#last night i had a dream that my cousin was getting married and apparently he knew tavia??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

songbirdstyles · 5 years ago

Text

white wedding.

summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.

song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol

word count: 13.4k

You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’) and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.

It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -

But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And -

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”

You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”

You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Are y’sad about it?”

“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”

He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”

“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”

“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”

“There’s a stipulation in the will.”

“Ah.”

You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”

It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.

And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”

“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”

“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”

“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?” “It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”

You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”

If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.

It’s easier that way, for now.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar.

“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”

“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”

A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.

But the house would be nice, too.

“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”

Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”

Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.

“What if we got married?”

And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.

You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.

But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”

Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”

“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”

“Horrible idea?”

You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.

Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.

That’s sweet.

Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him.

Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.

When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.

“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”

“Very easy.”

“We just elope -”

“Could do it today, even -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”

He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”

Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”

You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.

He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”

In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -

God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.

For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.

You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -

The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.

Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.

FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.

Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.

You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned.

“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”

“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”

Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”

“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”

“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”

Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you’re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.”

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”

“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.

It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.

Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.

“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”

“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”

“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”

“Wait - she did?”

“Hey, mum!”

You’re getting married in a week.

And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is!

Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.

Yeah.

Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.

You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.

No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.

Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.

“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?” You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.

“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”

“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”

“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”

You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”

His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”

From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”

Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does?

You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.”

Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -

Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.

One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.

He almost kissed you.

He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -

It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.

You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.

He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.

You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.

“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”

Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”

Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”

Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.

“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”

“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.

It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.

You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”

“Are y’drunk? S’just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”

“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”

For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”

“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”

You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”

“Well, m’mum called.”

“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”

There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -

You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.

But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.

“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”

You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”

“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”

If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”

“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”

Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”

“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”

“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.

Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.

There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.

Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”

It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”

He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”

“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”

“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”

You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”

His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”

Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.

“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat.

“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We’re married. You can move in wit’ me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that -”

“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”

You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”

You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response.

For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.

You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”

Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”

“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”

“I just thought you were being nice.”

“You’re silly, then.”

“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”

Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”

“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.

There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”

“A sleepover?”

He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”

That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different.

“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”

“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”

You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.

His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.

The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.

In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.

Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.

It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.

You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.

“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth.

“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.

He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.

Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”

That’s exactly what you want.

“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”

He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”

It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.

“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.

Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.

The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.

This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.

Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -

You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”

And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”

He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.

Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.

You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.

“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”

So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.

The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.

Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.

“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation.

“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”

His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.

Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.

“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”

He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -

“Oh, fuck!”

Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.

You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.

There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?

Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.

“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”

“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.

You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”

You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.

You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.

You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.

“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.

You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”

“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”

“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No!”

You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.

It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -

The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.

“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”

“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”

It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.

It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.

“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”

Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.

You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.

“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”

It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.

Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.

(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)

His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more.

A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.

“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”

He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.

Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.

And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #best friend!harry styles #loose ankles #lol #one of my fav things ive written #i got carried away during the smut.... sorry

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fanficimagery · 4 years ago

Text

Wildest Dreams.

Imagine it's a couple days before your wedding and your friends start coming in for your last days of freedom. Only you start having second thoughts, old feelings crop up, and you end up having a breakdown.

Words: 5.1K Warnings: This happens to be an AU with no children and Liz is alive. If a character isn't mentioned, I'm sorry. I had too many characters already.

The Mikaelsons, plus a couple of significant others, are sitting around a fire pit in the backyard of their mansion down in New Orleans after a surprisingly calm family dinner. The only one missing is Rebekah who'd gotten up to answer the door when one of Klaus' minions was dropping off some things inside. But mere seconds later she's returning, a smile gracing her lips as she reads from what appears to be an invitation in her hands.

"You have been cordially invited to witness the celebration of love between Landon Wesley and Y/N Y/L/N," she says as she retakes her seat next to Marcel. "Aw. Our little Y/N grew up so fast."

Elijah, who'd been staring into the fire, suddenly frowns. He sits up a little straighter in his seat. "Y/N is getting married?"

Skimming through the invitation, Rebekah doesn't see her brother's expression. But Klaus, Marcel, Freya, and Keelin do. "Mhm. In two weeks, but she wants me down there a couple days before for a girls thing. She said I could bring whoever I wanted, so Freya and Keelin are coming with."

"Oh. Okay," Keelin huffs. "So I guess we don't get a say in this?"

"Nope. Not at all."

Keelin rolls her eyes, but she's smiling all the while. Freya pats her wife on the back of the hand, chuckling, just as Elijah clears his throat and stands up. "Well if you excuse me, I think I'm going to call it a night."

As Elijah makes his exit, Rebekah finally lifts her head from the invitation. Klaus hides his smirk behind the glass tumbler he's sipping from as everyone else watches Elijah go with their interest piqued.

"Am I the only one who found that weird?" Keelin asks, gesturing towards where Elijah disappeared off to.

Marcel chuckles, shaking his head. "Not at all. Someone please tell me what the deal is there?"

Rebekah sighs. "Y/N holds a special place inside Elijah's heart."

"Dear Y/N is cousin to one Caroline Forbes of Mystic Falls, part of the scooby gang we once loathed." Klaus smirks. "But we never loathed Y/N."

"Not at all." Rebekah now starts to smile. "Y/N was kind, even when her family and friends plotted our deaths. She was the only one whose word we could trust and the only other person who purposely engaged 'lijah in conversation."

"We obviously thought our dear brother had a thing going on with Y/N, but he denied it every time," Klaus says. "It was because she was only seventeen at the time, but it's been years now."

"Y/N is definitely all grown up." Rebekah slowly smirks. "And definitely still asks after Elijah."

Klaus chuckles. "And it appears Elijah still harbors something for our favorite Mystic Falls resident."

"Well damn," Marcel mumbles. "We're so going to this wedding. We haven't had normal people drama in a while."

Keelin raises her glass in salute to Marcel's words. This was definitely going to be an interesting trip.

The Salvatore brothers have given up the Boarding House for the night so you could meet with your girls. Caroline took care of getting food and drinks, and Bonnie and Elena knew it was best to just stay out of Caroline's way. Because as Maid of Honor, Caroline took her duties a little too seriously.

"Can we eat yet?" Bonnie asks, already munching on a breadstick. "What are we even waiting for?"

"I'm expecting a few more friends," you say. "They're about five minutes out."

"And which friends are these?" Caroline wonders.

"Rebekah." Caroline immediately groans whereas Bonnie and Elena look uncomfortable. "Don't even give me that look," you tell your cousin. "I made Rebekah promise to be on her best behavior and she did so long as none of you made snide comments towards her. And the other two are Freya and Freya's wife Keelin."

"Freya and Keelin? How come we've never heard of them before?" Elena asks.

"Because Freya is a Mikaelson and her story was really sad," you say. "I didn't think I should tell you when I had first found out." All three girls look at you and you sigh, locking your phone and shoving it into your back pocket. "So long story short, Freya is the eldest Mikaelson. She was taken hostage by her aunt, forced to live for one year and then magically sleep for a hundred." Bonnie's eyes widen in shock. "She escaped and sought out her siblings who helped her kill their aunt so she'd finally be free. It took them a while to trust one another, but they eventually did and then Freya met Keelin. I've only spoken to them a handful of times, but they seem like great people. Just give them a chance."

The girls are quiet after learning that, but then Elena can't help but ask, "So is Freya human or..?"

"She's a witch and her wife is a werewolf." The girls all blink in surprise and you sigh. "Please. Just please give me this night and the day of my wedding. I don't need any drama."

Your pleading expression is enough to have the three of them agree and just in time as well. Elena and Caroline alert you and Bonnie that a car is pulling up, and it's not long until Rebekah, Freya, and Keelin and walking right on in.

The tension is obvious when Rebekah says hello to everyone, but the genuine smiles come out when you greet Freya and Keelin for the first time face to face, and then introduce them to Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena. Caroline, having put her best hostess persona, then leads everyone into the dining room.

Caroline and Bonnie are the only two to remain standing as everyone takes their seat, Caroline then dishing out either spaghetti or chicken alfredo while Bonnie serves up the wine. Conversation is a bit stilted, but the moment Bonnie asks Freya a question about magic it's like the flood gates open. You're surprised Freya gives up more of her story so freely and it's like a weight is lifted off your shoulders when Rebekah cracks a joke about how deranged her family is that has everyone laughing.

The food is devoured between the seven of you and by the end of dinner you've finished two bottles of wine. The third wine bottle follows you all into the lounge where more comfortable armchairs are carried in so everyone has a seat of their own after Freya and Keelin take over the loveseat.

"So," Caroline chirps as soon as she's comfortable, "are there any other Mikaelsons we should be expecting?"

Rebekah grins. "Is this your subtle way in trying to figure out if Nik is coming?"

Bonnie and Elena giggle as Caroline scoffs, but everyone sees right through her. Even Freya and Keelin who have no idea of the history between the two blonde vamps. But suddenly Freya stops giggling and leans forward in her seat, looking quite pensive. "Wait. Are you the Caroline that my brother couldn't help but compare every female to? You're that Caroline?"

"Yes. Yes she is," you say and take another sip of your wine.

"Huh. Now I get it." Freya chuckles. "You're cute and feisty, and can apparently keep up with Klaus. I approve." Keelin can't help but nod along as everyone laughs at Caroline's surprised expression.

The surprised expression quickly morphs into smugness, but then Caroline is quick to shake it off. "We're not here to talk about me. We're all here for Y/N. I was just wondering because you know how Damon and Stefan are with Klaus."

You sigh. "Which is why I've talked to them too," you say. "I know everyone has issues with each other, but it's my goddamn wedding and there will be no death threats or neck snapping or so help me I will stake somebody." Your friends and guests are stunned into silence before Keelin snorts, everyone then giving into their laughter quickly after. You too, eventually, and then you groan as you attempt to hide your face in the palms of your hands. "I just- I don't want any issues. I'm already freaking out as it is."

The laughter fades off, sympathetic expressions taking over, and it's Keelin who then leans forward in her seat, reaching for your hand and gripping it in comfort. "It's going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about. If you love- er, uh what's his name?"

"Landon."

"Landon! Yes, Landon," she chuckles. "If you love Landon, you'll be fine." Your smile falters and you don't have to be an onlooker to know that the light in your eyes dims just a little. Your pretty sure everyone's noticed it if the sudden intake of breath is anything to go by. "You do- you do love him, don't you?"

"Yes!" You blurt a little too fast. Your response is a little cringeworthy and you sigh, retaking your hand and slumping in your seat. "I mean we've been together for three years. I love him. I do, but.."

"But he's not 'lijah."

"Rebekah!" Freya is quick to scold.

"What?" The blonde Original shrugs. "You haven't seen them together. You don't understand."

"I'm not one to ever agree with your sister, but she has a point," Elena says. "Y/N and Elijah-"

"But there is no me and Elijah." The girls fall silent at the tone in your voice. "There never was." You retake your glass of wine, chugging the rest of its contents before setting your glass back down. "Now if you guys will excuse me, I need some air."

No one tries to stop you as you go and you end up on the back patio, hopping up onto the brick railing and then leaning your back against the brick pillar. The cold air outside cools your flushed face and you try not to let your mood tumble down the rabbit hole.

You knew inviting the Mikaelsons was bound to bring up the past, but you didn't think it'd affect you quite like it is now. Elijah was, for obvious reasons, a touchy subject with you and your friends knew not to bring him up. But then Rebekah broke the ice and Elena, of all people, just had to agree with her.

"Here. Put this on." You're surprised to see Freya offering you a jacket, but you take it nonetheless and offer her a small smile in thanks. She grins, placing a smoking bowl down on the railing next to her. "Sage," she explains. "It keeps the vampires from hearing."

"God I love magic."

Freya chuckles and then after a moment passes, she says, "I'm sorry about what my sister said in there. They shouldn't bring any of that up so close to your wedding."

You shrug. "It is what it is. And if I'm being honest, she's not totally wrong."

"No?"

You shake your head. "I almost didn't invite Elijah because I knew my stupid crush on him would resurface, but then I thought I'd look like an asshole if I sent out personal invites to everyone else and he saw he didn't receive one." Freya chuckles quietly and you sigh longingly. "And the closer it comes to my wedding, the more I find myself longing for those talks with your brother rather than what Landon has to offer. I miss our talks about history and just life in general," you say. "And the more I listen to Landon talk about the latest Xbox game or the stupid jokes he's heard from his coworkers, it feels like I die a little more every day on the inside."

Freya frowns a little. "I apologize if I'm overstepping, Y/N, but do you honestly love Landon? If you continue to compare him to my brother, you're just setting yourself and Landon up for heartbreak down the line."

"I know. And I love Landon. I do, but I don't think I'm as in love with him as I once thought."

"Y/N.."

The first tear falls and you huff a laugh as you wipe it away. Quietly, you rhetorically ask, "Why couldn't your brother just love me? It'd have made things so much more easier." You're so caught up in your feelings that you don't see Freya tense or her eyes widen in surprise. "I don't even know what I'm saying," you then mumble. "I'm getting married in two days. Maybe I should just lay off the wine until then."

"Uhh, yeah. Maybe." Freya agrees.

You snap out of your spiral then, eyes widening. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry for laying that on you."

"No. Don't be," she laughs. "You needed to vent and I'm glad it was me, an unbiased ear."

"Really?"

"Really. You're fine," Freya assures you. "Now come on. Let's get you inside before we freeze."

As you hop off the railing, heart aching and mind going a mile a minute, you can only hope that your mind clears in time for you to say I do to Landon. It would really be terrible to enter a marriage while longing for someone else.

The morning of your wedding dawns bright and early, and you immediately know you're in no shape to be getting married. Since Rebekah, Freya, and Keelin have come into Mystic Falls you've put on a brave face for everyone, but now there's no hiding exactly what you're feeling. Because the moment aunt Liz, Caroline, Elena, and Bonnie wake you for your big day with party horns and confetti, you burst into tears.

Immediately the cheerful atmosphere vanishes and the girls are stunned into silence. "I can't do this," you cry. "I can't do this to myself or to Landon. It's not fair to him."

"Oh sweetie." Liz takes a seat next to you on the bed, putting a comforting arm around your shoulders. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"I'm so sorry, aunt Liz, but I can't- I just can't get married today."

Elena shifts uncomfortably next to the bed. "Y/N, if this is about us bringing up Elijah the other night I'm so sorry."

"No. No, you don't have to be sorry." Sniffling, you wipe at your eyes and look at those in the room. "I will admit to being nervous about seeing Elijah again after only talking about him brought back this stupid crush on him, but the more I thought about it," you trail off, shaking your head. "Can I really marry a human?"

Bonnie frowns. "Y/N, you are a human."

"I know that, Bon, but after everything we've been through.. knowing all that I know, can I actually settle down behind a white picket fence and pray every night that Landon doesn't ever find out about the supernatural? Whether you guys want to admit it or not, Liz and I will always be in danger because of our ties to you guys." Seeing their frowns makes your heart break just a little bit more.

"I don't mean to offend you," you say. "I love you guys alot. But I've put Landon in danger for years now and I can't risk it anymore. Because what happens when he asks for kids? I won't bring a family into our already messy lives."

"Y/N," Caroline murmurs. "The wedding is in nine hours. What are we supposed to do?"

"Compel them to forget or to be okay with the wedding being called off. I don't care. Just please do something."

"What are you going to tell Landon?" Bonnie wonders.

"I'm not sure. If I have to, I'll call in a favor from Klaus. He likes me enough to compel the groom away."

"And the caterers?"

The bedroom door suddenly swings open and Rebekah sighs as she leans against the door jamb. "Don't worry. Us Mikaelsons have a bit of money to throw around. All caterers will be told the wedding is off and to not to mention the money they've already been paid, and Landon's family will find that they're not missing a penny from their bank accounts."

It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. "Thank you, Bex. Thank you so much."

"Don't even worry about it," she assures you with a smile. Then pushing off the door jamb, she pastes on a smile and claps her hands once. "Okay. All vampires and witches with me. We've got a wedding to cancel."

Caroline and Bonnie are quick to rush out of the room, but Elena lingers by the bed. When you meet her gaze, she says, "If you need some time, my family's lake house is empty. You're more than welcome to take a week or two for yourself there. We'll give you some space."

"Thank you, 'Lena. Some space and time actually sounds pretty good."

"Well then it's settled," Liz says. "You go freshen up in the bathroom and I'll pack you a bag. We'll grab some groceries while everyone cancels your wedding, and then I'll drive you down to the lake house. Does that sound like a good plan?"

You offer her a faint grin. "Yeah. It does."

The moment Elena leaves the room, it seems like everything is in a fast forward motion. Liz ushers you to the bathroom where you have a good cry in the shower and then as you're getting dressed you have numerous text messages from your friends coming in to tell you how all the compulsion is going. Damon even offers to compel Landon for you, admitting that he never quite liked the human blood bag and he was glad you had come to your senses before you took the guy's last name. That had earned your first chuckle of the morning and even Liz chuckled when you had read her Damon's text.

Liz helps you put the groceries away at the lake house and then makes you promise to call her should you need anything, no matter the time. And only after you've agreed does she finally leave you all alone.

You send off one last text to your group of friends that your phone is going to be off for the time being and then promptly fall asleep in the master bedroom.

When you wake up again, it's only a little past one in the afternoon and you decide to make yourself something to eat. You eat and then settle on the couch for a little tv, only to end up outside on the dock and staring out into the water.

The time your wedding was to take place comes and goes, and you can't help but turn your phone on to see if you have any notifications. The only messages you have are from Caroline who assures you that everything's been taken care of and that she thinks you made the right decision. Hearing confirmation from your cousin eases some of your worries and you don't feel as bad about what you did.

By the time night falls, you're snuggled up on the couch and watching the best horror has to offer in order to keep your mind off any romance for the time being. You're in the middle of watching The Conjuring when there's a knock on the front door, startling a yelp out of you. Cursing your overbearing friends and their need to make sure you're really okay, you pause the movie and get up to see who it is.

Only when you open the front door you're more than a little stunned to find Elijah standing there by the top of the porch steps as he turns to face you. There's a moment where you both drink each other in and then your eyes narrow into a glare whereas Elijah's lips stretch into a smile as he steps closer to you.

"Elijah."

"Hello, Y/N."

The butterflies take flight and your heart beats double. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Someone near and dear to me had to make possibly one of the most difficult decisions in their life this morning. Did you really think I wouldn't come to check up on you?"

You do your best not to swoon, smiling softly at him as you shake your head in amusement and open the door wider as an invite. "You're lucky you've already been invited in otherwise we'd be stuck out on the porch. Come on. Let's go take a seat."

Elijah follows you into the living room after shutting the door behind him and you turn off the movie so you can place all your focus on him. There's a fire going in the fireplace, but you still turn on a few lamps so you can see him properly. And when you turn back around it's to see that Elijah already made himself comfortable smack dab in the middle of the couch.

Grinning, you drop in the spot next to him with one leg curled beneath you and the other hanging off the front of the couch so your foot is planted on the floor. "Hi," you muse.

"Is it too soon to ask you what happened?"

Straight to the point as usual, his question makes you faintly cringe. But before he can take the question back, you decide to tell him. "I'm too involved with the supernatural world, Elijah. What kind of person would I be if I had dragged Landon into the mess that is our lives? He deserves to have a normal and happy life."

"And what about you? Don't you deserve to be normal and happy?"

As he speaks, you notice how his gaze drops to your mouth before quickly darting up and looking elsewhere. You try to play it off but you know your damn heart gives you away immediately when he fights off a smile. "Normal and happy is so overrated," you then manage to say. "After all that I've seen and been through, a normal life would be boring."

Elijah finally allows himself to smile. "Is that the only reason why you wouldn't marry him?"

You tense at his knowing gaze, heart beat tripling as it's your turn to avert your gaze. You'd never been good at confronting your feelings head on, especially with the person said feelings are for. So as the seconds tick on by, you can feel your face flushing. You quietly groan. "Do I really have to say it out loud? It's embarrassing."

"Y/N."

"Elijah," you retort. You manage to hold his gaze for three seconds before you break eye contact and sigh. "It was obvious I had a crush on you back when I was seventeen and apparently it's still obvious now."

"I think it's adorable."

"Of course you do." Against your better judgement you reach out to swat at his arm and your breath hitches as he catches your hand and then maneuvers it so he can press a kiss to the back of your hand. You smile sadly. "It's been you since I was seventeen and I don't think anyone can ever compare to the Elijah Mi-mmph."

Elijah stuns you by pulling you into his lap and quickly maneuvering you so your knees are on either side of his lap, his mouth slotting against yours with such ease. There's a moment where you don't know what exactly to do with your hands, but the second his hands tug on the hem of your shirt, your hands find purchase on his shoulders before sliding up the side of his neck.

It's you who breaks the kiss for some much needed air, but you don't go far because Elijah keeps you close. His hand cups the side of your jaw, but his thumb runs gently under your bottom lip. You nip at his thumb, he grins, and then you groan when your predicament finally settles in. Elijah chuckles as you drop your head to his shoulder, your hands clutching at his sides under his suit jacket.

"What are we even doing?"

"I believe you're finally going after what you truly wanted."

"And you? What about you?" You ask, shifting nervously in his lap as you sit back.

"I am making my move," he says as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "before someone else comes in to ask for your hand in marriage." You roll your eyes and he chuckles softly. "Since I made you admit something earlier, I will admit that I too have compared everyone to you. My family knew I held you above all else and they were quick to rub it in my face that you were to wed this evening. And earlier when I got Rebekah's call, I knew this was our chance."

"You're a big 'ol softy, Elijah Mikaelson."

"Only when it comes to you, Y/N Y/L/N."

You can't help but smile at his words, leaning in for a quick kiss. But it's not so quick as Elijah pulls you back in, peppering a few kisses across your mouth and cheeks. You giggle, but then that giggle turns into a groan. "The girls are going to be unbearable."

"Niklaus too, but I'm willing to put up with it as long as I have you by my side." You make a noise and facial expression as if you have to think about it, and Elijah gently squeezes your waist in retaliation which makes your jerk in his hold. "If you're that worried about their reactions, we can go away for a bit until everyone has had enough time to get used to our new situation."

You huff a laugh, but upon seeing Elijah's expression your amusement fades away. "You're serious."

"I am. New Orleans is a bit crowded at the moment and if I remember correctly you've always wanted to see Ireland. So what do you say to a spontaneous vacation with me?"

You blink owlishly at Elijah before your lips stretch into a smile. "Yes!" Your excitement makes him chuckle, but then you're quick to to come down. "My friends won't go for it. They'll continuously ask if I know what I'm doing and want daily updates and everything."

"They won't. And if they do, they'll have Sheriff Forbes to answer to." Your brow furrows in confusion and Elijah smirks. "How do you think I found you all the way out here? I stopped by the Forbes residence and Elizabeth was kind enough to point me in the right direction. It seems we already have one person in our corner."

"Jesus Christ," you huff. "Are we really doing this?"

"Only if you're sure you want to."

You take a moment to think things through, but before that moment can stretch on too long, you say, "Yeah. Let's do this. When do we leave?"

"Whenever you want," he tells you.

"As much as I wanna leave right now, I kind of just want to take you up to bed and get reacquainted with you."

Elijah slowly smiles. "I quite like the way you think, Miss Y/L/N."

"Then what are you waiting for, old man? Take me to bed already."

SIX MONTHS LATER

Freya and Keelin have just gotten home, a stack of mail on the hall table catching Freya's attention. Her siblings are out as usual, wrecking havoc no doubt, so on her way to the kitchen she grabs up the stack to sort through it.

As Keelin goes about grabbing the wine from the fridge and two glasses, Freya starts to filter out the trash from the stack of mail. Only halfway through the stack, one particular envelope catches her eye.

Freya starts to smile. "It seems like Elijah finally broke his silence."

"Oohh," Keelin coos. "What does he have to say? How is Y/N doing? Because last I heard not even the girls in Mystic Falls know."

Freya opens up the envelope, pulling out a picture and a letter. She smiles brightly upon seeing her brother and Y/N smiling under the Northern Lights- which is utterly adorable, in her opinion- and then goes on to read the letter to herself. Her smile slowly falters as her eyes widen in surprise. "No. They didn't," she breathes in awe. She quickly scans the picture again, her eyes lighting up as she laughs joyously. "They did!"

Keelin startles. "What? What did they do?"

Freya drops the letter and quickly flips around the picture for her wife to see. "They got married!"

"WHAT!?" Keelin practically shouts. "Let me see," she says as she hurries around the kitchen island.

Freya openly laughs now. "They got married under the Northern Lights last month. They'll finally be coming home in a couple of weeks."

Keelin grabs the photo so she can study it itself, her smile blossoming. "Oh my god. They really did get married."

"In the letter, Elijah said only Caroline and her mother know. They're going to come here first so they can figure out living arrangements and then they'll go see everyone else."

"Rebekah is going to be so pissed," Keelin muses.

"I can see it now, she's going to force a small ceremony on them when they're settled in."

"As long as I get to see Elijah smile in person as he is in his wedding photo, I'm all for it. Jesus looks at how adorable they look together."

"I know," Freya says. "I don't think my brother could have found anyone better for himself. We had only met Y/N and I immediately knew they'd be perfect for each other."

"Right?" Keelin then huffs. She looks at the picture one last time before setting the picture down. "We need to blow that up and hang it on the wall. Getting married under the Northern Lights was such a neat idea."

"Mhm. So much better than that Christmas themed wedding she originally had planned."

Keelin chuckles. "I thought I was the only one who thought the Christmas theme was tacky."

"Oh no. Rebekah secretly hated it too, but she didn't want to upset Y/N. She will, however, be upset she missed the Northern Lights wedding."

"I mean I'm pretty bummed, but I'm also excited for them to get home so we can pick their brains and get to the bottom of whatever the hell they were thinking. I'm super stoked for them, but I also want to know who proposed to who and everything!"

"Same here." Freya turns towards her wife, wrapping her arms around her waist while Keelin settles her arms around Freya's neck. "But until then we got family to inform of the couple's new status. Not it!"

"Not i- dammit!" Keelin pouts, she now having to be the one to inform Klaus and Rebekah. "I hate it when you do that."

Freya laughs. "Better luck next time. Now let's go. I can't wait to see their reactions."

#elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #the originals imagine #elijah x reader #elijah mikaelson #freya mikaelson #keelin malraux #rebekah mikaelson #elena gilbert #bonnie bennett #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #the originals

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missymurphy1985 · 4 years ago

Text

Chance Encounter (sequel to The Premiere)

What happens when y/n and Cillian bump into each other again off set? Will their little agreement still stand?

Warning : Smut

Taglist - @queenshelby @peakyscillian @margoo0 @being-worthy @noctvrnalmoth @janelongxox

Your hair was done, your makeup flawless (if you did say so yourself) and you were finally ready. Your former costar Natasha was getting married and she'd invited you to the reception. You'd booked your hotel room and silently prayed to the god of all that is holy that Cillian was invited too. You knew your agreement half a year ago was that if you "worked together" again, you'd hook up, but surely agreements could have the odd caveat here and there, right? You just hoped he was still single... There had been plenty of buzz about him and a girl from back home reconnecting a few months ago but you'd never plucked up the courage to ask him outright. Last thing you wanted was to look desperate but truth be told? You were. A little. Okay, a lot, but you hid it well - no one had any inkling anything had happened that night at the casino, and that's just how you liked it. The rumour mill had piped down, even after THAT interview. But deep down you wanted more of the man that had truly captivated you. It annoyed you that he wasn't on any social media - there was no way of keeping in touch other than via text/call but neither of you had made contact with the other after that night.

You smoothed down your dress and grabbed your handbag. One quick check on your hair, and you made your way to the lift. Pressing the 'down' button, you felt two strong hands suddenly clinch your waist, making you (and your heart) jump.

"Too easy, y/n..." You spun on your heels and came face to face with Cillian, praying your foundation covered your burning cheeks. Game face on, you slapped his arm playfully. The tickle and slap had been your 'thing' all the way through Peaky Blinders.

"Mr Murphy, how the devil are you?" He embraced you warmly, greeting you the same way on old friend would - had he moved on?

"I'm excited to be here with everyone again, can't wait to see Tash's dress!" You smiled breaking away from him, hoping he couldn't feel your heart practically exploding through your dress.

"She'll look beautiful I'm sure." You held eye contact for a little longer than you should have, before the lift door pinged. Inside were Finn and Joe Cole, obviously having caught the lift from a higher floor. It suddenly dawned on you that your room was on the same floor as Cillian's... Stop it y/n...

"Hey!!! Peaky Reunion in full swing now!" Your onscreen brother and cousin pulled you both in for hugs as Cillian pressed the button for the ground floor.

Entering the large foyer, the beauty of the hotel where the reception was being held was breathtaking. The wedding flowers, lilies and roses, lined the corridors, leading the way to the large reception hall at the bottom of the corridor. Entering the room, you found the other cast members on a table together in the corner, and saw 4 empty seats around the table. Approaching the table plan in the corner, you groaned inwardly to see Natasha had placed you and Cillian right next to each other.

"Should be a fun evening, y/n.. what you drinking?" Cillian nudged you with a wink. Why was he so damn hard to read??

"Gin and lemonade please," you smirked, and he made his way to the bar with Joe. Finn joined you at the table, smirking at you.

"That flame still burning there y/n?" He nudged you as you took your seats. Finn one side of you, Cillian the other.

Conversation flowed around the table easily, the group of you catching up on the last six months. Most of you having taken a break from any kind of work for a while out of choice.

"I hear your love life is improving there Cillian!" Joe laughed, playfully punching the top of Cillian's arm. He didn't respond, just smiled shyly and rolled his eyes. Your heart dropped, he HAD moved on then..

He caught your eye and went to speak to you, before the music kicked in and the DJ announced the arrival of Natasha and her husband into the room. You all stood, cheering and clapping as the beautiful bride and her dashing husband entered, grinning like Cheshire Cats. The conversation with Cillian would have to wait...

The end of the night drew close and you were stood at the bar with a tipsy Natasha talking about her father's embarrassing yet beautiful speech, when the music suddenly turned down a notch. You were so happy for her, she looked absolutely radiant.. but the feelings in your heart were almost painful. You'd avoided Cillian all night, much to his dismay. He'd tried talking to you but you were determined to keep your distance. He was clearly taken, and you wouldn't dream of getting in the way of that. You couldn't help but notice him watching you from a distance throughout the night though, and you regularly scanned the room to check he was still around somewhere. Occasionally your eyes met, and you looked away quickly every time.

Natasha's wedding song played again through the speakers for the second time, the DJ inviting all the couples in the room up to the dance floor. Natasha kissed you cheek and hugged you, before heading off to find her new husband.

You felt those familiar hands on your waist, but they didn't tickle like normal, they gently turned you round in a 180 degree turn.

"Stop avoiding me." Those blue eyes pierced into yours.

"Very sure of yourself there, aren't you?"

"Every time I've got within 2 feet of you, you've moved away. I've tried to talk to you and you suddenly need the toilet.. or a cigarette.. or just plain walked away. Forgive me for thinking you were keeping a deliberate distance from me y/n." He looked serious, a side you rarely saw in him. He almost looked hurt.

"Listen, Cill.. you're clearly with someone okay? And I'm.. I'm just.. it's okay.. It really is. I -" His lips suddenly fell onto yours, silencing you, taking you completely by surprise. Now that, you weren't prepared for. You suddenly no longer cared about anyone else in the room, you lost yourself in his embrace, your kiss quickly becoming heated as your tongues met.

"What are you doing..." You breathed, pulling away.

"I'm not seeing anyone y/n, I never was. That girl is my publicist - yes we dated but we were 16.. she's married now, to my best friend ironically.. I'm single."

"Well you've just kissed me in a room full of people.."

"I know.. and I'll deal with that later, but right now I really don't care. I've been wanting to do that ever since that night."

"Why didn't you call me?" His hands were caressing your arms lightly as he chuckled to himself.

"I chickened out." You stifled a laugh.

"Me too... I didn't want to be the first to text!"

"Thank god Tash got married eh? How long you reckon we'd have gone on without talking for?"

"Oh come on, did you think you two sitting together at the table was a coincidence?" Joe appeared suddenly behind you at the bar. You both turned to look at him. "You two have been like lovestruck teenagers since Peaky finished - frankly we were sick of hearing about it!" You were stunned.. nobody knew? Did they?

"We all bloody knew." Joe was a mind-reader now, apparently. Cillian's hand found yours, and led you to the dance floor. You followed, positively glowing now, as he pulled you close to him, gently swaying with you to the music.

"Which room are you staying in?" He whispered in your ear, a hand running up your spine.

"Yours..." Your hands ran up the length of his arms, over his shoulders. The navy blue suit bringing out the blue in his eyes perfectly as he pulled you close for another kiss.

"What do you say we head there now.." that voice would be the death of you, as it whispered in your ear again. You could feel his arousal through his trousers as you nodded, kissing him again. He took off his suit jacket and held it over his crotch as you both made your way quickly to the lift, luckily no one stopping you.

Your bodies met in the elevator again, your body being pushed against the wall as he lifted you up to wrap your legs round his waist. His core grinding into yours. Your fingers tugging his hair as he kissed a trail down your neck.

"Need to stop or I swear I'm gonna fuck you in this lift y/n.." you shuddered at the deepness of his voice, when the door to the elevator opened and he carried you to his hotel room. Opening the door, your legs still wrapped around him, he carried you to the large dresser by the window and sat you on it, hitching your dress up and over your waist, pulling your underwear down your long, slender legs.

"I never got to taste you last time..." You groaned from the pulsing feeling in your core as he parted your legs and kissed a trail up your thighs. Meeting your core, his tongue traced over your clit painfully slowly as your back arched.

"Oh god... Yes.." working a slow rhythm at first, he added more pressure as you started to rock against his mouth, needing more and needing it now. "Feels so good..."

"You taste perfect y/n..." His assault continued with fervour, he soon had your back arched as you came against his tongue. Coming down from your high he got back to his feet as you breathed heavily into another kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

"I want you.. now Cillian..." The primal desire in his eyes was almost too much as you unbuckled his belt and trousers, letting them fall to the floor. Cupping his erection through his Calvin Kleins you felt him shudder slightly and gasp, standing you up to lift your dress over your head and unclasp your bra. His shirt was quickly removed as you pushed him backwards to fall onto the bed. Hooking your fingers in the waist band of his boxers shorts, you pulled them down allowing his hard cock to spring free. Giving it a gentle lick from the base to the tip, you sank your mouth down over it causing him to grip your hair and moan primally, never taking his eyes off you.

"Fuck.. your mouth feels good... Mm..." Your mouth was dancing over his shaft, a hand cupping his balls as you played with them.

Feeling his balls start to tighten, you lifted your mouth off him, bringing your body up the bed to meet his. His blue eyes were now almost black - you needed him inside you.. reading your mind he flipped you onto your front, opening your legs and lining himself up.

"Still on that coil thing?" He looked at you. You nodded, and he pushed into you slowly. You gasped at the invasion, he filled you up even better than he did before. Watching his eyes scrunch shut as he bottomed out, you smiled. He was perfect in every way, shape and form.. and after tonight's very public display, was he yours?

"I've wanted this for months... In fact I've wanted YOU for years..." You panted, lifting your hips to meet his gentle thrusts.

"You have me.. all of me.. you always have.." he thrusted between each sentence, sending shockwaves through you. He wasn't fucking you, he was making love to you.

He lifted you up, your legs wrapped round his waist as you moved together. Your lips met his as he ran his fingers smoothly down your spine, your arms wrapped over his shoulders as his thrusts met your hips perfectly. Your nails ran along his sculpted back, as he planted soft kisses over your collarbone. You had never felt anything like it - your bodies slotted together like jigsaw pieces, but you needed more. Turning your bodies, you pushed him onto his back and sank back onto his cock.

Rocking back and forth, building a steady rhythm you felt his hands roaming over your breasts causing you to ride a little harder.

"You're perfect, y/n, you know that? Absolutely perfect..." His eyes and hands were all over you. Pulling your waist up and down, he took over, lifting you slightly so he could thrust upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside easily. You brought a hand down to rub your clit as he began to pound harder into you from below, your orgasm drawing closer and closer.

"I'm gonna... Oh god Cillian I'm gonna cum..."

"Let me feel you... Let it happen baby I've got you..." You exploded over him, the most powerful orgasm you'd ever had. You felt your juices coat him, as your hand stopped rubbing his quickly took over, making you scream as he continued the pressure on your clit and your insides. You froze as you suddenly felt yourself lose complete control of your body, gushing over his chest as he made your pussy squirt hard over his chest and stomach.

He watched you, mesmerised as you cried his name, chest heaving from the force of your orgasm. Breathing heavily, trying to control himself and not end this too soon, he paused his thrusts as you came down from your high.

"Fuck... Jesus.. that's never happened before I'm sorry!" You gasped, coming back down to earth.

"Don't ever be sorry for that - I'm doing that to you every single time from now on.. fuck that felt incredible..." He growled and turned you over to lie on your back. He re-entered you, slipping in easily, and moved inside you again. You reached behind you to grab the bedframe.

"Give me everything... Everything you have..." He was like a wild animal, his hips pounding into you again. He was panting in your ear, sending you into heaven and back as you wrapped your legs round his waist, pulling him deep.

"Good girl... That's it... I'm gonna -" he lost the ability to speak as he came hard, deep inside you, his body collapsing on top of yours. You ran your nails over his shoulders, feeling his breathing calm.

You lay tangled together for a while, just enjoying the feel of each others skin, listening to each other breathe, placing soft, gentle kisses on each other. He pulled out slowly, and lay next to you.

The silence wasn't awkward, but you had to break it.. you had to know..

"Cill?"

"Hmm.." his eyes were closed, but he lifted an arm for you to move into. You didn't, you stayed where you were. He opened his eyes and looked at you. "What's wrong?"

"What is this? What are we doing? I mean, I'm not expecting anything.. I just.. listen.. don't be mad.. but I've thought about that night every single day and I don't think I can carry on doing this if you don't actually want me, okay?"

"I kissed you in a room FULL of people y/n, what does that tell you?"

"I don't -"

"I want you, okay? Not just as a fuck, but all of you. You and me - what do you say?" Your eyes gazed into his. Everything you'd ever wanted was waiting in them. You settled into his arms and allowed yourself to drift off in his arms. The safest, and most comfortable you'd ever felt.

*************************************************

More cameras flashing, more screams.. another premiere. This time for your latest movie - you'd been cast as the lead role in Danny Boyle's latest blockbuster and you were leading the rest of the cast on the red carpet. Your dress showing off your curves perfectly.

You stood in line with your castmates smiling, when a pair of ocean blue eyes caught your attention off to the left. You couldn't help but grin when he winked at you, you could feel how proud he was of you. You heard the event manager call for individual photos, and you stayed on the red carpet smiling for the cameras.

"Can we get one of you and Cillian, y/n?" One of the photographers asked, and the others all shouted in agreement. You shook your head, knowing how much he hated these events, and PDAs even more, but you were cut off by the man himself approaching you smiling.

"Why not, eh?" We wrapped his arms round your waist and stood happily having his photo taken. He was just too proud not to, he wanted the world to know.. taking your hand in his, he led it to your belly, suddenly the fans in the background went wild screaming, the photographers suddenly noticing the roundness of your stomach and catching onto the exclusive news.

You felt a warmth running through you - it truly didn't get better than this, as you gazed into your fiance's eyes and stole a kiss.

#cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x smut

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nincompoopydoo · 4 years ago

Text

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— HYMN OF THE LOVESICK ; PART 5 / ?

( gif from this beautiful gifset by @knightwayne )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Alfred definitely knows something about Bruce that you’re not willing to think about and Bruce has an epiphany that changes the way he sees you.

A/N: Guess who forgot which day pbr is usually posted? This idiot here. God, I’m sorry and this chapter can be boring. Next chapter will have a lot more going on, I promise. Also, this might end in the next chapter or two. Enjoy, folks.

WARNINGS: Kinda dramatic because I’m dramatic.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Driving through the Wayne estate gives you a sense of much-needed peace. The never-ending tunnel with walls of identical colossal pine trees as you faintly hum to Aretha Franklin over the low whirring of the running engine. It’s a quarter to noon, and the sun doesn’t seem to shine in the city of Gotham—clouds of grey constantly shield its optimum shine, only to ever allow rays to seep through the gaps in the moving Autumn wind. You don’t mind it and you never did, growing up in the city left clouds unnoticed to you unless it signified the arrival of a thunderstorm. Weather and nature are the least of your concerns but you would appreciate it now and then.

The tunnel of trees comes to an end as a clearing of extensive fields emerges into view. What is left of the Wayne Manor still stands with ostentation, despite its skeleton along with its dignity rotting away to be eventually consumed by mother nature herself. There’s a sense of eeriness to it; you find it odd how a building could seem so alive at times, like it's watching you, despite its apparent decay.

You turn your head away and focus on the road.

A glance at your hand on the wheel, you’re reminded of last night, when his hands held yours—it burns at the mere thought of his gentle touch. And the drive home, silent with the occasional glances and small smiles. You recall how the passing streetlights cascade hues of orange on his wearied expression and how his eyes were bright when they flit to your figure in the passenger seat for just a moment. Something must have changed between the two of you, but you can’t quite tell what. Maybe it’s your undying love for Bruce. Maybe he feels the same way. You snort to yourself, alone in your car, one can only dream but it doesn’t mean they all come true. Bruce may love but he doesn’t commit. You can’t commit too. Now, you’re starting to believe you’ve been lying to yourself.

The glasshouse comes into view as you steer around the bending road and into the driveway. It contradicts everything the manor was but only shared its sense of glory. You like the glasshouse, less deafening and structured with the purpose of bareness and vulnerability but its dark furnishings keep it grounded and secure. Its sense of balance tricks your mind into thinking you’re stable. His car is still around, parked by the porch but you don’t see him, ambling around the household.

Switching off the ignition, you snatch the paper bag from the passenger seat and clamber out of the car. Darker clouds begin rolling from afar, your hair flying in the strong wind. A storm is coming, you’re sure of it. One of the rare times it rains during the season. You dread the thought of having to drive back into the city and across Westward Bridge. Driving over bridges built over the water in the rain scares the heck out of you.

As you swing the car door to a close, you hear the shuffling of feet amongst leaves behind you. Alfred, with a barrel of chopped wood—stocking up for the winter. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes albeit startled by your sudden presence. He mentions your name with endearment; you greet him with a small smile. You always liked Alfred. You enjoyed his company.

“What a pleasant surprise seeing you here,” he says, pushing the barrel aside as he nears you. “I’m afraid you just missed Bruce. He left for Metropolis an hour ago—duty calls.”

You nod, ignoring the clench in your heart. He hadn’t told you anything but frankly, you weren’t expecting him to anyway.

“Well, I just came by to drop off this,” You lift the paper bag, swaying it a little within your grasp. “As a thank you gift, you know.” Alfred smiles at this, gestures towards the house in a beckoning manner. “Come on in, I’ll make you some tea.” Before you could even protest, he’s gently guiding you to the door by the shoulder. It’s hard to say no to Alfred, especially when he offers tea.

Your mind wonders as you watch the drizzle of rain form ripples in the lake. You sit on a chair with a contemporary structure to it; it digs into your lower back, due to your bad posture. Uncomfortable but nice-looking and great armrests. Contradicts everything a chair should be. Alfred emerges from the kitchen with a black ceramic mug in hand, steam from the brewed tea lingering above it. He holds an identical mug, for himself. With two hands, you clasp onto the mug with acceptance, a radiant appreciative smile upon your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” Alfred shoots you a look of disdain, “I’ve told you many times, Alfred is fine.” Taking a sip, you shake your head, a smile still lingering. “No way. I have too much respect for you to call you by your first name.” Alfred mirrors you, settling for the chair to your right, swiftly sliding the scatter of papers to the corner of the table. You find it easy to fall into a natural conversation with the older man—the two of you are mutuals after all of a certain billionaire. Yet, Alfred is more of a father figure, having practically raised Bruce and you, well, it’s complicated. It always is. You don’t know where you stand in his life, and you're not sure if you want to know.

“Anyway, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” It’s true. The usual sight of the butler sauntering around the glasshouse or somewhere in the Wayne Estate was absent during the last two weeks. Alfred is always around, his disappearance was glaring, impossible to go unnoticed.

He shifts in his seat, placing his mug on the table, teaspoon moving with a soft clang. “I was visiting family back in England. I appreciate that you have noticed my absence,” An eyebrow raises, your laugh comes out more like a huff. “Always, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Family. Mother. Dinner—you remember the dinner with your mother on Sunday night, and you’re the host. The host hasn't decided on the menu for tomorrow’s meal. Oh God, it’s tomorrow. Procrastination is your friend but your family’s expectations for you aren't. If you pop enough wine bottles, maybe she'll be too drunk to be disappointed by the end of the night.

And the wedding. The mere thought makes you sick. You don’t want to bring a date, but you don’t want to be alone. Weddings, love, couples—it makes you tick. It’s a glaring reminder of how your love life is an absolute disaster and your inability to maintain relationships. It’s hopeless, you’ll die a spinster and everyone lives happily ever after.

“Are you alright?”

It’s funny how those three words have been the most frequent words you would hear from those around you. You appreciate the concern, really, but you can’t help but feel there’s a stronger and deeper meaning to those words. It’s a question of assurance, a reality check, and a realization that you might be broken. Everyone is broken—in their own ways.

Although you seem reserved to some people, your tendency to open up about your issues to those close to you contradicts that though you instantly regret it. Especially when people tell you to change. You hate change. It’s terrifying.

You pause, suddenly feeling...fidgety. Yet, in the words of Bruce: In Alfred, you trust.

Remember, keep it light. You don’t want to haul all this luggage of yours onto an aging man. He’s already got Bruce’s luggage.

“My cousin’s getting married in two weeks and,” you sigh, he listens intently. “And as pathetic as this sounds, I really don’t want to go to it alone.”

Your words are direct, straightforward and you sound like a whiny teenager or the main character in a Wattpad story but truth be told, there’s an underlying meaning to it and you know, Alfred knows it. You just don’t want to admit it.

He takes a beat, assessing your sentence like he’s a therapist, wanting to select his words carefully. “Well, I don’t think you’re pathetic. It’s...understandable,” he flashes you a pointed look and you find yourself straightening your back. “Why don’t you ask Bruce?”

Your brain must have short-circuited at that moment.

Oh, hell no. Not in a million years.

You’re shaking your head, laughing nervously. “No, no. No. Never. I couldn’t possibly ask him to do that. He’s already done so much for me—”

“You’ve done a lot for him too.”

A pause, words stuck in your throat. You just look at Alfred through confused eyes. You’re not sure what that means. He’s staring at you with a knowing look. You sigh, shaking your head in denial once more. “No, that’s...that’s not true.”

It’s almost infuriating how stubborn you can be sometimes that it’s even irritating yourself. You’re staring at your fingers, playing with the tag attached to the teabag by a thread. As far as you’re concerned, Bruce is...the greatest friend you’ve ever had. Through thick and thin, he’s been there for you. He’s always there. It’s partly the reason why you have fallen for him in the first place. Hard. He’s easy to love when he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s rare but it’s beautiful. You almost feel ashamed to be allowed to see him in that light.

“Bruce will do just about anything for you,” Alfred says calmly as he watches you avoid eye contact. “And I know, you’ll do the same for him.” You throw your eyes at the older man as he cops you a look. Your heart is beating so fast, so thunderous, you hear it in your ears. He’s right and you know it. That accidental kiss to your forehead on the night you asked him to come for the play comes back to mind in a flash. It feels like a mark on your forehead, it feels like it’s burning.

“Would you like a scone with that?” He’s pointing to your tea and with that, he’s off to the kitchen once more, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s late—a quarter to four in the morning. He spends most of his nights in the Batcave, hidden away from all the sounds and tumult of the world, shrouded in the darkness as the light of the computer screen cascades on his tired eyes. He ambles through the glasshouse, weary feet against hardwood floors, body begging to lay on grey sheets though he dreads a vacant bed.

He strains his eyes peering into the gloom when he perceives a paper bag, sitting idly on the table by the window. Nearing it, there’s a yellow post-it note stuck onto the bag and under the gentle light from the moon that reflects against the lake, he can make out words written on it.

It’s from you.

Thanks for coming to the play. I would have bought you something else, but I’m really broke. Sorry. I owe you one.

A drawn heart follows it. It’s tiny. His chest feels warm.

He should have recognized the paper bag because inside, there are four bagels. Four Asiago bagels. He laughs, it comes out more like a puff of hot air, feeling the warmth that resides in his chest spreading throughout his body.

Then, it hits him like a bullet to the heart. The impact is strong, powerful. Your impact on him is strong, powerful. There’s no mystery to his feelings for you but at this moment, he’s completely certain. For the first time in life.

He loves you.

Bruce staggers into the chair, hand carding back the strands of his hair. He can’t keep doing this to you. Whatever the hell is going on. Your friendship, the...stupid agreement. He wants none of it because it feels like he’s constantly going around in circles.

But what do you really want, Bruce?

TAGLIST

@raineeace

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #alfred pennyworth #justice league

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dangermousie · 4 years ago

Text

2020 End of Year Post - cdrama edition

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2020; if I had to make a post about all the cdramas I watched this year, I would still be doing it in three months...

Overall it’s been a fairly decent cdrama year (certainly better than the very lacklustre kdrama year.) It’s no miracle that 2019 was (so many excellent dramas!) but overall pretty solid.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

44 The Legend of Jing Yan - the worst cdrama I have seen this year, and possibly the worst drama of 2020, period. The hero and heroine were both uncharismatic, incapable of acting and saddled with such shrilly moronic characters, the only suspense was how they haven’t both perished long since from forgetting to breathe. Nor was anyone in the rest of the cast much better; the screenplay was written by a lower mammal and the cinematography was the best a third-rate wedding cinematographer could offer. Stay the HELL away from this one.

43 Unicorn Girl - the only unicorn about this bland yet irritating piece of pap was the fact that I was supposed to believe the leads are hockey players.

42 Autumn Cicada - I like spy stories, Allen Ren, and Republican Era settings. I can tune out Communist propaganda with the best of them. Yet, the propaganda ate the story to such a degree that there was nothing left; pre magic change Pinocchio was less wooden then this narrative.

41 You Complete Me - no you do not.

40 Skate into Love - the only positive thing I can say about this is that at least it’s better than Unicorn Girl, if for no other reason that only one of them is supposed to be a hockey player.

39 Irreplaceable Love - how do you make a story about fake siblings with a mad mother falling for each other boring? I don’t know, ask the makers of this.

38 Eternal Love Rain - I hate to rain on their parade, but these two actors cannot act, have about as much chemistry as a piece of bread, and are trapped in a story perfect for entertaining the mental abilities of the leads of Jin Yan.

37 For Married Doctoress - ummmm, you could do worse I guess. It only made me break out in mild hives. The sadistic ending did make me laugh though.

36 Dance of the Sky Empire - why you get Xu Kai and waste him in this insipid mess of a story is beyond me.

35 Love Designer - it’s inoffensive except to my sense of entertainment. There is nothing wrong with it but oh God is it bland.

34 Love a Lifetime - It felt like a lifetime watching this, but I didn’t love it. The story is incoherent, the actors have no chemistry and it’s all an epic waste of time.

33 Love is Sweet - so sweet it gave me diabetes. I like Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu, but there is literally no plot. I don’t need to sink into a plotless morass to watch pretty people engage in PG-rated make-outs. I am an adult with access to stronger stuff if I am thus inclined, though to be fair they could get x-rated and I still wouldn’t be able to sit through so many episodes of plotlessness for that.

32 Fake Princess - I love Zhao Yi Qin, but the guy needs to pick better projects. The female lead in this one has the voice and personality that can strip paint but the story is also doing nobody any favors.

31 The Changan Youth - I lost my brain checking this out. I had to go and read a dense treatise on medieval coinage or Mayan farming to try to recover it.

30 My Dear Destiny - kinda cheesy fun. It honestly shouldn’t be as low except it really feels like community theater.

29 Handsome Siblings - why is the Nic Tse version so good and this one so bad? True mystery for the ages. Chen Zhe Yuan is the sole reason this isn’t lower, because that kid tries SO HARD to make this drama bearable and almost succeeds. I can’t wait to see him in Sha Po Lang which actually will give him something to do.

28 In a Class of Her Own - see my comment on The Changan Youth. But at least Song Weilong is gorgeous to look at.

27 General’s Lady - inoffensive, pretty and so utterly pointless.

26 The Blooms at Ruyi Pavilion - those two leading actors are a no go to me but at least they considerately acted with each other instead of ruining two dramas for me. It’s very pretty though.

25 Jiu Liu Overlord - it’s a mess and I bailed, but I placed it this high merely due to the fact that Lai Yi finally gets a leading role and he’s sexy as fuck and I am shallow. Whoever styled Bai Lu should never work again except at a circus, however.

24 Cross Fire - not my genre and Luhan will always look too much like my cousin for comfort, but it’s a surprisingly gripping and dark drama. I liked it!

23 God of Lost Fantasy - if you want to watch a mediocre wuxia/xianxia, this is not a bad choice. Probably better than Legend of Fei actually, because at least it doesn’t have an A-list cast to waste and gives us Sheng Yilun himbo and shirtless.

22 Renascence - the insane cuts (it went from 70 eps to 36!!!) made a fairly cheesy story into a total mess. But I had a good time until I finally bailed mainly because of the male lead (Chen Zhe Yuan yet again carrying a not-good 2020 drama on his shoulders; the guy should be nicknamed Atlas) and the insane but in a fun way story. The female lead (both the character and the actress) were not up to par but oh well.

21 Legend of Fei - only this high because objectively there is nothing I disliked it. But there is nothing I liked either. The most uninspired drama on the list. If you could eat cardboard, this is what it would taste like.

20 Ever Night 2 - compared to EN1, it’s a waste of film. On its own merits, it’s not very good (the cast replacements are uniformly inferior and Dylan Wang is so wrong for Ning Que I cannot even put it into words; the script is useless.) But it had some parts I loved so very VERY much (all the shippy stuff was perfection) so I don’t feel too bitter.

19 Castle in the Sky 2 - a lovely if not too complex fairy tale. It is inferior to its prequel because it doesn’t have Zhang Ruo Yun who elevated it, but it’s still a solid bit of fun.

18 The Great Ruler - it’s very high fantasy, very pretty, and surprisingly involving.

17 (tie) Legend of Two Sisters in the Chaos - the secondary couple steals the show but the rest is not too bad if not too involving.

17 Legend of Awakening - a solid bit of fun with a seriously BDSM streak (theme this year apparently - but come on, the lead’s powers only activate when he’s in extreme pain!) It’s a bit generic and the costuming is done by a blind person, not to mention the OTP is a NOTP, but the rest of relationships (romantic and platonic) are wonderful (I live for the found siblings story in this one) and I like most of the characters.

16 Consummation - a rare modern cdrama I liked; a sweet coming of age story (and love story) even if wrapped in a pretty weird virtual reality concept.

15 Oops the King is in Love - this is how you do a low budget, sweet, silly piece of fluff. Our heroine pretends to be a eunuch and crosses paths with a powerless young king and they are adorable, even more so than the drama.

14 Song of Glory - pretty solid, though draggy and I didn’t love the toothpaste filter. But A+ cast, excellent leading couple chemistry, Li Qin being a BAMF and a leading man (Qin Hao) who is actually an adult.

13 And the Winner is love - objectively kind of a mess (and the heroine has the brainpower of a gnat), but the OTP chemistry is excellent and Luo Yunxi fighting and flirting with a fan as finally a leading man is worth the price of admission.

12 Miss S - snazzy and snappy and stylish and whatever else starts with S.

11 Eternal Love of Dream - I don’t know if it would work for you as well if you weren’t a hardcore shipper for this OTP in Three Lives but I was and this was such a darling, wonderful, shippy delight; plus I love this type of high fantasy.

10 (tie) Maiden Holmes - solid and sweet and a wonderful OTP. Proves that functional doesn’t have to mean boring. If you watch one cross-dressing drama this year make it this one.

10 Qin Dynasty Epic - srs bsns history epic. I am not far into it but it’s so good and smart and visually stunning (if you love battles, this one is for you.)

9 Love Lasts Two Minds - I adored this so much more than I should objectively have, but it’s so beautiful (and no I am not just referring to Alan Yu’s face) and the OTP has wonderful chemistry and the story is solid, and the whole trope of her memory being wiped but falling for him all over again while he’s constantly and utterly devoted is a fave; plus he’s in pain and semi-dyng for most of it so sluuuurp (happy ending, don’t worry)

8 To Love - yes, a modern drama is this high! But it involves intensity, tragedy, genuine adults and sexiness that is Lin Gengxin. And there is an actual plot and darkness OMG!

7 Legend of Xiao Chuo - so beautiful, so fun, so full of gorgeousness of Shawn Dou. Plus, Liao is a rare setting for a cdrama and there are a lot of characters and stories I liked a LOT. Less ship content than I wanted but more than I expected.

6 The Romance of Tiger and Rose - so so delightful. I was literally laughing out loud. I have no idea if it will work as well if one isn’t a seasoned watcher of period cdrama/reader of web novels, with bonus for watching/reading Goodbye My Princess, but it was a complete delight for me (and yes, I shipped for real, as well. Best of both worlds.)

5 Twisted Fate of Love - Jin Han gets a leading period drama role! And he’s enjoying it to the hilt, excellent as a smart, twisty bastard who is also charming and so madly in love with heroine. Sun Yi is beautiful and tough and her chemistry with JH is on fire, the story never drags, and it’s so twisty and fun and just awesome.

4 Love In Between - the most underrated drama on this list. It has no big names or big budget, but it’s wuxia that’s clever, driven, tragic, hopeful and so beautifully shot. Three separate (amazing) OTPs, a leading man who is so not typical (a doctor who cannot fight and who never acquires this ability) and who is intense and smart and damaged, a heroine who puts her quest ahead of her emotions, an unhealthy degree of involvement by yours truly. This is a drama Fei should have been.

3 Love and Redemption - such a lovely, addictive, utterly romantic fairy tale. I was obsessed with it for a reason. All the tropes you love and some you didn’t know you did, a star-crossed OTP to the nth power (and a secondary OTP I hardcore love), a twisty yet coherent plot, some insane chemistry and so much whump and hurt/comfort they must have bought blood packets in bulk.

2 Go Ahead - yes, I can’t believe it either. A contemporary slice of life cdrama made it this high on my list. But the way it feels so real, the found family perfection, the characters I love and loathe, the perfect cherry of a wonderful OTP that hits my narrative kinks on top, and just a perfect storm of loveliness all around with this one.

1 The Wolf - is that any surprise to anyone who’s checked out this tumblr for the last couple of months? Tragic, intense and gorgeous; so romantic and angsty and passionate it made me lose my mind (though some of it was gone the moment the camera panned to Darren Wang) - all my favorite tropes and then some; this is a drama that may not be perfect but it is 100% and then beyond perfect for ME.

FAVORITE DRAMA

The Wolf - I have seen objectively better cdramas; even this year. But it has been literal years since I have been this hardcore obsessed, this utterly pleased, this emotionally catered to and devastated at once. A beautiful dark fairy tale that manages to own me despite the storytelling gaps due to censorship, it took me for one of the biggest emotional roller coaster rides of my drama watching career. Visually gorgeous, poetic, intense, and so romantic it took my breath away, this is not just my favorite cdrama of 2020, it’s my favorite drama this year period, and the one cdrama this year to make it into my permanent Top 10 cdramas list.

WORST DRAMA

Legend of Jin Yan - see my write up for it for why as I refuse to waste more time on this stupid mess.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Wolfie, The Wolf - he is such a haunted, tormented, complex, dark mess; loving and violent, severely damaged and with a hidden yearning softness, longing and aloof. And the amount of charisma and sheer masculine sex appeal Darren Wang brings to the role is insane and not something I see much of in a cdrama. Plus, that character arc with its rapid fall and slow painful redemption is A++++

Runner Up: Sifeng, Love and Redemption - has a male lead ever loved more utterly and selflessly, suffered more thoroughly and beautifully, and managed to have such chemistry with both his leading lady and his leading man (that his leading lady temporarily turned into) at once? The answer is no.

Almost made the cut - Feng Xi, Twisted Fate of Love, Han Shuo, The Romance of Tiger and Rose, Qing Ci, Love in Between.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Xiao Qian, The Romance of Tiger and Rose - so funny, so much the reason this drama was such a delight. I adore her beyond words.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Murder Daddy, The Wolf - I am sad the censors robbed us of seeing him die on screen. He was fully human but nonetheless managed to be the worst monster in a drama full of literal ones.

Ling Xiao’s Mom, Go Ahead - I hate her so much I don’t want to look up her name. She abused the kid, the disappeared and came back to abuse him some more. I mean she literally gave her child mental health issues. She is the WORST.

FAVORITE SHIP

Xing’er x Wolfie, The Wolf - are you kidding me? Who else could it ever be for me? They destroyed each other and saved each other, sworn enemies and childhood lovers, soulmates and epic messes, they couldn’t live with or without each other. The longing, the passion, the intensity, the angst, the epicness. LIKE THERE ARE NO WORDS!!!!

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Si Yuan, Shen Manqing, Love in Between - I loved them as much and often more than the main OTP. So much angst and passion and a happy ending! She is a seeming sect darling (except the sect is horrible and also sexist so her only worth is as a marriage candidate) and he’s an information broker who is actually one of the members of a destroyed sect that’s blamed for the massacre of her family. That chemistry and yearning is insane. The scene where she touches his face when he’s unconscious was in serious running for my favorite scene of 2020.

NOTP

Legend of Awakening - I have never seen a couple that didn’t just have no chemistry but exhibited actual revulsion towards each other before watching Chen Feiyu and Cheng Xiao try to act as lovers in this one. It was almost entertaining to be honest.

FAVORITE SCENE

It’s a tie and both are from The Wolf. One is a sequence where Wolfie marches to the walls alone, seeking death at Xing’er’s hands and the whole sequence with the battle and rescue follows. The other is the intercut between Xing’er going to her wedding and Wolfie going to his execution, and the auto-da-fe being intercut with her wedding.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Wolfie, The Wolf - Ummm have you seen this tumblr lately, it’s basically a drool shrine to the man.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Yelü Yansage, The Legend of Xiao Chuo - I have loved this actor since The Myth and he continued to competently steal every scene he was in.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

To Love - come out of the coma, dammit!!!!!!!

NEEDS A DIRECTOR’S CUT

The Wolf - duh. It started out as 59 eps and got cut to 49. I reaiize some stuff is never gonna get put in due to censorship, but some of the stuff that got cut got for time reasons because they were deluded and hoping to get a TV broadcast so ep count had to be under 50. I mean I doubt the censors would care if they kept scenes of Wolfie building her a swing or whatever. I really really want a director’s cut the way Goodbye My Princess did even if like with GMP it’s only three extra eps. Hell, I will take extra three minutes, as long as those three minutes are Darren Wang shirtless or with a sword. Ahem.

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

The Song of Glory - it’s a fairly solid drama but honestly it didn’t need to be as long as it was and kind of got draggy and I got lost interest. (I could have gotten snarky and said all the dramas I didn’t like needed scissors taken to them in their entirety but decided to play nice.)

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

There are a number of dramas I could complain about with regard to this (hi there, darling The Wolf!) but this award goes to Renascence - poor Renascence was never going to be a masterpiece, but it had the potential to be a bit of good cheesy fun until it had its run time cut by more than half and became an incoherent piece of insanity.

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Dumb shrill innocent heroine who can’t tie her shoes - see basically all the cdramas I didn’t like this year.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Male lead torture - I mean it’s always open season on that in cdramas, but between Love and Redemption, The Wolf, Love Lasts Two Minds, Love in Between and so on, it was a banner year!

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Legend of Fei - what a waste of that cast; what a waste of our finite time on this Earth. What a waste of my intelligence to hope for something better and stick with it for a dozen eps. I have had stale wonderbread that had more personality than this drama.There is absolutely nothing that stands out about this drama in any way, from half-dimensional characters, to actors who are sleepwalking, to a plot that moves at the speed of an arthritic snail, to uninspired cinematography and direction, to lack of any chemistry between anyone in the cast. If paint-by-numbers was done by a group of particularly linear robots, it might come across the same way as this drama.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

The Wolf - honestly, I did not expect it to come out AT ALL EVER let alone to become my favorite drama of 2020. I was not familiar with the leading man (hahah), I liked Li Qin but wasn’t yet obsessed with her, and Xiao Zhan was excellent in The Untamed but I was hardly going to follow him from drama to drama (and I don’t do SLS any way.) And the trailer was enjoyable but unlike seemingly everyone, I didn’t think it was going to be some epic masterpiece. And then it came out and while it wasn’t objectively an epic masterpiece, it pulled out all the favorite tropes, shippy and narrative kinks from the deepest darkest recesses of my id. And I fell harder than I have in years.

2020 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

None. Covid Year gave me PLENTY of time

BEST NON-2020 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2020

Novoland Eagle Flag and Joy of Life - they are in my Top 10 dramas from anywhere now. They are quite different except being smart and giving me protagonists to obsess over.

ETA: Also The Untamed because @idlewilds3 pointed out I actually watched it in 2020 even though I didn’t think so because this hellyear has lasted about three decades.

MOST ANTICIPATED IN 2021

I am gonna limit it to dozen and leaving out ones that aren’t necesarily supposed to air next year (Joy of Life 2, Love in Flames of War, Novoland Princess from Plateau.)

Monarch Industry, Novoland Pearl Eclipse, Silk Washing Stream, Dream of Changan, Sword Snow Stride, Wu Xing Shi Jia, Ancient Love Poetry, Immortality, The Long Ballad, Mirror Twin Cities, The Imperial Age, Fall In Love

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fickleminder · 4 years ago

Text

the years start coming and they don’t stop coming

In which Lilith’s return distorts her brothers’ perception of time.

Part 2 here

You’ve never seen the demon prince look so embarrassed.

“I can call for —”

“No, it’s okay. They deserve this.”

But you don’t, goes unspoken. You can see the pity in his eyes, feel the palpable disappointment in the air. Even Simeon and Luke make sure to hug you extra tight before stepping through the portal to the Celestial Realm, and Solomon promises to check up on you after you’ve returned home.

Thanking Lord Diavolo and Barbatos for their hospitality, you turn towards the final demon in the council room and put on the biggest grin your breaking heart can muster. “Hey, c’mere.”

Satan doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around you. It’s almost like he’s trying to make up for his brothers’ absence, the way he crushes you to his chest and cradles the back of your head.

You can’t find it in yourself to blame them. As far as miracles go, this is a pretty big one. Lilith coming back to life is an unprecedented event, one not even Barbatos had seen coming. Nobody has any answers either. She’s definitely not a demon, not an angel, not human; just an immortal who knocked on the front door of the House of Lamentation three days ago.

Her brothers haven’t left her alone since. You’re happy for them, you really are, but a bitter part of you can’t help but wish her return had waited until after the exchange program ended. At least Lucifer had the courtesy to pull you aside and thank you on his family’s behalf (though you’re quite certain you had nothing to do with your ancestor’s sudden revival), in addition to making a pact with you as a token of his gratitude.

With that, you could have summoned all of them to send you off just as effectively as Lord Diavolo giving the order, but it won’t be the same and you know it. Your only saving grace is Satan, the one brother who’d kept his head and anchored you in the sea of loneliness you’d been set adrift in over the last few days.

“I’m gonna miss you, cat boy.”

“I miss you already,” Satan laughs softly, pulling back with a warm smile. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise.”

You squeeze his arms affectionately and glance past his shoulders at the closed doors. There’s the smallest shred of hope in you that thinks the others will come bursting through any moment now, scrambling for one final chance to see you. You give yourself five seconds, silently counting down to a pipe dream, before pressing a kiss to Satan’s cheek and releasing him.

“It might not seem like it now, but the Devildom will always be here for you,” Lord Diavolo says as the world around you fades to white. “Farewell.”

“Did you lose track of time at the library again? You missed dinner last night LOL.”

“Levi, be nice!”

Satan only hums quietly in response. He can’t be bothered to correct the assumption; it’s a convenient excuse for when his brothers actually notice he’s missing anyway.

The irony of Levi calling him out isn’t lost on him. While the otaku is still obsessed with his games and shows, he’s no longer as shut-in as he used to be, venturing outside the comforts of his sanctuary more often. Satan has passed by the common room on many occasions to find him and Lilith gaming or binging anime together, and the content expression on Levi’s face proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the void from his Henry’s departure has long been filled.

“Oh, but speaking of,” Lilith sets her cutlery down and smiles shyly at the fourth-born, “I haven’t had the chance to explore the libraries here yet. If it’s not too much trouble, can you show me around and recommend a few books?”

Shrugging non-committedly, Satan continues with his meal, not once looking her in the eye.

You’ve always wondered how someone with the Avatar of Lust for a brother can have such terrible fashion sense. It should be impossible to go wrong with dressing for a funeral, but you guess life (along with a certain eyesore of a tie) just loves to disappoint you. Still, you’re too glad to have Satan with you right now to care.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime.”

You lean into the demon’s side as he holds an umbrella over both of you. Your eyes are drawn to the flowers he’d placed on your mother’s grave, the only splash of color against the dull tombstone. For the longest time, all you can process is the pitter-patter of the afternoon rain on the plastic wrap of the bouquet, and the comforting weight of Satan’s arm across your shoulders.

“She was in a lot of pain,” you admit after a while, your voice slightly hoarse. “The doctors had to sedate her. She went in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Satan fidgets awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. He’s no stranger to death, but the loss of someone dear is unfamiliar to him. “Perhaps Simeon can find out if —”

“No, no it’s fine. I just — I need to —”

The umbrella is forgotten as Satan catches you, lowering you gently to the ground when your knees give way. You cling to him desperately, and it’s all he can do to draw you close as you start to wail.

Satan barely makes it three steps into the house before getting pounced on.

“How was it? Where did you go? Ooh you lucky demon, I want to hear all the details!”

“Oi, oi! What are you babbling on about?”

“Don’t act coy with me! Lilith saw you at the florist’s yesterday with the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers!”

“Yesterday? But —”

“How come you never told me someone caught your eye? I would have dolled you up, lent you some of my clothes —” Asmo gasps dramatically. “You didn’t wear that horrid jacket to your date, did you?”

Wrestling a hand free, Satan musses his younger brother’s hair. “None of your business,” he growls, walking away with a smirk when Asmo immediately releases him to fix his appearance. “Who do you take me for, anyway?”

“Aww come on, just give me a hint! Do I know them? Is it someone from RAD? Ooh, did you meet them at the library or —”

Ducking into the safety of his room, Satan shuts the door in Asmo’s face.

“Thank fuck. Who picked your outfit this time?”

“Barbatos. And shut up.”

You grab Satan’s arm with a laugh and lead him towards your table, politely introducing him as ‘Stan from work’ to any relatives who ask about the handsome young man accompanying you. Satan’s usual mask is in place, but there’s no mistaking the gleam of wonder in his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.

“Finally,” you sigh, sinking into your seat and grinning sheepishly at the blond. “Sorry about them. It’s just that they’ve never seen me with anyone, so they’re really curious about you.”

“Well, I’m glad you invited me along. I’ve never been to a wedding before.” The romantic in Satan is openly basking in the ambience of the reception. “You mentioned that your niece had gotten married?”

“Technically my first cousin once removed, but yeah.”

“And you’ve not been seeing anyone?”

“You would have been the first to know if I have,” you tease, nudging him playfully. “Apparently a lot of people are put off by the way I dress. Too modest, they say.”

But not without good reason. The pact marks on your body may be slightly faded from disuse, but they’re still discernable if stared at hard enough: Lucifer’s at the back of your neck; Mammon’s over your heart; Levi’s curled around your right calf; Satan’s circling your left arm; Asmo’s dangerously close to tramp stamp territory; Beel’s just under your navel; and Belphie’s on your ribs at the side you like to sleep on.

Passing them off as tattoos without attracting the wrong kind of attention is a little tricky, so you’d rather take a page from Solomon’s book and cover them up. Being called a prude is easier than dealing with cultists.

(It also helps you to keep your mind off of them, because some wounds continue to hurt even after they heal, so there’s that.)

Sensing the drop in your mood, Satan clears his throat to get your attention. It’s only then that you realize there’s music playing in the background, and couples moving from their tables to the floor.

Your companion stands up and offers you his hand, this time with a genuine smile on his face. “May I have this dance?”

Lucifer’s tone books no room for argument. “This will be a family event, so I expect your attendance. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little escapades over the past few months.”

“Tch.”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Whatever. I’ll be there.”

Satan has to resist the urge to hurl his hardcover at the back of Lucifer’s head when he takes his leave. That’s no way to treat a book, after all.

Beel’s Fangol team has an upcoming match and it’ll be Lilith’s first time watching him play. She’s been hyped up for weeks, so it comes as no surprise that Lucifer would use the opportunity to turn it into a family outing. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

Gone is the stuffy first-born who can spend days in his office if left unchecked. Lucifer is still as strict as ever, still fulfills his duties to Lord Diavolo diligently, but it’s like he’s managed to master balancing work and play overnight. He makes more time for his siblings now, even if it’s to dole out punishments for their endless shenanigans, punishments that vary in severity depending on how cutely Lilith pleads on their behalf.

Lucifer has always doted on her, and she has him wrapped around her little finger. Belphie has even gone as far as corrupting her into pranking him, and she need only bat her eyelashes to get off scot-free.

Lilith was the catalyst for the Fall, her descendent the glue that brought her siblings back together, and her return the final piece in making their family whole again.

But you were family too, Satan thinks sourly, pulling out his D.D.D. to mark the date in his calendar.

When you invite Satan over to your apartment for tea, he never expected to be introduced to your new housemate: a handsome fellow with chestnut brown hair, sharp jade eyes, a runner’s body, and the softest-looking toe beans he has ever seen in his immortal life.

“Satan, meet Satan!” You hold out the tabby towards him with a shit-eating grin.

Both demon and cat blink owlishly at each other. The blond doesn’t know whether to feel endeared by the feline sharing his name or insulted that you would replace him so easily, but all it takes is a single bop on the nose with a curious paw for him to melt.

Satan the tabby, who normally prefers to scale your shelves and nap between your books, spends the entire day a purring puddle in Satan the demon’s arms, shamelessly relishing in pets and massages to the extent that at some point, you have a very real fear they might just end up absconding back to the Devildom together. Thankfully, some kibble and freshly baked treats help you separate the two for a while, at least long enough for you to get some decent conversation in.

You brew a pot of Earl Grey with the beautifully crafted tea set Barbatos gifted you when you had first moved in, and serve the scones you made earlier in the morning using the baking tools blessed by Luke during your housewarming. You don’t know if the little angel had actually imbued them with Celestial magic, but everything you cook somehow always lifts your spirits when consumed.

Satan has to catch himself in the middle of regaling you with Mammon’s latest half-baked scheme. The wistful look on your face is new; you’re usually eager to hear what his brothers have been up to, but something feels off today. He pours you more tea, slides another scone onto your plate, and waits.

“…Are they happy?” You ask after a while.

The demon knows better than to lie, even if it’s to spare you from the truth he suspects you’re already aware of. “Yes,” he admits grudgingly.

“I’m glad.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

Lilith stands outside his room, holding a tray of tea and cakes.

“Hey, um, may I come in?” Her smile is both hopeful and uncertain. It’s a gamble, ambushing the fourth-born when he obviously has no interest in her. At best, he’ll make up an excuse to turn her away or just ignore her completely; at worst, well… she doesn’t really want to think about that. To her visible relief, he opens the door wider and steps aside.

Satan clears a space for her to set the tray down. There’s the briefest moment of hesitation before he drags your favorite armchair over and offers her a seat as well. He looks guarded but not openly hostile, a promising sign so far.

“You’ve been in and out of the house lately, so I haven’t had the chance to catch you. I thought we might sit down and talk,” Lilith says, pouring two cups of the hot beverage as she chooses her next words carefully. “The others told me about how you were born, but I understand that you are your own person. I’d like to get to know that person.”

A part of Satan is acutely aware of their one-sided relationship; he is familiar with her through Lucifer, but she has never met him. It makes sense for her to be curious about him, though Satan isn’t so sure he wants to return the favor. She reminds him too much of you in the way she prepares her tea, how she sits on your chair, her shy lopsided smile —

But she’s not you, and you’re not her, Satan has to remind himself lest he commits the same mistake his brothers nearly did after your lineage had been revealed. Now in a convoluted turn of events, it’s you who’s gone and Lilith here, and there’s no reason why he can’t give her a chance and treat her like the sister she could be to him.

It’s what you would have wanted.

Lilith tries not to let her shoulders slump too much when Satan quietly stands up and heads towards his door. She’s prepared to pack up and leave until she spots him grabbing several books from a nearby shelf.

“Have you ever read Mid-Fall Murders?” He asks, handing her a hardcover with a shy smile of his own.

“What’s it like?”

Satan’s grip on your hand tightens. “I don’t actually know,” he confesses, shuffling closer so that your shoulder and arm are pressed against his. It’s a strange sight, the two of you lying side by side on your bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.”

You’ve never heard a single word hold so much promise, but you have no reason to doubt the demon’s sincerity. Satan wouldn’t take pity on you just because you’re —

A light knock on the door, and in pokes Simeon’s head. “Ah, little lamb! I’m glad we made it in time.”

“Not so little anymore, Simeon.” You laugh softly, greeting Luke and Solomon as they trail in behind him. Satan brushes his lips over your forehead before getting up to receive your guests.

The day is as ordinary as it can be. You talk and catch up with your friends, trading stories and laughter over cups of tea that neither grow cold nor go empty. When the session turns into a mini book club gathering halfway through, Luke helpfully retrieves the debated titles from the massive shelf in the living room. He takes a while to find them; you’ve accumulated plenty of works over the years: recommendations by Satan, literature published under Simeon’s pseudonym, and handwritten tomes from Solomon to keep you in touch with your magic. The shelf is practically jam-packed with books, the only exception being a corner on the topmost tier, housing a little space that’s empty save for a worn green collar with a rusted bell.

Come sundown the five of you are still neck-deep in discussion, but as with all good things, the get together eventually reaches an end.

“Thanks everyone, it’s been fun,” you say, reclining back in your bed as Satan wordlessly cleans up. You squeeze his hand when he returns to your side and bid the others goodbye. “Hopefully I’ll see you guys soon?”

“About that…” Solomon clears his throat, wearing the smug look that usually accompanies a trick being pulled out of his sleeve, but this time it’s tinged more with excitement than mischief. “Simeon has a little present for you first.”

The guileless smile on the angel’s face betrays nothing as he steps forward and reaches into a small pouch at his hip. “Solomon, Diavolo and I have a theory. Now, keep in mind that this is all very experimental, but if it works, you’ll have more options to choose from, should you so wish.”

And then he brings out a ring.

“Are you, uh, are you okay?”

“Not in the mood, Mammon.”

“Oi, I’m trying to be nice here! Who do you think covered for your sorry ass when you came back past curfew the other day, huh?”

“What the hell do you want?”

“You may think you’re all stealthy and shit, but your eyes were pretty red that night. I thought you were at a book club meeting. Did something happen?”

“None of your business.”

“Argh, fine then! This is the last time I try to be a good big brother.”

“…Mammon?”

“?”

“...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, what are you — you can’t just say that and then run off! Get back here!”

“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

Lilith’s countdown echoes along the deserted hallway, prompting Beel to nudge the deadweight on his back. “Belphie, go get your own hiding place.”

“Mmngh… zzz…”

“Come on, or she’ll win this round with a two for one. Again.”

“…Just dump me somewhere she won’t find me then.”

A tall order, especially since Lilith can easily track them down by listening out for Beel’s stomach and/or Belphie’s snores. Still, the sixth-born lumbers through the house as quietly as he can, doing a one-eighty whenever he hears Lilith’s cheerful hums coming from the opposite direction. Technically they can avoid being caught if they keep moving, but that would be cheating. They hid in the attic previously so that’s a no go, their room’s too obvious, the kitchen too tempting, the common room too exposed…

Maybe Levi’s room? The otaku had sound-proofed his walls to avoid distractions from the outside world when he’s gaming, so it’s an ideal location to hide. He can stash Belphie in the bathtub and run interference until time’s up.

Backtracking, Beel breaks into a light jog towards the other wing, keeping his ears open for their seeker. It’s only because of his heightened senses that he’s able to pick up the faintest traces of magic on one of the walls, causing him to pause in his steps.

“Hmm? Why’d you stop?” Slightly more awake now, Belphie rubs his eyes and slides off his twin, who’s studying the blank space intently. “What’s wrong, Beel?”

“There’s something here, something…”

“It’s just a wall —”

“No, don’t you feel it? I know you weren’t around then, but it’s the same glamor as that time Luke went missing and we —”

Beel goes white. He whispers a name, a name not spoken in the house for years, and a door flickers into view. One hand grabs Belphie’s in a death grip as the other twists the knob and pushes the door open, revealing an old yet familiar room.

The place is devoid of life. Most of the furniture are covered by sheets, resting under thick layers of dust. In the middle sits a tree, sagging with age and soft with rot. Sunken footprints mark the demons’ furtive venture into decrepit memory, and the creaking of floorboards with every step only tethers the growing nightmare closer to reality.

A photo frame crashes to the ground.

They deserve this.

Satan feels it the moment the spell concealing your room was broken. It had been his way of protecting your memory, ensuring that your sanctuary would only be accessible to those who made the effort to remember you. He cast it about a year after you had left the Devildom, after he realized that leaving your door in plain sight wasn’t doing you any favors.

Hidden away in an alcove at the back of the garden, curled up with a blanket and a thermos of hot tea, Satan slides a bookmark between the pages of his latest novel and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Even this far away from the house, he can hear the cacophony of screams and shouts, objects being flung and shattered into pieces, a muted bang suggesting that a wall has just collapsed. The fallout comes as no surprise; waking up after living the past hundred years or so in a daze will do that to a person – or in this case, demons.

Although the sounds of fighting call to the rage bubbling within him, the vindictive thoughts of his brothers getting their just desserts cool it to a simmer. He knows he’ll have to face them eventually, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

“Meow?”

Emerald eyes blink open. There’s a faint rustle from the nearby bushes as a tiny Calico wanders out of the foliage, peering around the garden curiously. Upon spotting the blond demon, it perks up and makes a beeline for him.

“Hm? You’re not Callie. Are you new here, little one?” His mood considerably improved, Satan extends a hand towards the kitten. It skips the finger sniffing step and goes straight to headbutting his palm, begging for attention.

“You’re an affectionate one, aren’t you?” Satan caves immediately and scritches away with a delighted chuckle. He examines the markings on its tri-colored fur, wanting to recognize the friendly feline if it comes back in the future. The Calico is mostly white with patches of brown and black splashed over the back of its neck, near the base of its tail, just under the side of its ribs, and several other spots that seem to collectively resemble a familiar pattern…

Satan’s hand stills. He whispers your name, trembling with hope, and the kitten practically leaps into his arms, nuzzling his chin with a happy purr.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lilith #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me replaced mc au

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savoies · 4 years ago

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i don't know you yet - anthony beauvillier.

summary: soulmates. they exist right? y/n and tito live their daily lives doing activities thinking if the right person will ever come.

word count: 2k.

warnings: maybe a few bad words. hopefully angst.

a/n: i think this might be my first "angst" so please let me know what you think. i am so proud of this work and honestly probably one of my bests. loosely inspired by idk yet by alexander 23. thank you so much to @puckbuddies for all the help, love ya!

taglist + tagging a few folks: @quintnsbyfield @vincecdunn @bigboigritty @ana-maa @puckshitbitch @alxvlasic @stfukie @laurenairay @damn-dunner-29 @kaitieskidmore1 @thelionkingpw @aria253264 @hartsyhart @boesxr @mitch-slap @frostythegoalman @teenagekook @barzysthighs

tagging some lovely folks: @laurenairay @konecny-s @bestestbenn @vinceduhn @folkloreflyers .

(*credit to gif owner.*)

Many people imagine their dream person or think of the person they want to date or marry from a young age. Y/N remembered going to sleepovers and her friends talking about how they wanted a boyfriend with blue eyes and blonde hair or brown hair and brown eyes. But when Y/N's turn came around she always said the same thing "I don't care what they look like as long as they are the right person for me." And that's when the game would end. Because twelve year olds could not fathom that everyone had their person and at some point they'd meet and everything would work out. Her mindset was set as growing up her mom would always tell her the same story. When I met your dad I just knew she'd say.

Tito had dated his fair share of girls. Blonde, brown haired, a red head, and a spontaneous colored haired girl here and there. But none caught his attention. Not that they weren't pretty or anything but Tito was not really one to date and dump. He liked forming connections and really getting to know them. But being a hockey player was not really quite helpful. They'd be invited to a party here and there and of course Mat begged Tito to go with him because he needed a wingman and Tito could not really say no to his best friend.

~~~~

Y/N had believed she had met her special person her second year into college. A tall lanky boy with brown hair. They had both met in the library when they reached for the same book. Might seem cheesy but she took it as a hint. After "considently" bumping into eachother in the library many more times he had asked her out. Most of their dates were pretty basic just like her. Maybe that's why she enjoyed them so much. Two years. Two years is how long she dated him for. But sadly people fall out of love. She had heard about that happening only in movies. Never really thinking that it could happen to her. But then she heard some of the worst words anyone could ever hear. "I don't love you anymore."

Her heart was sad. Her first real relationship. Who she believed was the one. But she understood. This wasn't her fairytale. But she was broken. Her still being in love. Thoughts invading her mind. What did she do wrong? What could she have done better? So after that it took her time to open up again, to bring those walls down to handsome looking strangers. She wasn't one just to date for fun. So she rarely did bring them down. Sometimes she'd sit in her dark room late at night letting her thoughts consume her. How maybe she'd never find the one, how she was unlovable, how she had way too high of expectations to believe there was someone for everyone.

~~~~~

Every Monday morning Y/N would go to the same coffee shop and get the same order, a medium coffee with sugar and cream. To her it was a nice way to start the week. She had been doing it since she moved to Brooklyn in 2016.

Tito had been begging Mat to go with him to this coffee shop in Brooklyn that apparently had great coffee. Tito was what you could call a food and drinks connoisseur. Having cooked many times for his teammates and best friend.

" Come on Mat, Grace and Anders said it the best they've had and they've lived here much longer than us. Plus you owe me for getting you that girls number last week, don't forget to call her." Tito wasn't one to get acquainted with Mat's hookups but he did feel bad when the next morning Mat was kicking them out before sunrise.

Mat finally agreed and here they were on a Monday morning way too early for Mat's liking for a straight black coffee that was "rich in flavor" according to Tito. It was quite busy for it being Monday but they patiently waited in line.

Y/N gathered her stuff and exited the crowded coffee shop, careful not to bump into anyone and headed her way to work.

After waiting for about fifteen minutes they ordered two medium coffees and headed out to the busy New York streets.

She had walked about ten minutes away from the coffee shop before she realized that she forgot her phone. Y/N checked her watch and noticed that if she was gonna make it on time she had only five minutes to retrieve her phone. So she quickly but carefully dogged through people as she made her way back to the coffee shop.

Tito and Mat were casually walking back to the car having parked it a few blocks down when they saw someone running their way. Tito wasn't paying much attention due to savoring his cup of coffee which to him was totally worth the twenty minute drive and six dollars.

"Dude she's hot." Mat turned around and checked out the girl that somewhat seemed like she was running away from something instead of for something.

"Mat that's gross. You literally didn't even see her face and are labelling her hot just by seeing her ass, I understand why you need a wingman now."

"Hey!" Mat slapped his best friend's shoulder as Tito drank his coffee trying to stifle a laugh (which he failed) since Mathew knew it was true.

~~~

Y/N had heard it many times from her friends, family, and probably even a few strangers. It was time to get a date. She wasn't desperate to really get anywhere. She was a 22 year old living in one of the most populated states in the country. She has time right? Deep down she knew that if she didn't get out there her person would probably not come by themselves. Which brings her to present day staring at her phone screen at 1am. Earlier in the day Y/N's friend texted her that she knew someone who deemed specific qualities the young romantic wanted.

~~~

Y/N met Grace in the coffee shop. She had come in a little bit later due to having the day off and sleeping in. Grace and Ruby sat in one of the corners of the small spaced coffee shop and Y/N sat next to them trying to stay in her own space but finding it quite difficult when there was a cute baby trying to get her attention a few feet away. After Grace apologizing for invading her space and Y/N saying it was really no problem they continued to meet in the coffee shop every once in a while. And a friendship blossomed later having exchanged numbers.

Grace was great. She listened to Y/N's tall tales of soulmates and love and she even told her about how she found her love (which she referred to as anders, y/n never having met him before) and how they had a beautiful baby girl together. She knew Y/N wanted someone who was sweet and kind and liked forming deeper connections so when she had an encounter with Tito she knew she should text her.

~~~

It was a late Friday night and the boys were celebrating a win in a rowdy club somewhere in downtown Brooklyn. The single guys trying to get the attention of some girls by buying them drinks. Grace had been standing at the bar with some of the other girls when she saw that Tito sat alone at the booth that occupied their stuff.

"Seems like our stuff doesn't really need a bodyguard, why aren't you out there buying a girl a drink or dancing?" She spoke somewhat loudly due to the pounding music and shouting of people.

"Not really my thing." He smiled softly back at his captain's wife. Tito was not fond of clubs or bars. He felt as though it was way too loud to actually have a proper conversation with someone. That's when it clicked. Of all the times the team had gone out not once had Tito really smiled or joked around with a girl. Grace connected the dots and decided to text Y/N in the morning.

~~~

A simple message was displayed across Y/N's screen. Simply reading "hey i know dates aren't your thing but i know someone who i think you might like."

After sleeping on it for quite a few more hours than she needed to, she decided to bite the bullet and text Grace back. "Why the hell not."

Not even two minutes later Y/N's phone dinged indicating a response. "Perfect, I'll let him know."

There she sat on her bed over thinking if this was really a good idea.

Tito was way over his head. Grace had texted him that she knew of a girl who was quite exactly Tito's type. At least she loosely stated it that way. He had agreed only on the condition that Mat was having a girl over later tonight and he wanted to be as far away from that as possible since they did have pretty thin walls. So exactly five hours later here he stood outside the infamous coffee shop which held the secret ingredient to the best coffee he had. Grace didn't tell him much other than her hair color which was quite difficult to find in New York since every once in a while a sea of same colored haired girls would come by. He waited outside deeming it more on the gentlemenier side. Whatever that meant. Ten minutes later wrapping his coat on tighter and checking his watch for what seemed to be the five time. Maybe she stood him up. I mean he didn't have too many redeeming qualities. I mean hell he lived in New York and didn't like clubs, parties, and sometimes hated big crowds which were what seemed to be a big part of where he lived. Rocking on the back of his heels he decided to wait a bit longer thinking that hopefully she was just running late.

~~~

Indeed she had been running quite late. Her cousin had pleaded her to take care of her baby because she had some errands to run. She didn't mind at all since she did in fact love babies. But when four thirty rolled around and still no sign of her cousin she began to worry. She didn't have this mystery dudes number (which Grace referred to him as Anthony) so she couldn't really text him that she was gonna be a bit late. She really hoped he would wait because all throughout the day her excitement grew more and more. Finally five rolled around and Y/N quickly handed off the baby and changed into something more date worthy rushing out the door in the cold breeze of the afternoon. She rushed to the coffee shop and as she arrived she could see a tall stranger looking down at the ground presumably freezing since it was pretty cold. She dodged a few people hoping that this was indeed her date.

"Hi uhm are you Anthony." She spoke up and she stood awkwardly pulling the sleeves of her sweaters. "Gosh please be Anthony or im just gonna look like an idiot." She whispered.

Tito turned around at a soft voice and was faced with one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. Her baby hairs were sticking out and her nose and cheeks were red from the cold, she seemed to be somewhat out of breath.

Y/N looked up and caught sight of some of the most memorizing eyes she had ever seen. This handsome stranger who she presumed as Anthony had amazing features.

Tito cleared his throat and reached out his hand. "Hi uhm yeah im Anthony but you can call me Tito, or at least that's what my friends call me." He began to ramble.

"Nice to meet you im y/n." They shook hands and a soft electric shock was felt between the two. They both glanced up and she knew it was too soon to tell since she had just met him but she felt an extra special connection with him.

#ari speaks #hockey boys #hockey #tito beauvillier #i don't know you yet anthony beauvillier #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier x reader #new york isles #new york islanders #ny isles #nhl fics #hockey fics #hockey fic #nhl fic #ok i know i make out mat to be kind lf a douche oop #ahh im so happy how this turned out #please let me know what you think #im so happy to show you guys

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inky-duchess · 4 years ago

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21 History Ancedotes for my 21st Birthday

So today I celebrate my 21st birthday and I have decided to gift you all with 21 of my favourite historical Ancedotes. Some are funny, some are sad and some are plain bizarre but I hope the make your day 💜

Mary Maloney, an Irish-born suffragette in England followed Winston Churchill around while he was campaigning for a seat in Parliament, drowning out everything he said with a very large bell and calls for him to apologise for his comments on women's rights and suffrage movements.

Clodius Pulcher was a well born Roman noble during the last day's of the Republic. He gave up his Patrician status to become Tribune of the Plebs (an office in which one had to be a Pleb) by being adopted by a much younger Plebian man who became his "father". Clodius was a bit of a riot, sneaking into religious festivals dressed like a woman to sleep with Caesar's wife, building a shrine to Liberty in the ruins of the Conservative Cicero, vetoed the last speech of one of the Consuls (who basically did nothing all year and was apparently going to roast Caesar) and burned down the Senate House with his funeral pyre (the Plebs who loved him literally tearing up the furniture to build his pyre). He was honestly the best fun.

When laying on her deathbed, Queen Caroline of Ansbach turned to her husband George II of England and told him he should marry again. George refused to ever wed again... But added he would have mistresses. Caroline said , likely with a roll of her eyes, "oh my god that doesn't matter."

Florence was a pretty cool city in the Renaissance until Savanorola came to town. He disliked the loose living artists that crowded the city, with their naked pagan gods and rampant homosexuality. He expelled them all with help of the French hoping to make Florence Holy Again. When the Borgia Pope excommunicated him and sentenced him to death, one man in the crowd was reported to have said. "thank God, niw we can return to sodomy." One Floretine man in the 1490s said Gay Rights.

So this list couldn't be complete without an entry of the only American politician I love, Alexander Hamilton who was just a walking entity of sass. I could go on about his sharp sarcasm or his disaster bi vibes with John Lauren's but my all time favourite Alexander Hamilton ancedote has to be this exchange with Thomas Jefferson "There are approximately 1010300 words in the English language, but I could never string enough words together to properly explain how much I want to hit you with a chair."

Caterina Sforza was an Italian noble woman during the Renaissance. She was apart of the powerful Sforza family, which drew many enemies to her. One fateful day at Forli, Caterina's children were snatched as hostages. The besiegers threatened to kill her children if she did not cede the castle. Caterina refused, lifting her skirts and shouted to the besiegers that she had the means to make more children.

Hannibal Lecter's creator Thomas Harris was happy to end his great character's story with the original trilogy. However his publishers forced him to write an unneeded prequel explaining why Hannibal became Hannibal. Thomas Harris agreed lest he lose the rights to his character so he wrote Hannibal Rising, where Hannibal as a young man hunts down the Nazis who ate his sister with a katana.

Nell Gwyn is my favourite mistress of Charles II, mainly because of her sass. Once while trapped in the middle of a riot where Londoners swamped her carriage thinking she was Charles's Catholic mistress. She popped her head out the carriage and told the people "Pray good people be civil. I am the Protestant whore." She also dosed her rival Moll Davis with laxatives in order to free up some of Charles's time and she once flashed her underwear at the French ambassador after asking him why the Franch King did not pay her to spy on Charles because she was with him every night. A true Queen.

Emperor Ai of the Han Dynasty of China once rose from his bed to go do some ruling when he realised his lover, Dong Xian was sleeping on his sleeve. Rather than disturb his lover, the Emperor cut his sleeve off at the wrist to leave Dong Xian nap. Nothing has ever been more romantic than that. Y'all could never.

Princess Margaret the sister of current Queen Elizabeth II was a socialable Princess and often tasked to visit the up and coming music stars of the day on behalf of the Crown. When meeting the Beatles one evening, she noticed George Harrison was acting a little odd. When she asked what was the matter, he replied "We arent allowed eat until you go." Princess Margaret laughed and promptly left so the Beatles could get some dinner.

During the Siege of Jadotsville, Irish soldiers under the flag of the UN were attacked and besieged by local insurgents allied with the Katanga Regime. The insurgents numbered thousands while the Irish only had 158 soldiers, all who were lightly armed. They radioed to their allies assuring them that "we will hold out until our last bullet is spent. Could use some whiskey though".

Napoleon was famous for writing raunchy letters to his wife, the Empress Josephine while he was away. She used to reply with really mundane letters or not at all. She really just could not be bothered with him.

Josip Broz Tito was so fed up with Joseph Stalin sending assassins to kill him, he wrote to Stalin personally to say "If you don't stop sending assassins to kill me. I will send one to Moscow and I won't have to send another." It didn't work but Big Dick Energy.

Successful Roman soldiers returning from war often got to march along in parades known as Triumphs. During this, it was customary for them to sing bawdy songs about their commander. One surviving one about Caesar goes like this "Romans, lock up your wives. Here comes the bald adulterous whore. We pissed away your gold in Gaul and come to borrow more."

Matilda, Lady of the English was a woman so badass that history cannot handle her. She was the daughter of Henry I who left his throne to her after the death of her brother. She was away in France when her father died and her throne was snatched by her cousin Stephen. They battled back and forth for years with neither side ceding any ground. Matilda was once besieged in a castle during a snow storm, with Stephen's men all around her. Instead of fighting her way out. She simply donned a white cloak and walked out of the castle. Just walked out without any of Stephen's men seeing her.

Pedro of Portugal once fell in love with a beautiful lady in waiting called Inez de Castro. For years, they lived as man and mistress, popping out a few kinds. Pedro's dad really did not like Inez and wanted Pedro to find a legitimate wife so he had her killed. Pedro returned home to find the mother of his children dead. Pedro went a little crazy. He had all his father's assassins killed, ripping out their hearts as they had done to him. When Pedro ascended the throne, he demanded the Pope legitimize his children by Inez. The Pope not wanting to upset the King, said he couldn't because Inez was never crowned Queen. Pedro dug Inez up and crowned her as Queen, having all the nobility swear loyalty to her corpse. The Pope had no choice but to agree to his request.

A famously clever general once saved an entire city with an ingenious stragety to sit outside the city waiting for the attacking army to come. The attack had come to fast for the city to ready themselves for a Siege so, the general had to move quickly. He evacuated the city and took his place waiting for the army to come. The enemy forces stopped and took one look at him and bolted, thinking he meant to lure them in one of his famous traps.

Michaelangelo was really badly treated by the Vatican when he was painting the Sistine Chapel. He constantly fought with the Popes over the design and his work, which he was paid peanuts for. Michaelangelo got his revenge in his work, painting the gates of Hell behind the Papal Throne and an angel flipping the ol' fig (the Renaissance version of the bird) toward the Pope's chair.

Peter the Great was not a perfect guy. He kept serfdom as a practise in his kingdom, he had his son tortured to death and he could be an unpleasant guy. But Peter was a dreamer. He wanted nothing more to build a fleet for Russia and bring Russia beyond its borders. Peter took a gap year from ruling Russia to wander around Europe. When he stopped in England, he was granted Leicester House to chill in while he did his shipwright studies. It was here that Peter found a new passion. The wheelbarrow. Cue Peter and his new found English buddies drinking in Leicester House, punching the artwork and rolling each other around in barrels across the house's Great gardens.

Diogenes is hands down a walking shit post. He was a great thinker in Greece during the reign of Alexander but a rather dry, sarcastic wit. He lived in a pithos/a jar because he shunned all vanities and values of society. He trolled other philosophers, attending their debates to heckle them and eat loud foods through them. When Alexander the Great came to fan boy over him, saying that if he were not Alexander he would like to be Diogenes to which Diogenes just said "yeah me too, now get out of my sunlight."

Cosimo de Medici was the son of a Floretine banker with a great knowledge and love of art. Cosimo wished for Florence to release its potentially and join the Renaissance. He hired Filippo Brunelleschi to finsh the Great Dome of Santa Maria del Fiore which had láin unfinished for over a century, a symbol of a failure of ambition. The builders had lost the knowledge of creating a dome so large so it remained unfinished. Despite much opposition from the other nobility and denouncers of the Renaissance, Cosimo's dream of the completion of the dome was completed, making it the largest brick dome in creation at that time. There is nothing like achieving your dreams and certainly nothing like leaving a lasting reminder that screams 'I was right and you were wrong' to stand for centuries.

#Instead of doing shots I decided to give you all a gift #History is our greatest gift #And it's filled with dick jokes and idiots #Anyway happy birthday to me #Go forth and enjoy this great gift #history dump #History Ancedotes #History bites: kinda?

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thevividgreenmoss · 4 years ago

Text

My grandfather was awake and lucid for a longish while between late Friday night and Saturday morning apparently first time since this past Sunday when we all thought that was It and crammed ourselves seven people in one sedan that got a flat on the way over of course (as we were leaving the handle of the screen door came off in my hand as I was closing it behind me so the vibe was very on the nose things farcically falling apart that whole goddamn day lol) but then when we made it he was smiling and laughing and talking to and teasing everyone that was there, albeit with much more effort than it would have taken him even just a week earlier when he was already in a really frail state because of his hip surgery. My sister happened to be up later than she usually ever is and got to video call and chat with him for a bit I wanted terribly for my cousin in Colorado to be able to also but by the time he could get through my grandpa's blood pressure had suddenly spiked or something and he'd drifted back into that borderline unconscious state so they didn't get a chance to talk which makes me want to claw my fucking skin off of my face but who knows maybe another opportunity will present itself hopefully it does like he suddenly became really talkative and energized the other day after not having said more than maybe a couple sentences over the few previous days like I was there with him for several hours on Thursday and the entire time he didn't say a word and only opened his eyes once for like half a second and even that I might have been imagining after sitting there sleep-deprived and holding his hand trying not to cry because then my mom would start crying and then my aunt and on and on and if he's conscious at that point he'll start to get worried and his heart rate will destabilize but after that for this one stretch without anyone expecting it he was really talkative and alert and joking around with the nurses and doctors and all that for a while but then later yesterday afternoon he started to get disoriented and drift in and out of the present in between dreaming and waking again at one point apparently he kept saying 'look at my shoes' to my mom and her sisters and they thought it was just just the medication/pain-induced delirium talking but he kept insisting and eventually said 'you're not taking me seriously' and I guess gave up? Or said it a few more times I'm not clear on the course of events I only heard all this secondhand when my younger aunt, who also got diagnosed with cancer late last year but thankfully is more or less in the clear now, got back home last night and she and I went into his room and took all the shoes out of the cabinet he keeps them in and like looked inside and turned over and examined the soles of every pair, took the cushion insert things out of the ones that had them, checked for scooby doo-esque hidden doors, all that but there was nothing there just shoes. Her kids flew back out yesterday morning, the older one's tentatively returning to Toronto in the next week or so she had a painfully rough time in some ways her first couple of years and then abruptly had to be uprooted and leave because of covid then everything with her mom and in time honored eldest daughter tradition bearing the brunt of the familial frustration and insanity associated with that and now everything with our grandpa I really really want her senior year to go smoothly and be enjoyable and memorable in a manner opposite to how this past year+ has been I'm so worried about her and her little sister's starting freshman year there in the fall and I'm terribly worried about her in a whole different way like she's still really attached to her parents in this innocent way that still strongly resembles like a baby's adoring my mom hung the moon type attachment and it can be especially hard being away for the first time ever when that's the case...like she's hyper hypersensitive even by my family's standards lmao but she does have this sort of self-possession and inner groundedness that no one can quite pin down but it's

definitely there and maybe that

could carry her through I really hope so...they were saying to come up to visit them in the fall hopefully I can find a job soon after returning to Texas and like be able to afford to do that and also like keep paying the bills and shit lol in either case I hope so so badly that they'll be okay like I think they will be the women in my family are all really strong but they've also had to be because of various fucked circumstances and I don't want that to keep having to be the case...my grandpa's a Strong Woman in a certain way also honestly lmao like my mom's aunts have always been like your father raised you in a way beyond even most mothers which like who fucking receives let alone genuinely deserves that kind of praise from their in-laws lmao let alone a man from a notoriously patriarchal culture of a generation when fathers from any culture barely had any involvement in their children's upbringing at all which I mean most still don't but even more so back then and like literally everyone we've been hearing from or seeing drop by at the hospital has a story of how at one point or another my grandpa was there for them when no one else was like distant cousins variously removed and loose family friends all with something about how he comforted me when no one else could, I remember word for word what he said to me when I suffered some loss of my own, he's the strongest man in our family, the best times we ever had were when he was near us, when he'd take us out, his youngest brother's children saying he cared for and spoiled them as if their were his own after their dad died suddenly when they were just kids, my mom's third cousin whose own father was with her till a late age saying that he was even more of a father to me than my own father, his other brother's son who was ostracized for decades by his immediate family on some straight up racist ass bullshit on the part of his mom and older brother because he married a black woman but my grandpa stayed in touch and made sure my mom and uncle did as well and made sure we all got together when he'd came to the states, like even now lying there on what very well might be his literal deathbed when he can barely talk he was telling my uncle he's worried about him and he needs to go home and rest, asking who's taking care of the house, are the kids all okay even at this point his thoughts are for others. After I put his shoes back in the cabinet I closed it and opened the one beside just in case I guess just in case what I don't know but it was just like standard cabinet stuff clothes a shaving kit and a couple of what I assume are photo albums that I didn't feel like I should open for some reason and a few old books, a collection of Ghalib's which I can't really read very easily if at all because it's in Urdu lol, a history of government college of Lahore where his father was teaching at the time of his death and the two philosophy textbooks my great grandfather had written himself, Inductive & Deductive Reasoning, and inside the latter I found a handful of yellowed pages torn out of an old notebook upon which mostly seem to be translations of french poems and I think maybe a song or two? I guess old coursework or just for funsies I'm not sure whether written by my grandfather or his own father. My khala was mentioning just the other day that she'd kept one of my grandpa's old notebooks marked as having been designated for biology but inside it were no actual notes just urdu poetry which she wasn't sure whether it was his own original tossed off work or something the lifelong frustrated creative transcribed while bored in class. The night I got here I was looking through his bookshelves after everyone had gone to bed and then a couple of weeks ago I was sitting in the living room by myself watching archer when my cousin came and sat down next to me upset and unable to sleep on her own first night here and I held her and tried not to cry and then went through the same bookshelves again, this time with my cousin who we came to Pakistan for the first time after moving to the US

to see being born who turned three

the day we arrived on what until this current trip was the last time I was here her little sister having just been born earlier that same year (whose life I may or may not have saved when I caught her after she was dropped by the person holding her (the fact that (parentheticals within parentheticals!) I may or may not have been the one who dropped her in the first place is immaterial imo not that I'm the one on trial here but what's important is that I caught her and if anything this would be an even more athletically impressive and frankly heroic incident if I'd been the one that was holding her to begin with since I was 8/9 years old at the time and there wasn't much of a distance for her to fall and yet I kept her from hitting the ground like talk about reflexes like that's what's important and what's more important than even that @ my year older cousin (whose younger sister was the first baby in the family after myself whose arrival in this world when I was three had me positively giddy in the way that young children get when witnessing the miracle of even younger children, who's the only other one of the cousins that's been here during all this, just me and the three I got to see as darling little babies) who was the only other person in the room with me at the time, is that we take this to our fucking graves no one can hear a word of this least of all any adults in the house who like not that they're the ones on trial here either but like who allowed for this scenario to transpire in the first place where two children and an infant are in a room by themselves unsupervised in retrospect that's somewhat irresponsible not that I'd ever hold it against them or even mention it because then they might get mad and not let me hold my little cousin anymore and I do love holding my little baby cousin and carrying her around everywhere, mostly without incident)) neither of whom I'd see in person again until we visited them in Canada the summer after I graduated college the trip during which I finished the last of the Neapolitan novels the day after landing and turned 22 the day after their mother, my younger khala, turned 43, looking through my nana's bookshelves with my baby cousin no longer a baby but a U of T classics major entering her senior year, noting the overlaps with our own, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, George Eliot, the same exact copies of Cheever and Kafka's collected shorts, Umberto Eco, Proust, wondering what the various titles meant to him or what they might say about him, wondering how much of even the version of him that can be hypothesized based off his library I'm missing now that I'm limited to the much reduced version of what had been in his old home in Lahore (when he visited us after my junior year of hs and my mom was trying to convince him to downsize and move in with my other aunt with whom he's been living the past several years, the one who most resembles my grandfather the only one that has his cheekbones my khala whose eyes have sunken all the way into her skull before my eyes with exhaustion and grief over the past two weeks, when my mom was like what's the point of just hanging onto a bunch of books that you've already read: I look at them [dramatic pause], and I feel happy [my mom sighing equally dramatically in.exasperation, me cracking up in the background]) the city I was born in the house where I spent the first almost five years of my life before we moved to the US to join my dad who'd moved back shortly after my mom became pregnant with what turned out to be me, abu nana's house with the garden we'd walk through every morning holding his hand and following along as he puttered around with his plants in the garden in the house in the city he had to leave to move into my khala's house in Islamabad where I've been the past almost a month now where two weeks ago he suddenly came down with pneumonia and had to be dragged to a hospital in Rawalpindi where he's been since, not in his house, my nana's house, with the garden in the city I haven't seen since the last time I was in this country the

summer I

turned nine the day after my khala turned 30 the day before my other khala turned 32(?) the summer I first remember obsessive compulsive disorder becoming an overwhelming aspect of my consciousness although it was there before, the first summer of the Iraq war and being terrified watching the Iraq war unfold on the BBC evening news my nana would turn on

at dinner time and hearing for the first time or maybe just the first time I remember the night we left the phrase 'the rich will get richer and the poor will get poorer' from my younger khala talking to her sisters and some family friends that had come over to see us off feeling terrified and cold then embarrassed because she noticed my face visibly fall from across the room and told my mom and I was like godammit everyone knows I'm scared now smhead then crying the entire flight back home because I missed everyone and maybe had a little kid premonition that I wouldn't return to my nana's house and I would be years and years till I saw any of them again some I still haven't or maybe there was nothing premonitory about it but in either case that's the way it turned out. I do feel grateful I got to see him again at all, when he last came to the US late 2016-early 2017 I was sure it would be the last time we would be in the same room. I'd make breakfast for us every morning and we'd eat together and the entire day I'd sit next to him inhaling secondhand smoke and talking and reading. I was in the midst of my initial aborted attempt to read Swann's way when he arrived. I'd gotten to Guermantes way last summer but I couldn't find a secondhand copy so I had to read it via ebook and that didn't feel right so I abandoned it until now I've been reading a copy pulled from his bookshelf. Last he visited was the first time I learned we were both Garcia Marquez-heads which I'd kind of assumed before and I showed him Mad Men which he heavily fucked with and also every John Le Carre adaptation I could track down online. From the first time I read one hundred years of solitude the summer after freshman year of college the passage describing Colonel Aureliano Buendia's death already absolutely and unbearably heartwrenching enough immediately brought thoughts of my grandfather, aching aching sorrow over the solitude that he himself existed within in all the fucking pain his life has been inordinately filled with grief over the knowledge of this inevitable final separation from him after so many years and so much distance already having separated him from the people he loved and cared for and he loved and cared for so many people so deeply with such sincerity and beauty and endless endless warmth and compassion and humor when Gabo wrote of the colonel trying to reach back through to his memories and being unable to after previously recalling that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice even years later, as he faced the firing squad, at the moment of his death like a 'baby chick' my poor frail beautiful grandfather appearing exactly the same way when he'd take off his dentures and curl over to the side to sleep, then when awake but still half asleep hearing your voice having brought his apple cider vinegar and garlic concoction or a cup of tea or just coming by to hold his hand or play with his beard the way all of his grandchildren have at one point or another and smiling with his eyes still closed smiling bright and wide the expression of a precious little cat purring as you scratch under its chin always the most beautiful smile and even as his hair turned white and his body withered and wrinkled and shrunk his cheekbones while still not bad long ago ceased being the way they were in that picture from his wedding day back when he he looked like young Robert De Niro's much much prettier Kashmiri cousin from then until now always that same radiance and those same quick-witted and kind and bright bright bright sparkling eyes. The past month and a half I've been feeling like I'm seeing my own mother dying before my eyes along with her father, my adorable beloved abu nana, I can't even begin to comprehend how she must be feeling right now I feel like I'm witnessing her death in advance through all of this and losing the part of her that is him even though I know that's not actually the case. Things have been so fucking painful and complicated between us but the one thing we've shared that's never

been painful is our love for him. When he left after his last visit four years ago I spent the next two days barely able to even talk. Compliments or like any positive comments directed in my directions have almost always caused me this reflexive discomfort and uneasiness but whenever he or anyone else would say that I'm his favorite grandchild I'd want to hold on to that as closely as i possibly can. I don't want him to leave us and more than that I want for whatever happens to at least happen with him back at home but neither of those things seem likely right now although who the fuck knows. I hope his last thoughts can be of flowers, like Kafka's, and Lispector's, or of love, wherever he is I hope it's not asking too much to hope for that at least. For someone that spent his life so deeply immersed within that Garciamarquesian solitude he never made those around him feel any way other than at home, safe and warm and loved and adored and adorable and lovable and at home not because of a place not even the garden at the house in Lahore but with him always always I've never felt more at home than during the times I spent near him, and his love and his flowers

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siriannatan · 4 years ago

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We weren't meant for demesticity

ao3

Tubbo was worried. Not about himself or Ranboo, or Michael. He was worried about his cousin Foolish. Why would he visit Philza? Was he planning on going with Tubbo's off-handed comment about Technoblade? Should he prepare Snowchester for an attack from a crazy anarchist piglin hybrid? Or maybe Phil for setting his friend up for a date? Or Foolish if his crazy plan doesn't work out? Or should he prepare for a wedding of the century? After all, it wasn't every day that gods were getting married to mortals

"You okay Tubbo?" Ranboo broke him out of his thoughts coming from their secret basement' kitchen entrance.

"I'm okay, I'm just worried about Foolish. I might have accidentally sent him on a quest to woo Technoblade " he sighed, "how much more stuff do you have to move?"

"You what? How? Huh? Are you insane?"

"Calm down Mr Beloved. He came here looking for dating advice and I was like 'why?' and he was like to ask out Sam to get revenge on Ponk," Tubbo began explaining and waving his arms around "And then I was like 'You'd have better chances of getting out of it okay with Technoblade than with Sam, he's crazy about this whole prison thing and I might have told him what happened to Ponk's arm and then when he was leaving he said he's going to visit Phil for a second opinion and I told him where to find him but now it occurred to me that he might have been lying."

"Breathe Tubbo, breathe," Ranboo attempted to calm him down, "Phil was going to the main SMP today to check around the L'Manhole for Wilbur, I warned him he's back so he doesn't freak out when he gets that visit, and Techno sleeps most of the time anyway so there is a chance he'll get nowhere with that," he reasoned.\par

"You might be right, but what if Techno is awake? Oh, f... We'll have to tell Techno about us" he said with wide eyes, with you moving in and all... Maybe it would be easier if he's close with Foolish..."

"You're cold Tubbo," Ranboo shook his head in disbelief, "you'd use your cousin like this?" Tubbo just looked at him with an amused glint in his eye. He'd do that, his brother was Dream after all.

"There is another thing," Tubbo said, "we've never gone out on a proper date, Ranboo."

"Do we need to?" he asked sitting next to Tubbo by the kitchen counter, "I mean, do we have time? With finishing the mansion and Michael, and Tommy and Wilbur attacking us with noise every night?"

"We do, we can have a little date here in the mansion. Like after Michael is in bed. Roast some marshmallows over a fire, make a blanket fort. Have some fun for a change?"

Fun was tempting. It was a while since they last just hung out together, with having to gather payment for the mansion, Tommy dragging them into his plans. "I guess a bit of fun wouldn't hurt us," he agreed carefully, "We can do that when I'm done moving my stuff..."

"Today," Tubbo disagreed instantly.

"Fine today, the stuff still left back there isn't that important anyway, all the valuables are already here away from Tommy's range and so are my pets. Honestly, I have no idea how they got here but I won't complain, I'm just glad they're okay and safe."

"Enderwalk Ranboo brought them here, he seems excited about the move," Tubboo mussed with a smile, "he always drops you off here after he's done with his stuff," he added as Ranboo loudly groaned in annoyance.

"I told you to be careful when I do that," he complained.

"You worry too much, big man," Tubbo shook his head, "sleepwalking or not you're still you, and you'd never hurt me or Michael," he explained in his 'I know everything and I'm always right' voice.

Ranboo was a bit annoyed for a second but he could not be mad at Tubbo for too long. "Where's Michael?" he changed the subject getting up to get himself some tea. He was still getting used to asking Tubbo's skeletons to do stuff like this for him.

"In his room, having his midday nap, there is a skeleton by his door to inform me if he wakes up," Tubbo explained giving his husband an annoyed look, "I got us help for a reason" he added pointing to a skeletal maid in the corner.

"It's just tea, Tubbo, I can surely make myself some tea without help" Ranboo just shrugged, sometimes Tubbo scared him more than Dream. It had to be a family thing. Foolish could be a little weird too, after all. This whole romance for vengeance thing would be enough proof if Ranboo hadn't seen him after the chandelier in the entrance hall. Tubbo was particularly evil for that thing in his eyes.

"I know, I'm just a bit scared of this domesticity," Tubbo admitted, "Neither of us ever had much of peaceful family life or any family life. Most of my childhood was spent running and hiding and learning how to fight and hide who I was. Dream did his best to give me a normal childhood but there isn't much two children running from town to town, world to world can do in that regard. Until Dream founded the SMP, even with this he kept me hidden until Tommy found me in the woods after I snuck out from my hiding spot," he laughed shortly, "I've never seen Dream that angry, even after Wilbur established L'Manburg, maybe he thought it would be good for me to have some friends. And then along came Schlatt, our lovely father, and things went to shit. It wasn't bad at the start. He didn't recognise me, he didn't recognise Dream. When Technoblade got involved and..."

"And some stuff got blown up," Ranboo finished for him.

"Yeah... We hadn't had much contact with Puffy over our great escape, she was busy being a pirate and Foolish wasn't a very well adjusted individual at that time. Centuries of almost non-stop fighting can do a lot to someone, even a god."

"When did you pick up interest in necromancy and alchemy?" Ranboo asked trying to change the subject.

"Necromancy came naturally. We have different mother's Dream and I. I have no idea how Schlatt did it, I guess he had more charisma than he usually showed. Dream's mother was some sort of minor goddess of nature, good harvest, hunting, healing and so on. Apparently, our father just found a baby on his doorstep one day." Tubbo stared, Ranboo gave him his cup of tea and started preparing a new cup. "My mother was her opposite, I have no idea how big and important she was, but she was supposed to have control of undead and a lot of long-forgotten knowledge. As for alchemy... I saw Dream brew potions once and decided to help, we found that huge book in one place and I kept myself busy in hiding reading it. It was in a language Dream didn't know, we later identified it as Ender ."

Ranboo knew what Ender was, after all his other half spoke that language exclusively. "But you could understand it?"

"Yes. I taught Dream how to read and speak it. I have no idea where I know it from, it had to be from my mother... Look at me complain about my family to a guy who never had any family," Tubbo laughed an empty laugh.

"It's okay Tubbo, I have a family now, and if anyone asked me I'd say we're the best family on this SMP. We're doing our best to stay together, to keep Michael safe. Who else can say they're a happy family around here? As selfish as that sounds," Ranboo said pulling Tubbo into a hug.

"We deserve to be a little selfish from time to time, after all, we've been through," Tubbo said, not complaining about the hug "Michael's up."

"We should go and check up on him, spend the rest of the day playing with him so he sleeps at night so we can have our 'date'," Ranboo proposed, breaking the hug and offering Tubbo a hand.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're flirting with me," Tubbo joked jumping off the stool and grabbing Ranboo's hand as they walked towards their son's bedroom.

#dream smp #ranboo #ranboo and tubbo #tubbo #beeduo #platonic hugs #platonic marriage

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dameronology · 5 years ago

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the one with the blind date {obi-wan x reader}

summary: your mother has a knack for setting you up on the worst blind dates. this time, it might be different.

i know what you’re thinking - ‘but val! jedi aren’t allowed to date!’ but for the sake of this fic, the jedi code can suck a fat one because it’s 3am 5am and i don’t have the brain cells to work around star wars canon

love u lots and hope you enjoy

- jazz

You weren’t entirely sure if your mother’s judgement towards your life choices was supposed to be malicious or not, but it certainly felt like it. The fact she called you to remind you that your cousin just had her third baby! or mention in passing that your friend from school just got married (again)! always felt like it had an ulterior motive. You loved the woman dearly but maker, you wished she would shut the hell up sometimes.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t successful. You had an important job working for the Senate, you’d graduated from the University of Cloud City with honours and you owned an apartment in Coruscant. Did she know how hard it was to get on the property ladder in this city? It was probably one of the selling points she used every time she set you up on a blind date. They were usually with older men, twice divorced and with more baggage than you were ready for.

You weren’t expecting this date to be any different - your mother had mentioned he was a friend of a friend (possibly of a friend, of another friend and then maybe the colleague of that friend). She hadn’t told you what job he had, only that he was a bit older than you and ‘earned enough to support a small family’ - but you had chosen to ignore that last part. She’d arranged for you to meet at a diner downtown in the early evening, and you weren’t expecting too much.

There were only two people in the diner. One was a man of an alien species who appeared to be roughly 150; he had a pint in one hand and a burger in the other. The other one was undoubtedly a Jedi - and a very attractive one too. He was browsing the menu, brow furrowed slightly as he frowned. He looked up as the bell on the door rang, and your eyes met. If he was your date, your mother had done well for once (though she could have pre-warned you about his occupation).

‘Hey, you must be-’ He offered you a warm smile, standing up from the table to wave you over.

Say something, dumbass you pushed yourself.

‘- that sure is me!’ You quipped. Great start, you moron.

‘It’s lovely to meet you.’ The Jedi sat back down as you shuffled into the booth opposite him. ‘I’m Obi-Wan.’

‘Right, yeah - sorry, my mum did tell me your name.’ You replied.

‘What else did she tell you?’ He quipped, quirking one of his brows. ‘Just so I can try and live up to whatever lively image I’m sure she’s created.’

‘Just your name.’ You laughed. ‘She didn’t mention being a Jedi or anything.’

Obi-Wan paused for a minute. ‘Oh, I’m not a Jedi.’

You froze slightly, quickly trying to think of a response. It hadn’t been a reach - he was wearing robes, and you could see what looked like a lightsaber under the table. Not that you had been looking under the table, or down there - and maker, this was embarrassing.

‘I’m joking.’ He suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. ‘I am a Jedi. I thought it would break the ice but you look like you’re about to cry-’

‘- that was mean!’ You reached across the table to swat at his shoulder. ‘I pride myself on my intuition, Obi-Wan.’

‘I wouldn’t call the fact I’m wearing a Jedi robes and carrying a lightsaber intuition, more like the glaringly obvious.’ He leant back, crossing his arms over his chest as he smirked at you.

You liked this guy.

‘But what do you do?’ Obi-Wan continued. ‘Your mother mentioned that you work for the Senate.’

‘I do!’ You replied. ‘I’m a political advisor.’

‘What does that entail?’

‘I just sit there and tell the senators if they’re being just a bit stupid or completely stupid.’ You grinned.

‘Well, it certainly sounds like a very important job.’ He smiled back.

‘You’re one to talk. You’re like..the keeper of the Force.’ You replied.

‘That’s not quite it.’ Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh at your attempt to describe his job. ‘But you’re close.’

Two hours later - and after ordering food that you’d both been too distracted to touch - you were both doubled over in laughter at something Obi-Wan had said. He was funny; you’d figured out that much. It wasn’t in an obvious way, but more of a charming, observant way. He took an interest in you as well - he asked about your job, your hobbies and your time at college. In a way, he felt a bit too good to be true. Every guy your mother set you up with had fallen short within the first five minutes.

What could it be? Was he secretly already married? Was he a convicted criminal on the run and posing as a Jedi?

‘I have to ask.’ Obi-Wan reached across the table, warm hand falling on top of yours. ‘You have a good job. You own your own apartment and you’re beautiful. Why do you need your mother to find you a date?’

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. ‘I don’t meet many suitable people in my line of work. They’re either much, much older senators or...actually, that’s it.’

He chuckled slightly, squeezing your hand - you could have sworn that your heart stopped for a moment (either that, or your coffee addiction had finally caught up with you). The fact you’d been too deep in conversation with him to even look at your food said a lot. Before now, no man would ever have been able to come to between you and a burger.

‘Let’s get out of here.’ Obi-Wan threw a few credits on the table. ‘I know a place that has better food.’

You tossed a few of your own credits, giving him a nod. ‘I’ll have to take your word for it since neither of us actually touched this food.’

‘I’m easily distracted, apparently.’ He joked, offering out his hand to you as you pulled your jacket on.

‘That’s bad for a Jedi.’ You joked, taking it.

‘I correct myself.’ He paused for a moment, shaking his head. ‘I’m easily distracted by you.’

‘Right, I have a tendency to do that.’ You replied. ‘I bet my mother didn’t tell you that I was so breathtaking.’

‘Actually, she told me I had a mission.’ He replied.

The cold night air hit you as you exited the diner. You could hear the buzz of the city traffic further uptown, filling the silence as you pondered his statement for a moment. Your mother worked as an admin assistant for the Jedi temple - she organised transport and missions and the logistics of most their operations - and she had a tendency to spill embarrassing things about you in conversation.

‘A mission?’ You grimaced. ‘What did she tell you it was?’

‘To investigate that very diner we were just sat in.’ Obi-Wan smiled down at you, face lit up under the lights of a theatre as you walked past. ‘She only told me before I left the temple that it was a blind date.’

‘Maker, that woman.’ You muttered.

‘I’m not complaining, though.’ He quickly replied. He let go of your hand, moving to fling his arms across your shoulders and pull him closer towards him. ‘I was a bit worried that you were going to be...’

‘...like her?’ You nudged him in the ribs slightly. ‘Because that’s something I worry about too every time I get a bit older.’

‘Oh, you have nothing to worry about.’ Obi-Wan said. ‘You have her nose but I’d say that’s it.’

A few more hours passed, and you found yourselves having walked all the way to the other side of the city. You were latched onto his side now, one arm around his waist whilst his rested on your shoulder. The warmth of his body against the cold of the night air was a wonderful contrast and you couldn’t help but smile at how at home you felt. He had a very calming presence (probably something to do with the whole Jedi debacle).

‘Let’s sit down.’ You wrapped your hand around his wrist, tugging him over to a low-sitting wall.

You were on the edge of Coruscant, a few miles away from the city centre. The lights of the vast skyline illuminated the road in front of you, the whites and blues and red of the mammoth buildings blurring into a technicolour dream. You sometimes forgot how wonderful the place was, especially when you spent so much time observing corrupt politics and dodgy dealings at your job. That wasn’t on your mind, however - Obi-Wan Kenobi was at the forefront of your thoughts.

‘You’re cold.’ He commented.

‘I’m always cold.’ You shot back. ‘Isn’t that something you can tell through the Force?’

‘Oh, my dear.’ Obi-Wan chuckled. ‘The Force doesn’t work like that.’

‘So, it’s not like mind-reading and magic tricks?’ You shuffled slightly in your seat, turning so that you were facing him.

‘I definitely can’t read your mind.’

‘That’s a shame. It would make this whole dating thing much easier.’ You quipped.

‘You could just tell me what you’re thinking.’ He reasoned.

You paused for a moment - you were thinking about kissing him, obviously. There had been several moments through out the night where you almost had, but it hadn’t felt like the right time. But here? Basking under the glow of the city lights, sat so close to him? You’d be damned if there was a better chance than this.

Obi-Wan met you halfway, your lips brushing against his. Like him, they were soft and warm, and you felt yourself leaning further into him. One of his arms wound around your waist, making an attempt to pull you close, though such a thing were possible. Meanwhile, you had one hand on the back of his neck, softly playing with the hair that fell onto your hand.

There was a gust of wind, and you suddenly jumped back with surprise. He laughed at your reaction, dropping his head into your shoulder as his body shook against yours.

‘So,’ you began. ‘Second date?’

‘I don’t think we’re done with this one.’

(Within the year, your mother finally had bragging rights about the fact it was her child getting married this time).

there’ll probably be a part 2 to this i won’t lie to u i’ve already got it written in my head

also shout to @karasong and @drinksomecoco for ur encouragement/ideas ily guys

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan kenobi x y/n #star wars imagine #star wars fluff #star wars x reader #star wars fanfic #obi-wan kenobi fanfic

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mahsamarauder · 4 years ago

Text

16 years

It had been years since Lily had seen James. 16 years to be precise. 17 years ago Voldemort came into their house and killed Harry, which killed himself as well. A year after that Lily and James finally gave up. That year was the most painful time they had felt in their entire lives. At first they comforted each other, they were the only ones who truly understood. But after a while they started fighting. The Potter household was not a happy place anymore. Vases flew around the house and plates were thrown on a daily basis. They had become so unhappy that they had gotten a divorce. Now, nearly 16 years later they both here, at Rumus’ wedding to Sirius’ cousin. Lily had gone off to France after the divorce. She couldn’t bear to be in England. It felt empty and sad. With the people who knew how her son’s death had ruined her marriage in every corner, she felt so desperate that she went to France. She supposed she always wanted to go there but then again, not like this.

James Potter had not seen his ex-wife for 16 years. He thought she wouldn’t come. He was sure that she hated him enough not to come the same country as him. Isn’t that why she left? He went to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t know why but he wanted to look good. He supposed it was a habit, wanting to look good for her. He had strands of grey in his hair. The hair he loved and admired so much when he was young. Now it was lying flat on his head because of the sleazy hair potion but it used to be messy and standing up in every direction. Surprisingly he had had the grey hair since he was 22. Harry’s death hit him hard. And then the divorce…..Well it was enough to age him a few years in advance. His eyes were tired and sad, the glint of mischief completely gone. He had dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t been able to sleep much. The nightmares kept awake at night. The nightmares weren’t just about that night when…..They were usually Harry all grown up and handsome, telling him that he didn’t do his best to save him. That it was James’ fault that Harry was dead. Besides the nightmares, he didn’t leave much time for sleep either. He was head auror and kept himself so busy sometimes he would be at work for more than 48 hours. He drowned himself in his work after Lily left. He lived at Potter manor alone. He did not have the heart to live in the house he was supposed to live in with his wife and son. Sirius lived in his own flat. He kept visiting James but he didn’t live with him. After the divorce, James had made very clear that if Remus and Sirius take pity on him and come to live with him he will kill them. So that’s why no one could make James eat more than three bites or make him come back from work or even make him go to sleep. He didn’t have wrinkles yet but he knew that soon they would join in. James was living his worst nightmare for the last 17 years and he knew wrinkles were the least of his worries. A man of 37 would look so much younger than he did but when you have little to live for you don’t really stay young and cheerful and perky. His purpose of living was to make sure Sirius doesn’t kill himself because of depression. He was told the beat the way to get better was to marry and have kids again. But every time he tried to talk to a girl he would hear Lily’s voice: “James, by Merlin, if you ever cheat on me I will cut off your testicles. I promise.”

Even though they were divorced, he felt like he was cheating on her. He knew when he still loved her he couldn’t go out with any other girl. He knew until he was over her, even flirting felt like cheating and wrong. And on some level he knew that Lily was the only one, that no matter what he did, it will never be over. And it wasn’t fair to any girl to be his rebound girl. So he gave up. Then he considered adoption and he still regretted the fact that he had EVEN considered it. He had wanted to go and see little andy one day, but the night before going, he had had a dream. It was Harry. He was all grown up. He looked at James with a face like his own but with Lily’s eyes. He looked at him and said:

“Are you replacing me?? How can you? After I die, you try to replace with another boy???”

And that was the end of it. The reason he never moved on. He ruffled his hair but it stayed flat. The potion was really good apparently. And then he smiled sadly at himself.

Lily went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She knew James was doing the same thing. She saw him go the bathroom and she knew him well enough to know what he was doing. Her hair was thin, so very thin. It wasn’t the thick, wavy beautiful Auburn hair she once had. It was now thin, almost straight and not very beautiful and it looked more brown then red now. It was like that even her hair dreaded being alive. Her eyes did not shine or smile anymore, they were dead and sad. And she looked 43 instead of 37. So that was that. She had tried to move on but no man could be James. James who doted on her every move, James who chased her for 7 years, James who would gladly walk the gates of hell with her, James who loved her even before he knew what love was, James who made her laugh when she was crying, James who she loved with all her heart. Of course no one could be him. She had tried, she really did but no matter how dates she went on, there was never a second date.

James was her standard. Men were nothing compared to him. Lily had tried to adopt a baby or use a sperm donor but she couldn’t. Every time she came close to doing so, she felt like she was betraying Harry’s memory. After her divorce, she had moved to France and had started working in a hospital. She was a head healer now. But she wasn’t happy. How could she be? But she had survived, somehow.

One last look in the mirror and he thought why did he agree to the divorce when he knew how miserable he would be? On elook in the mirror was enough for Lily to ask herself why had she suggested the divorce when she knew she was never going to be happy without him?

Because we kept fighting. They both thought at the same time.

But why? They asked themselves.

Because we missed Harry and anger was the easiest emotion to let out.

They both headed outside, deciding that they shall be nice to each other.

They went to the ceremony and sat in first row, seeing as Remus had no family and James, Sirius and Lily were closest thing had to one. James sat at the beginning of the bench than Sirius than Lily. There was space between Lily and Sirius and they didn’t talk. After that, they all went to the reception. Remus and Tonks came and Lily went to talk them after the first dance.

“Oh Remus, Dora, it was a lovely service. Congratulations.” She kissed Remus’ cheek and gave Tonks a tight hug.

“Thank you. Where is your plus one?” Remus asked.

“Well, I didn’t bring one.”

“Oh. Is there a reason?”

“No. It’s just no one seemed……..you know what? This is your wedding. Let’s stop talking about my love life. It feels as if all we’ve ever talked about was that!”

After that she sat down at the table, looking at the couples dancing and smiling. She smiled sadly and remembered her own wedding. She was thinking when she a hand extended in front of her.

“May I have this dance?”

Lily looked at the man in front of her. She smiled warmly at Sirius.

“I thought you’d never ask!”

As they danced, Sirius started talking.

“How is France?”

“Not so bad. It’s lonely but I’m used to it.”

“Lonely? You’ve been there for 16 years! How is it lonely? Haven’t you made any friends?” He twirled her.

“I have but they are not really close and I don’t mind. I don’t trust anyone enough to have them as my close friend. Trusting is proving much more difficult than I expected.”

“From what you say about trusting, I assume there is not a man in your life either, correct?”

“Well yes, but not for that reason. You see I tried dating but none of them made it to a second date.”

“Why not?”

Lily smiled but the sadness was visible in both her smile and her eyes. “James. The bloody prat practically ruined everyone for me. No matter who they were or what their traits was, they were always nothing compared to him. There was something they lacked that he had. He has become my standard, a standard no one can ever reach.”

“Merlin knows he would kill to hear those words.” Sirius laughed.

“There was time he would have done so, yes, but not now.”

“Oh Lily, you never change, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You sound like seventh year.”

He started imitating her voice.

“Oh Sirius, give up. James doesn’t like me like that anymore. He just wants to be friends.”

“Well that’s rude. What gives you the right to imitate me this poorly?”

“I did it fantastically and since I was trying to prove a point, I had a right.”

“And what point is that, pray?”

“That no matter what you do, where you are or what you say, James Potter will always be in love with you and that will never change. Not in seventh and definitely not now.”

“Don’t be stupid, Sirius. It’s been 16 years.”

“And you think that’s enough time to get over you?” He smirked at her and started clapping because the dance had ended.

“I should think it is.” Lily shouted as she saw Sirius moving away without even listening to her. She scoffed. The bastard was exactly the way she left him: rude, considerate, kind, loyal, sometimes mean and brotherly. She sat down. She was rather confused after that conversation. Did James really….? No. She shouldn’t. She would destroy herself thinking about that. He had moved on. He had brought a plus one. He must have a wife and a few black haired devils.

She was walking when she heard a girl talking to her friend loudly.

“See James Potter? He is still as hot as he was in Hogwarts, isn’t he?”

“Well he has gotten a little bit old. He was a few strands if grey but yeah still hot.”

“I cannot belive he is still single. No wife no kids.”

“Well maybe he’s waiting for 21 year old girl like Remus did.”

“Maybe. Hey! maybe we can get a one night stand out of him tonight.”

“Oh no I work with him and believe me you won’t.”

“Oh damn it.”

No wife? No kids? He hadn’t moved on either? Now that was something she hadn’t expected. She couldn’t believe that James was single. After all this time? She went outside and looked at the beautiful summer sky. It was so beautiful. All the stars were visible. As she was looking up a man’s hand went up to the sky to point to something next her head. She didn’t need to turn her head around to know who’s hand was beside her.

“That’s Sirius.”

“Merlin. I’ve been looking at the stars all night trying to find it.”

“You always did.”

An awkward silence filled the space between them.

“How are you?” James asked.

“I’m alright. You?”

“Yeah. I’m alright too.”

“Wouldn’t your date worry about where you are?”

“I’ve got no date. Wouldn’t your date worry about the fact that you’re talking to ex-husband?”

“No. Since he doesn’t exist, I don’t think he minds.” She smirked.

“Always so bloody cheeky.”

“I thought you liked it.

I did. But that doesn’t mean.....Lily what are you doing?”

She had her hands in his hair so suddenly he was completely and utterly shocked.

“It’s true then.”

“What’s true love?” Damn it. He hadn’t meant to call her love. It was out of habit. She would kill him.

“Your hair, it has grey in it.”

He smiled sadly. “With a dead son, a divorced wife and a very busy auror office can yoo blame me?”

“No. No I can’t.” She ran her hands through his hair and it slowly lost its stiffness and become messy. She suddenly realized what she was doing and dropped her hands. They started walking side by side.

“So how’s Sirius?”

“Well he’s alright I gusse.”

“You gusse?”

“Yeah well we’re not as close as we were.”

“Why not???” It was true that Lily Potter was surprised. These boys were always together. What had happened?

“Well after you left I kind of kept distance with everyone. I do go to the full moons and stuff but......we’re just not ss close as before.”

“I see.”

“So any friends in France????”

“Yes. Only one. We’re not really close. She likes her last name and has asked me to call her miss Bunnting so you can see how close we are.” She laughed lightly. “She calls me Mrs. Potter”

“Mrs. Potter????”

“Yeah I didn’t change my last name.”

James stopped in his tracks. He turned to his side and looked at Lily. Lily slowly turned he head in his direction so that they were facing each other.

“Why not?”

“I think you know why.”

“Lily...”

“James, I’m so sorry for all the trouble I caused you, the sadness, everything. I’m so terribly sorry. I......”

“It’s my own fault too. I was so drowned in my own sadness that I didn’t realize that I’m not angry at you and you’re not angry at me. We were just frustrated and sad and the easiest way to free ourselves was to yell and shout and scream and throw stuff. I should’ve fought for you instead of just letting you go.”

“I should’ve thought harder before I asked you for the divorce.”

“I gusse we both made mistakes then.”

Lily was silent for a moment. She looked into James’ hazel eyes but she didn’t see the spark that used to be there.

“When did you regret it James?”

“The moment I signed. You?”

“Same.”

“Life’s funny huh????”

“Really funny!” She sighed deeply.

When they got back inside, it was the last dance. The song was the “Sleeping Beauty Waltz”. As Lily and James danced around the ballroom to the song the hit married with, they kissed. The kiss was tender, sweet and short. As Lily looked into James’ eyes she found she was the happiest she had felt in a long. James’ eyes shined with a glint of mischief and love. His sad and tired eyes looked happier. His hallow cheeks that begged for more food were gone and the dark circles had suddenly disappeared. He was grinning. The 37 year old tired man was gone and the 21 year old James Potter was back. He looked liked he was he was on the moon.

James’ eyes found Lily’s and he was overjoyed. Her green orbs were smiling. Her face looked younger and her hair was somehow shining. Lily hugged James and slowly danced with him.

It took work and patience because no couple can get back together for the sake of only one night. It took one year and many cries, laughs, screams and kisses but after a year Lily and James went to the ministry and got married. They only asked Sirius, Remus and Tonks to be there. They didn’t need anything else. Six months after that they discovered that Lily was pregnant. They both wanted this. They both decided that having a child was not betraying Harry’s memory so they had decided to get pregnant right away because Lily was not getting any younger. Lily gave birth to twins. Emma Lily Potter and Ethan Sirius Potter.

They were both a mixture of James and Lily. Emma had Lily’s flaming hair and nose and James’ deep hazel eyes and horrible eyesight. Ethan on the other hand had the same messy black hair and the same eyes as his father. Only thing he had that was like his mother was his manner of speaking.

Five years after that Lily was surprisingly pregnant once again with a baby girl. She was named Felicity Rose Potter.

The Potter household would always send their childer away on Halloween. Lily and James mourned the loss of their first child every year. They would go into Harry’s nursery and cry for the little boy they had lost. It was ritual. It went on for many years. Until one day, Lily Potter found herself stumbling towards that room without her husband.

The kids were all grown up and had jobs now. Ethan and Felicity were married and both worked for the ministry. Emma was a professional quidditch player and was engaged. Ethan had had a four year old son named James and Felicity was pregnant.

However, even though Felicity had told her the good news that morning, Lily was not happy. This was the first Halloween she was spending alone as James had passed away seven months ago. She started humming “good old-fashioned lover boy” by Queen band. James loved this song. He always said that song was about him and Lily always laughed when he said that.

Lily thought about all those years of fun and happiness. It was 2036 and Lily Potter was tired yet she still mourned her son after 55 years. She was 76 now and so tired.

Sirius was dead. He had died on a mission about ten years ago. It almost finished James.

Remus was also dead. He died about twelve years ago. He was seriously hurt during one of his transformations and when he was found it was too late.

Tonks was aloof and distant and only talked to Teddy.

Lily had no one left. She sat down by the crib and let her tears come as she hummed the melody. She kissed the crib and closed her eyes and fell asleep.

After 76 years of hard work Lily Potter finally fell asleep. After 55 years that night as she closed her eyes and drew her last breath peacefully while asleep, she saw her son.

Lily Potter finally saw her son!

She saw her best friends and brothers after twelve and ten years. She saw her husband after seven months. She saw them and knew that she was finally at peace.

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will always hold you close

But I will learn to let you go

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

With every heartbeat I have left

I will defend your every breath

And I'll do better

#harry potter #james potter #jily #lily evans #lily potter #sirius black #james and lily #what if #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #teddy lupin #wedding #divorce #reunited #remarriage #jily love #lily evans potter #Spotify

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lovinglokilaufeyson · 5 years ago

Text

Soulmate - T.H

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: Fluffy!Tom, AU, Protective!Tom, Fluff for days, Smut (at the end), Cheeky!Tom

Wordcount: 6,825

Summary: Tom Hiddleston is widely known as Hollywood’s “bad boy.” You weren’t known in Hollywood. Tom, for most of his life, was a gentleman. But for some reason, within the last 2 years, he’d changed. He slept with all of his costars, who hoped to be the one to get him to settle down. You’d been waiting for your soulmate for so many years, in your mind, he was nice, funny, charismatic, nothing like the man you met the day your timer hit zero.

A/N: I wasn’t sure really when to end this, so I kinda just ended it. But I’m sure if people like it enough, there’ll be another part or two :) Let me know what you think! It seemed a bit long, but I hope you enjoyed. It was a bit of a slow burn imagine.

24d / 6h / 51m / 10s

A little under a month before you were set to meet your soulmate, and your heart was skipping beats left and right. You did your best to keep your mind off of it, but it was so difficult, with your timer right in front of your face. You had gotten home from the grocery store, excited to make your breakfast. You turned on the TV as background noise, and heard some rambling about a new movie coming out. You rolled your eyes. Yes, you really enjoyed most movies, but unfortunately, some of the actors really got on your nerves. The snarky comments, massive egos, everything about them turned you off. It really did make sense why they always ended up together.

Yes, you knew that not all actors and actresses were that type, but the man they were gossiping about on TV? Definitely. Tom Hiddleston had started getting a reputation in showbizz about 2 years back, you remember. He started out as the nice guy, but for whatever reason, he turned into the jerk that slept with his female costars all the time. Sometimes you wondered if he even had a soulmate.

He was incredibly attractive, he had tattoos littered across his body, all of them being ones that he had gotten fairly recently. He wore leather a lot, with mostly blacks and neutrals in his closet. He just wasn’t at all your type on the inside. You, on the other hand, liked to keep things classy, with soft colors. You didn’t wear much leather, only once and a while. Some people felt that you were stuck up, but underneath that outside shell was a lot of hidden secrets. Your social media meme accounts, your goofy side, your somewhat strange sense of humor. Not many people knew that side of you, and you hoped that when you met your soulmate, he’d accept it. Hell, everyone had a weird side. Right?

22d / 3h / 45m / 8s

You had met up with your best friend and her boyfriend, Malik, for coffee. Malik was really good to Y/F/N. He was overall charming, handsome, hardworking, and intelligent. He was basically all you could ever want for Y/F/N. Although when you met him, you had to second guess yourself and your timer, because it felt so natural to be around him. But you’d never tell Y/F/N that. “So, how’re you doing, Y/N?” Y/F/N asked, taking a sip of her latte.

“I’m okay, I suppose. I’m really really nervous about this whole soulmate thing. You guys met nearly 5 years ago. What if he’s not right for me?” You sputtered out, rambling on a bit. You were really scared of the thought of meeting someone who really wasn’t right for you at all. You wanted something like Malik and Y/F/N, something genuine and compassionate. You looked at them hold hands and steal glances at each other. It was so natural for them. Their eyes lit up when they saw each other, and you’d hoped it’d be similar for you and your soulmate.

9d / 1h / 28m / 47s

You met up with your family roughly a week before your timer was set. Your mom wouldn’t stop talking about it. You almost thought that she was more interested than you were. But, you supposed that the thrill of her daughter finally being able to find her soulmate was exciting to her. Both of your brothers and your sister had each found their soulmates several years back. You were the only one without one. Even your cousins had found theirs without a problem.

Your dad wasn’t overly protective, thank goodness, he realized that everyone had a soulmate, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. Yes, it took him a little while to come to terms with his little girls finding their soulmates. But he got over it and realized that it was just a part of life. “Guys, Josh and I have an announcement.” She declared, standing up from the couch she sat on, Josh holding her hand next to her. “What is it, Kayla?” Your mother asked in excitement. “We’re pregnant.”

Smiles and joyous excitement circulated through the room. This was bound to make your mother the happiest woman in the world. The thought of becoming a grandmother was something she had dreamed of, she loved children. And since she was too old to have her own, Kayla being pregnant was an absolute dream. Her and Josh had gotten married about a year before, and met 4 years before that. They were slow and steady. Sometimes your mother thought that you’d be pregnant before Kayla. Yet here you were, sitting on the couch, yet to meet your soulmate.

2d / 4h / 56m / 9s

You had landed in Seattle mere hours before, excited for your weekend away with the girls. Cassidy had insisted upon it, even going as far to book the flights before asking anyone. You, Veronica, Cassidy, and Y/F/N were going to have so much fun on the coast. Crazily enough, with how everything was scheduled out, you were set to meet your soulmate either in the Seattle Airport or on the plane. Depending on how it all played out. The universe had a crazy way of flipping things around.

Cassidy had met her soulmate recently. You hadn’t met him yet, but apparently he wasn’t too excited to go a weekend without his girl. He’s a little clingy, she told you. Honestly, Cassidy’s comment about Rowan wouldn’t have bothered you if you had actually met your soulmate. But you had no idea what he’d be like. What if you didn’t like him? What if there was something about him, or multiple things, that you hated? You were scared of the thought. You enjoyed a weekend of shopping, going to the beach, and just having a good time with your girls. You had gone clubbing the night before your flight, which you had all known was a bad idea. But you went through with it anyways.

14h / 6m / 23s

You had to admit, the night was probably not a great idea for you all. But you needed some time to just unwind and forget. Forget that Kayla’s pregnant, that you still haven’t met “the one.” Forget about the stresses of not liking the one you’re supposed to be with for the rest of your life. You had enough to be buzzed, maybe a tad tipsy, but not enough to get you totally wasted. You didn’t want to be a complete mess when you met your soulmate. Maybe a slight one.

Veronica, Cassidy, and Y/F/N, however, were almost too drunk to function. You knew they were fun drunks, but you also knew that waking them up tomorrow morning would be a painstakingly slow process. You set an alarm for 8:30, hoping to catch a few more things before leaving Seattle.

5h / 34m / 2s

You were right. Waking the girls up was definitely more difficult than usual, but you knew that you should go and see a few more things, even check out a museum nearby. Veronica pulled her phone out after getting ready, scrolling whilst laying on the bed, when you suddenly heard her gasp. “Tom Hiddleston’s in Seattle. Right now.”

You giggled at her. She was so immature sometimes. You loved her, so so much, but sometimes you wished she was a bit more mature. “We should totally go meet him.” You rolled your eyes as she spoke. “I’d prefer to meet my soulmate.” You raised your eyebrows at her, a bit mad she had forgotten about such an event. She knew it was really important to you. “Shit, sorry Y/N.” She apologized. “Tom could be your soulmate. Seems like destiny.” She smiled, and you rolled your eyes at her for what seemed like the 12th time that day.

“I’d rather die.” You thought he was nice and charming. But that was before he started sleeping with all of his costars, treating them like shit. He had-what you thought were-completely meaningless tattoos, and he had such a bad boy look to him. You much preferred his preppy, British look his sported before this crisis of his. “Oof. Do you hate him or something?”

“No, I’m just not in love with the fact that he sleeps with anything that walks.” You frowned, looking back at Cassidy and Y/F/N, who were still lying in bed, silently listening to you and Veronica’s conversation. Though, they didn’t make it obvious. “We should go check out a museum or something.” You spoke, and all the other girls looked at you in confusion. Apparently they weren’t as into history as you are. Your heart ached, you knew you’d be meeting the possible love of your life. Most likely, anyway. For some, their “soulmate” didn’t work out. They’d try to be together, but it failed miserably, and they went their separate ways, in search for a new love. This happened very sparingly, and was pretty rare amongst humans. Usually, the gods were right. Most of the time. There was always headlines whenever it happened, but you had only seen 2 in your entire life. You hoped you weren’t the next.

4h / 21m /9s

You finally convinced Cassidy that meeting Tom Hiddleston wasn’t something you felt needed to happen today. That you were already too nervous from everything else, and you just wanted a little time to do something relaxing. “Fine, fine.” She spoke, raising her hands in defeat. “If I never get to meet him, it’s your fault, you know.” “I’m sure you’ll meet him.” In the end, you decided on going to a museum for a little, then to the mall to do a bit of light shopping.

2h / 10m / 54s

Now was time for your least favorite part. Leaving a place you had grown to love so much. You and the girls had bonded immensely over this trip, and you were sad to say goodbye to Seattle. You and the girls got through security fairly quickly, making sure you had time to relax and unwind, as well as charge up your devices before the flight. You stared down at your timer. 2 hours, 10 minutes, 26 seconds. It was nerve racking. Y/F/N noticed your slight panicked expression and rubbed your back. “It’ll be okay, Y/N.”

“I know, I know.” But in the back of your mind, you knew that you had no idea of who he was or how he’d treat you. What would happen if you hid in the bathroom? You knew something would make you come out. The universe had a weird way of doing things.

16m / 33s

“Hey guys. I’m gonna go freshen up.” You spoke, standing up from your spot. You grabbed your smaller bag, but left your suitcase by the others. They knew you well enough to know that you wanted to be alone at this time, and so they simply let you go alone.

“Alright hon, don’t take too long.” Y/F/N smiled, as you waved back at them, heading to the bathroom across the hall of the airport. You immediately went to the mirror, checking your outfit and adjusting where you saw fit. You saw a young girl smile at you when you complimented her Marvel t-shirt. It really was an excellently done set of films. You liked all of the actors and actresses- besides one. Smiling to yourself as you got closer to the mirror, reapplying a bit of mascara, as well as your liquid lipstick, which had worn off slightly since the morning.

You tried to fix every flaw you believed you had in that airport mirror. You were very insecure when you were young, and although you had grown, your self esteem still wasn’t perfect. You still believed the words your middle school bullies told you, at least every once and a while. But you shook off the feeling, knowing that right now was not the time for your emotions to completely take control. That was the last thing you needed.

You looked down at your timer. 5m, 2s. A light squeal came from your lips, which earned you a giggle from the woman beside you. “Timer close?” She asked, and you nodded. “Only 4 minutes left.” You grinned, and her smile got bigger.

“My son’s timer is going to hit zero soon as well.” You realized she spoke in a British accent, and you smiled. You loved accents. Hers was so adorable, you couldn’t help but admire it. “Wow, small world.” You watched as she washed her hands, and you looked down at your timer once more.

“Good luck, love. I’m sure yours will be lovely. Tragic it’s not my Tom, though. You’re very pretty.” You smiled and thanked her, hoping the best for her son and his soon to be soulmate. “Thank you.” You watched as she exited the bathroom, and you waited for a moment before doing the same.

23s

What you failed to notice, however, was the ‘Caution: Wet Floor’ sign that had recently been placed outside the bathroom. You didn’t expect it in the slightest, and tripped-almost gracefully-over it, managing to knock the sign over and fall. Straight into Thomas William Hiddleston’s arms. Your soulmate. Looking up at him, you gasped for a moment, before blinking several times, not believing your eyes. “S-sorry.” You apologized, pulling yourself up from his arms, as he looked at you in awe. Tom had been waiting to meet his soulmate since he was young, and he was a romantic at heart. He wrote poems and songs of longing, longing for his forever person, his soulmate. You.

You adjusted your clothes once again, knowing they must be disheveled from the fall. You put the sign back up, trying to make it more noticeable for others this time. Shaking your head once more, you made your way up the small ramp, leading you to your friends. “Wait up!” Tom called, rushing after you. You walked as fast as you could, knowing that nothing would ever be the same. You wanted things to go back to how they were before.

Unfortunately for you, Tom was 6′2″ and had long legs, making it easy for him to catch up to you within a few minutes. “I’m sorry Tom-I just can’t be with you. I know about you. I know what you’ve done with your co-stars. I don’t want to be apart of that messed up world.” Tears welled up in your eyes, knowing that you’d have to find someone else. Which would not be an easy task. “Please. Let me explain. I’m not that guy.” You looked up in his big blue eyes, sighing. It’s just a talk. Just a talk. Nothing more. “Fine.” You sighed, walking with him to the nearest Starbucks to sit down and have a talk.

After ordering your coffees, (Tom was a true gentleman and refused to let you pay for yours) you sat down at a small table, so you could look across from him. You noticed the timer on your wrist was darkened, almost black. You had heard of this phenomenon. The closer to your soulmate, the darker the color of your timer. It’d turn black when you touched them. “I don’t think you properly introduced yourself, love.” Tom spoke, holding his hand out for you. You grasped it for the first time ever, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the sparks.

“I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N.” You smiled. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He raised your hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss on your knuckles. Oh, he was good. “Thank you.” You smiled as he set your hand down, allowing you to take a sip of your coffee.

“I know that the media portrays me as a- um-” He couldn’t seem to find the words. “Womanizer? Player? Fuckboy?” You spoke for him, and what little smile was on his face before fell a bit. “Yeah, that. I promise it’s all for publicity. They told me that I’d be more successful that way, but I regret it all. I wish I could just be myself again.” He spoke, sighing.

“So, it’s all a stunt? You haven’t actually slept with the majority of your female co-stars?” You asked, your hand coming closer to his. “Never. I promise, I saved myself for my soulmate. I’ve been waiting for this day, my entire life.” He shrugged, showing a small, closed-mouth smile. “The tattoos?”

“There’s a select few that are real. The rest are temporary that they put on me, but I can choose to let them show.” He responded, and you nodded. “I do like leather though.” You giggled at his statement, remembering all the times that Cassidy was scrolling on Google, looking at pictures of him in his jacket.

Suddenly, having a soulmate didn’t seem so bad. He was sweet, and a gentleman. Good looking, smart, and funny. Although you didn’t like how the media portrayed him, it wasn’t completely his fault. He was trying his best, and Y/F/N was a screen writer. She had told you a few times of how stars were manipulated to be shown a certain way. You just chose to believe that Tom was a complete ass, but you were glad that you were able to talk and get to know the real him. “So, what brings you to Seattle, Tom?”

“My mom. She’s always wanted to come here. It’s our last day. I wanted to spend mother’s day with her here.” You nodded, smiling. Then, in a quick moment, you remembered the woman you met in the bathroom. “What does she look like?” You asked, and he described the woman you had met to a tee. You smiled. “What, my love?” You melted at his pet name for you.

“I think I met her in the restroom earlier. She told me that your timer was hitting zero soon.” He smiled. It would honestly be so relieving if you and his mom got along well. He knew that it was something he yearned for, he loved his mother very much and had hoped his soulmate would adore her too. “She’s very sweet.” Slowly getting off the topic of him, he asked what brought you to Seattle. “Weekend away with my friends. My friend Cassidy is actually a pretty big fan of yours, I’ll have to have you meet her soon.” He smiled. “But I take it you weren’t a big fan of me? With the stories and all?”

“I was before you went into your ‘womanizer’ phase. I really enjoyed watching movies of yours but then I heard about you and your co-stars and I kinda lost the feeling, you know? I did really love your classy style back then.” You smiled, and he nodded, smiling a little bit at certain moments in your answer. “I understand. The media portrays me horribly now.” You nodded, taking his hand in your and giving it a peck like he had done moments before.

“It’s okay. It’s your life Tom, you can take control if you so desire. I believe you are good, as well as so many other people.”

“Thank you, love.” He smiled, blushing a little bit at your comment. As well as your lips hitting his knuckles. “Where’re you going?” Tom asked, almost in fear. “My hometown. It’s called Y/H/T.”

“Can I come with you?” He asked, suddenly, but spontaneously. “Yeah. I’d love for you to meet my family.” You smiled, a small blush falling upon your cheeks.

“We’re going to go and talk to my mom, if that’s alright. Maybe you and your friends could fly with us in the private jet?” He asked, and your eyes widened, clearly not as used to this superstar ‘treatment’ as he was. You nodded, trying to stay as calm as possible. “I know it’s a tad overwhelming, love.” He grabbed onto your hand, intertwining it in his. You couldn’t help but notice how utterly perfect it felt. His hand was much larger than yours. Your timer faded black, and you smiled at it.

Although Cassidy fell asleep and you, Y/F/N, and Veronica had to drag her onto the private jet, you knew that she’d flip once she realized. Veronica and Y/F/N were relatively calm around Tom, although you kept getting butterflies in your stomach whenever he called you a pet name, or said something sweet to you. You and Tom’s mother got along marvelously, more than he could ever wish for.

Cassidy was restless on the other side of the plane, laying down on the comfortable couch. She moved around a lot when she slept, and you wondered how long it’d been since she talked to Rowan. Apparently he had made a big deal about her going out and drinking, although you were positive nothing had happened last night. You were sober enough last night to know. She ended up in the hotel room, in the queen sized bed next to Veronica. You and Tom were talking about so many things, to the point where Veronica and Y/F/N were almost sick from it. But they knew you were both just so excited and livid from meeting each other.

When Cassidy woke up, you could tell she was pretty much out of it. “Where am I?” Veronica immediately rushed to her side, and you were happy that Tom’s face wasn’t visible from where she was laying. “On the plane, Cas. We’re heading home at the moment.”

“Doesn’t look like a regular o’l plane.” She murmured, sitting up. She gasped, looking over at you and at the back of Tom’s head. “Did I miss it?” She pouted, walking up to you two. She was finally able to see Tom’s face and she gasped once again. “Tom Hiddleston!” She squealed, immediately enveloping him in a hug. “Hello there love, nice to meet you.” He smiled, giving her a quick hug back. She released him in a moment, looking back and forth between the two of you. “Are you?”

“Yep.” Tom smiled, grabbing your hand and pecking it. She swooned, blushing a tad. “Y/N, I’m sooooo happy for you!” She smiled, hugging you this time. “I told you he’s great!” She smiled, and Tom’s smile faltered for a moment, before returning. Remembering that he almost let his reputation come between him and his soulmate. He was so glad that you gave him a chance and let him talk to you. You were honestly all he hoped for and more. Shorter than him, which he found absolutely adorable. You piqued his interest and you were so glad that he had the opportunity to be soulmates with someone like you. Even when you were asleep on the plane, your aura calmed him as he watched you sleep. He was so enveloped in your and every part of your life. He was excited, yet nervous to meet the family of the one he loved. Even though maybe he wouldn’t tell you he loved you just yet; you had only known each other for a few hours. Not even a day. Yet he was enraptured all the same. “She’s beautiful, Tom.” His mom spoke from beside him, rubbing his back thoughtfully. “She is.” He replied, turning to her and giving her a charming smile.

“I met her in the airport bathroom earlier, you know. When she told me her timer was going off soon, I told her it was a shame she wasn’t going to be with my Tom. But things just had a beautiful way of working out. You’re both so lucky to have found each other.” Tom couldn’t help but think of how utterly nervous he was before meeting you. He could tell you were in a similar state, from how you reacted when you met him initially. His mom pecked his cheek, before the plane began descending into Y/H/T.

Waking up, you were flooded with messages from your mother. She knew that you had met someone who was going to be in your life forever. “Y/N, how are you?” “Who’s your soulmate?” “Is he nice?” “Is he handsome?”

“I’m bringing him home, mom. You, dad, and everyone can meet him a bit later. 6 pm?” You responded, and not a minute later she texted back with excitement. “Everyone’s coming over! I’ll make my famous lasagna.” She was clearly very excited. She only made her lasagna on special occasions, such as this. You smiled, not noticing that Tom was sitting on the other side of the plane, looking at you lovingly. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” He spoke, walking over to sit next to you. “Hi.” You spoke, setting your phone down.

“What’s making my girl smile? Not that I’m complaining that you are.” He smiled sweetly, making you giggle. “Well, first of all, I’ve got the soulmate of my dreams,” you replied, smiling at him as he stared into your e/c eyes. “Second of all, my mom somehow got all of my siblings to come in for a lunch tomorrow. To meet said soulmate of my dreams.” You blushed, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

The next afternoon came faster than you could’ve imagined. You slept at your parents’ house, not wanting Tom to arrive sooner than you to the family lunch. His hotel was a lot closer than your apartment. You got dressed in a simple sundress, a pair of brown boots, and a sweater-cardigan that covered up your arms, as they got cold pretty easily. You made sure to shave your legs and everything, you wanted to look nice on such an important day. You tapped your foot nervously, excited yet nervous for your soulmate’s first appearance in your family. Your mom was anxiously watching her lasagna, which she had gotten up at nearly 7 am to start. “I wish to know more about Tom.” She spoke, and you giggled in amusement.

“I know, mom. Soon. He’ll be here soon.” You muttered, and but a second later, you received a message from one Tom Hiddleston. “Hey babe, be there soon. Missed you so much last night.” God he was the sweetest. You hadn’t the heart to leave him on read, so you typed a message back to him. “See you soon Tom!” You’d be lying if you said that you were scared of relationships, or at least partially. Yes, your family was happy and for the most part, their relationship problems always worked themselves out, no matter how difficult. But you always had a “what if” placed in your mind. What if you and your soulmate didn’t work out? What if he hated you, or the way you looked?

The ringing of the doorbell shook you from your dreamlike state, thinking of possibilities for the future. The future always scared you. Even more so now. You hopped from your seat on the stool, hoping for the best. You answered the door before your mother got the chance to, and for that, you were grateful for. The last thing you needed was your clingy mother scaring away your soulmate before the get together even began. You opened the door, your eyes met with possibly the most handsome man your eyes had ever seen.

“Hi, Tom.” You managed to sputter out, and he noticed your nervous energy for a moment, before shaking it off. “Hello, sweetheart.” Instead of simply following you to the kitchen, his towering figure gave you a hug. Your frame was small in comparison to his, and you felt a nibble on your ear. “Care to show me around, lovely?”

You showed Tom the upstairs first, not wanting to interrupt any conversations happening throughout the kitchen, dining room, or living room. You lead him into your childhood bedroom, which appeared relatively the same as it was when you left it. The posters of Harry Potter, and some Marvel films littered the walls. You were a fan of Marvel, you liked the stories, you just weren’t fond of the actors in recent years. When you were younger you definitely loved every part of the franchise.

“So, my pet, you were a fan of Marvel.” He spoke, a dominant tone coming out. “At one time, yes.” You replied, and he nodded. He hoped that Loki was your favorite, at least at one time. “I loved all of them,” you continued, as if reading his mind. “But I fell out of love with the characters, as well as the series, when the media started portraying all of the actors so horribly.” He nodded, agreeing with you. “They did portray us as complete assholes.” He spoke, as you nuzzled your face into his chest. “You’re so adorable. I’m incredibly lucky.” He spoke, and you giggled into his chest. “Don’t you mean you’re incredibly loki?” You joked as a smile appeared on his face. “You stop that. Right now.” You giggled again.

“Y/N, honey, lunchtime!” You heard your mom from the bottom of the stairs. You began heading downstairs, Tom right on your tail. You suddenly felt his presence, but closer this time. His lips were so very close to your ear, and his front side placed oh-so-close to your back. “You have a fabulous ass, by the way.” He grabbed at it, and you squealed, nearly falling into the wall nearby. “And that, was adorable.” He pulled you into him, using a grip on your waist. You were unfamiliar with this level of intimacy. It was strange.

Walking downstairs with Tom following shortly behind, you entered the living room, seeing your siblings, their significant others, and your parents. Kayla was showing, just a little bit more than the last time you saw her. Her belly just barely bulged, but you could tell. Everyone turned to face you and Tom, the newest couple to the family. “Everyone, this is Tom, my soulmate.” You spoke easily, slightly scared of what they would think. You really liked Tom, and you hoped your family would to.

“Oh my gosh, that’s Tom Hiddleston!” Your mom gasped. “So lovely to meet you, Tom.” She found her way over to you two, bringing her hand out to shake his. “Lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Y/L/N.” “Oh please, call me Karen.” Tom smiled lightly. “My famous lasagna is for dinner, honey.” Your mom spoke. “Sounds lovely.” Tom smiled once more. You introduced Tom to your siblings and their significant others, as well. Your father helped your mother in the kitchen as they prepared a wonderful dinner. You and your siblings played a board game before dinner began. You and Tom made a pretty good team in Scattergories. “Alright kiddos, dinner’s ready!”

Everyone headed towards the dining room, gathering at the dinner table. Tom sat next to you, and all of your siblings oohed and awed at the wonderful meal your parents had prepared. Your father helped with appetizers and dessert, and your mother prepared the main course. Everything looked wonderful. “Looks great,” Tom noted, praising your mother.

After a wonderful meal, you felt Tom’s hand on your thigh as you continued in great conversations with your family. Everyone seemed to be getting along well, which you were glad for. However, the gentle yet sensual feeling of Tom’s ginormous hand upon your thigh was a large distraction in this situation. It was odd, you had never felt this way before.

As Tom’s hand became closer and closer to your core, you became more and more heated. You glanced over at him, seeing the smirk upon his face. “Stop” you mouthed. His smirk became even more prominent, and his hand, at this point, had come to play with the band of your panties, his fingers twisting the skinny band of your pink lace thong. “Well, it’s getting late, I think Tom and I are gonna get going.” You spoke, standing up almost immediately afterwards. Because of this action, Tom was forced to let go of your panties. A glimmer of hope left his eyes, and you both waved goodbye to your family.

The car ride home was interesting to say the least, however, it was comfortable. Your apartment was more towards the downtown region of your town, and it was really cozy. You liked it a fair amount, at least. Tom dropped you off, and you hopped out of the car, saying a "goodnight Tom" as you did. Heading towards the entrance of your apartment, you heard Tom's car engine stop. You squinted your eyes, slightly confused, but continued on. You heard a "Y/N!" from behind you, and you turned around. "Yes?" You asked Tom. "Don't you think we have a bit of unfinished business, darling?" You furrowed your brows, looking at him confused as he jogged to catch up with you.

“What’s going on?” You questioned, puzzled. "Can I come in with you?" He asked, and you nodded slightly. You should be able to spend time with your soulmate, right? Though, you were slightly uncomfortable with Tom inside your less than luxurious home, you knew you would have to get used to it eventually. You were just scared, you supposed.Tom followed you into your foyer, which consisted of a small hallway, scattered with a couple of your shoes, and a staircase leading upstairs. After you took your jacket and shoes off, you lead him up to your living room. You felt Tom's strong hands on your waist as you looked around your living space, deciding whether or not to be embarrassed. However, Tom seemed far more interested in your neck than anything else at the moment. You felt Tom’s lips sucking intently on your sweet spot. “Tom...” you moaned out, and you felt Tom’s mouth turn into a smirk. “God you’re so beautiful.” He spoke, “take me to your room, please.” He never let go of your waist as you led him towards your bedroom.

You had never felt as intimate as you did right now. Though you were scared, Tom made you feel comfortable. Tom brought you upon your made bed, laying on top of you. Though you were smaller than him, he didn’t allow all of his weight to lay on you. “Tom” you spoke as he detached his lips from yours and nibbled on your ear. “Yes my love?” “I’m scared” you told him. He immediately got off of you, plopping beside you on the bed. “If you’re not ready for this, it’s okay. I just want to be with you as much as I can. Now that I have you I never want to let you go.” You smiled at his sweetness. “You are the absolute sweetest, Tom.” You kissed his cheek. You intertwined your hand with his as you felt your core heat up slightly. You were ready, you decided. He was your soulmate. There shouldn’t be a doubt in your mind. This time, you initiated, climbing on top of him and straddling his waist.

His hands came to rest upon your thighs, slightly underneath your sundress. You felt his hardened length rest against your thigh, as you felt Tom’s hands pull the bottom of your sundress upwards, and you lifted your arms up, completely revealing yourself to him. Your matching pink bra and pantie set was certainly a sight for sore eyes. Tom’s eyes widened, which confirmed that fact. He then allowed you to help him pull his shirt off of his torso. This time it was your turn to awe at his wickedly muscular chest and abs, which you were very impressed with. “Like what you see?” You heard him ask, and you nodded. “I love it.”

He flipped you back on to the bed, then continued undressing. This time it was his jeans, which were fitted amazingly upon his strong figure. “God Tom” you moaned out, and he let out a slight chuckle on your collarbone. You could see how prominent his bulge was now, and did not disappoint your inter fan girl. He detached your bra from your body with ease, and now the only thing left on either one of you was your underwear. Yours did much less to hide you, however, as the light pink lace thong left very little to the imagination. No wonder Tom had been completely all over them earlier that night.

Tom brought his hands down to his own underwear, where his prominent bulge was located. He released his member, and you eyed it curiously. Obviously, from sex ed classes, you knew what one would look like, but you had never truly seen one. It was fairly large, probably 7 1/2 to 8 inches long. You had no idea how that thing would fit inside of you. Tom slowly slid off your panties, which were the last piece of clothing remaining on you. “Are you ready, my love?” You heard him whisper. Though you were pretty turned on, there was still uncertainty. Would it hurt? “I don’t know.” You murmured. “I’ll get you ready.” Lowering himself towards your labia, he held your knees right over his shoulders as his face came into contact with you.

Jesus. It didn’t take much for Tom’s tongue to excite something within you. All of the sudden, you were incredibly heated, much more than before. You were immensely wet, your juices seeping on to Tom’s tongue. You didn’t think it was possible that you could be any more soaked. You were ready, you supposed. You were on the edge. Tom kissed you, giving you a taste of yourself on your tongue. “Taste good?” You nodded in response. “Okay, I’m gonna go slow, love.” You felt his tip on the brim of your hole, and he began slowly pressing inward. It hurt, but part of the pleasure hit you, just a little. “Ahh” you moaned out as Tom pressed about 2/3 of his length into you. It hurt, but as he began pulsing in and out, you felt the pleasure hit you more and more. It felt good, now. “You feel so good Y/N” you heard Tom whisper into your ear. You both reached your climaxes soon after that, it felt amazing. He peeled his sweaty body off of yours, laying beside you. “You’re so perfect.” Tom whispered into your ear, giving you a kiss on your cheek. You smiled in response. “I’m gonna pop into the shower real quick, Tom. I’m feeling a little sweaty due to, you know.” You spoke. You got out of bed, scampering over to your bathroom. “Love your ass!” Tom yelled from your bed.

You got into the steaming shower, allowing yourself to lather your body with soap. However, soon you were joined by Tom, who wished to wash off as well. You hugged his soft skin as he joined you, lathering his body in soap. Tom began feeling you up with soap, and you silently protested and shook your head. “Tom. Stop it!” You gasped as he gave a squeeze to your breasts. “No funny business.” You told him, rejecting his advances. “You’re right, we have plenty of time.” He noted, and after that, you two were quick to get out of the shower.

The rest of the night was relatively tame, with cuddles from Tom abundant as you laid in bed together. You felt completely protected by him as he spooned you and intertwined his legs with yours. Everything felt completely and utterly perfect.

Waking up the next day, you wondered if it was all a dream. Tom’s warm figure was no longer next to you, however. You were slightly scared, but wandering down your stairs in your silk robe, you found Tom in your kitchen. He was cooking up a wonderful meal, eggs, bacon, toast. You were so happy to see him. “Good morning, Tom!” You spoke gleefully, running up to him. “Good morning sweetheart.” He told you as he flipped the eggs. He turned around afterwards, giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You need any help with anything?” You asked, and Tom shook his head. “You just relax my dear. You can get yourself something to drink, how about that?” You immediately headed towards your coffee maker, turning it on so it would begin to brew. “Would you like any coffee, babe?” You asked, and he nodded gratefully. “That would be wonderful.”

You poured you each a cup, then grabbed some cream and sugar. You put some in yours, but waited for Tom to serve himself. You liked the sweet taste, rather than plain bitter coffee. Tom settled for a little cream and sugar in his as well. You felt his arms settle around you in a hug, sipping on his coffee. Breakfast was wonderful. You could feel everything settling into place. You had a wonderful soulmate and a wonderful future together. You felt Tom give you a kiss on the top of your head, and butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Everything was perfect.

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