her waist. ‘How on earth could she go out in this freezing weather dressed so lightly? ‘But oh my god was she ever stunning.’ He thought, smiling proudly at her beauty. The little silver snowflake pendant hung perfectly right above her cleavage. Luka gulped slightly and grabbed the scarf to give it to the waiter. He needed to get his eyes away from her cleavage. He was a perfect gentleman after all, but he was still a man after all.

Luka never really noticed until tonight, how maturity really had its way with Marinette’s body. Her subtle, yet noticeable curves could make any man ecstatic. And Luka was feeling lucky, not only by being able to see Marinette in such a dress. And the way her hair was falling down her clavicles, only to make another trail for his eyes to follow downward. No! He couldn’t let that happen. As desirable as she was, he couldn’t bring himself to be like that. He was already feeling like he was being pushy enough too, just by inviting her that night.

She hadn’t talked about Adrien for a long time, but that didn’t mean she forgot about him right? She was giving him a chance, but he needed to figure out her true feelings. And that was the most complicated part. He could feel the emotions in her, and stroke some strings to make a melody out of it. But feelings and emotions are two separate things after all.

So after he took a deep breath, they began to follow the waiter. He helped Marinette sit down before walking around the table and taking his place. It was at this time he felt he needed to tell her how gorgeous she looked. “I must say you look stunning Marinette.” He said softly, smiling as he pulled back the chair to sit.

A small blush came to her already rosy cheeks. “Oh well, thank you. You’re quite a catch yourself, Luka.” Marinette said, with a smirk, as her eyes admired him. His blue waistcoat and white shirt were kinda simple. Along with his pants that were a bit skinny, which made his legs look slim and his butt a perfect peach.

Marinette had a glance at it when he went to his chair. She was pleased with what she saw. She could never deny how handsome he was. However, the comment she just gave him flustered him. She never said anything like that to him before. He chuckled nervously before finally sitting down.

The waiter brought a bottle of sparkling wine in an ice bucket. She couldn’t hide her surprise to the kind of date he was offering her. It was so different from what she expected. But in the end, she knew how sweet of a guy he was. The dinner was so good, and the atmosphere was so light, although she felt something.. Something she couldn’t identify, like something wasn’t natural. Luka, was doing his part, and was doing his best, while feeling more nervous than ever. This night had to go just right. She was finally on a date with him, he had to do everything he could to make her feel comfortable.

“How about a dessert'?” Asked the garçon. Luka looked cautiously at Marinette. Who was smiling at him, while leaning forward resting her chin on her hands and looking at him.

“It’s up to you Luka. I’m not hungry, but not full either. I could easily eat something else.” Luka gulped and smiled.

His mind was racing as he thought. ‘Did she not notice how her body was moving with those simple gestures.” He turned to the waiter. “Just two teas please.”

The garçon slightly bowed. “I’ll be back with the box so you can make your choice.”

When Luka looked back at her, Marinette was tilting her head a bit, smiling, offering a view of her neck. ‘Dammit Marinette, why are you so cute?’ He cursed to himself. Everything was appealing with her, even the texture of her skin was calling out to him. “I have something for you Marinette.”

Hearing him say this made her face light up, Marinette smiled as she lifted her head. “Really?”

Luka smiled and got up to ask the waiter to bring him his backpack. When the waiter returned, Luka stood and thanked him. Now with his backpack in hand he opened it and took out a present. It looked like it was something light and soft, like some fabric. Probably fabric she told herself. He sat back down and handed it over to Marinette. “Merry Christmas Marinette.” He whispered hoarsely. She pursed her lips as she took it. She shredded the wrapping paper around it, excited to see what was inside. Which made Luka’s heart skip a beat. He laughed a bit and looked at her. Realizing her behaviour, she turned a bit red. “Sorry...that wasn’t very ladylike of me.” Luka simply gave her a sweet smile as his answer. Marinette smiled, a bit embarrassed and cleared her throat to unwrap the last pieces around the present.

Laying before her, was a dark pink fabric. Her fingers ran across the hem to softly take it to detail it. The fabric was an excellent quality. Very soft. And yet warm. She unfolded the shawl to take a look at it. A smile grew on her face. “It's beautiful…” Her words echoed in Luka’s ears.

He soon got up and went to her, then carefully held out his hand to her. “If I may…?” She placed her hand in his and smiled as she got up. He took the piece of clothing and wrapped it around her shoulders, his arms now around her. She moved her hair up out of the way. When she looked up their eyes locked for a few seconds… that felt like minutes. She was smiling so gently at him.

But why was he feeling so out of place. He took a step back with a smile as he saw the waiter bringing the box with the tea and their cups of hot water.

Marinette was flustered. She never thought Luka would be the one to pull away from this kind of situation. Maybe he was uncomfortable with her in the end? Or was he regretting something? They both sat down and drank their tea, awkwardly chit-chatting. She could tell Luka was trying hard to make her have a good time though.

After paying the bill, they both went out to go to the ice rink. When they arrived, all the lights were out. “Luka.. it looks like it's closed..” Marinette said, looking up at the sign, disappointed. A little sharp noise however caught her attention. She looked at the door and she could see a faint shadow opening the door. The skating trainer was the one opening to them. He opened the door quickly and greeted both of them. Marinette looked at both the men, surprised.

Philippe than handed the keys to Luka. “Do not forget to close everything before you leave, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Phil I won’t!” Luka said, taking the keys from Philippe.

Marinette, was speechless, while still staring at them. “H-how? What is..?”

Philippe smiled at Marinette’s reaction. “Well, I’ll let you two have fun! Luka, you know where to leave the keys when you leave.” He said, as his left waving at the two friends.

The young girl turned around to look at Luka, who was taking some skating shoes. “38, right?”

“Um.. Yeah.., but I didn’t know you were friends with Philippe?”

“Oh, yeah. The last time we came, when you left. I went back inside to talk to him a bit, we just kind of got along. And when I came by to check on him a few times. I asked him if it was okay if I used the place tonight.”

“So, it’ll be only us?” Luka nodded, smiling as he walked with Marinette to the door of the rink.

“And it’s not all…” He opened the doors and walked inside. The room was in the dark and she narrowed her eyes to try to see something. Luka went behind a door, she heard something like a switch being turned on. It was than her eyes grew wide instantly. The site of lights and not just any lights, they were beautiful Christmas lights hanging all around the room. Thousands of little colorful shiny bulbs, making the room look like a dream. And with special music floating in the air… Melodies of an acoustic guitars. And once again.. she was speechless. Her voice seemed to have left her body, like when Luka had been akumatized, but this time.. it was a really good kind of out of voice.

She turned around to look at Luka, who just walked up to her again. “So, do you like it?”

“Do I like it? Luka, it’s gorgeous.. it must have taken you hours to put up all of these lights.”

Luka chuckled as they were both looking around. “Four hours and I almost broke my wrist from falling off a ladder.” Luka gave her the sweetest look. “But it was worth it just to see that look on your face…”

Marinette smiled back at him. They both put on their skates and slowly went in the rink, making a few rounds to warm up. Luka was charming. Trying so hard to make this a good time for her. Marinette marked a stop in the middle of the rink and looked at Luka. “Luka…?”

He stopped not too far from her and faced her. “Yes..? Is everything alright?”

Marinette took a deep breath, looking at Luka. She slid closer and leaned her hand on his cheek. Luka’s eyes grew a bit wider and even blushed a bit. She smiled at him. She finally pinpointed what felt awkward. He was trying too hard. Maybe he was doubting about her desire to be with him on Christmas. Maybe he was afraid she was still longing for Adrien. Maybe he didn’t want to pressure her. But he pressured himself instead. “I wanted to be here tonight. I wanted to spend Christmas with you, and only you.”

Something in Luka relaxed, his shoulders dropped down. He pursed his lips slightly but before he could say anything, her arms were already wrapped around his body. She was holding onto him so tightly, he hugged her back, leaning his chin on her head. His half closed eyes were wandering off to a distant part of the room, enjoying the warmth of her body against his. Her curves, the feeling of her hands on his back, her head on his chest. Luka was well aware of all those details. Of her breathing, the littlest moves she was doing, her fingers slowly tracing circles on his back. After a few minutes she leaned back, smiling. “And I truly feel like an enchanted princess with all these night you gave me Luka.”

He was lacking the words to answer, so he just placed a few strands of her hair behind her ear. This simple move, that could feel like something normal, was forming some kind of intimacy between the two of them. Her eyes drifted along his face, her cheeks warming up a bit. His hand slowly wandered from behind her ear, across her jawline, his thumb stopping on her chin. He cleared his throat, yet a hoarse voice came out softly from his lips. “May I?”

Marinette smiled and stretched her neck to answer. They met halfway from one another. His lips pressed against hers. Her right hand was now cupping his cheek while his left one was leaning against her hip. Her own hands were still wrapped around him, pulling him as close as she could. This kiss was softer than anything else in the world. And lasted a few minutes. Both taking their time to enjoy the moment. When they pulled away, they looked at each other. Her eyes were shimmering as she looked up at him. Something in her eyes changed, and it took Luka everything he had to pull away. He was still feeling her body moving slightly against his and the new proximity they had was awakening something in him. Or on him. In a cough, he pulled away slightly, his hands running down her arms to intertwine their fingers, pulling her in for a dance on the rink. She was giggling, and clearly having a good time. And it meant everything to him.

Suddenly, a voice rang through the speakers. Jagged Stone’s voice. “I hope you enjoyed the surprise Marinette. It’s midnight and I wish you a Merry Christmas.”

Marinette looked around. It was a recording. She laughed a bit and looked at Luka. “You got to record Jagged Stone for me?” She said, smiling.

“As soon as I mentioned your name, he was in.” They both smiled and Luka kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas Marinette.”

Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck. She whispered softly before kissing him again.

“Merry Christmas Luka.”

#mlb oneshot #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanart #Miraculous Oneshot #mlsecretsanta2019 #luka couffaine #lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #Clive Arts

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hattywatch · 5 years ago

Text

J. Vesey - Love Songs Companion Piece

Originally posted by knosi

Author's Note: This is a companion piece to Love Songs. I don't think anyone needed or asked for this, but here it is, because when I was writing the first part, all I kept thinking was Kevin getting the photos of her dress and immediately texting Jimmy, so this is what you all ended up with. This is for @HockeyandTaylorSwift while she's off her feet for a while. Send her some love! Excuse the formatting, I did this in HTML

He doesn't get it. Doesn't get why she's crying, doesn't get why this is such a big deal, doesn't get why he's in a suit he hates and a tie he'd rather shove back in his closet, doesn't get why he's dropped a small fortune inside a $7 card from Target, but he knows it's the right thing to do… and there's an open bar. So here he is, sat in a pew in a church with no air conditioning with his best friend and his best friend's cousin, who he's had a crush on since puberty.

There's probably 100 other ways he'd rather spend his Saturday.

When she sniffles, Jimmy can’t help but look over. He wants to roll his eyes, but he also wants to kiss her, so he settles for safe, leaving his gaze on the bride and groom- who are reading their vows off of the little index cards in their hand.

Kevin chirps her and if he was waiting for an opening to talk to her, this is it. Jimmy leans in before he can stop himself, always caught in her orbit, "What are you even crying for? Shouldn't you be happy?" When she rolls her eyes, he wonders for a second if he's crossed a line, made her upset with him, but she catches his eye once more and gives him a watery smile while she blots at her tears so he's probably okay.

Cocktail hour is spent stood at a table, eating fancy cheeses that sound nicer than they taste, listening to Kevin and his cousin chat about nothing in particular. He interjects a few times when they bicker, taking her side over Kevin's, always. Finally everyone is funnelled into the main room for the reception.

Kevin's been scoping out this pretty bridesmaid since the second she walked down the aisle hours ago and it's all about to come to a head. "Well, I'm going to go make my move. My cousin is over at the bar," he points,"if you wanted to suddenly find your balls, man," he pats Jimmy on the shoulder sardonically. He hates that Kev's a little right, so he sneers but lets him walk away unharmed.

Jimmy eyes the table full of escort cards in the corner and scoops up his and hers, tucking them into his jacket pocket. Kevin can go get his on his own, since he wants to be a prick. It's probably time to take advantage of the open bar, and really, (y/n) is already over there, so two birds one stone and all.

In a moment of bravery, marked by clammy palms and a little bit of heartburn, he sidles up next to her at the bar. His hand gently slides along the smooth skin of her lower back, exposed by her dress. She looks over, and appears surprised to see him there. He's come this far, so he leans into her ear and plows through the best he can.

"Hey, use your powers for good and get me a beer. I don't want to wait in line." She still seems a little shocked that he's there, but orders his beer anyway. It's not until he sees her throw a flirty smile at the bartender that he realizes he may be cramping her style and regrets it all, suddenly remorseful for taking Kevin's advice.

He doesn't think she knows where she should be, considering he has her table assignment in his pocket, so he leaves his hand where it lies and directs her towards their table, praying silently she can't feel the sweat on his palm and trying to figure out something to say. He's better at this in a group, but now all her attention is on him and it makes his skin prickle self consciously.

"I grabbed yours too," is what he finally comes up with when he gets her to their table. Ivy league education and he can barely talk to the girl he likes. Pathetic.

"Thanks," she says to the floor as she finally kicks off her ridiculous heels. He wants to keep talking, make her laugh and smile and stay by his side all night. He's not sure what he could say that would have that effect, but it's probably not what he says next.

"Why do you wear those things if you can't even handle them for an hour?"

He's not sure why he's always ribbing her. Probably because she always takes his joking in stride, always knows when he's kidding even though he stays stoic. She gets his humor, gets him, he thinks and his chest tightens unhelpfully.

(Y/n) sits back up and clinks her champagne glass against his beer, unaffected by his question.

"Because they make my ass look fantastic," that has him choking on his beer and he relaxes, drops his guard and unclenches his jaw. She makes him laugh, comfortable and loose, when usually he holds his emotions close to his chest.

She isn’t wrong about the heels, and he thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind that she may be flirting with him. Surely that's carte blanche to take a peek when she stands up. He’s not completely sure though, so he lets her drink her champagne in peace and watches Kevin.

It must be nice to be Kevin, he thinks. Kevin doesn’t have a self conscious bone in his body- loud and unapologetic. He’s dancing like an idiot with that bridesmaid from earlier. Jimmy’s envious. He just walked right up to her, probably even said something stupid like, “Hey, I’m Kevin,” and now they’re like old friends, close on the dance floor. He’d never be able to do something so bold. Jimmy can’t help it, he’s always been a little more reserved, shy even- especially when she’s around.

Not when he’s on the ice, though. He feels confident there at least.

He wishes he could take off his skates and helmet and not simultaneously undress himself of his confidence. He can feel her gaze on him. She’s sitting there, gently sipping from her flute, he doesn’t suspect that she knows he can feel her stare.

She's been around forever. He remembers when they were young, hanging out in the bleachers hip to hip watching Kevin skate around, cheering for the older boy's team. He remembers when he hit puberty, suddenly becoming more self-conscious around girls and slowly realizing that he liked her differently. It was warm and it started somewhere around his chest and dripped down his whole body, heating him up and tying his tongue. Whenever she came around he always lost his edges, stumbling over himself.

The beer is settling his nerves a little, so he bucks up and says what's on his mind. "I don't get this whole thing," he waves his hand around, at the room in general.

She looks confused and rolls her hand on her wrist, asking him to continue.

He breathes deep, relaxing at the idea of a normal conversation. This he can do, he's good at having opinions, good at engaging in a little debate, not so good at being cool and smooth, but he'll work with what he has.

"Seems like a lot of pomp and circumstance to prove you love someone." She laughs and that's not exactly the response he was expecting, but he'd play the fool forever if it meant he'd always get to see her like this, eyes scrunched and nose crinkled, smile spanning her face.

"Jimmy, sometimes when two people really like each other they just wanna shout it from the rooftops." He rolls his eyes, but she looks like she really believes it. The way she’s looking at him right now, he’s pretty sure he could be convinced to make his way to the rooftop with a megaphone himself.

Kevin sinks down next to her, sweaty and breathless, "I think I'm in love," his eyes are still focused on the bridesmaid. She knows what she’s doing, peering back at him flirtatiously as she dances with the flower girls. (Y/n)'s eyes shine with the knowledge that she's won.

"Case and point, my friend."

He honestly just needs a minute. Sitting here with her is overwhelming. She's too much: too beautiful, too funny, too sweet, and probably too perceptive. She has to know he's different with her around, less cool, less calm, and less smart. So, he finishes his beer and -like everything he does in life- coats himself in a thin layer of sarcasm, "Had about enough of you softies," before getting up and heading over to the bar. He doesn't turn back to see if she's watching him, she probably forgot the second he walked away.

The bartender knows his order and hands him another beer, but looks past Jimmy for something else, "Where's your girl?"

Jimmy likes the way that sounds, so he can't bring himself to correct the innocent bystander that she is not, and will likely never be, his girl. So he does what any mature person would do and lets himself pretend. "Her feet hurt. Heels, ya know? Lemme get her another champagne?"

He throws a twenty into the tip jar before he heads back to the table, high on the idea that anyone could picture them as a pair.

He intercepts her and Kevin on their way to the bar, and doesn't miss how her eyes size him up with appraisal as he hands her the drink. Kevin on the other hand is less impressed. "Dude, hello?" Jimmy's still floating on the fact that (y/n) was clearly pleased with him as she takes small, delicate sips of champagne so he allows his usual banter with Kevin to shine through as he shrugs at his friend, "Bar's that way. Cheers, bro."

He catches sight of her smile going wide behind her glass as Kevin huffs away. If his chest inflates, that's his own little secret.

He doesn’t get much time with her after that. It leaves his heart feeling a little cold inside his chest. She’s up dancing with some of the other people from their table, smiling friendly and big, clearly a little tipsy, arms moving a little too wildly to be strictly sober.

When the music gently lowers and the emcee’s voice booms through the speakers for the first dance, everyone surrounds the dancefloor with their cameras out and she somehow ends up next to him, right in front of their table. It’s only a few bars into the song that he hears the sniffle, and he can’t help it, he doesn’t want her to cry, but it’s undeniably funny how soft she is.

"Would you stop crying? You're a mess, kid." Blaming his next move on a combination of the beers he’s had and his heart breaking while watching her cry, he puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side.

She gets tense for a fraction of a second, but one hand swings around his waist and the other comes up and wipes at her tears as she asserts that she’s “fine.” It’s less than convincing. She looks around as the DJ invites the guests onto the dance floor- probably for Kevin, but he’s wrapped up in his own little world with that bridesmaid he’s been following around like a lost puppy all night. Jo, Jimmy thinks her name might be, but he’s a liar if he says he’s been thinking about anything other than the girl tucked under his arm for the past few hours.

They start playing that Elvis song, he hates it. The Righteous Brother’s version of it is better, almost passable. He has no plans on making his way onto the wooden dance floor, but she sighs, and he feels it since she’s still snug against his body and he’d do a lot of dumb things to make her smile.

He’s clearly lost his mind as he nudges her with the arm that is wrapped around her shoulders, “C’mon.”

She follows him, eyes scrunched in skepticism, but he doesn’t have to pull her much, her body belies her combative words- already leaning into him, to his delight. “Jimmy stop, you hate dancing, you don’t have to.” He can tell her heart’s not in it, and she’s been dancing all night at this point, so what kind of man would he be to let a pretty girl stand on the sidelines.

"It's fine (y/n). Three minutes won't kill me. Just turn off the water works, yeah?" She scoffs but promises to try.

When she places her hands on his shoulders he gets chills from his head to his toes, feeling the warmth of her hands through his button-up and he's so, so sure that she can see his ears grow red. If she does, she keeps it to herself and he's appreciative.

The only thing on his mind is that he wants her to smile again; at him, for him, because of him. So he gets grumpy, she always gets a kick out of that. "God, I hate this fucking song." That does it, she lights up, eyes peering up at him from around his chest, she's so small.

"You're a spoil sport, Jim." He rolls his eyes and tightens his hands around her waist. She sighs again and he almost removes his hands from her, thinking he offended her in some way, but he follows her gaze to Kevin.

"Kev's gonna kick me out of our room tonight isn't he?" He looks over and laughs, because she's definitely correct, and there's only one possibility swimming around his mind, and he's tipsy enough that he doesn't hate the idea of it.

"Yeah, yeah definitely. That's a good assessment."

______

She’s unsure for about a second and a half after he asks if she wants to share his room. Realization starts to dawn and it’s not like she has much of a choice. So she huffs into the shuttle that takes them from the reception to the hotel and stands a little too far from him in the elevator and stares at the floor, suddenly shy like they haven’t known each other forever, haven’t had Mario Party nights in Kevin’s basement all piled into sleeping bags on the floor.

He slides the key into the door and she starts unpinning her hair before the green light comes on. “I really appreciate this, thank you again. Kevin’s a douche.” Jimmy laughs because he’s been on both sides of this situation before, but he’s happy he’s here to help. The second she’s inside and he starts to rifle through his duffle bag, she sees the problem.

“I don’t… damnit!” she’s mostly talking to herself, but he’d be rude not to answer. When he turns around to head towards the bathroom to change she’s unclasping her necklace and taking off her earrings and he feels like he’s intruding on a private moment.

“What’s wrong?” He’s not really good at this, but he thinks shes on the brink of tears, eyes tired and getting glassy as she gently lays her jewelry onto the dresser.

“All my clothes are back in my room. I just want to go to sleep. This is the worst,” he’s sure she’d stomp her foot in a tantrum if she could, frustration furrowing her forehead.

“I brought extra clothes, (y/n) it’s fine,” in reality he didn’t bring much in the way of extras; what he traveled in, his suit, a pair of shorts to sleep in, and what he planned on going home in tomorrow, but he hands over his clean shirt and sweats and pushes her gently towards the bathroom.

He starts turning down the bed and realizes that it’s not a viable solution to the problem he’s got on his hands, so he turns around and starts pulling the cushions off of the pull out couch and rearranging the desk to make room; honestly who even uses it- waste of space.

When she comes out of the bathroom drowning in his clothes, he has an entirely different problem on his hands. He didn’t think he’d have such a visceral reaction to her stood there in an old Harvard Hockey shirt and some dopey llama pajama pants an aunt bought him for christmas years ago. The fact of the matter is that it hits him square in the chest and takes his breath without his permission.

She managed to get most of her makeup off; she looks a little rosy from the scrubbing. Her hair is piled up on top of her head and his pants are rolled at least 4 times around her waist, but the legs are still far too long. It’s not like she needs them, his shirt is longer than the dress she just took off. He immediately realizes the error of his ways when he starts that train of thought, so he grabs the one pair of shorts he knows is in his duffle bag and heads straight into the bathroom to throw some cold water onto his face.

After brushing his teeth and a few deep breaths, Jimmy exits the bathroom in only his shorts; he didn’t pack any extra shirts, so he hopes she’s okay with his bare torso. He throws his suit into a heap on the floor and drops down on the pull out couch, it squeaks under his weight and he knows it’s going to be a long night sleeping on this thing.

When (y/n) hears the squeak she stands up out of the armchair in the corner where she was scrolling through her phone, “Jimmy, no. You’re like 12 feet tall, you can’t sleep on that thing.” She gets up and walks over to him and pushes against his bare shoulder. “Move, I’ll sleep here.”

He laughs at her trying to muscle him out of the way, she doesn’t look happy about it, but that just makes him laugh harder, and maybe flex a little bit more if he's honest. “Go lay down. You must be exhausted from all that crying you did today.” That does it and she sniffs and turns on her heel to the bed.

“I take it back, you deserve whatever that does to your back, you bully.” That just makes him laugh again.

She tucks herself into the bed and throws two pillows at his head. He catches them both and she settles in, “Thanks, Jimmy. I owe you one.” He turns off the lamp and tries to get comfortable, “Anytime.”

______

Jimmy lies there and listens to her steady breathing, he's been tossing and turning for about 30 minutes and he can't figure out what's wrong. The couch is more comfortable than he thought it would be and he's exhausted, so he's not sure why he can't succumb to his heavy eyelids.

He rolls over and scrolls through his phone, somehow finds himself meandering through her Instagram. It's not the first time it's happened, but it feels a little forbidden since she's in the same room, barely 10 feet from him.

He scrolls back slowly, careful to not double tap anything on accident. It's his favorite photo. A throwback, her and him with a bunch of their friends from high school at some beach party they organized for Kevin graduating and going to college.

It's too vivid when he thinks about it. Earlier that day he was sat in the locker room listening to Brian go on and on about (y/n). It made his stomach turn the way he talked about her, getting into her pants at prom, one last hurrah before he goes away to school and maybe gets drafted. Jimmy never really liked him (and he never ended up getting drafted, so jokes on him). Everyone else seemed to like him alright though, especially the ladies. So, he kept his mouth shut, shoved his pads into his bag and pushed his feet into his sneakers before getting out of there as quickly as he could.

Later that night she's stumbling over to him after a few wine coolers, calling him Vese, like she's his coach. He turned her down, figuring he'd rather not have her explain that she had a real date a few months down the line, rather experience the heartbreak sooner than later. He didn't even end up going to prom, just the thought of her wrapped around Brian was enough to have the bile rising in his throat.

Jimmy's not stupid, knows they're grown now, some may even use the word "adults." Brian's name has never fallen from her lips once. She's clearly single since she came to this wedding with only Kev. Then he thinks about Kevin and Jo, how they're probably wrapped up together a couple of rooms away and thinks back to how Kevin so lovingly put it a few hours ago, maybe he'll work on finding his balls.

After he makes this life altering revelation he has a much easier time rolling onto his other side and slipping into sleep.

What feels like minutes later, the sun filtering through the curtains he hadn't quite drawn all the way closed wakes him up. She's gone, he thought this might have happened, have her leave like he dreamt the whole thing, with nothing from the last night to hold onto.

When he gets up to use the bathroom he discovers he's wrong. She's left her dress and shoes from the previous evening behind the door and a quick check of the dresser shows she left all of her jewelry as well. He assembles the couch back together and sits to check twitter mindlessly.

The mechanical lock turning alerts him to her return. In conjunction with all of his clothes she borrowed last night, his hat sits on her head, hair curling wildly out from under it. But it's when she wordlessly shoves a coffee into his hand he knows he's toast, made worse by the fact that his order is perfect.

His slightly hungover brain isn't capable of higher functions quite yet, so he reaches out his fist, "Best. Wedding date. Ever," and immediately feels like punching himself in the face with the same fist she's nudging hers against. Luckily she smiles and looks pleased overall, so he doesn't beat himself up about it too much.

______

The invite has been sitting on his fridge for months. When he got it he rsvped right away, checking off 1 and mailing it back to Brady. It's only now that he thinks he maybe should have waited, found a date to bring. Kevin was smart, he rsvped 2 and would call an audible as time ran down, and now he has Jo. Fuck.

He calls Gracia directly. "I don't want to be that guy, but could I maybe bring a plus one? You can say no, I just-" he doesn't even get the rest of the sentence out before she tells him he's a dick, but of course he can bring a guest. She had allowed for wiggle room because she figured he might change his mind, Kevin was bringing a date so she assumed Jimmy would as well. He's so glad Brady's marrying someone like her, so chill and down to earth, never the drama queen.

So he text her. The last time he saw her was out somewhere with Kevin, they made stilted conversation until they warmed up to each other again and cheered on the Pats on the flat screen behind the bar.

Playing as cool as he can he comes up with: Brady gave me a plus one to the blessed affair… wedding date part 2?

He puts the phone down on his coffee table and expects he may have to wait a while for a response and busies himself trying to queue up HBO to binge some Game of Thrones in the meantime.

Turns out he's wrong, she responds within minutes.

Y/N: Obviously. When?

His heart almost bursts with a combination of excitement and relief. After telling her that it's next week, she follows up with a barrage of questions he has no feasible answer for and she says she'll figure it out.

She must talk to Kevin, because he gets a text halfway through the next episode of Game of Thrones from Hayes. It's just the two eye emoji about 50 times in a row. Jimmy ignores it and throws his phone back on the table.

He doesn't get a text from either of them for the next few days, and thinks nothing of it. Finally into the weekend Hayes texts him.

Hayzie: You're welcome bro. Just remember she's my family. Consider this your shovel talk.

Jimmy has less than no idea what the hell Kevin is on about, until his phone buzzes with a notification from (y/n) half an hour later.

Y/N: Can I show you the dress I picked and you tell me if it's okay? Kevin said I should show you so you can make sure it matches your suit?

Instantly his palms get sweaty. He replies as coolly as possible, trying to retain some level of chill despite how very not chill this whole thing feels.

I mean, I’m not really good at that sort of thing, but yeah.

He thinks that's okay. Don't expect him to be much help, but definitely send any and all photos, he's not trying to miss out on that opportunity.

The pictures pop up in quick succession.

Three photos, a front, side, and back view appear in their text thread and he sends out a silent prayer, thankful that the messages app doesn't alert the other person when you save a photo. After quickly studying them and deciding that she can wear literally anything she wants, when and wherever she would like, he opens his thread with Kevin and sends him two little rocket emojis, hoping he gets the point.

All that blue fabric glowing bright against her skin. It looks like she's all made up and his heart thumps at the idea that there is a slim possibility he is the cause of it. The slit up the thigh shows that she's wearing the same heels from the last wedding and as he scrolls down he can agree that, yes, they do indeed make her ass look fantastic. It makes him feel like a creep, but at least he’s an honest creep. When he gets to the side view, he catches a glimpse of the cut outs along her ribs and dry swallows.

He needs to figure out a game plan.

First things first, he tells her that it looks great, and then he peels himself off of the couch and into his bedroom to dig through his closet.

Here's the thing. Jimmy hates wearing nice clothes and would probably only own one suit if he didn't need them for every game day, so he's lucky his closet is full of bespoke suits. Picking out a light grey one, his favorite if he's honest, he suits up and leaves the top few buttons open, trying for casually disheveled, praying it doesn't look too Miami Vice.

He's not dumb, he hopes that this is her flirting, but he's too nervous to get optimistic about it.

As he fixes his hair in the mirror he starts typing out a reply. Nothing he's writing is coming off right though, all seeming like he's fishing for compliments, so he just sucks it up, takes a photo, and sends it before he can back out.

Do you think this will work with a blue tie

He waits face down on his bed, feeling every inch the self-conscious, pubescent teenager he's acting like. Each second that ticks by making his skin burn hotter. She's probably busy, is what he tells himself in the way of calming his nerves. The speed at which he reaches for his phone when it vibrates counters the aloofness he's aiming for, though.

It's just a string of thumbs up emojis, and he feels more than a little foolish getting his hopes up like that, thinking he'd be able to decipher any intent through a text message.

He needs a nap.

Awesome. See you Saturday?

If this is how he’s reacting to photos, he is a dead man come Saturday. He doesn't wait for a response before turning his phone off and putting a pillow over his head, hoping the emotional rollercoaster he was enough to pull him straight to sleep.

______

Jimmy knows they’re supposed to meet at Kevin’s, but he thought about it and decided the best way to make her aware of his intentions would be to go pick her up and be more direct in his pursuit. He gets up early and decides to go for a run, it calms him down, makes him feel serene and in control which is just what he needs today.

The phone rings three times before Jo picks up, “Hey Jimmy, Kev’s in the shower, what’s up?” He likes Jo for Kevin, she’s got the same wild streak, but she’s tenaciously focused and comes from the same kind of big, close family that Kev does. They’re a good match.

“Oh, what’s up? I was just calling to get his cousin’s address. I’m going to pick her up instead of meeting over by you guys. Do you know it off hand?” He wasn’t really prepared to have this conversation with Jo and it’s throwing a monkey wrench into his plan because he knows she’s going to tease him about it mercilessly, all in good fun of course.

She makes an oooooh noise, like the canned crowd on a sitcom during a kissing scene. “Jimmy, I didn’t know you had it in you! I’ll text it to you now. What’s the plan, James? Can I help?”

Sighing, he’s not sure if this would have been better or worse if Hayes had answered. “Help what?” Jo snorts, “Let me help you get your girl!”

That makes him straight up laugh, “Jo, please, your only job is to keep Kevin’s mouth shut.” She cackles, “I can think of some ways to keep him otherwise occupied, if you know what I me-”

Jimmy cuts her off, “It’s been great chatting, just uh, send me that text, see you later!” he hangs up as fast as possible. She sends the message through with enough winky faces that it fills his whole screen.

He feels like he’s going to prom, if he could imagine what that would have been like, combing his hair in the mirror and gelling it. He probably brushed his teeth two or three times this morning because he forgot he already did it. Before he puts his jacket on, he sprays a little cologne on his neck and closes his eyes before grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

He didn’t realize how close she lives and he’s there within fifteen minutes. After walking through the lobby and taking the elevator to her floor he stops in front of her door, takes three deep breaths, checks his reflection in his phone’s camera, and knocks.

The door flies open and she huffs, curlers in her hair and still in her pajamas, "I'm sorry Mrs. Dennehy. I can't look for Bootsie right n-," he smiles, "You are not Mrs. Dennehy."

“Nah. Definitely not,” he walks right past her and into her space, hoping he looks more confident than he feels. "That's a good look, (y/n). I mean… I liked the blue dress better, but I don't know much about fashion," sarcasm is the only thing he knows to calm his nerves and make him feel in control. He’d be worried about her reaction if she were a different person, but he knows she gets him and the worry leaves as quickly as it enters his mind.

She gets right up in his face, so close he could count her eyelashes, and pokes him in the chest with one pointed finger,

"How the fuck do you even know my address. I thought I was meeting you at Kevin's?" There's no feasible way he can explain that he's trying to court her without simultaneously throwing up in her living room, so he goes truth adjacent.

"I asked Kev. I figured we could go over there together. Him and Jo are still in the mushy honeymoon stage and I love him, but I really want to throat-punch him when I have to witness it firsthand." It's not not a true statement.

She nods in agreement, and he can feel the relief wash over him like a cool breeze. When he sits on her couch she tells him she won't be much longer and heads down the hall to the bathroom. His phone is absolutely exploding with messages from Kevin, and he silences it and puts it back in his pocket, standing and walking around the living room looking at the photos on her walls. He hears her heels clacking against the floor a few rooms away, but it's her voice that has his ears perking up.

"Vese?" He hates it. Brings him right back to that night on the beach and he hates the way it makes him feel. Like he has to reject her all over again, keep the distance and get comfortable in the bucket of undateable men in her life.

"I hate when you call me that." Women he's trying to court shouldn't call him that, that's reserved for teammates and coaches and friends at the bar.

She's a ball buster and she smiles sideways at him "Yeah, but it always gets a reaction." She spin so her back is to him and sweeps all of her hair forward over her shoulder, "Can you clasp the top of this please and then I'm ready to go, I swear!"

He does as she asks against his own better judgement. His hands pressed against the nape of her neck, baby fine hairs tickling his fingertips, and it's he can do to keep from leaning down and pressing a burning kiss on her neck.

Fuck him, this is going to be a long night.

______

He knows more people at this wedding, so he’s feeling a little looser, a little more comfortable. It also helps that she’s officially here as his date and not just forced to talk to him out of politeness, she has to like him on some level to sit through this by his side, on her own free will.

She’s crying again. She’s crying again and he can’t even stop himself from laughing at her; they haven’t even finished the ceremony yet and she’s patting at her eyes, fanning them to keep the tears from ruining her make up.

"You cry at everything, huh?" She elbows him hard in the ribs, and he lets out something between and laugh and a grunt. He’s head over heels.

Walking from the ceremony to the reception is eventful, to say the least. They follow Kevin and Jo, Jimmy giving a meaningful glance over at (y/n), so she knows just how clingy they are wrapped up in each other, driving his point from earlier home.

He’s almost jealous, but then (y/n) trips over what is possibly nothing on the sidewalk, he does the gentlemanly thing and throws a jibe her way before helping her right herself.

"You're a fuckin' hazard in those shoes. Look at you."

The smile that slides onto her face is dangerous, "Yeah but they make-"

"-they make your ass look fantastic. I know." He doesn’t realize the error of his ways quite yet, so used to trading good-natured barbs with her it never occurs to him that present company might have a problem with him being so brazen about it.

Kevin pulls himself away from Jo long enough to join the conversation, "Keep your eyes off my cousin's ass, Vesey." Flashing with embarrassment at being caught, all he can muster out is a weak fuck you, but it sends her and Jo off into peels of laughter and that’s enough for him.

______

She and Jo are a mess, sobbing all over each other before the wedding even really gets started. The first dance has them crying as he and Kevin hoot and holler with some of Brady’s other friends, they obnoxiously tap anything they can against their drinks to get Brady to kiss his bride. That sends the girls into another tizzy, crying about true love or something to that effect.

There isn’t a better wedding date. He’s sure of it. She pulls him out of himself, dragging him around the dancefloor by his tie until he gets too warm and tucks it into her bag, the lamest way he has ever marked his territory. She leads him through all the standard wedding line dances, and a few rounds of Shout, lowering softly down to the floor and screaming loud on the way back up. He’s never had such a good time at a wedding and he knows it’s because of her, glowing in the sea of people on the dance floor with her bright smile and laughter.

When the DJ starts calling all the ladies to the middle of the dance floor amid that Beyonce song, Jimmy’s heart stops. There’s no way that what happens next wasn’t planned. He sees it in slow motion. The bouquet leaving Gracia’s hand in a perfect arc straight into (y/n)’s hand. Her fingers curl around it and she cheers with the other girls, before sitting down on the lone chair on the dance floor, looking positively stricken as she watches the men line up for the garter toss.

Jo is cackling.

Jimmy’s not really one to be involved in these types of things, but he doesn’t want her to take is absence on the dance from as a direct insult, so he heads to the floor with the rest of the guys, no real intent on catching anything flung in his direction.

Kevin has to be in on it; he certainly wasn’t vying for the chance to slide a garter up his own cousin’s thigh. That asshole uses his ridiculous reach to knock the garter down straight into Jimmy. After Jimmy plucks it up off of his shoulder, Kevin is pointing at Jo nodding and laughing while she holds her phone camera up high, catching the whole ridiculous spectacle on video.

Every other guy must hate him, he’s sure of it, as he receives various pats on the back and comes to term with the idea of what’s about to happen. It’s not that he doesn’t want to rake his hands all over her body, he just imagined way less people around if he ever finally built up the courage to do it (and by some grace of God she allowed him to). He’s absolutely sure it’s Gracia who wolf whistles, she can do that loud one through her fingers, and he’s positive all of his friends are douche bags, even the bride.

Jimmy stares at the DJ, feigning attention as best as he can. He knows what he has to do, drop down on his knee and slide his hands up, up, up under her dress, placing the garter as hight around her thigh as she’ll allow. He thinks Taylor Swift is playing, but the only thing he can hear clearly right now is the thumpthump thumpthump of his own heart in his ears.

She sits looking up at him, so sure of herself and smiling like always, like he’s not about to have a massive coronary episode. His hands are shaking and his knees feel weak as he kneels down and her eyes follow him, smile never wavering. She drops one foot into his hand and he takes a moment to curse Kevin under his breath. It’s all he can do to smile reassuringly at her, hoping it doesn’t look as manic as it feels.

Taylor Swift starts singing about her dress she wants to take off, and his mind definitely can’t go down that road with her bare expanse of leg under his hands. He’s slid the stupid, lacey garter over her bare foot and up her smooth calf before stopping and placing it chastely on her knee, feeling her goosebumps as his hands brushed back down over her shin. Jimmy is a gentleman first and foremost and he’d rather not have an audience the very first time he’s invited under her dress.

He can hear Jo’s cackle before a “High-er! High-er!” chant starts and he knows she’s to blame. (Y/n) laughs above him and he wishes he could be the pinnacle of cool right now, but he’s about to combust. She leans in close to him encouraging, his hands still wrapped around her calf. "Our friends are idiots," he sighs.

"They really are, but they're not going to let you out of this, Vese," she says his name like a challenge as she wiggles her foot, and he’s never been one to back down.

It takes all of the courage he can muster as he lifts her dress. Circling both of his hands around her knee; they push the garter up her thigh in tandem, centimeter by centimeter as slowly as he can drag it out, not sure if he’ll ever be allowed this opportunity again. Doing his best not to think about his clammy hands brushing across her cool skin, he hopes she can’t feel it.

Time drags as slowly as his hands until he hears her sharp intake of breath when he gets high on her inner thigh and he stops, not wanting to be fresh, but wanting to prove to her that he’s up for whatever the challenge in her voice was asking for. He stops the motion of the garter as her eyes widen, figuring he’s taken this far enough.

Not wanting to let go and face the awkwardness that will surely linger once the bubble around this moment pops, he slides his hands all the way down her leg. Never wanting to let go of her fevered skin, lest he never get another chance to touch. Her eyes look wild and he knows everyone is clapping, but he feels like dying as the dance floor slowly fills back up as he offers her a hand out of the chair and back to their table, but she leaves him there, practically sprinting away from him towards the bar.

______

Kevin can’t even contain himself when he sits down. “That’s gross Jim. That’s my cousin,” Jimmy’s head bounces as he drops it down onto the table between his arms. “This is all your fault.” Hayes literally chokes on his laughter and slaps Jimmy hard on the back.

“You’ll figure it out man. You guys are made for each other,” Jimmy’s not convinced.

Clearly she’s not either, since she spends the rest of the time until dinner arrives dancing with Jo. She has no choice but to sit down next to him when dinner is served, but visibly jumps every time their elbows brush and Jimmy’s worried that he’s taken it too far and made her uncomfortable.

He’s frustrated. She was the one who told him to keep going, he would have stopped right there on her knee, but no, she goaded him with her smart mouth and shrewd eyes and he went against his better judgement and he’s furious for giving into his baser instincts. He pushes the dinner around on his plate, no appetite to eat much of anything.

He can feel her at his side, staring at the dance floor and sighing, it doesn’t look like she’s hungry either, her food sits cold in front of her. He follows her gaze to Brady’s grandparents dancing; they’re the only people on the dancefloor and he can see her wistfully following their movements and sniffling. Kevin nudges him and tilts his head towards her while raising his eyebrows and the beginning swells of Unchained Melody start up.

He doesn’t really believe in fate, but it certainly is quite the coincidence.

"C'mon hotshot," he stands up and dries his sweaty hands in his pockets, a trick his older cousin taught him before his first boy-girl dance in middle school. He’s shocked when she nods, smiles, and stands up to follow him.

Jo yells out, 'Get it girl!' and you’re seriously going to have to talk to Kevin about his woman.

He gently rests his hands on her waist and sways with her, "What gives? Sick of seeing me cry?" Her hands land on his shoulders, before she stands up on her bare tip-toes and winds her arms around his neck, pulling him close. His chest gets tight and it’s hard to draw in a breath with her standing so closely.

He can’t possibly let her think for one second that he doesn’t want to be exactly where he’s stood right now, wrapped up in her arms. "Nah. It's our song," his grip at your waist tightens as he realizes the implications of what he’s said and how heavy his words feel sitting in the space between them, so he clears his throat and adds on, "Tradition," like a coward.

Her smile stretches across her face and he feels like he’s laying in the sun, bathing in her brightness. His heart is flying that he’s still allowed anywhere near her and didn’t ruin everything they had worked towards with the foolish bouquet toss. He spins her under his arm and pulls her back, as close to himself as he can, not willing to let her go for the rest of the evening.

High on the dancing and wedding and endorphins, he kisses her cheek without thinking about it as he drops her at her apartment after the wedding. He’s too scared to see her reaction so he walks back to the elevator with his whole body on fire, and hopes the hallway is too dark for her to tell his ears are a hot shade of crimson during his retreat.

That night he lies in his bed, scrolling through the photos Jo snuck of them dancing, beatific smiles on their faces and close enough that no one would suspect that they didn’t belong to each other.

______

The ball hooks to the left and he drops the driver onto the patch of astro turf and grabs his water, stepping back and watching Kevin drive one 200 yards, straight as an arrow.

“You’re not focusing, Vese. Your long game looks like shit.” He knows this.

“Just distracted lately,” picking up the club he plants his feet to the ground and rocks back and forth, getting his stance on an even keel before back-swinging with straight arms and following through. It hooks to the right this time. “Fuck.”

Kevin laughs at him, diggin in his cooler for a beer. “You gotta sort your head out man. Nut up or get over it. You know her, you’re going to have to make the first move, she’s not gonna do it.”

Jimmy takes the beer Kevin hands him, “I thought asking her to be my date to my best friend’s wedding and putting a garter on her thigh was pretty clear,” but Kevin shakes his head no.

“Bruh,” Kevin tilts his head to the side as if to say, don’t be a fuckin’ idiot, “Jo said she insists you’re just friends. Just figure it out so I can stop talking about you possibly banging my cousin. It’s getting kinda gross.”

He sees Kevin’s point; he still thinks Kev’s an ass, but he sees his point.

______

Obviously Kevin and Jo decide it’s time to take everything into their own hands.

Barely three weeks after Brady's wedding and he goes out with the two of them to a bar for some beers and food, maybe catch a little of the Sox game. It's a nice chill night and he enjoys the time away from his own thoughts mulling around, wondering how far he’s dug his own grave. He hasn't heard from her since the wedding and he thinks he may have fucked it all up, a beer and some food that's not on his usual diet plan helps.

Jo's sitting across from him, next to Kevin and going on and on about this baby she just pulled out a picture of. "He's so cute just LOOK at him!" Kevin is showing no fear at the clear and present baby fever, so Jimmy can tell he's actual facts in love. The kid’s cute; a little blond boy, rosy red cheeks, and at this rate Kevin and Jo will probably be showing him one of their own in a few years.

"His dad was my first boyfriend. He took my virginity at prom and now he has a BABY! I am old. I can't." She shakes her hand, palms out to demonstrate just how much she just can't. Jimmy's uncomfortable at best and not entirely sure where this conversation is going. Kevin smirks through the whole damned thing though. He feels like he’s not in on the joke.

The little bell above the door alerts him that someone new has entered the bar, but the Sox are turning a double play so he doesn't look over to see who Kevin's waving at.

When Jo's eyes light up with mischief, it becomes pretty obvious who's walking their way.

She slides in next to him and he smiles at her, unsure if she was in on the whole set up or not. Taking into consideration her matching confusion, he'd guess not.

"Didn't know you were coming, (y/n)!" She smiles down at him but her brows are still confused, scrunched together on her forehead. He slides over to make room and hands her a menu, which she starts to look over.

Jo can't keep herself still, practically vibrating out of her seat with frenetic energy. "We were just talking about the old days. Feelin' a little nostalgic." He suddenly knows where she’s going with her elaborate set up and his skin prickles, hot and cold.

"I was just telling the boys how I lost my v-card at prom to my first boyfriend. He just had a baby! How far we've come." (Y/n)'s knee is bouncing up and down and he can see that she's a little irritated at the conversation at hand, eyes glued to the menu refusing to look up.

"I wouldn't know about that Jo. Where's the waiter?" By the grace of God, he appears and everyone orders. It's silent after he leaves for approximately 30 seconds before Jo, apparently having forgotten every social cue she's ever learned, bulldozes the conversation right along, "You didn't lose it at prom?"

Jimmy wishes a lot of things; wishes he focused more in business class, wishes he was a little nicer to his siblings growing up, wishes he picked a different color on the Jeep he bought last summer. But, right now he wishes he could punch Jo right in the mouth.

"I didn't go to prom, actually," (y/n) answers, completely avoiding the question, but it makes his ears perk up.

Yes she did.

"Yes you did," he's blurted out before he can control his tongue. "You went with Brian."

She looks at him like he's on concussion protocol, "I think I'd know if I went to prom or not. My memory isn't that bad, Vese."

He controls the flare of hurt he feels at the nickname, "I hate that and you know it." She smirks, but otherwise ignores him; he doesn't miss Kevin and Jo looking on like they're an exhibit in the zoo.

He turns to her on their side of the booth, "No, you did. I heard him at hockey practice. He said he was asking you." It isn't something he'd easily forget- the stinging rush of jealous hearing Brian say he was asking her, paired with a hot flash of anger hearing him talk about her like another conquest. She squirms under his heavy gaze a little, but looks him in the eye when she answers.

"I mean, he did ask. But I said no." The waiter chooses the perfect time to interrupt the conversation, dropping plates down in front of everyone. Jimmy wishes he could punch him in the mouth too.

Kevin and Jo take the opportunity to make the flimsiest excuses he's ever heard to leave the table. They're probably better off without onlookers, honestly.

She's ignoring him having an existential crisis right beside her, watching the game and drinking her water. He can't let it go though, has to take his chance now before he doesn't get another.

"I, uh, really thought you went with Brian." The ‘why didn’t you’ is implied He can't look directly at her; she's like the sun- lighting up his world, he just hopes he won't get burned getting too close for his own good.

When she turns her gaze on him, she looks a little predatory. He likes it. He turns all the way towards her to give her all of his attention, the length of his thigh presses up against hers, "I didn't want to go with him. He was kind of a douche."

"All the girls liked him, though," Jimmy picks up his beer and rolls the cold glass between his hands, hoping to cool himself down. It was so long ago, but he feels like he has to know. He just wants to hear that she didn't like Brian, never liked Brian, didn’t even see him as an option.

"Yeah, the dumb ones," she grins at him before stealing fries off of Kevin's plate, slowly growing cold in his absence. Jimmy sighs, feeling relief crash his body like a wave.

"I wanted to go with someone else. I asked, but you know…" she shrugs. Maybe she really did ask him to prom because she liked him. His body stiffens at the thought of all the wasted years if that’s actually the case.

All this waiting and his stupid false nobility, not giving her the choice. He feels like a heel, "I guess I was pretty dumb back then too."

She doesn't let him wallow into himself and presses her thigh against his to get his attention, before shoving another of Kevin's fries into her mouth. "I mean, you went to Harvard, so how dumb can you really be, James."

"So," Jimmy stops and sighs, he has to tell her. "This is embarrassing, but," he can't go one more day with her thinking he told her no because of anything to do with her when the fact of the matter is that he was an idiot. Still is an idiot.

She puts her hand on his knee patronizingly, patting it gently, "You weren't shot down asking someone to prom, so how embarrassing could it really be?" Her smile is a little sad but it doesn’t reach her eyes and he can’t compute much with her skin on his.

"Touche, but for the record- I only said no because I figured you'd rather go with him. I just didn't want to get my hopes up only for you to change your mind when he asked you." By the time he’s done with his confession her jaw is on the floor and she seems genuinely surprised by his revelation.

Her eyes look a little watery but the smile reaches them, "You're right, Vesey. You are dumb." He knows his face matches, feels his heart go soft and mushy under her attention and he wants. Obviously that’s when Kevin and Jo return, because they’ve been nothing if not completely inconvenient in every aspect of his love life.

When dinner is over and everyone is getting up and ready to leave, he isn’t ready to say good night. They worked through a lot, but he’d be disappointed in himself if he didn’t have the courage to lay everything out on the table in front of her to accept or reject.

He grabs her wrist before she can get too far, thinking as quickly as he can, "I'm going to have another beer, wanna stay with me?" He doesn’t want another beer, just wants an opportunity to talk to her without four extra eyes peering into their conversation.

Everyone says their goodbyes and Jimmy heads to the bathroom. He washes his face in the sink and gives himself a mini pep-talk before walking back out to the bar. She’s sitting on a barstool waiting for him, "I didn't know what you were drinking or I would have ordered it for you."

"Oh, no. I'm good to go. I just wanted them to leave so we could talk alone. Is it okay if we go to my place?" She nods and hops down, following him out the door and into the warm summer night.

______

"Don't the Rangers pay you enough to live in a building with an elevator?" Jimmy laughs and she huffs and puffs, feet thudding up each step behind him. He lets them into his apartment, grateful his cleaning lady stops by every two weeks to tidy up.

She sits down on the couch and he sits next to her, probably too far in her personal space.

"I really wanted to go with you." There. He said it. It’s out there in the open. She just looks at him, wide eyed, so he continues to explain himself.

"If I had known you didn't want to go with Brian, I would have said yes when you asked." He looks down at his hands, wringing them and forcing the words up his chest and out of his mouth. "I know it was so long ago, but I just feel like I want you to know that."

She isn’t giving him much in the way of a reaction, staring at him with her head tilted sideways, with all of his words out there in the open, before a wide smile splits her face and puffs up her cheeks.

"You like me." He can barely look at her without feeling flames of embarrassment lick their way up his spine, and he hopes she won’t hold this over his head for the rest of his life.

He can’t even stutter out a response to her before she’s cutting him off, "No. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. You like me." It’s inevitable, this is the turning point of their relationship. She’s right and he has to be honest about it, no matter how it will change everything for better or worse. He bites his lip and nods.

"Yeah. I just… you know how I am. With feelings and stuff," it takes everything in him to talk about, what he feels is, his biggest shortcoming. He hates addressing feelings. He’d rather keep his distance with snark and wit and sarcasm, never letting anything close enough to affect him. But here she is, wormed right into his chest next to his heart. She could tear him open and destroy him if she so chose.

She’s intent on destroying him straight away it seems, because as he’s about to continue his poor explanation of his feelings. she closes the distance between them and kisses him hard on the mouth. She backs away when their teeth clash and laughs awkwardly.

"So aggressive," he laughs and wipes at his lip. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest at her nonverbal confession, "Slow down, we have lots of time now."

"We really don't though," he just about loses his breath at that, not sure how he’s going to get back in her good graces, "I have to be up in the morning so I don't have all night, Vese. Some of us have been patiently waiting for years."

"Yeah, some of us have been," he leans over and closes the space between them this time. He kisses her slowly and he’s sure if she’d let him, he’d never stop.

_____

Jimmy cries more than he expects when he sees her. She cries way less than he expects too. Everyone is surprising him today, but he thinks he has the best surprise stashed firmly up his sleeve.

When it’s finally time, he pulls her close, the new metal band on his left finger cold against his skin. She looks up at him in her sparkly, white dress.

"Vese," he smiles when it rolls off of his lips, happy the nickname can finally be something that binds them instead of making her feel so far from him like it once did.

"It's Mrs.Vese, actually, James," she snarks up at him, her arms around his neck and nails gently scratching the base of his skull like she knows he likes. The music swirls around him and Jo is happily engaged in flash photography behind his wife, definitely catching his love-sick smile for later blackmail.

"I can't believe you chose this song for our first dance," she pulls him into her as Elvis croons on about wise men and fools, "you hate this song."

He does, it’s true, but it’s brought them together against all odds. He’s overwhelmed with love, so he gives in and kisses her, closing his eyes against all the flashes going off around them. "I really do. But you like it, and I love you."

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