#i put this on draft way too long because i was . very busy doing funny things 😇😇😇😇

[jils-things]

okay fine ill upload my non pkm.n stuff SHDHJASJSJ this is an artstyle recreation of a currently wip mod called fnf funkadelix. its so good and i had to copy it 🥺🥺🥺 SHES SO HOTTTTT

here's some og art of it heh vvv

be warned if you are gonna check this mod - best be warned because its very adult-ish

[nolanhattrick]

if you want to go more into the utah thing, pls do

okay, so i feel the need to preface all of this with

tij iginla deserved to be drafted high in the first round. i'm glad he went high in the first round. he worked hard to earn the place he was drafted. that being said, i do not think his technical ability is the only reason utah drafted him.

let's take a look at utah's owners.

the smiths are mormon, and follow most standard hypocritical mormon doctrine. they have five children and live in provo. can't find much on ashley but ryan went to business school at BYU provo because his dad worked there before he got cancer and also that's what good little mormon boys are expected to do after they go on their colonizer missions to brown countries.

link to the archived deseret interview, written by the mormon church

he often speaks to church officials about money and tech, since he owns multiple businesses in the tech space and owns four sports franchises. the above link is an interview he did with a mormon elder about allocation of church funds. from the horse's mouth, they admit to hoarding billions of dollars and wanting to convert essentially the entire african continent to mormonism for clout.

now. this is where we get into tij's selection.

if you aren't as autistic about mormon history as i am, tl;dr up until about like pshhh iirc it was like 10 or 15 years ago it was literally like not possible for black mormons to hold positions of power in the church. mormon children were taught that dark skin was a sign of being "cut off from god" (lamanites) and depending on where you lived, that if you weren't white, you wouldn't be able to reach the highest level of heaven (in mormonism there are different tiers of the afterlife - three levels of heaven [celestial, terrestrial, and telestial] and then "outer darkness" which is basically just hell. you can only reach the celestial kingdom if you're the perfect mormon and pretty much anyone goes to the telestial kingdom, even like. rapists and murderers. you go to outer darkness if you defy god to his face basically. mormons are wild. yes i am judging you) which is like beaten into you from birth to be the worst fucking thing in the world because if you don't reach the highest level of glory you're separated from your family in the afterlife, and that would suck! that's what you spent your entire life trying to do! so by default getting denied that simply because you produce more melanin is. rancid!

so. career mormons, as i call them - or mormons that come from long lineages of pre-established mormons, especially utah or texas or idaho mormons (like ryan's family, and i'm going to assume ashley's family) - they very very very often have deep racism beat into them practically since birth. they might not think so, but it's there, and it comes out at the wildest times in the wildest ways. like, i grew up in an area with a LARGE mormon minority. a group of mormons tried to lynch one of my friends as a "joke". they literally tried to fucking lynch him. one of the only black kids in the area. because they thought it was funny, and couldn't conceptualize why that was wrong or why that action - committed by that specific religion, too - carried immense weight.

moving onto the hockey part of the ask.

i stared at coyotes stats for way too long last night.

tij iginla is a left shot forward.

we all know arizona was uhh. not the greatest when they made their exit from the league. tij put up some gorgeous numbers when he finished out this year in the w, and if he does well at development camp i think he does have a very good chance at being a name on the roster. i do.

i don't think he was the smartest choice for them technically, though.

like, come the fuck on.

and like i get that they're. they still have all summer. it's whatever. but out of their thirteen forwards, nine are left shots. they are not hurting for him!!

and like. okay. you could argue like. of those, bh and bo38 are rfa at the end of this season, mc53 and ak15 and mm63 and jm22 are ufa next season, they're practically bled dry for RWs.

and they have signed defensemen since day one of the draft. unsure how td33 is going to do with his injury over the summer, but if he comes back they'll be at the numbers they need.

i still don't think he was the pick utah needed technically. i don't think he was the perfect fit. i think the owners decided for the franchise and were able to justify it well enough with his numbers to themselves and everyone else to make it work, but i really truly deep down think that part of it was "look at us we are a brand new team. we are two perfect people that wear cool youth pastor clothes to fancy pants events. we're so hip and chill, we're going to make this black kid's dreams come true by drafting him higher than his dad. we're going to make him the face of the Utah Hockey Club" and then IMMEDIATELY put him in a fucking jersey that says property of. like that is deranged.

i know from an outsider's perspective this all can seem very reach-y but when you have lived with these people and been inside their minds and been raised inside the culture it is all very very thought out. it's deliberate. everything these people do is intentional. so i really honestly can't see these people doing this for any other reason than to make themselves look good. yes, i think tij is a very talented hockey player that deserved to be drafted high in the first round. but i think he belongs somewhere else, somewhere that will treat him well and somewhere he will be safe. because i guarantee you, he is not safe on that team. not when ryan and ashley smith own it.

[khaoslightwood]

『 Genshin Impact with a tattoo artist S/O 』

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : How do I imagine them with a significant other being a tattoo artist.

𝐹𝑒𝑎𝑡 : Kazuha, Xinyan, Zhongli, Ayato, Keqing, Faruzan

𝐴/𝑁 : It had been sitting in my drafts for months now, so here you go. Btw, if some characters have more or less hcs, it's cause it depends on my motivation.

𝗞𝗮𝘇𝘂𝗵𝗮

↦ He honestly likes it a little bit too much.

↦ Kazuha adore the idea of having eternal marks on your body. Especially that they all have a story behind them, just like scars. Yes, whether it's a sad or funny one.

↦ Kazuha would definitely have your tattoo him. After all, he's got stories as well.

↦ He's always around when you're drawing and often offers his help. He's very good at that as a matter of fact.

↦ While he's at it, he might just become your little helper. Always running errands for you and buying ink from another country.

↦ He keeps a little journal with him for when he's traveling with Beidou's crew. He describes all the sceneries, animals, and many other things he comes across.

𝗫𝗶𝗻𝘆𝗮𝗻

↦ She absolutely adore your work.

↦ Probably has you tattooing her a lot since she finds it really intriguing and fun.

↦ If you were to get judged because your work is "immoral", she would be pissed off. She's used to such treatment, but she really can't stand it when it comes to you.

↦ She likes to help with coming with ideas when your commissions become tricky. She even draws some doodles for you.

↦ Brag a lot about it to the whole world. She just genuinely thinks that it's awesome to have meaningful drawings or sentences on your skin forever.

↦ You often have to argue with her because she just wants everything as a tattoo. Remember the butterfly that puts itself on your nose last time? Now she wants a tattoo of this said butterfly.

↦ Would definitely drag you with her when she's having a concert while a festival. That way, you can open a booth for a tattoo shop for people who are present there and would want one.

𝗭𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗶

↦ He finds it quite interesting to know that it remains your body for eternity.

↦ As much as he is skeptical about having tattoos himself, he would end up getting one of his late friends and you.

↦ As a matter of fact, Zhongli's love language is all about learning about his lover. So, of course, he'll do his best to learn everything about your art.

↦ Zhongli would most definitely advertise your work to help you gain fame. After all, he knows how to take care of a business.

↦ To be honest, he would adore to look at you doing your job. If a client agrees with him to be present, he wouldn't decline.

↦ Zhongli would most definitely scare away clients who are disrespectful behind your back. But he means well, so you can't really be mad with him.

𝗔𝘆𝗮𝘁𝗼

↦ If you knew how much he likes to see you paint people's bodies, it often ends with him wanting to be present while you work. Of course, he is a gentleman, so if the client in question shows disagreement, he will respect it.

↦ He's most definitely the owner of your shop, that way you don't owe anyone.

↦ Ayato is so terribly in love with whatever you do that even if you were to do anything as a job, he would support you anyway.

↦ You often find yourself drawing in his room while he's cuddling with you. You both are busy, so these little moments mean a lot to you two.

↦ Coming back to the subject of money. You'll absolutely never have to worry about not being able to buy equipment. At least, not as long as he doesn't go bankrupt because of all the things he buys for you.

↦ You know how I said he loved you very much; if you were to ask for him having a really cringe tattoo for you, he would. Of course, not without some judgment from him and Thoma ending up stopping him.

𝗞𝗲𝗾𝗶𝗻𝗴

↦ Similar to Zhongli, she would adore helping you with your business. She might even place good words about it when she's talking to the citizens of Liyue.

↦ There's actually one thing Keqing wouldn't appreciate about your work; sometimes, you have to be very physically close to clients. But the reason she loathes that side is that some clients can take that as an opportunity to be creepy with you.

↦ If she were to get one, it would be something that describes her meaning of freedom. Given that she finds a lot of importance in such things, it would be appropriate to her.

↦ She's very critical to your clients. By that, I mean, she's would get terribly mad if one were to shame your work.

↦ Keqing would definitely do anything for your shop because she knows how much important it is for you. You've used all your life saving just to build it, so if you ever have a crisis, she'll handle it at your side.

↦ Honestly, I feel like she would like to help you find designs when you fall short on imagination.

𝗙𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘇𝗮𝗻

↦ She's very much interested in these said permanent drawings.

↦ After all, she never really paid attention to anything like that before you came into her life.

↦ She would be very protective of you. Faruzan lives in a nation where art is seen as a threat to wisdom, even to this day.

↦ As a matter of fact, the entirety of Sumeru would see your relationship badly. She's a researcher, and you are an artist. The criticism was bound to happen.

↦ But she loves you with her whole heart and will always find a way to shut them up. And anyway, it's not like the words of some random creatures are significant.

↦ She, on the contrary of Ayato, would very much appreciate it if you would help her with funding. In any case, she helps you with everything needed in exchange.

↦ Also, Faruzan might or might not get into verbal fights with your clients if they have the guts to disrespect you. Which usually makes them run away and never come back.

2023 @ khaoslightwood

[manonamora-if]

March Check-In

Lol. We definitely were not back on track here. We tried and SUPER FAILED at going back to the schedule.

Will March be better? Let's find out together...

Onto the usual index:

Recap of last month’s progress

IF Events in the Next Month

Plan for the next month

Still long post under the break. If you want a mini version, head over to itch.io!

February Progress

Welp... there wasn't much of a list in the January Check-in, since it was the retrospective, which included the yearly plan. Still, I did make a mini one on itch. Put together we'd get:

Play more IF and maybe review. ✅

Finish the coding of Harcourt Ch5 ❌ and editing of Ch6 ❌

Fix one of the semi-completed games: ❌

Complete the Vamp/Smoochie jam entry✅

Heyyyy 50/50. Passable grade!

I've passed the very funny number of 420 reviews on the IFDB recently, mainly working my way through the French games (since there are very few reviews and French IF peeps are neat people). There are 300+ games left on that side, it will take me a while to get there but I'm making progress (almost done with 2023!). If my pace continues... I might be able to reach 2nd place in the ranking before my 1 year anniversary of reviewing games (mid-may). Also somewhat related, I've been trying to rate more games on itch too :)

I said I would finish the coding of Harcourt... and then didn't. But MelS was more productive than me, and he finished the first draft of Chapter 6 earlier than planned... which I haven't finished commenting on either... So :/

I also didn't fix any semi-completed games. So there.

But I managed to make it for the Queer Vampire Jam and the Smoochie Jam with Teatime with a Vampire ! A 20k-long trippy game with a hot vampire and a weird show...

AND AND I finally fixed my website and my itch.io profile. It has a cool feature on the front page. And we did a little AMA a few weeks ago!

Honestly, I thought I would have been done with Teatime two weeks before it actually was completed. So that threw a wrench in the rest. And probably having to moderate a few events at once...

And the extra day clearly didn't help.

EDIT: I TOTES FORGOT, but I updated DOL-OS for an extra QOL screen at the start.

What’s happening in March?

There's always something happening in the IF world. I don't think I ever find all that happens anyway... but. Here's the ones I know!

Today is the last day to submit a Spring Thing intent! (ranked)

he Queer Vampire Game Jam ends in about three weeks. Got a vampire/human story with a LGBT+ cast? Then this is the event for you! (unranked) Also they are doing a fundraising/matching donation with submissions!

The SeedComp! (Sprouting) extended the deadline for a few more days! See @seedcomp-if for more info ;) (ranked)

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2024 se termine Lundi! Viendez faire des histoires en français!! <3 (ranked, duh)

The next @neointeractives mini-jam will all be about bringing back old jams... Check out the Revival Jam !

The Text Adventure Literacy Jam 2024 just started! It will be looking for "parser for beginners" entries until May!

Note: @neointeractives will have jams all year long. One a month/or so. And the next Planting Round of @seedcomp-if will start as soon as the results are dropped.

The PLANtm for March

Busy plan once again. Here are the thing I'm hoping to do or finish this month:

Complete my French Comp entry. The deadline is in 3 days. Will I make it? Probably. Will it be good? Probably be not because I've been writing it only in the past two weeks. You can expect some "love" letters though...

Complete my SpringThing entry. It will be all about fixing typos and potential bug. The code will be ready next week anyway. Maybe slap some cool-er animations.

Play more games! Consider this done. There's the Smoochie Jam, the SeedComp! and the FrenchComp right there...

Finish the Code Ch5 of Harcourt and edit Ch6. At least one round of edits would be good. So I can put MelS to work again.

Finish fixing The Roads Not Taken. I'm so sorry babe. I'm not avoiding you I swear. I actually haven't bee on the computer with your files this month...

LET'S DO THIS! WE CAN DO IT!

~

The 2024 To-Do List:

I have done nothing here. So here's the list again for nothing.

The hopefully maybe easy to handle To-Do:

fix the bugs in EDOC + overall the French version to match

fix the bugs of TRNT + find a way to add the missing pieces (giving up on the translation)

fixing the interface of LPM and the popups + check animal interactions

figure out the One-Button JavaScrip/jQuery issue...

edit the loading screens of the completed tiny games to include the program/format logo at least.

The 'Need a Bunch of Content to update but it's planned!' To-Do:

Update my website (bunch new title - also I don't think the logo clicky thing work...) + redo my itch page

Finish TTATEH (MelS dependent - this year should be it - for real)

Finish Exquisite Cadaver (half-way mark by this summer - manif)

Finish P-Rix - Space Trucker (main path at least)

Update CRWL (it's been almost two years... I'm getting ashamed)

The Unlikely But it Would be Dope To-Do

Finish The Dinner as it was planned (and translate)

Finish In the Blink of an Eye as it was planned (and retranslate)

Finish The Rye in the Dark City

Fixing TTTT (at least fixing, maybe try adding some storylets)

And finally The 'It's impossible, but one can wish' TO-DO:

Remaster SPS IH (if I managed to start this after completing the rest... I'm going to eat a whole sheet cake).

Start the IFComp project (2025? Might end up being a ST?)

[csmeaner]

Speaking of Scarfoxes, I’ve voided mine out of the species permanently and it feels good to be free. Still waiting for them to update the ML, but it’ll be about another 3 weeks yet because of their stupid fucking void/unvoid rules imposing a 28-day wait on processing the request because they want to “be sure it’s what the user wants.”

I understand it was added because of the fury towards Darci and her bullshit when she tried to push out the $70 void fee and the Discord turned on her, but it’s been almost a year since then and I don’t see the justification in waiting anymore. People wouldn’t ask to void (or unvoid) if they weren’t certain they wanted it so the wait is just irritating.

Strangely, the mods don’t even have clear communication with each other at this point it seems, because when the void rules were drafted up, it was very clearly stated that permission from OG artist or designer wasn’t needed because you can’t control what you don’t own, but I had someone slide into my DMs after submitting my void request to tell me I DID need permission from the artists to void and it was just… ???????????????? How is it that a CS staff team can’t even be on the same page with each other??? Bro…

You know the ML won’t even approve anything before 3 days by CHOICE? Fucking why!? I’ve never seen a CS staff so allergic to doing their basic duties. I liked the species for its designs/anatomy, and tbh I still do, but I just can’t stick around anymore with such abysmal management and rules that just draw things out for no reason.

There’s no joy anymore, and there hasn’t been for a long time. I held on, hoping things might get better like a naive fool, but at this point I really just… I can’t anymore. Too many times I’ve had contradicting information thrown at me, and the same has happened to friends of mine, and very recently I got fucked over on a design update so I’m done. The design update issue was the final straw for me.

Worst part is I can’t even get my money back now, but that’s my own fault; I bought two items second hand specifically for the design update (because they were discounted by the seller) and now I have no use for them, but I can’t even fucking get rid of them… Hell, even selling the foxes themselves is getting more difficult at this point, which is why I opted to void. (Plus, maybe it’s petty of me but I’d rather keep my designs than resell them and have them end up in certain peoples’ hands… I did put a lot of work into developing them and even as generic furries I’m still attached to them.)

I’m sticking around the discord presently because I’m owed art (and really, really hate having to friend people just for business transactions), but at this point there’s no interest left for me in the species. On one hand it’s hard to watch something you’ve been a part of for six years slowly crawl into its grave, but on the other hand, it’s better to move on once something stops being enjoyable. Unless Darci is removed from the equation, I don’t think things will ever improve and she’s determined to take Scarfoxes to its grave rather than hand it over to someone else, so it’s better if the species just hurried up and dies at this point.

Either way, not my concern anymore. Thanks to the design update bullshit I have a fun new character design that isn’t bound by rules and restrictions, and soon all of my other voided designs will be just as free to change and use the way I want them to be. I’m so happy. Leaving most of the CS I was in was the best decision I’ve made.

Also got my Edeia designs voided for free too, finally, which was funny as hell because some of the ones that got voided didn’t even belong to me anymore.

Sorry for the ramble. Needed to get some things off my chest…

damn bitch i remember you from before and you're still being forced to wait to leave? shit sucks. if anything enforcing a wait period would make people even more eager to detach themselves fully

scarfox has got to be one of the saddest cs stories so far. it was never perfect but instead of being made better it was just twisted and mangled into a sad heap by one delusional idiot that can't even wipe their own ass

[corrose]

8, 12, 50?

ooh thank you so much for the ask!

8. Post an out-of-context spoiler from a WIP

12. Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

50. How would you describe your writing style? 

Answered below! I'll put them under a cut since they got a little long ahaha.

8. Post an out-of-context spoiler from a WIP

Despite Shen Qingqiu's withering glare, Mobei Jun gathers Shang Qinghua up in his arms. 

"Oh my god," Shang Qinghua whispers, being lifted about like a small bag of potatoes. "Oh my god, is this really happening? Oh my god. This is so hot. How are you so strong? Your arm muscles are like big…big melons. Huge melons." He squeezes Mobei Jun's bicep through his robes with a look on his face like he's ascending directly to the heavenly realm in the arms of a busty babe. 

Mobei Jun is too busy fastidiously supporting the back of Shang Qinghua's neck to notice, holding him with affectionate resignation, like Shang Qinghua is a very small and slightly pathetic foster kitten who can't even hold his own head up. Shang Qinghua cups his palm over Mobei Jun's knuckles in open awe, tilting his head back to look him in the face. "Your hands are so big," he says dreamily. "My entire head fits in your hand. Like a cantaloupe. A honeydew melon. You could crush my skull like an egg! I can't even break an egg into the pan without it falling apart on me." He immediately looks crestfallen. "Wait. That's not hot…"

"It's fine," Mobei Jun reassures him hastily. "I will cook the egg for you."

"Yeah?" Shang Qinghua asks hopefully, looking heartened. 

Mobei Jun nods earnestly. Shen Qingqiu didn't know that Mobei Jun was capable of making such a besotted expression. He wishes desperately that he could return to that blissful state of ignorance. System! Shouldn't there be a limit on how OOC the key NPCs can get?

12. Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

Oh yeah, absolutely! But I don't think it's a conventional outline per se. When I decide I'm gonna commit to a fic and flesh it out fully, I give it its own document and start filling it up in as much detail as I can manage lol. Usually by that point, I have several major scenes already established, so I fill in around those scenarios as needed (transition scenes, my beloathed). My 'outlines' usually end up being the entire story minus the parts I don't feel like writing at the time which have placeholders like //wake up or //reincarnated with a big empty space waiting accusingly behind it. Thus, these docs are extremely detailed and I basically don't deviate from them at all, I copy-paste directly from the doc into the AO3 editing mechanism when I'm ready to publish lol. I do usually end up adding a ton of stuff while editing for publication, but usually the shape of the story is set in stone by that point and the edits are just transitions that need to be elaborated upon.  

Things that haven't been given their own docs live smushed together in an ungainly superdoc as a loose arrangement of scenes in unrelated universes until they pick up enough headspace to move out of the superdoc and get their own house. 

50. How would you describe your writing style? 

Hmmm I never really know how to answer this because I feel like most of my stories derive from 1 particular scenario that I want to see play out and everything else is built up around that. I really like to Put That Guy in Scenarios. 

I don't focus on plot really, only as much as necessary to drive the story forward. Many ideas of mine have stalled because of this bc I was like wow! 👀 Cool scene!! Started drafting it, realized many many things had to happen to get to that point, and then gave up 🙃

I really enjoy setting the scene in overly descriptive detail and also focusing on emotions from a tight POV, trying to stay in-character as much as possible and also (essential) thinking of ways to make it funny.

[goleb]

Have you ever thought up a DHMIS fairy tale AU, or something in the realm of fantasy? For the former, I’m not sure there’s many fairy tales focusing on good parental relationships…but there’s plenty of potential for Fluffybird!

Y'know, funny thing is when I started writing up an answer to this ask, the first class I had the next day had a test revision entirely themed around fairy tales. Ain't that a coincidence? My life's full of those. Also that was on Monday, I'm so sorry, I've been way too busy lately ): 

Certainly, I've thought up plenty of things over these Royful years, fantasy-esque ones included. And I'll probably only remember half of them after I already hit post. Some of them, granted, still only concepts and not-yet-developed ideas, but I like to put a lot of care into those things and that's why it takes me years to get them done, you know. But they'll all get their time to shine, eventually, when something clicks. 

Now, fairy tales... yeah, fairy tales aren't exactly a genre of many parents, good ones especially. In my - admittedly perhaps limited - knowledge of the topic, it seems you're significantly more likely to find parental figures who were good but died, or are alive but not good very bad. And, I'm sure you could tell, I'm not about that. Not when we're talking Roy. Roy is a fantastic dad. Roy would not send his kid out into the woods unattended. 

But! Art is all about invention. And if you ever find me unable to make something about Roy, that ain't me. As for romance, I do love a good romance. It's everywhere in the Roylore, if you know where to look. Why, would you like me to provide you with some shipping content? :P Haven't really thought about it before, to be honest, but can do, I suppose, can do. 

But back to my stories! 

There is one particular one I've probably mentioned a few times before, and it's actually one of my most finished ones! Because I've been working on it for like 4.5 years now, good lord! I've got a pretty large piece of the first draft done. Not all of it, but most, definitely. Yeah, definitely. Without spoiling much, it takes place in the faux olden times. It's extremely loosely inspired by Little Red Riding Hood, or more specifically a retelling of it I had to read for a BritLit class once. 

Roy - because it's always about Roy - is what could be best described as a wolf-selkie in that one. So's Yellow. I mean, obviously so's Yellow. They're family. They can freely switch between human and wolf form, so long as they have their skin with them. Not to be confused with werewolves - and they'd be quite offended if you did - because a werewolf is a human that was turned into a wolf via curse, and wolf selkies are all natural. Red Guy's also there. He's a human. Or, well, as much of a human as he can be. I love telling my friends about this story without mentioning the wolf part purely for their reactions when they get to the part where Roy outruns and hunts down an entire horse. 

The aforementioned retelling actually helped me out, with one particular unimportant scene, in picking who the villain of this story was gonna be. Y'see I made this little challenge for myself a while back where I'd make an AU specifically tailored to match one of the teachers as the antagonist. It's still not done yet, you've no idea how difficult some of them are to typecast. Shrignold is the only one so far that's been proving cooperative, I simply adore antagonising the fucker. But this one... this one was good. It was easy. 

And just because I can, here’s a couple more of these contextless lines. 🤭 

And uh. Speaking of Little Red, I have at some point entertained the thought of Little Red... Riding... Guy... as a joke - a joke which practically wrote itself! - and you can consider that idea a precursor to the above. 

On a completely different topic, the Witcher's fantasy, right? Cause you can bet I got into the Witcher purely for the Roy AU potential. Same reason I got into Kingsman (remind me to do something about that, by the way). S'not my fault Roy handling deadly weapons is such a compelling thought. Give my boy a sword. He deserves one. As a treat. 

My point is, really, who's a better fit for a witcher than Roy? They've got so much in common! Though obviously Roy's story is significantly different from Geralt's. Less relationship drama. More juggling getting life-threatening contracts and trying to raise a kid. Max is there as the only actually Polish guy. Also Red Guy? Definitely a bard. Maybe not exactly the best at it but he is one. There’s plenty more I could say about this one, but I’ll save that for another post. This one’s getting a bit long already, haha. 

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Your kid is so adorable, happy pillow fights and 1000 uear old constitution day indeed!

As someone who is pursuing a career in medicine I am SO sorry, I also avoid those two numbers bc they are objectively BULLSHIT ways to think about health and it drives me NUTS that they are so prevalent in healthcare settings. For what it is worth I will be trying to fight anyone and everyone who makes me put that in front of my patients' eyeballs.

That miniature project is AMAZING.

You know what else is amazing??? The Rift. Cannot explain the emotional reactions I had to ch.8 but I cannot get over this story. Like I said IT IS AMAZING

HI!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG!!!

Not to be biased but this kid is so smart and funny and this age has been one of the best I've experienced so far! It's so fun to talk to him about stuff and hear his thoughts and opinions. Although one time he did ACTUALLY say the words 'skibidi toilet' but I'm gonna pretend that didn't happen.

Yeah it really sucks because since my healthcare provider is run as a HUGE statewide business, I don't think there's much I can do other than "click 'pay my bill' very quickly without looking and the righthand side of the page" lmao. It would be great to have your "numbers" hidden unless you WANT to see them. As someone in long-term remission from an ED, I am extremely stubborn about never wanting to know those numbers EVER again.

THANK YOU!!!!! I have another project that I'm going to start soon too! I can't wait to have a BUNCH of teeny tiny scenes in between my books on my bookshelf. Making tiny things is so satisfying! (Although I'll be happy to never glue twenty tiny paper flowers onto wire stems ever again...)

AAAA thank you so much!!!! There is one more chapter and, HOPEFULLY, an epilogue, but the problem is that the epilogue is not written yet even though the rest of the story was written within a week and has sat in my drafts ever since! I've slowed down on posting it because the anxiety of not having the epilogue written is eating at me, but I should have the next (and last!!!!!) chapter up soon!

[rose-tinted-juls]

i literally wrote this in november and left it in my drafts why am i so stupid? anyway. life is busy when you're in your final year of uni that i can tell now but re-reading this chap of ma&thp gave me the long desired feeling of normalcy, so thank you, mackie dear <3

1. THE AIRPORT SCENE I'M SOBBING. the "oh my god is that charles leclerc" was so perfect there even if it's so simple god i love chris. "charles leclerc wants you, could have stopped there" OMG if he said that to me i would literally die on spot. good thing he never will

2. CHRIS BROUGHT CHARLES FLOWERS 😭 AN ACTUAL BOUQUET 😭😭 "just because" 😭 i honestly can't. just simply can't.

3. "anything you want to know, i came tonight with my life story ready." - "her dad'll like that a lot." so simple yet so perfect again. i love charles' interactions with her family.

4. also i just love how close chris and her dad is. like. i 'm just so soft rn

5. when charles didn't say no to the wine bc he doesn't want to offend Cindy and then keeping Chris frim saying anything about him not actually liking wine, i LOVE how real he is. if this ain't me anytime i'm a guest at someone's

6. SHUT UP THE SCENE WHERE BILL ASKS CHARLES ABOUT WHAT HE LIKES MOST ABOUT CHRIS 😭😭😭 his answer is just too much for my little heart. "...how lucky i am to have her in my life." JUST SHUT UP. i literally can't take it (+ "now that i'm properly embarrassed for the rest of my life" lmao love that line)

7. cindy and charles looking through the photo albums, soooo lovely so cute so soft, i want this

8. oh WAIT that paragraph about the childhood photos and the protective parent act that charles wonders about. WAIT. that's such a good paragraph put in such a clever way, i love it. "you can't be mean to someone when you look at them and imagine the tiny version of them playing dress-up in a princess themed bedroom" + "he should get a few baby pictures from his mom, he thinks. to show them to chris, just so that she isn't allowed to hurt him." I'M SCREAMING WHY IS IT SO GOOD

9. "[charles] is hit with a sudden wave of gratitude towards the way he's been wholly and completely welcomed into her life like this. the night of endless nerves aside, the excitement of learning all the chapter of her life that predate him is something he isn't going to take for granted." i mean. just these lines. they melted me. i'm just a puddle. a crying mess. why is he so sweet 😭 why do you have to make him so sweet, mack 😭

10. i love charles and chase's conversation about racing stuff. i just love it. also how charles pays attention to shen chris falls asleep so that he can tell her later on when she'll ask, that is just pure sweetness over there. but the whole conversation about car racing is just perfect. and when charles just goes for it, "taking a shot in the dark", asking what drafting is, i just felt so proud lmao i would never be able to ask that question i'm so bad team social anxiety

11. this following conversation: "promise you won't get lost in the woods and eaten by a bear today. at least wait until i'm there to witness it." - "i can always outrun you, they say you only have tk be faster than the other guy." - "you wouldn't let me get eaten by a bear." - "well, i might." - "wouldn't." - "would." I WANT THIS. I NEED THIS. WHEN IS IT MY TURN. i'm just such a sucker for this type of couple's banter

12. charles getting lost during his run is just so funny, but also when he's thinking about how nice it is to not worry about anyone watching him. "here it's just him, just charles. there's nothing special about it, which is what makes it so fucking special." poor baby i can't even imagine the life he has to live in this aspect. this paragraph was perfect to remind me how deep down he's just a human being like anyone else which i (and so many of us) tend to forget bc he's like a literal god and like idk. this just hit me deep in my chest.

13. "he's not french. monégasque, and very proud." this whole part is just *chefs kiss* omg i love chris.

14. THAT PART WITH CHARLES AND THE "DO YOU WANT ME TO BE JEALOUS?" AND THE "SHAME, I WAS GOING TO PUT ON A SHOW." OMG JEALOUS!CHARLES IS BE SOMETHING I'D DIE TO SEE especially in this universe

15. "her laughter, musical and infectious, is all he hears when the entire place laughs." AND "even the eax dhe plays with the ribnon on the bouquets she hold-something so small and trivial, it all captivates him." AND MOST OF ALL THE "he finds himself swept away by a tide of emotions, some messy kaleidoscope of feelings that defy articulation. there's something magnetic about her, an irresistible urhe to kiss her that seems to linger in the back of his mind, always. it's all lined up for him, a million synchronized harmonies that underscore every interaction. the changing colours of leaves and the smell of rain on a pine patio, the hesrtbeat of a conversation, a light in every roo.. his perception of his own emotions, the way he feels about this fucking woman, jt's so clear it becomes cloudy. every stolen glance and shared smile is this integral part of their connection, this thing that he can't let go of." OKAY POET GO OFF. MACK YOU ACTUAL GODDESS OF WORDS I'M IN SUCH AWE OF YOU. SUCH A GORGEOUS PART. SO SO SO PERFECT. brb gonna go sob for a while

16. "may your love be modern enough to survive the times, but old-fashioned enough to last forever." why is this line so genuinely perfect? like this punch-in-the-chest and make-your-mind-spin kind of perfect.

17. charles worrying about chris' speech 😭😭 (i mean same here but he's just so soft and so smitten and so lovely) but like "you know that you're the kind of person who is easy to love, yes?" i'm actually sobbing now 😭 and the "he's smart enough to know when it's time to just dance with his girlfriend." where are the boys/men like this in real life 😭😭

18. the "she opens her fucking email. he's in love with her, and she's opening her fucking email while telling him it's not possible." hits SO HARD. an actual punch in the gut. so good.

19. and this deserves its own point: "there's nothing more he can add to the conversation, not now. not when he's just ran face-first into a brick wall off i love you." awh charles you're in love with her 😭😭😭 and you finally realised it yourself 😭😭 i genuinely have tears in my eyes. actual tears. i'm.... wow.

oh my lovely lovely mackie, you true inspiration and goddess. this chapter brought me so much joy, more than you can imagine (i mean not like all the previous ones didn't do the same but this was just a whole new level of that). thank you. i wish i could tell you this in person just so you could see how sincerely i mean it, and that i could give you a big hug to express my overwhelming appreciation for you. love you loads

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

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

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

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

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

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

He rolls his eyes. “Open the trunk?”

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

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

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

Chris smiles. “They’re for you.”

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

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

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

Chris frowns. “Never?”

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

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

He laughs, “you’re so cute.”

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

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

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

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

“I’m going to kiss you, now.”

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

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

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

“Hungry, also.”

“How hungry?”

“Very.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles nods. “That’s right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A steady relationship with our daughter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, my God,” she mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t.”

“Would.”

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles chuckles. “Just barely.”

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, it’s true?”

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

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

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

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

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

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” She laughs. “This is new.”

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

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

“He’s not French.”

“But y—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you guys date?”

“Oh,” she shakes her head. “Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m okay,” she says. 

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

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

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

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

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chris sniffles. “I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– – –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?” She hums. 

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

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

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

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

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

Chris laughs. “It’s fine, really.”

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

“Nothing happens?”

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

“I win you?”

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

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

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[mikeyinnit]

lovebug

Pairing: Wilbur x GN!Reader

Summary: Wilbur was done with love after he lost Sally, but when Fundy introduces him to one of Niki’s friends, things start to change.

Word Count: 2k words

Notes: Songfic!! I said they would be rare and it’s the second fic I post lmao. Inspired by Lovebug by the Jonas Brothers, totally willing to do a part 2 for this one because I have other ideas with other lyrics and stuff

Tagging: N/A

After Sally, Wilbur wasn’t really looking for anyone else to love, in fact, he had given up on love entirely. He had to focus on his son and the nation he was building from the ground up.  

Then you came into the picture.

You were a friend of Niki’s, that’s how he met you. Fundy was visiting the bakery and when Wilbur came to get him, he saw you helping the young fox hybrid make cookies. It was such a sweet sight that he took a moment to just enjoy seeing his son have a great time. When he did enter, Fundy introduced the two.

“This is Y/N! They’re one of Niki’s friends. Y/N, this is my dad. He’s single.”

Of course his son would throw him under the bus like that. But you just laughed, and god did you have a beautiful laugh, and held out your hand. A gesture that Wilbur returned with one of his charming grins.

“Fundy’s talked about you all day, I feel like I know you already…” you had trailed off, obviously Fundy only referred to him as my dad, prompting him to give his name.  

“Wilbur Soot.”

“Wilbur. It’s great to meet you.”

You gave him your phone number, clearly you were as taken with Fundy as the boy was to you, for him or his son to use anytime. Then you said your goodbyes for the night as you sent them on their way with the cookies you and Fundy baked along with some extra baked goods.

Called you for the first time yesterday

Wilbur hadn’t used your number for a good couple of days. He had been busy with L’Manberg and honestly had barely had time to see his son, let alone the enchanting stranger.  

Today was a day that he could actually spend quality time with Fundy, and obviously all of that time at the bakery while he was working just made the young boy want to bake cookies with his dad. Unfortunately, Fundy was very specific with what cookies he wanted to make. The ones he baked with you.

“These don’t taste like the ones Y/N made.” Was said numerous times throughout the night no matter how Wilbur changed the recipe so eventually, he just gave up and called you to figure it out.  

“Hello?”

Your voice rang out through the telephone and it instantly felt like all of the stress of this baking night was leaving his body.

“Y/N, it’s Wilbur. We met at Niki’s the other day?”

“Wilbur! Of course. How are you? How’s Fundy?”

Another grin was brought to his face at you almost immediately asking about Fundy, though he didn’t have the chance to respond as the aforementioned hybrid returned from getting more ingredients for the cookies and practically begged his father to put you on speaker so he could talk to you as well.

“Y/N!!”

It was almost like he could hear the smile on your face as you spoke to Fundy. “Fundy! What are you up to?”

“We’re trying to bake cookies but dad can’t make them like you.”

Wilbur heard that laugh again, that beautiful laugh that he first heard at the bakery.  

“That’s because your dad probably doesn’t know the secret ingredient that we used to bake those cookies. How about you give the phone back to him so I can let him know and then I’m sure you two will bake the best cookies ever.”

Then the phone was back in his hand and he spoke, “Secret ingredient?”

You grinned as you answered, “I just told him to tell the dough nice things in his life. Some people say speaking love into the dough helps, I don’t know if it’s true or not but he had fun with it.”

It sounded ridiculous, but Wilbur decided to try it.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll let you know how it goes.”  

This time, Fundy thought the cookies were perfect.  

I finally found the missing part of me

You became a big part of his routine after that night. He would see you at the bakery every time he came to get his son, he called you even when he was at work, you quickly became an important part of his life. Fundy loved you, days together often involved him telling Wilbur all about whatever the two of you got up to.  

Wilbur wasn’t a stranger to love, he loved Sally, he loved his country, he loved his son. But it felt very different with you. He couldn’t even say it was love yet, you just felt like you fit with him and Fundy. You were kind, and obviously cared about his son, you were funny, the texts and calls he exchanged with you never failed to put a smile on his face. And you cared about his son a lot, which was certainly not a negative. For the two of them, it felt like you were the perfect fit to the puzzle they didn’t realize was missing a piece.

I felt so close but you were far away

Getting used to having you in his routine meant it really sucked when you traveled to a village far away. Fundy missed you and honestly, Wilbur did too. You promised the young boy that you wouldn’t be gone for long, and told him that he was welcome to call you at anytime. Which Fundy took full advantage of. Every night before the young fox hybrid went to bed, he called you on Wilbur’s phone and the two of them heard about your day and they shared details of their own. On certain nights, you even joined Wilbur in singing a lullaby for him.  

People say that absence makes the heart grow fonder and that absolutely seemed true with your trip. Both of the boys missed you and wondered when you would be back, but luckily, you came back within a month. And you came back with plenty of gifts for Fundy, which made the boy ridiculously happy. You even got a gift for Wilbur, which was certainly a pleasant surprise since really, you being back was enough of a gift for him.  

That night, he invited you over for dinner. He said it was to celebrate your return, which is true, but he also just wanted to spend time with you now that you were back. You agreed, and the three of you even tried baking dessert, which resulted in a small flour fight initiated by you.  

Wilbur usually liked everything in order and in his control, something like throwing flour around and making a complete mess of his kitchen is something that Tommy would enjoy, but somehow it felt okay with you and his son.  

I never thought that I’d catch this lovebug again

After that night, Wilbur came to realize that he did like you, if not love you. You were a nice balance to his control and an escape from the stress of his job as president.  

At first, it felt like a betrayal to Sally. He decided he was going to focus on his son and his nation, not love. He decided that long before you came into the picture and he was a man of his word. Even if that word was only said to himself.

He knew he couldn’t just outright ignore you. Not only would that be unfair to you, it wouldn’t be fair to Fundy.  So he had to deal with it another way, throwing himself further into his work. It meant less time with his son but it was very productive for L’Manberg. Plus it meant Fundy got to see you and Niki more so Wilbur is certain that the young fox would understand and perhaps enjoy this more than spending time with him.  

There was a knock at his door but Wilbur didn’t even look up as he called out, “Come on in.” Obviously it wasn’t Tommy since the boy never knocked but it could have been Tubbo or Jack Manifold or even someone from outside of L’Manberg.  

“You would think that in a time of peace, the president would have more free time.”

He knew that voice. He could never forget the face that went along with it. Your smile and eyes never left his mind even with him trying his hardest to shut out the rest of the world.  

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you. What brings you by?”

“I haven’t seen you in a while, Fundy told me you’ve been sleeping here lately so I thought I would check on you.”  

And there was that kindness again. The kindness that made him fall in love with you in the first place.  

“I’m okay, Y/N. Just busy.”  

“Too busy to stop by the bakery to see your friends? Or to even come home and see your son at night?”

There was an edge to your voice and Wilbur wasn’t sure how he felt about it, obviously he thought that Fundy would prefer spending time with you and Niki over himself but it seemed like you disagreed.

You strongly disagreed.  

“I’ve just been busy. Running a country is a lot of work, Fundy will understand. He gets to see you and Niki more anyways, he’s happier that way.” He shifted his eyes back to the papers in front of him, letters he had been drafting for the past two hours and couldn’t get anywhere with.  

“Fundy is a child, Wilbur. Niki and I are happy to see him at the bakery but we aren’t replacements for his dad. His dad who suddenly became “too busy” almost overnight. What happened?”  

It truly was sweet the way you cared about his son that much. Enough to come to his office when you could be sleeping. This could have been a good moment for him to say what was on his mind, that he thinks he was falling in love with you and didn’t want to betray his dead wife. But he lied.

“Tommy has been getting into trouble with Dream recently, I want to make sure we don’t fight in another war so soon. Or ever again.” It was a solid lie, Tommy had a reputation for being a troublemaker and he could use that to his advantage. You seemed like you were about to speak, probably about Fundy, so he spoke first, “I promise that I will talk to Fundy and see him more as soon as I get this figured out. Thank you, Y/N, it’s really nice Thank you, Y/N, it’s really nice to know that someone else cares about Fundy this much, he needs that.”

“It’s not just him that I care about, Wilbur. I wish you would see Fundy more sooner but I was also worried about you, I know you care about him so something had to be going on for you to miss seeing him this often.”

Well that certainly didn’t help with him trying to ignore these feelings.

“Then I thank you again. I really appreciate it. Goodnight, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

“Goodnight, Wilbur.”

I kissed them for the first time yesterday

Wilbur kept the promise he made to you. Considering the reason he gave you for being busy was a lie, it wasn’t hard to get back to seeing his son and by extension, you.  

If you asked him, he would say he’s handling his feelings for you rather well now. He hasn’t done anything about it but he isn’t shutting out the world so, progress.

It was another dinner night with you and Fundy, you had brought desert with you this time so they didn’t have another flour fight but it was still lovely. After he sent Fundy to bed, you stuck around.  

The two of you had been sitting on the couch together for a whole, just talking about anything, and maybe it was just because it was late and you looked so beautiful but something came over Wilbur and he asked, “Would you mind if I tried something?”

You nodded, curious about what he was going to try, but you didn’t stay curious for long as Wilbur gently cupped your face with one hand and leaned in to kiss you.

A kiss that you returned.  

I never thought that I’d get hit by this lovebug again

[jungw8ns]

GOING TO AN ESCAPE ROOM WITH ENHYPEN !

PAIRING: boyfriend!enha x gn!reader. GENRE: established relationship, fluff, crack. WARNINGS: profanity (not that much tho), mentions of death (?). WORD COUNT: 100 - 200 each member.

HEESEUNG:

the two of you were so pumped playing an escape room together for the first time that the other people in line had to calm you guys down (which was trully embarrassing to say the least 🤐🤐)

he was looking at the ranking board filled with pictures of players that had succeeded in the shortest amount of time and he just wanted nothing more than to see both your faces on there

but anyways, we all know how competitive heeseung gets 🕴️

oh boy let me tell you, this guy WAS SPEEDRUNNING IT but not the kind you were thinking

the second the timer had started he was literally SPRINTING AROUND THE ROOM LOOKING FOR CLUES YET COMPLETELY MISSING THEM 🏃‍♂️💨💨💨

while he was busy running around, you were picking up the little details in the room and in no time managed to open a few locks

"y/n look i found– oh 😐😑😐"

HE WAS SULKING PLSSS 😭😭😭

when you noticed him standing from afar staring at you with his arms crossed, you called him to solve this one puzzle you already did

*gasps* "oh no! babe i don't understand how to do this, please help me 😔😔🤥🙏🙏"

he had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from letting out that cocky grin but it got out eventually

"oh it's so easy sweetheart, just put this here and then voila! 😉"

when the two of you escaped you suprisingly got to take a polaroid with him home after ranking 2nd in the records

heeseung was the one who held onto it tho, placing it underneath his clear phonecase for safekeeping <3

JAY:

GOD THIS DUDE

THE ESCAPE ROOM WASN'T EVEN THAT SCARY AND YET EVERYTIME YOU GUYS OPEN A LOCK OR A DOOR HIS FIGHT OR FLIGHT INSTINCTS COME UP 😭😭👊👊

"y/n stay behind me >:(("

"um, babe, you do realize that's just a door right?"

"WE'LL BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY?? THE STAFF COULD'VE PROGRAMMED IT TO GROW LEGS?? 😵🧐🧐"

you knew you shouldn't have played horror games with him a few nights ago cause he looked like he was about to lose his mind 😔

you had to shove his ass aside and move on to the next mission cause the both of you knew that he was stalling 🏌️‍♀️

jay was being extra clingy the whole time you were playing, he'd either link arms with you or hold hands (he's literally so adorable) 💞💞

BUT THEN YOU THOUGHT OF DOING A PRANK ON HIM

while you were roaming around the room trying to solve a puzzle, you saw this horse mask on a nearby table

and so you made sure jay was distracted and put on the mask

you could've NOT worn the dusty old thing but where was the fun in that?

"jay can you come here for a sec?"

you hid behind the wall beside the door frame waiting for him to come into your sight and attacked him

now, how about we guess what happens next?

a. he faints

b. he runs away

or c. he slaps you in the face and forces you to buy him food for the rest of the night

if you guessed c then YAY! YOU'RE CORRECT 🥳🎉🎉🎊

THIS HOE SLAPS YOU AS HE SHOULD

"$##/@+(+'£%(:?!!)&£**/*%@"

when he finally takes off the mask like those scenes in scooby doo he's never felt so betrayed in his life

"i- I TRUSTED YOU 😭😭😭 YOU BETTER BUY ME FOOD LATER, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS, THE BETRAYAL???? LITERALLY UNPROVOKED?????"

he wouldn't stop side eyeing you until you guys finally pulled up on the mcdonalds drive thru

"hi, can i get two um– bts meals please? 😒😒 and two oreo mc flurries 🙄🙄 and also large fries 😐😐"

sane (1/3)

would be trailing behind you like a little puppy (i love him so much 😭😭😭)

he either has his arm linked with yours or held hands every five minutes

JAKE:

really focused on the puzzles he's doing but the second he hears you call out his name for help he's there beside you with the sweetest smile

but anyways, mans was POPPING OFF the entire time you were playing

he was solving problem after problem in no time (he wanted to impress you is why he activated his inner flash ⚡⚡) but he did let you play tho, the last thing he wanted to do was make you pissed at him for hogging all the games

def buried jake with compliments and forehead kisses right after ❤️__❤️

and so the two of you got out in like an hour and a few which you were very proud of

"you were so cool today babe, good job !!"

"aww thank you angel 😊😊"

sane (2/3)

SUNGHOON:

would be linking pinkies with you the whole time, only letting go whenever the both of you had to solve something that needed two or more people

there was this one game tho where he had to arm wrestle this literal hand lever to open the door to the last room (yea...don’t ask why, the staffs were pretty weird 😬😬) 

it made him enjoy the experience a bit more as it was only the two of you playing instead of getting accompanied by strangers

HGAWAHSGDHSGHDA PLSS THIS GUY

“oh this’ll be easy, y/n step aside, i’ll handle this 😏😏😏”

idk if you were supposed to think about how handsome he looked with his serious expression on and his veiny hands coming into frame or be worried for him because the lever was REAL HARD to pull that his veins looked like they were going to pop any second soon, you stepped in and helped him tho cause you were a good s/o <3

from a spectators point of view, the two of you looked like y’all were about shit your pants but the two of you eventually succeeded on beating it, immediately dragging him to the next room which had a sofa in it, laying down to catch your breaths

cliché moment ahead ⚠️⚠️

the two of you shared a few laughs before standing up on the empty space, held hands and started to jump in circles to celebrate your success 💃💃

yupp, y’all were never going back to that hellhole again

very stubborn at first, he wanted nothing to do with the game but then you held him at gunpoint by saying:

SUNOO:

"please just this once or else i'll revoke your mint choco ice cream rights 🔫🔫🔫"

"BUT IT'S SCARY IN THERE BABE :((("

"it won't be that scary sunshine, besides, i'll be ready to 🤜💥 yk?? trust me babe i would never let anyone hurt you <33"

kinda pissed since you blackmailed him into the place and also bc he wanted to play bumper cars and dance mania but he yea he caved in pretty quick 😋😋

(y/n let him play his games in peace tf >:(((( )

once you guys got in tho he realized how normal it was and that it was not terrifying at all

THE EPITOME OF CLINGY OMFG

he wouldn't stop back hugging you and you couldn't bring yourself to push him away to play the games so you just let him walk behind you with his arms on your shoulders 😩😩

(y'all were walking kinda funny but don't tell sunoo that 🤫🤫🤫)

yea the two of you ended up escaping with a whopping 2 hours and a few minutes

but it was the effort that counts so A+++++ for the both if you 😜👍👍👍

sane (3/3)

JUNGWON:

was the one who suggested going, he even searched on naver about really good escape room places to visit and was overall really looking forward it

he liked going to places and having fun with you so it wasn't a shock how his eyes were literally crescents and his dimples were so evident

yea he literally rushed the both of you to the place that you were the first in line 😵

while waiting for the staff to finish setting up he was playing with your connected hands like 🖐️✊🖐️✊ (so precious 💞💞)

"y/n why are you taking so long 😭😭 what if they close and we end up not solving a single lock, hurry up por favorrr 😩🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏"

when they finally lead you to the room he was kind of surprised that they had separated the two of you into different spaces (like the one with txt where they had the answers to the other member's puzzles yk???)

he was locked inside a telephone stand while you were handcuffed in the main room

dw the two of you reunited after a few minutes cause jungwon was rushing his lock to get to you 🤭

you both were progressing at an average pace and it made you guys a lot more closer (not that you guys weren't before but you get what i mean)

after you guys escaped the two of you went to eat curry and talked about the whole experience 😋✌️✌️✌️

this boy literally dragged you in the escape room with him

NIKI:

HE DIDN'T EVEN GIVE YOU TIME TO REFUSE HE JUST 😐👉🚪

"ok masterchefs, in order to test your abilities we must go through series of puzzles and make it out alive, understood?"

he tried ignoring how confused you were and went on to try and get you guys to escape

HE'S LAUGHING AT YOU FOR WHATEVER REASON AND OBV YOU LAUGH ASWELL CAUSE WHO WOULDN'T??? his laugh is so contagious pls 🤖🤖 he was so close to d wording cause he couldn't breathe from laughing too much

yea.. you guys spent so much time laughing at each other for being so dumb at this that you ended up playing 'till closing time

spoiler alert: he fails on doing anything cause the second you made eye contact with him this child collapses 😍🤩

GIRL SO EMBARRASSING 🤡🤡

THE STAFF KICKED THE BOTH OF YOU OUT AND NOW YOU GUYS WERE BANNED FROM THE PLACE ☠️☠️

"haunted house next weekend???"

"BET"

NOTE – god they were WAY funnier in my head but yeah.... i love them so much AND OMFG HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN HEESEUNG’S SELCAS LAST NIGHT???!?@??#?@?!?@ HE’S NOT REAL WTF ⁉️❓❓⁉️

also, idk why BUT EVERY TIME I SAVE A DRAFT the paragraphs get scrambled?? £!?) 6=6) 🤣😂💔💔🤣🤣😂💔 it's so annoying but anyways, ilysm pls stay safe and have a great day <33

[nevertheless-moving]

INFODUMP AU continued

(Star Wars AU #22)

Possible Continuations from INFODUMP. I headcanon that exchange taking place about a year before episode II and episode IV

A) Anakin Force Shenanigans

Anakin walks up: “master- who’s this guy?

“You can SEE him/me?”

Obi-Wan urgently cry/yelling at Anakin to either wear a condom with Padme or at least take her to a healer if you’re worried about her pregnancy (seriously healer BEFORE evil sith wtf)

(its been a number of years for Ben so he’s pretty much puzzled out the ‘doing this for padme’ bit)

just before obi-wan fades out anakin panics because ben hasn’t told him how he gets together with padme

yanks him into this timeline and now Old Ben has to deal with Obi-Wan and Anakin freaking out over all the info he just vomited at them AND everything else

B) Brush Off

Obi-Wan practices some good old fashioned repression to mostly convince himself it was all a weird dream

yoda always says in motion, the future is anyway

he mostly puts it out of his head until a year later when Anakin VERY obliquely references having dreams of his mother

“...what kind of dreams, exactly?”

end-up rescuing Shmi shortly after her capture, Obi-Wan’s there to make sure Anakin doesn’t go off the deep end

Council is a little disapproving of their side mission because now Anakin is even more attached/devoted Obi-Wan 

Obi-Wan is a LITTLE freaked out but Shmi being in danger isn’t exactly a hard prediction to make considering they left her on Tatooine but...

almost immediately after they get specially requested to protect Senator Amidala.

things proceed like canon and when Dex says the dart is from Kamino, Obi-Wan has a little panic attack attack

the whole trip to Kamino he’s just thinking pleasenoclonearmy  pleasenoclonearmy  pleasenoawFUCK THAT’S A CLONE ARMY

good news here is when he’s bullshitting his way through the meeting/ inspection he very confidently brings up removing the control chips

at first there’s some hemming and hawing ‘oh you mean the inhibitor chips, are you sure you want them removed we’ve already installed them’

“I DEMAND they be removed- I- can i speak to your manger? Do I need to take my business elsewhere??”

Nala Se is very reluctant, “I was ensured by certain high level parties that the chips were intended to be an important safeguard...”

*Obi-Wan sweating, but all-in at this point* “Well, uh, Master Dooku and Chancellor Palpatine themselves told me they were concerned about the chips being abused by the wrong parties, and sent me to supervise, so,”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were read-in on the project architecture to that extent, well here are our options-”

Obi-Wan still chases to Jango to Genosis because he’s got a mission and ‘this might as well happen’

Still gets captured in that stupid rotating energy field by Dooku 

“What if I told you the senate was now controlled by a dark lord of the sith?”

“...I would say that I would be very interested in any holo-recordings or legal documents you might have to that effect”

“oh?”

“would very much like some sort of proof to bring before a court of law, yeah.”

The rescue attempt actually goes well this time! Anakin is well rested and practically glowing after his week-long all-expense paid vacation at Varykino

They all manage to escape and intercept reinforcement mid-flight

The council is pleased Obi-Wan is safe and not surprised to find Anakin there, but it doesn’t really change their mission as the senate has ordered them to take out the federation army before they can attack...

“The Senate ordered it?”

“Yes, much has happened, while gone you were. Were given to the chancellor, emergency powers. Drafted a military, he has. Generals, the Jedi have been made. Uneasy we are, but serve the senate, we do.”

“Oh kark, the Chancellor ordered it? We DEFINITELY can not invade.” Obi-Wan's starting to have another panic attack, not sure how to get out of the sith trap

Anakin’s a little offended. “Obi-Wan! The Chancellor is a good man; the Jedi must do this, for the good of -”

“PALPATINE’S A SITH LORD”

“what”

C) He tries, ok? (inspired by @ourhitofsucrose )

Very similar to B except for the full year between the ‘vision’ and aotc, Obi-Wan is desperately trying to follow the future’s warnings but failing hysterically

kamino and genosis have both erased from the archives and it doesn’t occur to him to ask dex so he doesn’t even have a direction to go on

tries to find some proof about Palpatine but he is a sneaky bastard

tries to separate palpatine from anakin but he’s like I’M AN ADULT NOW YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO

tentatively brings up Dooku falling ‘in a vision’ to the council because that is something they can check up on- Yoda gets really offended

‘garbage planet on the outer rim’ is not a lot to go on

when he tries to get help searching because he knows that the sith who killed Qui-Gon is still alive and planning to kill his ex-girlfriend even Anakin is like... ‘ok buddy, i think you might be under too much stress, maybe we should visit the healers...”

best he can do for Shmi is leaving her an emergency beacon

A+ success in relationship repair with Anakin tho! through the application of a very awkward hug and a mumbled “you know I love you, right?”

Anakin drags him to the healers immediately, and after a drug test and an overnight stay finally responds by bursting into tears and ugly crying on Obi-Wan’s robes because “YOU’RE A FATHER TO ME BUT I THOUGHT YOU HAATED ME”

Obi-Wan is uncomfortably patting him on the back “Of course I don’t hate you! You’re my padawan! Why would you think that?”

Then when Shmi activates her emergency comm the same night Anakin has his first nightmare about his Mom and they fly to her rescue he’s even more OBI-WAN 5EVER  than canon or scenario B because

“You...checked in on my mom?? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry Anakin, I knew the council wouldn’t approve...”

hugs Anakin again since that is the only piece of advice he can follow from his future self and he just thinks ‘well its a long shot but hopefully this is enough to prevent any lava planet incidents’

it is 

Seriously in this version of events Anakin actively RESISTS being knighted because he was already obsessed with Obi-Wan in canon and now with hugs + verbal affection + protecting Mom proactively he is ALL IN FOR OBI NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN

low-key ruins palpatine’s plans by itself because now when he tries to drive a wedge between them with his bullshit ‘your master doesn’t truly trust you’ Anakin gets huffy and responds with a space powerpoint presentation

i mean other stuff is going to go down once we get to the armies but already the stage is set for him to go running to Obi-Wan the minute he has a nightmare about Padme dying and him responding “J. Force Christ, lets just... go to a healer, fuck’s sake Anakin I hope it doesn’t need to be said but do NOT turn to the darkside over this”

canon would definitely diverge before that point but its also very funny to me to imagine RotS playing out more or less the same but when he gets to Palpatine’s big offer he just goes ‘sorry dad told me no’

[animatedrapture]

"𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖒𝖊 𝖘𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖞" — suna rintarou ;

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: suna rintarō is so much more than his bored eyes, the blunt between his lips, and his tendency to slack off—luckily, you're one of the very few people who know this; especially after he comes home to you sullen after finding out he didn't make it to the olympic players.

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: female reader. fluff—established relationship. angst if you squint. comfort. mention of drug use. like, one swear word.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2k

𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖙'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: in lieu of the influx of toxic stoner!suna content, i offer you a piece of appreciation towards him and all that he is. i was meaning to post this in my new blog but i thought there's so much of you here who would appreciate and need this more. written on a whim at 1AM and didn't proofread so for any errors, gomen. repost because tumblr tagging hates me. cross posted on ao3 under the same username. original post here. this was written before we got information that he actually made it to the olympic team. furudate really told me to stfu, huh?

It's you who find out first that there is truly so much more to Suna Rintarō than his expressionless exterior, sleepy eyes, and bored gaze towards even the most ridiculous situations. It's when his self assured stance dwindled as he walked towards you once upon a time, introducing himself first before asking you for your number.

"My number?" You echoed his request, trying your best not to gawk at his attractive features and six foot two stature towering over you so easily; making you feel oh so small. (Which is funny, given that you were already standing straight on your heels.)

"If you don't mind, 's cool if you say no," he replies, tearing his gaze from you as if he was actually anxious you'd say no.

It's funny, really. It's not every day a famous pro-athlete known for both his good looks and skills walk up to you, asking for your number and actually considering you'd say no to him and his pretty features—in fact, nevermind that he was pretty, it was more the fact that he wasn't so full of himself to actually think you wouldn't say no.

That's what makes you nod your head; your heart already beating right out of your chest as he gives you a lazy grin and his phone to press your number in. When you're done, you hand it back to him and you mentally pat yourself at the back for not visibly trembling.

"Y/N?" He reads your name from the contact information, and good God, did your name sound so beautiful coming out of his mouth. He doesn't wait for your reply anymore, looking back at you from his phone, the lazy smile still across his lips as if he knew it was a heart killer.

"Thanks, I'll text you later," is the last thing he said before he walked away from you.

It didn't take long for you to fall in love with someone like Suna Rintarō—underneath his detached personality also lied someone who was truly passionate with the things he set his mind to, gave his time to. Like you or volleyball or the video game he's been waiting to release for a whole month—it only had to be something or someone who was special enough, then, he would give it his all.

The smoke that filled his lungs occasionally did nothing to lessen your own intoxication of Suna Rintarō and his passions—because every exhale, his dark green eyes would meet yours and oh so easily, he offers you that same lazy smile yet one that was dripping with affection.

"Should you even be smoking that, Rintarō?" You had questioned him before, about the second time you've seen him put the rolled blunt in between his soft lips, inhaling it.

"It's a once in a while kinda thing, you don't actually think I'd sacrifice my career for this don'tcha?" He grins at you, amusement flooding his usually bored eyes — now glazed over with the effects of the weed—from the way he gazes at you with an eyebrow raised.

It's when you realize that Suna Rintarō was independent and knew what he was doing—did what he did with full awareness, full control, full flexibility. It's as if who he was in court was who he was in person as well.

"You're really interesting, y'know that Rin?" You had mumbled against his chest once before, it was at the first few months of dating—he had one of his arms around you with you cuddled on his side, watching a movie from his couch.

"Yeah?"

"I mean—you've always been so good at what you do, huh? But you still work for it."

"What makes you say that?" You can feel him looking down on face against his chest.

"C'mon, don't be silly. You were scouted at middle school and you only got better as you grew up!" You say, finally moving your head to meet his gaze.

But all you get is a flick on your forehead and his low chuckle, "'s not that deep, y/n," he answers.

But you already knew better.

Suna isn't one for words, and no matter how much you insist that he was beyond the description of words, he only rolls his narrowed eyes at you. You find out Suna Rintarō, your boyfriend, was a huge inspiration during your sixth month together when you finally met his little sister.

It's hard to say it wasn't amusing how snarky she was, just as he was to his friends whom you've met a few times before—Atsumu and Osamu Miya, you remember. She's quick with her tongue, easily retorting back to her brother's comments.

"Are you sure you didn't just pay Y/N-san to be your girlfriend, nii-san?"

"Nah, you still jealous I came out prettier than you?" Suna bites back, a teasing grin plastered across his face. His sister only scoffs, looking back at you.

"You can tell me if he blackmailed you to come here!" She attempts to whisper. You're not sure whether you should be worried or continue to laugh, but you do neither as you choke on the drink you were sipping on right as she told you this.

"Shit, Y/N," Suna curses as you cough, your throat burning at the drink's intrusion, but Suna's quick to rub soothingly against your back as he offers you his water, his eyes glazed over in panic.

"You okay?" He asks when you stopped coughing, and you nod in response—throat remaining slightly sore. Suna lets out an aggravated groan, "Be careful next time," he manages to scold you, but oddly enough, his words remain saccharine.

There's something about the way that his little sister doesn't seem the least bit surprised with his reaction that somehow lets you know that perhaps, Suna Rintarō might just be quite the caring brother behind closed doors.

After that, it was when Suna excused himself to take a call from his manager, leaving you with his sister.

"Hey, nee-san, promise you'll take care of Rin-nii? You won't break his heart, will you?" His sister asks, eyes gleaming with something akin to hope, expectation, wonder. It easily takes you by surprise.

"Don't you worry, I'll promise I'll take care of him, promise I won't break his heart," your voice easily softens, nodding. His little sister's gaze remains on you, as if she's assessing you and as if she would easily tell whether or not you meant the words that came out of your mouth.

It makes you hold a breath until she nods slowly, smiling at you lightly just as Suna comes walking back, eyebrows raised, knowing he must've missed something.

"Whatcha girls talkin' bout?" He asked as he slipped back on his seat beside you.

"None of your business, obviously," his sister quickly answers.

They're truly quite similar, it's enough to make you smile and get through meeting his little sister until both of you dropped her off back to the train station.

"What'd she tell you?" Suna nudged you after seeing her train leave.

"Nothing, Rin," you answered with a wide smile, leaning up to place a chaste kiss against his lips—yet just as you pull away, one of his hands has found its way behind your neck, pulling you back to him.

You never thought a kiss could feel so loving before—but it really seemed as if Suna Rintarō had a knack for proving you wrong, over and over again.

It was the day that the Olympic team was announced when you see so much more of Suna Rintarō. Quick like the blink of an eye, or lightning that leaves the thunder chasing it; Suna felt the exhaustion, the pressure, the burnt-out feeling that's been repressed in the back of his head. It comes to him, crashing down like boulders not just on his shoulders but weighing down every part of his body.

Did he lack somewhere? He wonders. Where did that lacking end and start? What could have he done? Was it training, where he spent most of his time now? Suna had end up seeing you less and less since the drafting of olympic players started and you've been nothing but patient.

What was he supposed to tell you? After all the time it has stolen away from you—that he didn't make it?

When he opened the door to your shared apartment, he doesn't look up at you with a relieved sigh as he usually would—he avoids you gaze entirely, he avoids your observing eyes from the couch you sat on, watching him slowly shrug his shoes off.

"I'm just gonn—" he started, about to make an excuse to avoid looking at you.

"Prepared your bath, Rin. C'mon," Suna hears you say but it doesn't sink in his head, watching you take his hand, leading him to the bathroom.

Suna remains silent as he looks down on the bath you prepared for him, warm and inviting.

"Meet me in the kitchen when you're done, okay?" He hears you say, followed by the echo of your footsteps walking away.

You easily understand that Suna Rintarō was more than his talents, his efforts, and every little thing about him when you feel his large arms wrapped around you, his broad chest pressed against your back and his face buried on the crook of your neck. His fresh scent right out of the shower engulfing you and invading your senses, flooding you with him.

"'m sorry, bunny," he mumbles.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Ri—"

"It's odd, thought I'd pull it off, thought it'd be nothin' if I didn't make it. Don't know why I'm so upset right now," he continues, cutting you off, "Been so patient for me too, bunny. Thought I'd be nice to make you proud, ya know?"

Your sigh comes out sharp from the heavy feeling from your chest, not knowing what to do to make him feel better—like he did with you, always knowing his way around your low moments.

You wriggle out of his arms, making him grumble until you fully face him. He looks back at you with a small frown, eyebrows furrowed, watching your expression.

"I'm always proud of you, Rin. Olympic player or not, you make me so proud," you speak softly, your hands cupping each side of his face.

"Don't even get why it matters to me this much, it's just—" it was your turn to cut him off, tipping your toes to press a lingering kiss against his lips. Suna smiles against your lips, carrying you to sit on the kitchen counter like he always did—knowing you always would have to tip on your toes to reach him.

Soon, the lingering kiss turns slow and passionate—lips softly grazing the other, and it feels more like pouring the heavy weight of love out of your chest and into the other. A kiss so loving, so reassuring, so passionate—the kind that easily takes your breath away and makes your mind go blank. When Suna pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. You smile at him because it's all you can do when your heart feels like it's going to leap out of your throat just to offer itself to him entirely—and Suna smiles back at you, pecking your lips before wrapping his arms around you again, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You run your fingers through his hair, hoping it would help soothe him, and then you say, "I promise that you'll make it next year, Rin. I'll be with you now, and I'll still be with you then."

It only makes him hold you tighter, closer to him, "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, Rintarō. You deserve the world and all the stars in the galaxy."

"'s too bad there's nothin' more I need than you, then."

That's what Suna tells you—Suna, who was smoke in his lungs, dumb videos of the twins to blackmail them with, little mistakes, bored eyes, and lazy attitude. The same Suna who was slow kisses, passion, and genuine smiles reserved for you—the same Suna who gave his passions his all, the same Suna who held you securely in his arms every night, the same Suna his little sister admired. Most of all, the same Suna Rintarō you loved with every beat of your heart, every fibre of your being.

📞 violet is calling... all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

[fairyhee]

Chocolate eclairs (pt.2)

{Part 1}

🍫 optional bias x reader

🍫 ~5.6k words

🍫 smut, enemies to lovers, slight dom/sub themes, praise kink, some dirty talk, oral (both receiving), face sitting (whew), reader has a thing for hands

(I might have dragged everything out for too long? I’m not sure, you tell me, but I just love thinking about all the details so I went with it. Also while I was writing, at some point I lost half of it and had to re-write it because the damn app didn’t save my changes to the draft 🙃 anyways thank you for reading!)

So far, nothing was going as planned today, but somehow you didn’t mind it anymore. At first you were extremely annoyed to say the least, but you slowly started to think having a tall and ridiculously handsome guy follow you around wasn’t so bad after all. Even though he was purposely being irritating, as always, just to get reactions out of you, it was worth enduring for the random flirty remarks he spat out every once in a while. Was he always like this? Did you only realize it now because you were too busy thinking how obnoxiously confident he was, or did he really also dislike you before? You were quite confused, but you at least thought you should enjoy the moment.

After buying those damn chocolate eclairs that you had been craving for a week, and after he insisted to pay, all while poking fun at how you were gonna die at a young age from how much sugar you consume, your next stop would have been the lingerie store. Except now you had him coming along with you, so you weren’t very sure what you should do. To buy some time, you pretended to look at all the stereotypically “romantic” objects that people usually gifted each other on Valentine’s day. Just for fun, you weren’t planning on hinting at anything, but you just wanted to see what he’d be like. Not to mention window shopping was one of your favorite activities when you had nothing else better to do. He, on the other hand, had his mind fixed on one thing solely.

“Y/n, aren’t we eating those eclairs? You didn’t want them just to carry them around, did you?” he asked with a pout.

“Excuse me, since when is there a ‘we’? They’re my eclairs, and I’m saving them for later. I told you I have plans, were you even listening to me?”

“You have plans, right. Well you should be careful then, that boyfriend you have plans with might get jealous if he sees you walking around with a guy like me. I honestly wouldn’t blame him if he felt threatened, after all, you just let the most handsome dude around here buy you coffee and sweets...oh wait, I forgot. You actually don’t have a boyfriend, do you now?” he said in a sarcastic tone. 

“It’s extremely funny that you think I need a man in order to have plans on Valentine’s day. I can very well take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“You can take care of yourself in what way exactly? Because if it’s what I’m thinking of, I bet I can do it better.”

“Thank you for your concern, h/n, but if you think you can buy your way into my pants with some sweets, then you have a very low and unrealistic expectation of me. If you want to impress me, try harder.”

“Oh don’t worry, this is far from my best shot. You just look so hot when you’re mad at me, I can’t stop myself.” he said with a sheepish laugh.

You blushed slightly, both at his words and from seeing him grinning so cutely. He had no business looking all cute like that after he had just literally suggested you sleep with him. How could he switch from being so cocky to getting shy for you in just a matter of seconds? You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d actually be like in bed. Especially since he had just showed a new side of him, a particular image of him being submissive to you was stuck on your brain. You could feel your face heating up, and you hoped he didn’t notice how red your cheeks had probably become.

Brushing it off, you entered a random toy store, feigning interest in some plushies. As you were admiring the various teddy bears that came in all shapes and colors, you noticed he had been surprisingly silent since your last exchange. You threw a glance at him and he seemed to have found some games he was interested in, as he had his eyebrows furrowed, trying to read the instructions on the back of some boxes. Perfect, you thought to yourself, now that he’s distracted, you could think of a plan. What the hell were you gonna do about the lingerie? You didn’t want to give up on buying it, you had wanted it for a long time and now was the perfect occasion. Did you want to go with him? Would he want to even enter the store with you? Would he become flustered and make things awkward? Would it be weird if you suddenly told him to leave you alone for a couple of minutes and meet you later? Or should you just end your meeting right there? You weren’t even sure how you wanted to spend the rest of the day anymore, but you for sure didn’t intend to abandon your plans completely for this man that barged into your solo Valentine’s day like that, despite the fact that you were starting to get interested in him.

While you were definitely overthinking the situation, h/n had long finished browsing the board games section. Suddenly, you felt someone’s hot breath near the side of your neck. 

“Y/n. You’ve been staring at that teddy bear for 3 minutes now. Did you not have any as a child, or do you want me to buy it for you that bad? You could just ask, you know.” 

Startled by the proximity of his voice, you turned your head to him and took a few steps away. “Wow, you sure have a talent for being rude. You’re still annoying even when you’re trying to hit on me.” you said trying to seem unaffected. However, you would lie if you said that feeling his breath on your skin didn’t send shivers down your spine. 

He chuckled at your reaction and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“So? Do you want it or not?”

“With that sort of attitude, I shouldn’t even answer. So what if I wanted it, what would you do? There’s nothing between us, so why would you buy it for me?” you taunted. You knew he was trying to make you soften up, but you weren’t falling for it just yet.

“Who said I’d buy it for you? If I did and you ended up sleeping with a stuffed toy every night, that would just be unfair.” he pouted. Why was he acting this cute now? This man was so confusing.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“I don’t wanna be jealous of a teddy bear. I’d rather you would sleep with me instead.”

You stared at his triumphant smile for a few seconds, at a loss for words. He looked like he just made the best pick-up line ever. It was so bad, yet you wanted to accept his wish and take him home. What was wrong with you? 

“You’re absolutely obnoxious, did you know that? Wipe that smirk off your face, you look like an idiot.”

He laughed. “But somehow you’re still putting up with me. I’d say you’re doing a great job enduring me. Unless...you’re actually enjoying my company, which I suspect you do.”

“Yeah, whatever. Come on, I have one more thing to get before I can finally go home and get rid of you.”

You had made up your mind. You weren’t letting any man interfere with your plans.

Walking in the most confident way possible, you entered the lingerie store. You didn’t even spare him a glance as you looked through the pieces, searching for something that would match your taste. You were dying to know what his reaction was, what he was thinking, but you weren’t giving in. Suddenly, you had an idea. Acting like what you were doing was the most normal thing, you picked out two options, pretending you couldn’t decide between them. One was a black see-through set adorned with velvet hearts, while the other was made out of red lace and a bunch of straps that looked like a harness. Either way, both were made more to reveal rather than cover you up. Holding one in each hand, you turned to look at him with an unfazed expression plastered on your face.

“Make yourself useful for once and help me decide. Which one do I get?”

Seeing the way he was looking at you made a flush of heat spread across your face. His eyes were dark and he looked like he would have devoured you right then and there. You didn’t know what you expected, but this look was definitely not it.

He took a few seconds to respond, during which his gaze on you only seemed to intensify. He almost looked angry, clenching his jaw and eyeing you so strongly.

“You’d look great in both, but I’d take the red one.”

Hearing his choice, you immediately hung it back on the rack and took your other option to the cash register. 

You heard him scoff behind you. “Why bother asking me if you were gonna pick that one anyway?”. He was smiling, but it was clear that he was trying to control his frustration. 

You gave him the sweetest smile in the world. “I liked both equally and couldn’t decide, so I’m getting the one you like less. Since you’re never gonna see me wearing it anyway.”

“You drive me insane. That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Really? But you’re the one that’s been following me around all day. Now you’re angry with me, how come?” you said innocently.

He smirked and took a few steps until he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your face, but you didn’t back away and maintained his gaze. His scent was intoxicating, and you were trying your best to not show how into him you were already.

“If you want to make me angry, you’ll have to try harder, babygirl.” you clenched your thighs hearing that word escape his lips. “I like your teasing a little too much, actually. But making me imagine you wearing all these pretty things only to point out that I can’t have you the way I want? I have to admit, that was pretty mean.”

“Are you challenging me? Then I guess I need to step up my game to really get back at you.”

“Alright then, let’s make a deal. If you fail to make me angry by tonight, you have to go on a date with me. What do you say?”

You couldn’t stop the smirk forming on the corner of your lips. “Deal. You know, now I kinda understand why you keep bothering me. It’s actually fun trying to get you annoyed.” This time you weren’t lying.

He smiled back at you. “Glad we’re on the same page about one thing at least. So, any other torturous shopping that we need to do today? An adult store, maybe, since you said you like to take care of things yourself?”

“Nice try. I actually have a table reserved for later today, so I’m gonna have to go home and get ready. I wanted to go alone and have some me-time, but since I don’t plan on losing that challenge, I guess now you gotta come with me.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Wait a second,”he said and put the back of his palm on your forehead as if checking for a fever, “now it sounds like you’re the one asking me out. What happened? Are you okay?” he asked in an overly dramatic way. Oh great, now he was back to being the town circus. 

“It’s not a date, silly. Hopefully, it’s gonna be the worst dinner of your life, so I won’t have to see your face ever again.”

“You do know that I could just not show up and make you lose the bet, right?”

“If you do that, you won’t get my number. So no way to receive your prize.” Besides, you thought to yourself, wasn’t tonight already a date in itself? There was no way he would skip on that, or at least so you hoped. “See you at 6.” you said as you walked away, leaving him behind. 

By now your only desire was to get him totally whipped for you. He might have seen through your intentions already, but you couldn’t care less. The fights and arguments that were real in the beginning had now become an act, some sort of game to see which one of you would give in first. And you weren’t backing down until you had him completely wrapped around your finger. This year’s V-day turned out to be a lot more fun than you initially thought. 

After getting home, you took your sweet time showering and making yourself as pretty as possible. Having drenched yourself in perfume and strawberry scented body lotion, you put on the new lingerie and a red dress that complimented your figure. You did some minimal, but flattering make-up and took a good look in the mirror. You looked good enough to eat. Exactly what you wanted.

By the time you arrived at the restaurant, he was already waiting for you, and you realized he had probably tried just as hard as you to look hot. And he had definitely done a great job. His hair was pushed back and the suit jacket he was wearing highlighted his broad shoulders and tall figure. You wanted him to push you against a wall right then and there.

“Are you sure you’re not made out of sugar? You look so good, I’m afraid that if I touch you, you’d melt under my fingers.”

“You wish. I don’t even get a hi, you start our conversation with a lame pick-up line? This evening is going to be even more boring than I thought.” you said rolling your eyes.

“It’s good to see you again too. Come on, let’s order quickly, I’m starving.” he said as he was already looking through the menu.

After this first exchange, the rest of the dinner actually went on pretty normally. Without realizing, you had gotten comfortable with each other and stopped arguing altogether. Now you were just chatting about whatever came to mind, enjoying your meals and each other’s company. However, you did notice his eyes lingering a little too long on your exposed neck and chest, which you did your best to bring forward as much as you could when you moved around. You were hyper aware of his gaze on every move you made and you loved the attention he was giving you. You felt like you were the only woman in the room for him, the only one that deserved his attention. You suddenly remembered you were supposed to get him angry, but you weren’t sure you didn’t want a second date after all. However, you felt the need to say something about it.

“Look at all these couples enjoying their romantic dinner, and then there’s us. Here for the sole purpose of annoying each other.”

“If that was the purpose, I’d call this an epic fail.” he said with a smile and took a sip of his gin tonic,”So you still don’t want to admit that this is, in fact, a date?”

“Why would it be one, when we haven’t done anything out of the ordinary? We are just two people eating out together.”

“Good thing the evening isn’t over, then. Great choice of restaurant, by the way. But even though the food was amazing, I’d still prefer eating you out.” 

His bluntness caught you off guard, and you let the glass you were previously holding down on the table with a little more force than intended. From the impact, your drink splashed everywhere, including on yourself.

You moved a bit of the fabric of your dress away so you could wipe the martini drops that had just spilled on your chest, which uncovered the strap and the top part of your bra for a few seconds. You didn’t think much of it, but heard him swallow loudly. When you raised your eyes back to meet his, he was looking at you like he wanted to undress you with his eyes.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what on purpose?” you asked confused.

“Don’t act so innocent, you know exactly what I’m saying.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, care for dessert? You need some sugar in your system, you seem to be turning grim again.”

“If by dessert you mean you, then I’ll gladly accept. You have enough sugar to keep me up for a long time.” he said with a smirk.

“Oh god, can you cut the disgusting jokes out? You make me sick.” 

“You’ll be even more disappointed to find out they’re not jokes. By the way,” he leaned over the table so he could bring his face a little closer to yours, “we’ve almost finished our drinks and you still haven’t made me angry. Time is ticking.” 

You fell silent for a couple of seconds, and played with your necklace while deep in thought. You were done playing this game. You wanted him, and you wanted him tonight. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but ever since you stepped foot in that place all you had been imagining were his veiny hands all over your body, how pretty his long fingers were and how much you wanted them inside you. He hadn’t even touched you once, but your panties were feeling damp already just by staring at his hands or seeing him clenching his jaw. You hadn’t noticed that your fidgeting with your necklace had caught his attention and he was now practically staring at your boobs without any hint of shame in his eyes. Your chest was heaving up and down as his eyes set your skin ablaze and your thoughts ran wild. Of course his gaze didn’t miss your heavy breathing. His fist was clenched on his glass and the veins on his arm protruded even more than usual. Your brain was so intoxicated with him that it completely forgot how to form sentences, leaving him without a reply. He leaned closer to you over the table and all but whispered.

“Just say the words, and I’ll give you whatever you want. All you have to do is say it.”

You hesitated, questioning whether you should swallow your pride or not. You stared into his deep brown eyes, glistening with lust, and admired his plump, slightly parted lips, silently pleading for you to stop this stupid game and finally admit what you’re feeling for each other. He was done playing, and so were you.

“It’s finally time for those eclairs.” 

A knowing smile spread on his face, as if he had just won the lottery.

The ride to your place was awfully silent. You felt like you could cut the tension in the atmosphere with a knife. Sitting near him in the back of the cab and just feeling his presence so close to you kept your skin burning up during the entire ride. He still hadn't touched you in the slightest, not even on your hand, and at this point you thought it was intentional just so you'd become desperate for him. It was working. It felt like the drive was taking ages, so you decided to have some fun and tease him a little.

You slowly slid your hand over your legs, starting from your knees and going up towards the hem of your dress, pulling it up ever so slightly. He noticed your movements instantly, and his eyes snapped to you. Now that you were assured he was watching, your hand traveled further under your dress, carefully so it doesn't reveal too much, and started running your own fingers across your damp panties.

His eyes widened, and you saw his adam's apple move when he swallowed a lump in his throat. "What do you think you're doing?" he whispered.

"What does it look like to you? I am an independent woman. Since you have not laid a hand on me all day, I'm doing it myself."

"You're an impatient one, aren't you?" you maintained his gaze but didn't stop your actions, slipping a finger underneath your underwear and whimpering ever so quietly, enough for only him to hear. You were determined to bring him down.

Like you had just pressed a button, his body reacted to your sounds faster than expected. The vein on his hand twitched as he quickly grabbed your wrist and held it in place.

"If you don't stop that, I’ll make sure you have trouble walking tomorrow." his words sent a shiver down your spine. With that, he firmly pulled your hand away and intertwined his fingers with yours, as if preventing you from causing more trouble. You decided to obey him, for now.

After a couple of minutes, you were arriving at your place. He followed you silently into the building and into the small elevator, where you were met with another crisis. He looked like he tried really hard to restrain himself as he leaned with his back and head against the mirror. He was looking at you through furrowed brows and hooded eyes, and you wondered why did he put himself through this struggle, when he could’ve had you right then and there. Pretending to check your mascara in the mirror behind him, you placed one hand on his chest and leaned over him, your face dangerously close to his neck, making sure your exposed cleavage pressed against him in the process. You didn’t care how obvious it was, he was clearly enjoying it. He did nothing but watch you, but his sigh and accelerating breath rate were giving him away. As soon as you reached your level, you instantly shot out of the elevator and got to your door in record time. 

The moment you set foot into the apartment and closer the door behind you, any control that you had before, just vanished into thin air. 

“Fucking finally”. He wasted no time in pressing you against the wall, both hands holding the sides of your face while he kissed you with all the pent up frustration from that day. You could feel his whole body onto you and yet you wanted more, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and tugging at it in an attempt to bring him even closer. His lips were soft but aggressive at the same time, the kiss neither too intense nor too slow, earning chills all over your spine the first time his warm tongue entered your mouth. It was still not enough, so you took over and laced your fingers at the back of his head, pulling on his hair while pushing yourself into him. His hands started traveling down your body, gripping your waist and hips with force as he pulled you even closer, making you feel his erection against you in the process. 

Out of breath, you broke the kiss to take a good look at him in this state. He was looking at you through glossy, hooded eyes, with his plump lips parted and glistening from the intensity of your kiss. He looked so hot, you realized you might not make it to the bedroom. 

Closing in the distance once again, his hands went to squeeze your ass through your dress as he started placing wet kisses down the side of your neck, painfully slowly, sending shivers all over your spine. You lifted a leg up to snake around his own, as if to invite his hands to stop wasting time and get under your skirt already.

“You’re surprisingly gentle for someone who’s been trying to get into my pants all day.” you felt him squeeze your ass harder, and he suddenly bit the soft skin under your ear and sucked on it, earning a gasp from you.

He didn’t reply, but instead slid his hand up your thigh and ran his fingers over your soaking panties.

“And you’re surprisingly wet for someone who supposedly hates me.” he teasingly rubbed the tip of his finger on your clothed clit, making you whine in response. It was almost as if the fabric wasn’t there at all, given how thin it was in the first place. “What did you buy this pretty underwear for, just to ruin it later?”

“Since when do you care about my lingerie?”

“I thought you wanted me to, since you brought me with you to that store and even asked for my opinion.” He pushed your panties to the side and properly coated his fingers with your juices. “You were such a dirty little slut for doing that to me.” his words shot straight to your core.

“Me, dirty? That little head of yours has a lot of issues. It’s your own fault for liking me in the first place.” you teased.

Hearing that, he pushed two fingers into your hole and you moaned. “You can talk shit all you want, but your body can’t lie about how much you want me, princess.” He pulled his hand away from your core, and took his own fingers, now coated with your essence, into his mouth, licking them clean. “Now be a good girl and take this dress off for me.” he said, pulling away from you. 

Not wanting to torture yourself any longer, you obeyed him, getting rid of your dress as quickly as possible. As he finally fully saw you in the pretty underwear, he eyed you from head to toe, as if he was looking at his prey, swallowing loudly. “Y/n, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

You pushed him back and led him to the couch, making him sit down. You quickly straddled his lap, making sure your boobs were right in his face as you grabbed the hair at the back of his head and brought your mouth to his ear, licking a stripe up from the side of his neck, reaching his earlobe. He shivered under you, and you started unbuttoning his shirt, while both his hands stroked over your boobs, touching your nipples and lightly pinching and twisting them over the thin material of the bra. The sensation was spreading into your entire body, making you moan right into his ear. You nibbled onto his earlobe, and he sighed loudly, grabbing your ass and pulling you on top of his dick, grinding into you. Your fingers ran over his now exposed chest and down to his belt, trying to get it undone. He grabbed your hands and undid it himself, and you stood up so he could get rid of his pants. 

Instead of sitting back on his lap, you dropped to your knees in between his legs and pulled his underwear down. His cock looked so red and hard, it seemed almost painful, and made your mouth water. You wanted to torture him some more though, so you stuck your tongue out and slowly ran it up from the base to his swollen tip, all while looking directly into his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was biting his lower lip so hard, as if to keep him from making any sound. You were going to change that. You swirled your tongue around the tip, collecting the drops of precum, before taking him whole into your mouth. As you started bobbing your head, you made sure to take a little more of him each time, pushing your own limit gradually, looking up at him from time to time. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this. You’re taking me so well.” he said, trying to keep himself from forming any other sounds, and you wondered why wasn’t he letting go already. You wanted to make him a moaning mess. One of your free hands started playing with his balls, as you ran your nails across his thigh with the other one. Going a little deeper, his cock hit the back of your throat, and you paused for a second, swallowing around him, which earned a long, breathy moan from him. There, that was your reward. You continued taking him as deep as you could, looking up at him with wide eyes. This was his breaking point, as he couldn’t control his sounds anymore, his mouth was agape, letting out small grunts and whimpers now and then, and you felt his hips struggling to keep still. As the ache in your pussy was getting unbearable because of your actions, your own hand came to play with your clit to get some sort of release, moaning around his cock. 

He didn’t miss this, as suddenly, his hand flew to your hair and he held you still. “Don’t you dare touch yourself. Get up” he said in a demanding voice. He followed you up himself, and completely slid his shirt and underwear off of him, then laid down on the carpet. “I want you to sit on my face. Let me have my dessert and enjoy you like you deserve.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. After discarding your panties, you placed your knees on either side of his head and carefully lowered your cunt closer to him, but he grabbed your ass and aggressively pulled you onto his mouth, making you gasp and grip the couch beside you for support. The feeling of his wet and warm tongue against you was making your thighs weak. He started by licking a long stripe across your folds, then alternated between sucking at your clit, drawing patterns with his tongue across your sensitive spot at different paces and intensities. Your sounds and whimpers were a mess, and you could feel your orgasm building with each second. He was eating you out like a starved man, face buried completely under your pussy, and the view was only contributing to your arousal. One of his hands snaked up to your nipple and started playing with it, adding to the sensation. When he suddenly applied more pressure to a certain angle, you thought you were gonna lose your mind. “Fuck, h/n, right there, please, don’t stop” was what you wanted to say, but you weren’t sure your words came out coherently. Either way, he got the message, and a few seconds later, you were coming undone on his tongue, letting out a few high-pitched moans as he helped you ride out your high.

After regaining composure, you stood up to let him breathe. His lips and chin were glistening from your juices, and he wiped them off with the back of his hand. “That was delicious. You’re a fucking goddess, did you know that?” he said as he stood himself up, grabbed your face and kissed you with force.

“Just fuck me already.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” he said as he pushed you against your table, having you lie down on it. He quickly grabbed a condom from his jeans and rolled it on his still painfully hard cock. Grabbing your legs and holding them on each side of him, he rubbed the tip of his member over your clit a few times before fully pushing it into your tight hole, swearing in the process. He wasted no time before moving, slowly at first to let you adjust, then suddenly slammed his hips into you with force, earning a loud moan from you. “Fuck, do that again, please” you said, already feeling your second orgasm starting to build up. He thrusted into you harder and deeper, filling the room with your sounds everytime his skin met yours. The way he filled you up was absolutely delicious, clouding your vision and making you lose yourself in your pleasure as he was hitting all the right spots inside you. 

“Ever since your brought me into that store, all I could think of was fucking you in your pretty lingerie, imagining how your boobs would bounce up and down while I pound into you like this.” you took his hand and brought it to your lips, silently asking him to let you suck onto his fingers. “You don’t know how much of a torture that wa- fuck” you took his long and pretty fingers into your mouth and swirled your tongue around them, mimicking the way you sucked him off earlier and watching him lose his ability to speak as his mouth hung open. “H/n, harder, don’t stop, I’m going to come.” you said in a desperate attempt to get him to shut up and concentrate. Motivated by your words, he increased his pace, and after a few more hard and sloppy thrusts, you reached your second orgasm, soon followed by his own. His whole body twitched as he came down from his high, both of you panting, and exhausted.

Pulling out of you, he quickly discarded the condom and took you into his arms to place both you and him comfortably on the couch.

“That was fucking hot” he said, still holding you in his arms while you were catching your breaths. 

“Yeah. I think I might hate you a little less after this.” you said and you both laughed.

After coming back to your senses, you got up and went straight to the kitchen. A few seconds later, you came back holding the box he bought you from the french bakery, handing him an eclair.

“I knew why I saved those chocolate eclairs for later. They taste better after you’ve been craving them all day, don’t you think?”

He just smiled in response. “You might be right. By the way, I won. It seems like you’ll be drinking ice americanos again, after all.”

[odetolocksmiths]

“Make that Three”

A/N: I’m back! It got soooo busy with school and everything and it was causing so much stress so I set this blog aside for a little while. While going through my drafts yesterday, I saw this story and I really liked it. My original author’s note said I was so, so sorry because I thought it was bad? But coming back, I’ve come to the realization that I actually like this story ha! Anyway, if you’re still reading this author’s note, I hope things are going well in your life, and if they are currently not; I am sending out my thoughts and positive energy for you. My dm’s are always open <3 Enjoy reading :) xo Xuck

Summary: A few weeks before Molly decided it was time to bring the family back together, you run into George. After a special afternoon while spending some time with him, you show up at the ‘family sleepover’ holding a big secret.

 Warnings: Fluff, mentions of pregnancy and a piece of art written with some grammar mistakes 

"Y/N, my dear! How are you doing?” Molly asks while coming at you with her arms open wide, inviting you into a cuddle. You laugh and hug her back. 

“Hi, I’m doing good. How about you?” You answer while unwrapping your arms. Molly lifts her hand, places a hand on your cheek, and smiles. “Now that you are here, I’m doing great!”

“I’ve missed you all so much! Come, come. Let’s get you something to drink.” Molly’s hand grabs your wrist and before you know it, you sit at the kitchen table with a cup of hot cocoa in your hand. You look around the kitchen and you see that practically nothing has changed, everything was in the place where it belonged. You let your eyes roam over the wall of photographs, every member of the family was on the wall multiple times. There were photo’s of all the Weasley children while they were still young, photo’s of everyone celebrating Christmas, and photographs of the children with their significant others. 

You giggle at the photograph of Ron and Hermione on their wedding day, remembering the prank the twins had pulled on Ron. Fred and George had stolen his wedding suit and had it hidden somewhere very obvious. You have never seen Ron so stressed. Yeah okay, normally he is pretty stressed already, but this day topped it. Eventually, everything turned out to be fine.

You let your eyes roam the pictures again, now searching for the photographs with you in it. There were a lot because ever since you came home with Fred and George that one holiday, you were a part of the family and Molly saw you as one of her own. You let your eyes linger on the photograph of you and George longer than the others, your heart fasting up its pace and forming a small smile. It has been a couple of weeks since you last ran into him and things took an unexpected turn. It was a night of secret confessions, stolen glances, and lingering touches. The things that happened that one night, turned into a big, little secret no one knew of.

Molly intruded your thoughts as she began saying that it shouldn’t be long before the others are here. “It’s been a long time since everyone was home at the same time!” 

You laugh at her and before you get the chance to answer, the front door opens and reveals the sounds of the voices from the rest. Everyone planned to show up at the same time, bombing the silence in the burrow.

“Y/N/N!” Hermione screamed, flinging herself into your arms. “Dear Godric, I missed you soooooo much.” She says and you giggle. “Hi ‘Mione, how are you doing?” 

It took a good ten minutes taking the time to greet every member of the family minus three. Fred and George still had to work in the shop that day, so when the shop is closed they could come over with Fred’s significant other, Angelina. 

Everyone is taking their places at the dinner table, as it is the best place for everyone to be catching up at the same time. There are so many stories to be told, some needing to be told multiple times because the others got into a conversation of their own. No one got a hold of the time and before you know it, a couple of hours have passed. 

The front door slams open once again, revealing the last three persons missing at the table. Fred and Angelina took the first steps into the house. “Good evening my dearest family! How are you all doing?” Fred practically screams with a huge grin on his face. The whole family flew to the new people, hugging them and saying their greetings.

You were one of the last to greet Fred and Angelina, telling them your hi’s and how happy you are to be seeing them. Last but not least, you were the last to greet George. You e/c eyes catching his deep brown ones, showing a sparkle. He smiles softly and wraps his arms around your waist, while you throw yours around his neck. “Godric, I’ve missed you so much.” He mumbles and presses a secret kiss in the crook of your neck. With one last squeeze on your hips, he releases you and walks into the kitchen, ignoring the funny look on Fred’s face.

-

You and George were not official. There was in no way you could say you both were dating and it got a bit on your nerves right now. Everyone was done with eating and were now having a conversation - the millionth time today. You looked around the table and your gaze lingered around George’s. He was already looking at you. His mouth made the slightest smile which made you blush. It took everything in your strength not to fly over the table, grab George by his tie and kiss him on the mouth. You sigh and took another sip of your seventh cup of hot cocoa. Normally you wouldn’t have this much chocolate to eat, nevermind to drink, but lately you were craving it more and more. You knew why, it was a secret no one else knew so far.

Suddenly Molly gasped, flinging her hand over her mouth and looked surprised. Everyone stopped talking and stared at her. “Oh my, I’m so sorry!” She looks around, setting her eyes on Arthur. “I have made a mistake with counting the beds! We are missing one bed.” She puts her head in her hands and takes a deep sigh.

“It’s okay honey, we’ll figure it out.” Arthur says, putting his hand on Molly’s back.

“Well one of us has to sleep on the couch then.” Fred jokes and Ron laughs. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You say and look Molly in her eyes. “No, no. You won’t have to sleep on the couch.” She mumbles and pulls her arm around you. 

“No Molly, it is okay. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ve grown to love it, to be honest.” You grin and take another sip of your hot cacao.

It's true, you have grown fond of the couch. You stopped numbering the moments you fell asleep on it, finding yourself waking up with a blanket wrapped around your body.

“Are you sure?” Molly asks and you nod. “Don’t worry, as long as I have my blanket and pillow, I can sleep everywhere.” You wink and she laughs.

-

It’s two o clock in the morning. Everyone went to their beds over two hours ago, leaving you in the living room with a blanket and a pillow. Molly has asked you a dozen times if you really didn’t mind and after practically sending Molly upstairs, she eventually accepted your answer. Right now you were sitting on the couch, the blanket wrapped around you while reading your book when you heard footsteps behind you.

“You really shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch. Take my bed, please.” The voice of George sounded. He came to sit next to you. “And sleep with Fred and Angelina in one room? No thanks.” You giggled and put your book down. 

George opened his arms, inviting you into a cuddle which you gladly accepted. You put your head against his chest while folding your arms around his waist.

“I missed you, you know.” George whispered into your hair, placing a kiss on top of your head. You felt your face heating up, happy he couldn't see you blushing. "I hate that we haven't talked since that night." 

"I know, me too." You mumble, pressing your face more into George's chest. "Do you really meant what you say back then?" You ask.

"Yes, I do." George puts his finger under your chin and lifts it so you have to look him into his eyes. "I want to continue this. What we have." He places a kiss on your mouth. Before you could answer his kiss, he has removed his lips already. 

"I want that too." You smile at him. He grins and pulls you closer. 

"Mom's going to ask us tomorrow if we all want to come along on vacation this summer. Should I say she has to reserve two places? You and me?" George asks, wrapping a string of your h/c hair around his finger. 

"Make that three." You whisper, looking into his eyes. You see his eyebrows turn into a confused state.

"What did you say?"

"Make that three. Three places." You repeat and you grab his hand and place it on your belly. "I meant to tell you tomorrow when I saw the chance of getting you alone but here we are." You throw him a soft smile. Scared of his reaction, you distance yourself from him and look into the fireplace.

"Are you serious?" His voice sounds hoarse. All you can do is nod. "Checked it multiple times, different methods. All came back positive." You mumble, still not looking towards George.

"Look at me." Was all he said, but you didn't hear him. "Love, could you please look at me?" He asked.

When you turned your head, all you could see was George with one of the biggest smiles you have ever received from him. He grabbed your face and placed a kiss on your nose. Then one followed onto your forehead, both your cheeks and eventually he left one on your mouth.

"I love you so fucking much.”

[wisteriasxx]

a/n: had this in the drafts since tfatws finished streaming and I forgot to post it but here haha

18+

Warnings: Weed, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex

Smoke sesh with Marvel characters 🍃

this one is for all my stoner marvel fans💕 just my thoughts on what it would be like to smoke with some of our favs✨

———————————————————————

Steve

Well considering Steve is a super soldier, he can’t get drunk or high..........BUT for the sake of this let’s just pretend he can ;)

It would probably take loads of convincing for him to even try the stuff

If he decides to try it, he’s only taking one hit.

High Steve is definitely just super chill, and really cuddly, he’s gonna grab you and just hold you for the rest of the night.

When it comes time for munchies he will literally eat anything, but his favorite snack when the munchies hit is Mozzarella sticks.

He’ll start talking about how things were back in the 40’s, including how crazy the youth is today with this stuff you’ve just given him.

Tony

We all know that Tony is KNOWN for being a party animal, so he’s definitely down for a lil sesh with the avengers

Tony definitely likes to drink more then he would smoking, but he’ll still smoke.

Probably owns a dab pen with indica for for his anxiety

Prefers indica but will settle for a hybrid (sativa and indica)

Gets really giggly and even more sarcastic when he’s high

Will not move from his current place of rest, someone will have to bring him food when the munchies come or he will complain the entire time

Favorite munchies food is potato chips

High tony will definitely accidentally start spilling your secrets in front of people, you might have to physically shut him up somehow

Thor

Will give you a funny look when you hand him a joint or a pen or whatever it is that your using.

He’ll understand that you smoke it, but he’ll think it’s just tobacco or something

Before you can tell him what it actually is he’s already taken a couple of big hits

Once you tell him what it is that he’s smoking and what it does, the only response you’ll get is “this tastes funny and it will have no effect on me because I am mighty”

Fast forward to ten minutes later of Thor being loud and laughing at everything and just being an absolute goofball

Will eat and drink everything in sight once the munchies hit for him

“Where can I get more of this midgaurdian herb!??!!?!!” He’ll yell from the couch

Like Steve, he’ll get grabby and just wanna hold you the entire time. If you’re standing he’s gonna stand behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his chin resting on ur head. If you’re sitting he’s putting his arm around you and pulling you close.

Definitely ends with him passed out on the floor

Natasha

When she sees everyone playing “puff puff pass”, she’ll roll her eyes.

“What are you guys in high school or something?”

She will insist that she wants nothing to do with it, but after tony makes some remark about it, she decides to prove him wrong.

After a hit or two, Nat becomes more comfortable, she becomes less uptight.

Likes to shoot out more sarcastic one liners then usual

Becomes very flirty ;)

She gets smiley but in a tired way

In fact, She doesn’t stay awake very long after she’s had a hit or two in her system, she gets too tired and calls it a night

By “calls it a night” I mean she basically droops onto you and refuses to move, you’ll have to move her if you want to.

Doesn’t get the munchies because she’s asleep before she can

Clint

Clint will take a hit or two, just because why not? He could use the relaxation

He’s super chill when he’s high, he keeps to himself

He’s quiet when he’s high, but that’s just because he’s vibing, he’s taking in the music or just simply listening to the nearest conversation.

Wears sunglasses the whole time because he doesn’t want anyone to see his red eyes

He doesn’t really get munchies, he just chills the entire time

You can’t tell if he’s asleep or if he’s just vibing

Will only give one word answers if you ask him something

Not the most fun to smoke with but he’s just chilling and minding his own business so he’s welcome.

Loki

Will look at you with irritable confusion when you offer him a hit

When you tell him what it is and what it will do to him he’ll simply ask, “why would I want to do that?”

He won’t do it in front of anyone, that would mean letting his guard down and becoming vulnerable

He will definitely try it later in private though

When he’s high, he’ll want you to join him

He’s still basically loki when he’s high, he’s just more relaxed

“This is quite nice I must say.”

There will definitely be a conversation about how he can’t believe this is what mortals do for fun

He’ll become a little more open with you because he’s more relaxed

He’ll become confused when the munchies hit, but after you tell him it’s normal he’ll go with it

His favorite munchie food is definitely popcorn

I’m gonna flat out say it, high loki has a higher sex drive

Gets lost in the moment type of guy

In his opinion, the weed helps him block out everything else except for you, and that’s why he likes it

His mischief meter also skyrockets, you thought normal loki was good at pulling tricks? Just wait till you see how creative high loki can get

Bucky

Bucky is gonna look at you like your crazy

Then he’ll remember that he is also crazy, and figures the weed might help ease his mind a little.

Bucky becomes more relaxed when he’s high, his guard has dropped a little, but he’s still aware of his surroundings.

He’s funnier when he’s high 

Smiles more which makes you smile because you think he doesn’t smile enough

He still does the staring thing when he’s high, but it’s not as intimidating now, there’s a softer look in his eyes and a small smile on his face

Will open up a little more about his feelings towards you

After his first time trying weed, he’ll get some cbd gummies or something on a regular basis to help relax him

When the munchies hit for him, he’ll eat anything, but his favorite munchie food is anything Italian.

He just wants to cuddle man

Wanda

Wanda is surprisingly chill

She’s more open, more humorous, and even nicer.

her magic can resemble her current state of mind if she wants it to

So when she’s high, her magic becomes really pretty and elegant, like it’s in slow motion

In fact, she glows a little when she’s high

She’ll make her magic do pretty things for your entertainment

Due to her magic though, I feel that her high wouldn’t last very long

For her, smoking is just a quick little get away from her mind, something that just takes the edge off a little

Doesn’t get munchies

Prefers indica

Peter (quill)

He’s never had earth weed, but he’s definitely smoked and drank all kinds of substances through out the galaxy

Definitely likes sativa

He’s down for whatever, he likes to try new things

He’ll complain about the taste, but then love the way he’s feeling in 10 minutes

He becomes very stupid when he’s high

He’ll turn his favorite music on full volume and just start doing things, he won’t be able to sit still.

He’ll try to do things to keep himself entertained, but he’ll be bad at doing them because he’s high

When later or the next day comes when he’s sober, he’ll look at the evidence of him trying to do whatever it was he was trying to do and be totally confused, but not surprised

When the munchies hit, he’ll eat anything he can find on the ship that’s edible

It will end with him passed out in some weird spot on the ship or wherever he’s at

He once got high and woke up cuddling with Drax-

Gamora

Will not smoke

The designated driver

The “chaperone” of the night

Sam Wilson

When you offer him a hit, he’ll be unsure and say something like “man I haven’t done something this stupid since high school, I don’t know”

But he says “screw it” to himself and takes a couple of hits

Becomes really smiley when he’s high, like the dude won’t stop smiling. It irritates Bucky.

Definitely will start singing out of nowhere, even if there’s no music playing

He’s also gonna tell crazy stories about his past, things from high school stories to military stories

He livens up the session for sure, after a few hits in, he makes it his goal for the night to make everyone happy and vibing along with him

When the munchies hit for sam, he goes straight for pizza. This man absolutely loooovesss pizza when he’s inebriated

Dr.Strange

Is obviously familiar with the substance

Definitely used to do it all the time in college (helped with the stress of med school)

Will question if it’s the best choice for everyone to be making right now

Most likely will not do it, it wouldn’t look good if the sorcerer supreme was getting high

You’ll ask him if he knows some kind of spell that can sober you up

He’ll tell you “yes” and proceed to hand you a water bottle and roll his eyes

He’ll do the portal thing above you and a bunch of your favorite snacks will land on your lap when the munchies come

He’ll take care of you once you pass out, carrying you to your bed or your couch or whatever and setting a glass of water near you before he leaves you alone

Scott Lang

Oh yeah, he’s definitely taking a couple hits

Prefers bongs

Prefers hybrid blends (sativa and indica)

This man knows his kush okay? Would not be surprised if he had a plug, or if he was the plug

Weed makes him more productive, he’ll start doing things and multi tasking, he’ll do anything from messing around in the suit to playing rock band

Chinese take out is this mans go to munchie food, nothing brings him greater joy then inhaling wonton soup or lo mein when he’s high

He’s bringing his friends too, there’s no arguing

Like Sam, he livens the session up

Somehow become bolder, dumber and flirty at the same time when he’s high

When he comes down though, he comes down hard, and sometimes literally.

He’ll pass out or fall asleep in the weirdest places, but he’ll be enjoying it and wake up feeling well rested somehow

Bonus cuz i think it’s funny ++

John walker

Will be all cocky about taking a hit, thinking it won’t affect him or that it’ll make him cooler or something dumb

Gets scared and paranoid

Starts literally tweaking and saying stuff like “they’re coming for me”

Freaks out because he can’t handle the kush in his system

Definitely locks himself in the bathroom and cries, calls Lamar to come pick him up

Ends up becoming a hazard for everyone, so Bucky has to knock him out cold

Will probably snitch on everyone for smoking just because he had a bad time with it and he’s just jealous that he can’t vibe correctly