#overthinking jen is overthinking

[beautifulhigh]

Another day, another thought, I guess this is my life now.

So last night I was reading this article in which Matthew talks about making the film and the staging of the Paris sex scene. And it struck me how much work and attention to detail was given to this moment:

Which yes, others have talked about what is placed around the room but I'd like to present exhibits B and C:

The other times we see them in bed together, Alex is on Henry's right. Protocol or his good side? (Both?) Because that's your place when you're with a Royal.

But in Paris they're the other way around. Henry is on Alex's right. That's his place. That's where he belongs. In this moment he's not Prince Henry, he's Henry Fox. He's just this guy who is in love with this other guy.

At the DNC hotel they're mired in politics. In Kensington Palace they're in the monarchy. But in Paris? They're just them. Not so much Firstprince as... some other pormanteau. Helex? Alry? Anyway. They're them in Paris and it's as close to neutral ground as they can get and I find it interesting that Henry is on Alex's right when every other instance in his life he has people on his right. He never gets to be the person on the right. He never gets to defer to someone who isn't in some line of succession.

But with Alex? He does. He defers to him (and no this is not a comment about sexual positions) and he isn't pushed into the circumstance and rules of a situation he was born into without any choice or say in the matter. He can just be himself without the need to maintain an image or a sense of duty or adhere to some archiac institution. He's on someone's right.

(He's also put Alex on his non-good side. He's showing that part of himself to this man because he loves and he trusts him and he knows he is safe to do so. That's something else I'm feral over.)

And given how much attention was paid to the staging of Paris you will not be able to convince me that this wasn't deliberate. Matthew López himself could come into my Tumblr inbox and deny it and I wouldn't believe him.

[beautifulhigh]

So I’m home and at my laptop and I can FINALLY scream about this properly. Because so much this. Because it’s been the “whole bloody time”. And he knew, he was aware that if Alex loved him back “it would set [him] on fire”.

If Alex loved him back, then Henry would have a choice to make and it was one that would mean he would lose what little he was able to have with Alex. The texts and the calls and the slightly-flirty nature of all of that. Now with added kissing and blow jobs. This is playing with that fire but Henry can adjust to that. They can catch up, hook up, and carry on with their lives in the meantime.

But if Alex loved him back? Then it would mean that in another world, another lifetime, there would be the possibility and the chance of something more. Something amazing and real and forever. The kind of thing that Henry has known he would never be able to have from the day he realised his sexuality. And that would be the worst thing in the world - to know that if he weren’t him and maybe if Alex weren’t Alex then he could have it. If they weren’t the Prince and the First Son they could be two boys in love.

But they are those people and while Alex may have a little bit more freedom and flexibility to be who he is - his mother’s campaign aside - he won’t be able to have it. He’s been told over and over and over about the importance of the traditional royal image. He has a duty to his country and he doesn’t think he has a say in that.

So if Alex doesn’t love him back then he can enjoy their friendship and the benefits they have added, right up until the point where Alex drifts off in search of something real. Something he can have forever. Someone who isn’t closed off and shuts down and deals with anxiety and depression. Because if Alex loved him back? Well then he would want forever and he would want to deal with that.

But that can’t happen and that won’t happen - because who could put up with him? - and so he needs to set that boundary right now. And instead he ends up blurting out something close to the truth.

I can’t afford to have you fall in love with me.

Henry can’t afford it. He can’t risk Alex going somewhere he can’t follow. He can’t risk losing what little he is able to have. Henry loves Alex and so wants as much as he can have. Here’s the line in the sand, please don’t cross it because beyond that... Don’t make me push you away. Don’t make me break your heart like that while I shatter my own. Don’t push this.

And Alex looked from the line to the man on the other side of that and fell in love anyway. Because Alex has spent his whole life pushing boundaries, watching people he loves and cares about push boundaries, and he never backs down from a challenge.

The challenge of getting to spend the rest of his life loving Henry and being loved back? No way Alex was going to back down from that.

just thinking about how henry was like: "i just can't afford for you to fall in love with me" and how it seems like a throw away comment but henry was being so deadly serious. henry who has been a little in love with alex for years is very much at peace with the fact that he can only belong to alex momentarily. he's spent years loving from a distance and now alex has feelings for him too? it's all this whimsical bonus for him really because he's spent years knowing he will never be with alex properly, that these moments are all they're going to get and all he can ever have with someone he loves. but alex? henry knows how passionate and bold alex can be. henry has to say it because whilst he can afford to break his own heart, he cannot afford to break alex's. he can't do that to him, he can't possibly be the person who hurts alex that way

[qbdream]

would you fuck a clone of yourself?

[bibridlizzie]

Cleo Sowande

[dormiloncito]

😼😼 made a new friend, now in an actual class

[imaginationlover101]

Finders Keepers

Theo Nott x reader (Best Friends To Lovers)

Summary: Some people couldn't keep their eyes to themselves. Who would have known it would have taken one night to prove it all.

I couldn't believe him. There he stood in all his glory, to be quite honest, I've never seen him look so good. Dressed in a dark blue polo (my favorite shirt of his that we bought during a summer weekend back home. We were practically going through every shop trying to find a shirt that fit the ambiance the night, and then it fell into place. I told him that the dark navy brought out his eyes, and since then, he's worn it ever since). I became jealous of his shirt and the way it hugged his body, wishing that I was there supplying him with comfort instead.

I could feel the glances of annoyance from Pancy before even turning her way. Although I dont blame her, I was too busy staring at the boy who was a mere 50 feet away. Sipping through my drink, I finally turn my attention towards her.

"What was that again?"

For all but a moment, I suddenly became aware of my surroundings. The dress I had chosen to wear became increasingly tight, and I began to overthink all of my descions for the night. I wanted to jump out of my own skin, yet I couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was the atmosphere, the people, or the dark lights, but for some reason, I couldn't help but feel like something was off.

"It's about time. I've only called your name like twelve times. What's going on with you tonight?"

Pansy leaned against the curved wall of the slytherin common room with a mysterious look on her face. Twirling a black lock between her fingers, she observed the room searching for the awnser to her own question. Noticing a group of figures making a turn our way, I try to scheme an awnser as fast as possible.

"It's nothing, Pans. I just feel weird tonight."

Within a moment, Pansy could tell that something was wrong, but she had to hold her tongue tight when she noticed Jen and Molly coming our way. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the fake interactions between the girls. It seemed as if the only thing we had in common was this party or our homeroom class.

For a moment, Y/N was able to turn her attention away from the girls and solely focus on the blue-eyed boy she cared so much about. She wanted nothing more to be cuddled up under his shoulder and became jealous of the way he freely talked to Matthew and Lorenzo.

Y/N and Theo had started off the night seemingly good, besides from the unresolved tension Y/N carried from Jen as she practically proclaimed her "hots" for Theo this morning in homeroom. Y/N wanted nothing more to spill her potion all over Jens' shirt, making her rethink the words that came out of her mouth. Theo was hers.

Well, hypothetically, the two weren't exactly dating yet, merley very close friends. But Y/N couldn't help but wish that the pair was more. They had known one another since they were children. How could all the memories of stargazing nights, Hogesmade weekends, summers in Italy, and cozy fall days in the park mean nothing to him? The two were practically attached by the hip, and Jen was bold to assume that she could get to Theo so easily.

Jen and her possy finally made their way towards Pansy, and Y/N. Y/N twirled her drink in her hand before quickly sloshing the whole thing down. Pansy had looked at her best friend in a questionable way. Y/N was never one to drink, now she was throwing drink after drink down? What in the world was wrong?

"Oh hello girls!"

An agonizing voice came from the crowd or at least that's what I thought, until I turned my head to see Jen standing a centimeter away from me. Looking at Pansy, I prayed she'd take the conversation from here.

"Oh Jen, Molly what are you doing here"

Pansy replied in a voice I had never heard from her before. It was a mix of sweetness, confusion and hate all in one. After all Jen and Molly are Gryfindors what were they doing at our party, in might I say the Slytherin common room.

Molly laughed for a moment but not before Jen quickly smacked her side.

"Oh well you know, Molly here is going out with Frederick Brasher, you guys know him right?"

That smug ugly women, Frederick Brasher, wasn't even into girls. The poor boy was probably hexed by Jen during his latest chess battle. She probably offered him, no forced him to give her the common room password or else she'd share his deepest secret. And who would of thought, weren't Gryfindors supposed to be kind?

"Well, yes, I know Frederick very well actully. I'm just surprised he gave Molly here chance."

Pansy looked towards Y/N in surprise. She had never heard her best friend give such digs, but I guess that's what happens after a drink or two. Searching her surroundings Pansy was surprised none of the guys made their way towards them yet. Usually they were always "saving the day" when an unknown was near.

Facing her attention on Molly, Y/N could see the way her face twisted in such a way of her knowing her "precious" secret.

"Speaking of chances, Y/N you wouldn't happen to know anything about Theodore Nott would you?"

Theodore? Who even called him Theodore anymore. If she thought she had a chance with Teddy after calling him Theodore she was wrong. After Molly's proclamation this morning in potions class, she was lucky Y/N hadn't kicked her out yet.

"Hmmm, what's the matter? Y/N cats got your tongue?"

Maybe I was dreaming, but it wasn't until I saw Pansy reaction that I realized I definitely was not. Her mouth was wide open, and her eyes were in immediate shock. If Jen thought she could get away with this, she was wrong.

"Actully no unlike you, I dont have to think of my words they just come right out. Now excuse me, I was just thinking about something far more important than you"

Making my way from out of the dreary drink station, I made my way towards the opposite corner near the very end of the room. The music was significantly louder here, and the green strobe lights from the ceiling were definitely showing it's affects.

"Ehhh!!! Look who it is!! The princess herself! We were just talking about you." Matteo said.

Making a note of my surroundings, I noticed how only Matteo, Theo, and Enzo were the only boys near. Matteo had some girl in his arms, while Enzo sat near the speakers thumping to every beat. Theo stood across from me, leaning against the corner of the wall. With a grin on his face, he motions to Pansy and the group I had left behind.

"Did you decided to grace us with your presence finally?"

Enzo leans up from the speakers, his voice projecting only so far. Another one of our friends who was subjected to the drink of alcohol. His breath smelt like cheap beer, and when he got up to say hello, he quickly sat back down when he realized there's no point.

"Whats this?"

Y/N says practically screaming. The music was far too loud for anyone to hear something. Theos face morphs into confusion, and he leans down from his stance and comes closer to my ear. With his head near the nook of my head, I was grateful for the dark lights in the room.

"I just said said who did this"

Pointing the floor he finally recognizes what I said. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulls me closer.

"Who else, it was Draco before these two came and trashed everything"

Nodding, I began to look up at him. Even in the dark, I could still see his blue eyes. I was starting to get nervous, but I had to stay strong to my word. Bringing his shoulder down so that he could hear me, I slowly began to speak what was on my mind.

"If I asked you to do something would you?"

For a moment, he pulls back, staring directly at my face. He begins to inspect every inch of my skin before answering my question. It was as if he knew me too well.

"Of course bella, is everything alright?"

Nodding my head I drag Theo closer to me. He sways for a minute, surprised at the sudden contact. Wrapping my hands around his neck I lean towards him once again. Placing a hand near the side of his cheek, I raise up to his ear.

"Kiss me"

Theos eyes widen and I begin to roll mine as I waited for him to reciprocate the feeling back. Running my fingers though his hair, he began to smirk and brought his face closer to mine.

With his lips on mine, I began to hear the whoops and hollers from all of our friends. Finally breaking away, Theo tucked me in the nook of his arm in a comforting embrace. From there I could clearly see the shock on Jens' face and to me that made it worth it, time and time again.

[theballadofharkness]

She makes me laugh

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: At a coven meeting you are cornered by Jen and Alice who question just why someone as sweet as you could be the lover of infamous witch-killer Agatha Harkness which allows you to take a trip down memory lane.

Word count: 2K

A/N: In this version Agatha never lost her powers after going up against Wanda and is still doing her Witches Road con with reader 💜

Present Day

The room is dimly lit, a mix of flickering candlelight and the soft glow of a fire crackling in the hearth. Agatha, perched in an armchair near the fireplace, is deep in discussion with Billy, her new pet to mentor, who is peppering her with an endless stream of questions about runes and hexes. You’re standing by a side table, fingers idly tracing the edge of your teacup. The warm, herbal scent of your brew is comforting, but the moment doesn’t last.

"Mind if we join you?"

You glance up to find two witches Agatha and Billy had invited who ‘if memory serves you right, were called Jen and Alice standing before you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled skepticism. Jen, tall and imposing with sharp features, crosses her arms. Alice, smaller but no less intimidating, tilts her head, her dark curls bouncing slightly.

"Sure," you say softly, gesturing to the empty chairs nearby.

They don’t sit. Instead, they step closer, effectively boxing you in against the side table.

"So," Jen begins, her tone casual but with an edge. "We’ve been wondering about something."

"Yes," Alice chimes in, her voice saccharine but her eyes sharp. "How exactly does someone like you end up with someone like Agatha Harkness?"

You blink, caught off guard. "Someone like me?"

"You know," Jen says, gesturing vaguely at you. "A green witch. Soft-spoken. Sweet. The kind of person who probably rescues injured birds and talks to houseplants."

Alice glanced over at your partner. "And then there’s Agatha. Infamous witch killer. Master manipulator. She’s—"

"Agatha," you finish for her, your tone calm but firm.

Jen raises an eyebrow. "Exactly. How does that even work? What could you possibly see in her?" Their words are laced with skepticism, curiosity, and maybe a hint of judgment.

Their question echoes in your mind as you pause, your gaze drifting toward the fireplace. Agatha is gesturing animatedly as she explains something to Billy, her smirk firmly in place as she counters one of his endless questions. Even from across the room, you can feel her presence—commanding, magnetic, yet somehow still comforting. You smile as you find yourself slipping into a reverie, memories of you and Agatha unfurling like the petals of a flower.

~

Boston, Massachusetts~ 1902

When you first began exploring your gifts as a green witch, you’d been hesitant, unsure of yourself. Your magic felt wild, unpredictable, and you’d doubted if you’d ever truly master it.

But Agatha saw potential where others saw uncertainty.

The forest was alive with whispers. Leaves rustled overhead, their sound blending with the soft hum of insects and the distant hoot of an owl. You stood in the center of a small clearing, your hands trembling slightly as you tried—again—to coax the stubborn seedling in front of you to bloom.

Agatha leaned against a nearby tree, her arms crossed, watching you with an amused glint in her eyes. She was patient, but her smirk betrayed her confidence that you’d get it eventually.

“Darling, you’re overthinking it,” she said, her tone somewhere between teasing and encouraging. “Magic isn’t something you wrangle like a wild horse. It’s something you become.”

You frowned, glancing at her. “Easy for you to say. Your magic just... works. Mine feels like it has a mind of its own, and it’s not listening to me.”

At that, Agatha pushed off the tree and strode over, her boots crunching softly on the forest floor. She crouched beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. Her touch was firm, grounding, and you immediately felt some of the tension ease from your body.

“You’re not trying to control the plant, are you?” she asked, her voice gentler now.

You hesitated. “Maybe a little.”

She laughed softly, her breath warm against your cheek as she leaned closer. “That’s not how green witches work, my love. Your power comes from connection, not control. Feel it. The seedling doesn’t need to be told to grow—it needs to be invited.”

Agatha’s hands slid over yours, guiding your fingers to gently brush against the delicate leaves of the seedling. “Close your eyes,” she murmured. “Feel the life inside it. The roots in the earth, the sun above, the pulse of the world around it.”

You did as she said, her voice a soothing anchor. At first, you felt nothing but your own nerves, a jittery buzz beneath your skin. But then, as her steady presence grounded you, you began to sense it—a faint thrum, like a heartbeat, nestled in the tiny plant.

“That’s it,” Agatha said, her tone laced with pride. “Now, give it a little nudge. Not with force—with love.”

You exhaled slowly, releasing the last of your tension, and let your magic flow. A soft green glow emanated from your fingertips, and before your eyes, the seedling began to grow, unfurling into a vibrant flower.

Agatha chuckled, her pride unmistakable. “I told you, darling. You’re extraordinary.”

For the first time, you believed it.

~

London, England~ 1934

The coven was gathered in a large, ancient hall, the air thick with magic and tension. Agatha stood at the center, commanding the attention of every witch present. Her presence was magnetic, her violet magic crackling faintly at her fingertips as she outlined her plans for the coven’s future. You sat off to the side, a little nervous but determined to support her. You were still new to gatherings like this, still finding your footing among witches who had centuries of experience over you. But tonight, you felt steadier, bolstered by the way Agatha had kissed your temple before the meeting and whispered, “You belong here. You belong with me.”

The murmurs in the room grew quieter as Agatha continued to speak, her sharp wit and undeniable power holding everyone in thrall. But not everyone was as respectful.

“So, what’s she doing here?”

The voice cut through the room like a dagger, dripping with condescension. You turned to see its owner: a tall, haughty witch with a cascade of dark hair and a sneer fixed firmly on her face. Her name was Evelyn, one of the oldest and most arrogant members of the coven that Agatha decided to target.

Agatha’s speech faltered for only a moment before her gaze snapped to Evelyn, her smile vanishing.

Evelyn didn’t seem to notice—or care. She gestured toward you dismissively. “She’s a green witch, isn’t she? What could someone like that possibly offer on the road to a coven like this? Much less to you, Agatha.”

A ripple of unease spread through the room. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but before you could respond, Agatha’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and dangerous.

“Careful, Evelyn,” she said, her tone cold as ice.

Evelyn smirked. “I’m only saying what everyone’s thinking. Green witches are... quaint. Charming, perhaps. But hardly worth—”

“Enough.”

The word cracked like a whip, and the entire room seemed to hold its breath. Agatha stepped forward, her violet magic sparking to life around her hands.

“You dare question why she’s here?” Agatha hissed, her voice rising with fury. “She’s here because she’s my witch. That alone makes her more powerful than you could ever hope to be.”

Evelyn opened her mouth, but Agatha raised a hand, silencing her.

“And if you had even a fraction of her talent,” Agatha continued, her voice dripping with venom, “you’d understand that green witches are not quaint—they are essential. Especially on the road. Their connection to life itself is magic in its purest form. And this one?” She turned, her piercing gaze softening as it landed on you. “This one is extraordinary.”

Evelyn faltered, her bravado crumbling under Agatha’s glare. Without another word, she slunk back into the shadows.

When the meeting ended, Agatha found you near the doorway, her smirk returning as she leaned close.

“Don’t let her words get to you, darling,” she said, her voice smooth. “She’s just jealous. And you know...” She paused, her grin sharpening. “I’ll take particular pleasure in draining her magic when the time comes. No one disrespects my girl.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. With Agatha, you always felt safe. Always seen. Always loved.

~

Brooklyn, New York~ 1966

It was late, one of those evenings where time seemed to stretch lazily. You’d been in the kitchen, preparing tea, when Agatha waltzed in, still dressed from the day but barefoot, her hair slightly mussed. She had that playful smirk on her face, the one that always meant trouble—or fun.

From the little radio on the counter, Donovan’s "Season of the Witch" began to play. Agatha’s eyes lit up as she sauntered over, her hand outstretched.

“Dance with me, darling,” she said, her voice low and inviting.

“Here? Now?” you asked, but the smile creeping onto your face betrayed your feigned protest.

“Of course here, and always now,” she quipped, pulling you into her arms before you could resist.

You’d laughed as she twirled you around the small kitchen, her movements both elegant and ridiculous. She hummed along to the tune, spinning you until the world felt like a blur of candlelight and laughter. When the song slowed, her hands slid to your waist, her forehead resting gently against yours.

“In this moment,” she whispered, her voice unusually soft, “there’s no one else in the world. Just you and me.”

~

Westview, New Jersey~ 2023

One rainy afternoon, as the two of you sat curled up on the couch, Agatha decided to entertain you with her “wicked witch” routine. She stood dramatically, throwing her shawl over her shoulders like a cape, and cackled so convincingly you almost spilled your tea.

“My pretty!” she screeched, pointing a finger at you. “And your little garden, too!”

You’d laughed so hard you cried, clutching your sides as she pranced around the room, mimicking the exaggerated gestures of the Wicked Witch of the West.

“Do you know,” she said, finally flopping back onto the couch beside you, “that character was based on me?”

“Oh, really?” you teased, still catching your breath.

“Absolutely,” she said with a grin. “I was the blueprint. Too bad they didn’t get the look right- I felt downright insulted at the nose they went with.”

You laughed so hard your sides ached. Her ability to make you laugh, even on the darkest days, was one of the many reasons you’d fallen so deeply for her.

~

Back to the present

You can’t help but smile, your fingers tightening slightly around your teacup as Jen and Alice exchanged a glance, clearly impatient.

"Well?" Alice prompts. "What’s the big secret?"

You look back at Agatha just as she catches your eye. Her smirk softens, and with a theatrical flair, she blows you an exaggerated kiss. You giggle despite yourself, shaking your head.

Turning back to Jen and Alice, you simply say, "She makes me laugh."

Alice blinks, clearly taken aback by the simplicity of your answer.

"That’s it?" Jen asks, incredulous.

You shrug, your smile unwavering. "That’s everything."

Before they can press you further, Agatha’s voice cuts through the air.

"Darling!" she calls, her tone dripping with exaggerated affection. "Don’t let those two bore you to death. You’re far too precious for that."

The room chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh along.

Jen mutters something under her breath, but Alice just shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Well, I guess if she makes you happy..."

"She does," you say firmly, your gaze drifting back to Agatha as your heart swells with affection.

And for the rest of the evening, as the coven continues their meeting, you sit a little taller, secure in the knowledge that the love you and Agatha share is as fierce and enduring as it is unexpected.

Masterlist

[mistyshane30]

You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 11)

Synopsis: Tension lingers in every glance, every unspoken word. Between teasing remarks and fleeting touches, you find yourself toeing a line with Agatha that feels dangerously thin—like one wrong step could change everything.

Word count: 5.1K

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, Subtle angst, Unresolved emotions, Sexual tension, Mild language 

You wake up with a startled gasp as pain shoots up your side. Your back hits the cold floor, and it takes a second to register what just happened—you fell. Groaning, you rub your face, trying to piece together last night. Too drunk to make it to bed, so you crashed on the couch instead. And now, apparently, the floor. 

With a sigh, you sit up, running a hand through your hair. The ache in your chest is familiar, persistent. Agatha. Her voice, her laughter, the way she moved around you, effortlessly slipping under your skin. You curse under your breath. Of course she still has this effect on you. 

Shaking it off, you grab your phone from the coffee table.  

8 AM.  

A few notifications light up the screen—messages from the group chat and one from Rio. Right, she texted yesterday. Just a simple "Hey there." You’d replied with a half-hearted "Hi." Now, another message sits below it. 

Rio: You good? You sound dead inside. More than usual. 

Guilt creeps in for muting your phone last night. You quickly type back: 

You: Morning! Sorry for the late reply, I muted my phone. Went out for karaoke with my friends—y'know, girls’ night, no distractions. Not that you're a distraction! You get what I mean, right? Sorry, I swear I'm not usually this awkward over text. But yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for checking in. 

A few seconds later, Rio replies. 

Rio: lol, you’re overthinking. Glad you had fun. No hangover? 

You: Surprisingly, no. Just a sore back from passing out on my couch. Not my best moment. 

Rio: Classic. Anyway, gotta open the shop now. Talk later? 

You: Yeah, of course. Have a good one! 

You set your phone down, exhaling. For a brief moment, your mind isn’t occupied by Agatha. Just for a moment. 

After that, you open the group chat. There are a ton of messages, so you scroll back to catch up. Most of it is teasing—Alice, Jen, Lilia, and Agatha going back and forth, poking fun at each other and, mostly, at you for disappearing last night. 

Alice: Y/N's gone. She’s dead to us now. 

Wanda: Tragic. She had a good run. 

Lilia: Imagine falling asleep before the chaos. Rookie move. 

Agatha: Sleep, or something else? 🤨 

Alice: If it’s Rio, just say that. 

Jen: Y/N’s first-ever vacation romance? 😳 

Lilia: I’m so proud. 

Agatha: Huh. Didn’t take her for the type to go for someone like Rio. 

Alice: Ooooh, what does that mean? 👀 

Agatha: Nothing. Just saying. 

Alice: Just saying you sound a little... invested. 🤭 

Agatha: You’re all unbearable. 

You pause, reading that exchange again. There’s something about Agatha’s words that sticks. It’s subtle, but knowing her, there’s a weight beneath the teasing—something almost bitter. Or maybe you’re just reading into things. Maybe it’s nothing. But for some reason, you find yourself staring at her messages a little longer than necessary before shaking your head and moving on. 

You shake your head, scrolling past more playful accusations about your sudden disappearance. Then, a final message from Jen stands out: 

Jen: Dress fitting tomorrow after lunch. Meet at the main entrance of the resort, as usual. Be on time, people! 

You sigh and set your phone down. Time to start the day. Standing up, you stretch, your muscles still stiff from sleeping on the couch. You make your way to the kitchen, grab a glass of water, and down it in a few gulps before heading upstairs to your bedroom. 

The routine is familiar—shower, skincare, getting dressed. But Agatha lingers in your mind. The drunk kiss. The way she sang last night. The way she looked at you when you sang that song. It’s too much. It frustrates you. 

Three more days. That’s all you have to get through, and then you’ll both go back to your own lives. You just need to survive these last three days. 

You spent the morning trying to keep busy—checking emails, scrolling through your phone, pretending you weren’t overthinking about last night. 

Then Rio sends a message. You guys chat for a bit—light, easy, nothing serious. It helps, at least for a while, to have a distraction. But soon enough, it was time to face the next challenge: the bridesmaid dress fitting. 

You pick your outfit carefully—Black Tailored Linen Trousers, a Black L’autre Chose vest, and Gucci Arielle crystal-heel ankle boots. Sleek, effortless. You add your Bvlgari Serpenti sunglasses for an extra touch, the weight of them grounding you as you sling your Black Saint Laurent Le 5 à 7 Mini bag over your shoulder. One last look in the mirror. Composed. Cool. You can do this. 

Stepping out of your villa, the warm breeze greets you as you make your way to the main entrance of the resort. The group is already there, voices overlapping in easy conversation. Your eyes scan over them briefly—Alice laughing at something Lilia said, Jen on her phone, Wanda adjusting her sunglasses. And then, Agatha. 

Your gaze catches on her before you can stop it. She looks good. Of course she does. It’s irritating how effortlessly she pulls off that casual elegance, like she doesn’t even have to try. But the second you realize you’re staring, you look away, swallowing down whatever that feeling is before it can settle. 

You head straight for the van. Without thinking, you grab Wanda’s arm and pull her to sit beside you. She doesn’t protest. She knows why. 

“Got it,” she murmurs under her breath, a small smirk playing at her lips. 

You just nudge her lightly, pretending not to hear Agatha’s voice as she climbs into the van behind you. 

After a few minutes, the van stops in front of an upscale boutique. You step out with the others, immediately greeted by soft ambient lighting, the faint scent of fresh flowers, and the quiet hum of classical music playing in the background. A well-dressed consultant approaches with a warm smile, offering champagne and sparkling water as assistants begin arranging dresses based on previous selections. 

The boutique is elegant, with rows of luxurious gowns lining the space, mannequins displaying intricate designs, and a plush fitting area with ornate mirrors and velvet seating waiting at the back. The energy shifts as everyone spreads out—some admiring fabrics, others flipping through the selections, excitement bubbling in their conversations. 

Alice is the first to take a sip of champagne, grinning at Jen. "If I get tipsy, does that mean I can say no to anything that makes me look like a bridesmaid from hell?" 

Jen rolls her eyes but smiles. "You’re wearing whatever I tell you to wear." 

"Damn. A dictatorship." 

Wanda hums, looking over a deep red gown. "Honestly, I kind of love this one." 

"You would," Alice teases. "It’s screaming 'mysterious and sexy.'" 

The fitting begins, fabric swatches and accessories being presented as the consultant moves efficiently, pinning and clipping dresses as needed. Your friends exchange opinions—some playful, some sincere. 

Then Agatha steps out in her dress. 

At first, you barely glance up, focused on adjusting your cuff, but the moment you do, your breath catches. She looks... effortless. The dress hugs her in all the right places, the deep shade accentuating her striking features. She looks good—too good. You force yourself to remain composed, willing away the way your heart stumbles. 

"Wow," Lilia says, eyes sweeping over Agatha. "That's... unfair." 

Agatha smirks, adjusting one of the straps. "Flattery will get you everywhere." 

Alice elbows you lightly. "You good over there?" 

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" you reply smoothly, reaching for your drink like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

As the consultant gathers the last of the gowns and steps out, she offers a polite smile. “I’ll give you all a moment,” she says before disappearing through the curtains, leaving the group in complete privacy. The room settles into a quieter atmosphere—just the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional clink of a hanger. 

One by one, everyone disappears into their fitting rooms. You step into yours, pulling the curtain closed before carefully unzipping your dress. The boutique is mostly silent except for muffled voices and the occasional shuffle of feet. Then— 

“Y/N?” 

It’s Agatha’s voice. Low, unhurried. 

You pause, fingers still gripping the fabric of your dress. “What?” 

“I need a hand,” she calls from the last fitting room. “Zipper’s stuck.” 

You hesitate. Of course she needs help. Of course it has to be you. 

“Not my problem,” you say, feigning indifference, even though the idea of being near her sends a quiet thrill up your spine. “I’m sure someone else would be happy to assist.” 

Agatha chuckles. “Come on. I’d rather not get stuck in this dress.” 

You let out a dramatic sigh, if only to mask the fact that you already know you’re going to help her. You step out of your fitting room and approach hers, pushing the curtain aside just enough to slip inside. 

And there she is. 

The dress clings to her, the fabric smooth and elegant, but the zipper remains stuck near the top, leaving just a small gap. Her shoulders rise and fall as she waits, one hand on her hip, the other reaching back in vain. 

“You really couldn’t do this yourself?” you tease, stepping closer. 

She huffs a quiet laugh. “If I could, you wouldn’t be here, would you?” 

You roll your eyes but place your hands on the zipper, fingers just barely brushing her skin as you slide it down. The room feels impossibly small, the scent of her perfume lingering in the air. Your hands pause for a second longer than they should—just barely, but enough to notice. Enough to feel. 

“There. Crisis averted,” you murmur, voice softer than intended. 

Agatha turns her head slightly, as if she wants to say something, but instead, she just smirks. “How heroic of you.” 

You step back, shaking your head as you retreat to your own fitting room. As you pull on the dress you picked, you can’t shake the way your skin still tingles where it brushed against hers. 

Once everyone is dressed, you step out to compare designs. The group exchanges opinions, some more critical than others, but you don’t miss the way Agatha watches you from across the room. You glance away quickly, pretending not to notice. 

Eventually, the decision is made—Wanda’s dress wins. The consultant takes measurements, noting final adjustments. 

As the group heads back to the resort, Jen reminds everyone, “Hiking and camping tomorrow. Hope you packed for it. Be at the main entrance by 8 AM. No excuses.” 

Wanda groans. “Do we really have to? Can’t we just pretend we got lost on the way?” 

“Not a chance,” Jen replies. “You’re all coming, and you’re all carrying your own stuff.” 

“I didn’t even bring hiking boots,” Wanda mutters. 

“Same,” another voice chimes in. “Didn’t think we’d actually be doing outdoorsy stuff.” 

Jen rolls her eyes but waves a hand dismissively. “Just buy some at the resort shop. They probably sell overpriced survival gear for people exactly like you.” 

You sigh, already dreading the early morning. “Great. Can’t wait to climb a mountain on minimal sleep.” 

“Think of it as bonding,” Jen says cheerfully. 

Agatha snorts beside you. “Nothing bonds people like suffering together.” 

You nod, already dreading the early morning. But your mind is elsewhere—lingering on the soft touch of a zipper, a whisper of skin against skin, and the way Agatha’s eyes never quite left you. Or maybe you’re just reading into things. 

When you get to your villa, you sink into the bathtub, letting the warm water relax your muscles. A glass of whiskey rests on the edge, and you take slow sips, staring at nothing in particular—except your mind is full of Agatha. You shake your head, pushing the thought away. 

After your bath, you eat a quiet dinner, then head to your bedroom. You check some emails for work, scroll through social media—anything to keep your mind busy. But no matter how much you distract yourself, Agatha lingers in the back of your thoughts. 

Eventually, you try to sleep, knowing you need rest for tomorrow’s hike. But it doesn’t happen. You toss and turn, staring at the ceiling, sighing in frustration. You check your phone again, hoping exhaustion will take over soon. It doesn’t. 

Finally, you sit up and mutter, “Screw it. I need air.” 

You grab a hoodie—the one Agatha gave you, though you try not to think too hard about that—and step outside for a walk, hoping to tire yourself out. 

The resort is peaceful at this hour. You walk past the villas, then down toward the beach, letting the cool night air fill your lungs. The sound of waves rolling onto the shore is steady, calming. You walk along the seashore, the soft sand beneath your feet, letting your mind settle. 

And then—you spot a familiar figure sitting on one of the patio chaise lounges, bathed in the soft glow of the outdoor lanterns. A glass of something dark rests in her hand. 

Agatha. 

You freeze, instinctively stepping back. She hasn’t seen you yet. Maybe you can slip away before— 

Too late. 

Agatha looks up, her gaze flickering in your direction. 

“Y/N?” Her voice carries that teasing lilt, like she already knows. 

You immediately turn on your heel. Nope. Not tonight. You start walking away, pretending you didn’t hear her. 

“Really?” Agatha calls after you, amused. “You trying to avoid me?” There’s a pause. Then, more pointedly, “I know that hoodie, you know.” 

You groan under your breath. Well, shit. That’s embarrassing. There’s no denying it now. 

Agatha shifts in her seat, tilting her head slightly. "Come on, Y/N," she drawls. "I don’t bite." 

You hesitate, arms crossing over your chest. "That’s debatable." 

She chuckles, swirling her drink lazily. "Only if you ask nicely." 

Your face burns at that, but you try to play it off with an eye roll. With a resigned sigh, you trudge over, sinking into the lounge chair beside hers. Agatha watches you with that ever-present smirk, her gaze lingering just a little too long. 

She tilts her head, eyes glinting with amusement. “Was that an attempt to escape?” 

You scoff. “Please. I was just taking a walk.” 

“Mm-hmm.” She swirls her drink lazily. “And yet, here you are.” 

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. What are you even doing out here?” 

Agatha exhales, gazing out at the waves. “Couldn’t sleep. Needed some air.” 

You nod. “Same.” 

She gestures toward the bottle on the small table between you. “Red wine?” 

You hesitate for a second, then take the offered glass. “Thanks.” You sip, still avoiding her gaze. 

A comfortable silence settles between you, the sound of the ocean filling the space. Then Agatha speaks again, her voice softer this time. “You looked nice earlier.” 

You blink, caught off guard. “Huh?” 

“At the fitting.” She glances at you, something unreadable in her expression. “That dress suited you.” 

You feel your cheeks heat up despite yourself. “Oh. Uh… thanks.” 

Agatha hums, taking another sip of wine, twirling the glass in her fingers. "If I had picked the final dress, you know it would’ve been yours." Her voice is casual, but there’s something beneath it, something unreadable. 

You glance at her, trying to gauge what she means. "What, like you would’ve picked it just to mess with me?" 

Agatha chuckles, tilting her head. "No. I just know what looks good on you." 

You huff out a small laugh, shaking your head. "You have too much confidence in your taste." 

She smirks. "And yet, I’m never wrong." 

You turn your head, startled. She’s not looking at you, but there’s a thoughtful air about her, like she’s been holding onto the compliment for a while. 

You swallow, looking out at the sea, trying to sound casual. "Well… you looked nice too." 

Agatha’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Obviously.” 

You scoff, shaking your head. “Right. Should’ve known you’d say that.” 

She chuckles, stretching her legs out in front of her. "Confidence is key, darling." 

You roll your eyes, but there’s an undeniable warmth in your chest. You tell yourself it’s just Agatha being Agatha—teasing, cocky, effortlessly charming. But the way she said it, the way her eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary… 

It makes you wonder. 

Still, you shake the thought away, scoffing lightly. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night." 

The silence is deafening, stretching between you like a barrier neither of you knows how to break. Then, Agatha speaks, her voice playful but laced with curiosity. 

"Okay, be honest. What did you think of me when we first met?" 

You blink, caught off guard. "That’s random," you say, narrowing your eyes. "Why?" 

Agatha just tilts her head, waiting, a knowing look in her gaze. You exhale, shaking your head. "Fine." 

You pretend to think for a second, then grin. "I thought you were a total menace." 

Agatha gasps, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. "A menace?" 

You nod, biting back a laugh. "Yeah. All smug and mysterious, like you had everyone wrapped around your finger." 

Agatha tilts her head, a slow smirk forming. "Is that really such a problem?" 

You shrug, not meeting her gaze. "I didn't say that." 

You tilt your head, watching her carefully. "Alright, my turn. What did you think of me?" 

Agatha leans back, gaze flickering with amusement. "That you were a spoiled little thing who always got her way." 

Your mouth falls open. "Wow. Judgmental much?" 

Agatha shrugs unapologetically. "Was I wrong?" 

You narrow your eyes at her, but the teasing glint in her gaze makes you grin. "Okay, fine. What do you think of me now?" 

She pauses, watching you closely. The smirk fades just a little, replaced by something more thoughtful. "Still spoiled," she admits, her voice softer now. "But also… different." 

You frown slightly, intrigued. "Different how?" 

Instead of answering, Agatha takes a slow sip of her drink, her eyes steady on the waves. She doesn’t say another word, and for some reason, you don’t push. The silence settles between you again, but this time, it’s not uncomfortable. 

You both sit there for a while, just listening to the ocean, the rhythmic crash of waves filling the space where words aren’t needed. 

Then, after a beat, Agatha speaks again, her voice quieter this time. "I like nights like this. When everything’s quiet. No expectations, no noise. Just… being." 

You nod, sinking deeper into the lounge chair. "Yeah. It’s nice." 

Agatha exhales slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. 

You glance at her, noting the way her expression softens as she stares out at the sea. There’s something unreadable in her gaze, something quiet and distant. She doesn’t look at you, but you get the feeling she’s not entirely lost in her thoughts either. 

Maybe she’s waiting. Maybe she wants to say something but won’t. Or maybe you’re just imagining it, reading into things that aren’t really there. 

Still, for a moment, you let yourself wonder what she really meant by that. 

More silence. A kind that feels heavier, but not unpleasant. Just full of something neither of you are saying. Then, Agatha puts her glass down, stretches, and stands up. "I think I’m gonna swim." 

You blink, glancing at her. "Right now?" 

"Why not?" Agatha grins, kicking off her shoes. "The water’s calling me." 

You watch her, hesitating. "You’re actually serious." 

"Deadly." Agatha smirks before stripping off her clothes until she’s down to her undergarments. The moonlight catches in her hair as she steps forward, and your stomach does something weird. 

Agatha glances back over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. "Come on. Live a little." 

You hesitate. The water is dark, endless. "I don’t know…" 

Agatha’s grin widens. "Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared." 

You scoff. "Of the ocean? No. Of getting hypothermia? Yes." 

You fold your arms, watching Agatha with a mix of amusement and concern. "Just a few days ago, you went from a hot tub straight into a sauna like you were trying to cook yourself. And now you’re about to throw yourself into the open sea at night? Do you actually want to get sick?" 

Agatha rolls her eyes, waving you off. "You are no fun." 

Without another word, she takes off running, the cool night air rushing around her as she sprints toward the water. You watch, your eyes following Agatha as she dives into the waves, surf crashing around her. 

From the water, Agatha yells back, laughing. "Come on! It’s amazing!" 

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. "Absolutely not." 

Agatha floats on her back, arms stretched wide, reveling in the cool embrace of the ocean. "You’re really missing out." 

You smirk, settling back into your seat. "I think I’ll live." 

Agatha just laughs, splashing playfully before disappearing beneath the surface, leaving you to watch her, torn between rolling your eyes and smiling. 

Then, Agatha vanishes. One second, she’s there, and the next—gone. Your heart drops. Panic grips you as you scan the water, your pulse hammering in your ears. Without a second thought, you strip down and sprint toward the sea, wading in as fast as you can. 

"Agatha!" You call out, voice edged with worry. "Agatha, where—" 

Something grabs your leg. 

You scream—loud, startled, borderline terrified—before Agatha bursts out of the water, laughing. She tosses her wet hair back, eyes twinkling. "You should’ve seen your face!" 

Your heart is still racing, but now it’s fueled by frustration. "Are you kidding me? That’s not funny!" 

Agatha grins, completely unapologetic. "Oh, come on. Just a little fun." 

"A little fun? I thought you drowned!" You glare at her, crossing your arms even as the waves lap around you. "You scared the hell out of me." 

She swims closer, a playful smirk still on her lips. "Okay, okay. I’m sorry," she says, but the amusement in her voice betrays her. 

You huff, shaking your head. "Unbelievable." 

Agatha tilts her head, considering you for a moment. Then, without warning, she splashes you. 

You gasp. "Oh, you did not just—" 

Before you can finish, she does it again, laughing. That’s it. You retaliate, sending a wave of water her way, and soon, it turns into an all-out splash war. You’re both laughing, shrieking when the water hits just right, playing like teenagers without a care in the world. 

For a moment, it’s just that—laughter, water, the easy lightness of being in the moment. No complications. No weight of the past. Just this. 

After some time, you stop first, breathless, pushing your wet hair back. Agatha is watching you, her laughter trailing off, something unreadable in her gaze. The air thickens between you. The ocean suddenly feels quieter. 

“You’ve got something,” she murmurs, tilting her head slightly. 

You blink. “What?” 

Agatha lifts her hand—hesitates—then reaches out, brushing a wet strand of hair from your cheek. Her fingers are gentle, lingering just a second too long. You exhale, your heart stammering. The waves hush around you, the moment stretching. 

Agatha’s hand starts to drop—but she pauses. It’s such a simple touch, but it makes your breath catch. Her gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes. Her thumb lingers just a second too long, tracing lightly against your skin, like she’s memorizing the feeling. 

“Y/N,” she says, barely above a whisper. It’s not a question, not a statement. Just your name, spoken like a thought slipping out before she can stop it. 

And then—she leans in, slow and deliberate, her gaze flickering to your lips just once before closing the distance.  

It’s soft, tentative, like she’s waiting for something. But you’re so caught off guard that you don’t move, don’t react. Not right away. 

She notices. She pulls back, face suddenly unreadable. “I—” She exhales, shaking her head. “Shit. Sorry. I thought—” She lets out a hollow laugh, already turning away. “Forget it.” 

But then— 

“Agatha, wait.” 

You grab her wrist, not forceful. She stills. 

Your heart slams against your ribs. You don’t think—you just act. You tug her back toward you, closing the space between you. 

And then you kiss her. 

For real this time. 

She tenses for half a second, like she can’t believe it, and then she melts into it. Her hands find your waist, pulling you in as the waves swirl around you. You can taste the salt on her lips, feel the warmth of her breath mixing with yours. It’s overwhelming and dizzying and everything all at once. 

She tilts her head, deepening it just slightly, her fingers pressing into your skin like she’s anchoring herself. You feel like you might float away if she weren’t holding you there. 

And just like that, you’re lost in her. 

You and Agatha stay close, foreheads nearly touching. Her hand comes up, fingers skimming over your jaw. 

“…You kissed me back,��� Agatha murmurs, almost like she can’t believe it. 

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Yeah.” 

You search Agatha’s eyes, hesitant. “Why did you kiss me?” 

Agatha exhales slowly, the weight of the question settling between you. "I don’t know," she admits, her voice quieter than you expected. 

You swallow, your shoulders rising with a deep inhale, then falling as you exhale. 

"I just— It felt right." 

You hesitate, then finally ask, “What about your marriage?” 

Agatha flinches—just the slightest twitch, but you catch it. You see the way her lips part like she’s about to say something, then hesitate. “My marriage,” she echoes, almost to herself. Her hand lingers on your jaw for a moment longer before she pulls it away, fingers curling into a fist at her side. Then, quietly, she says, “It’s already over.” 

Your breath catches. “So…” 

Agatha meets your gaze again, something raw and unguarded flickering in her eyes. “So there’s nothing stopping me anymore.” 

You watch her, heart pounding, searching her face for any hint of doubt. But Agatha looks steady, certain in a way you’re not sure you’ve seen before. “Then what happens now?” 

Agatha’s thumb brushes against your cheek, her touch lingering like she’s memorizing the moment. “I guess… we find out together.” 

Your heart clenches at that—at the honesty in her voice, the quiet promise in her words. So you nod, squeezing her waist gently. “Okay,” you whisper. 

Agatha smiles again, soft and just for you. “Okay.” And for the first time in a long time, it feels like something between you is finally falling into place. 

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head as you look at her. “You know… maybe we should get out of the ocean now.” 

Agatha blinks, like she only just remembered where you are. The water laps at your waists, the night air cool against your damp skin. She smirks. “Why? Worried about sharks?” 

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. “No, I’m worried about hypothermia. Or, I don’t know, getting pruny.” 

Agatha chuckles, shaking her head. “Alright, alright.” She takes a step back, but before she turns toward the shore, she reaches for your hand, threading your fingers together under the water. The simple gesture sends warmth flooding through your chest. 

“Come on,” Agatha murmurs, giving your hand a squeeze. “Let’s go.” 

You squeeze back, and together, you wade through the gentle waves, leaving the ocean behind—but carrying something new between you. Something warmer than the water, steadier than the tide. 

Back on the chaise lounges, the night air feels colder now that your clothes are damp and clinging to you. You shift uncomfortably, adjusting the fabric, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. Across from you, Agatha does the same, pulling her sleeves down, her movements slower, more deliberate. 

Neither of you says anything for a long moment. The ocean is still there, waves rolling gently in the distance, but the silence between you feels louder. Everything feels different now—charged, fragile, like if you say the wrong thing, it’ll shatter. 

Agatha exhales first, rubbing a hand over her face before glancing at you. “We should probably… head back to our villa now.” Her voice is quieter than usual. 

You nod, fidgeting with your damp sleeve. “Yeah. Probably.” 

Neither of you moves. It’s almost ridiculous, how awkward this feels—like you’re teenagers again, fumbling through the aftermath of something that means too much. 

Eventually, Agatha stands, brushing imaginary dust off her pants. “Well… goodnight, then.” She hesitates, eyes flickering to yours. “Take care.” 

You swallow, nodding. “You too.” 

You step away from each other, turning in opposite directions, but your chest tightens the farther you walk. It feels… wrong to just leave like this. Like something is unfinished. 

You stop, turning back before you can second-guess yourself. “Agatha.” 

She freezes, shoulders stiffening just slightly before she turns around. 

For a second, you don’t know what you want to say. You just know you don’t want to walk away yet. Feeling a little ridiculous, you lift your hand in a small wave. “Goodnight… again.” 

Agatha stares at you, her face unreadable at first. Then—slowly, softly—a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. 

“Goodnight,” she murmurs. 

You stand there for a few more seconds, looking at each other, neither of you moving, neither of you quite ready to let go. 

Then, finally, you do. You turn away, walking back to your villa, but you don’t stop yourself from glancing over your shoulder one last time. 

And you catch her doing the same. 

Back at the villa, you close the door behind you and lean against it, exhaling a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Your clothes are still damp, clinging uncomfortably to your skin, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Your mind spins, replaying every moment that just unfolded. The kiss—real this time. The way Agatha looked at you. The softness in her voice when she spoke, like she was afraid to break the moment. The way she lingered, as if walking away was the last thing she wanted to do. 

You press your fingers to your lips, still feeling the ghost of her touch there. Your heart is pounding, too loud in the quiet room. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

And yet… you don’t regret it. 

You push off the door and walk toward the bed, running a hand through your damp hair. You should change. You should dry off. You should sleep. 

But instead, you sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, lost in the feeling of Agatha’s hands on you, her voice in your ear, the way she looked back one last time. 

Something between you has shifted. There's no denying it now. 

You exhale sharply, shaking your head at yourself. 

What the hell are you supposed to do now? 

Taglist: @6stolenangel9 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @theonefairygodmother

[spareham]

fascinated by devon because she's like the only character with any goddamn sense but also why the hell did she marry that man?

i would love to talk about this..... bcos honestly idk i just.. feel like i get them, mostly cos the show is asking me to believe it and i enjoy stories most when i go along with what theyre telling me until theyre done telling me about it.

but for real here's my take on devon & rickens relationship: when ricken and devon met, ricken was a lil rich boy who loved to write (poorly) and was always a little too privileged and weird, but ultimately very personable/funny and like... puppy dog level head over heels for devon. first love type shit on his end. i think they were probably young and it was probably an honest friendship that grew into a relationship at devons pace, and while ricken was (and still is) ridiculous and a little lost, that doesnt stop devon from loving him. then gemma and she and mark and ricken became close knit, a real ass family spending a lot of time together and devon & rickens relationship became better because of it. and then gemma died c: and devon had to get really fucking serious about caring for mark AND ricken.. and thats the devon we see today, grieving and carrying it all.

AND ricken is grieving... we see him cope with any negative feelings (insecurity etc) with false bravado and overthinking. And ricken who is both grieving and dealing poorly with the grieving people around him is in an ego-driven rabbit hole exacerbated by the random boderline-sycophants who bring out the worst in him.. but the ego rabbit hole friend group makes him feel wanted/loved/important so he's coping poorly and spiraling by playing into it without regard to how it affects devon and what it really 'means' about who he is/what he's achieving (he's not very introspective or self aware even tho he thinks himself to be!!) idk i just think that while ricken is like.. maybe the worst version of himself he's ever been at this point in their lives, he also wasn't ever some incredible amazing superhero person to begin with... he's kinda just a dope. and devon loves him. and he's wealthy lmao. and i just feel like even though they aren't some storybook fairy tale mark & gemma type romance, devons an extremely pragmatic person and wouldnt be with someone she didn't Want to be with. I don't think she'd take as much crap from mark as she does if she wasn't sure about ricken. but idk im prepared to eat my hat cos frankly i think they should open their marriage and devon should date women but thats just me

ANYWAY: Jen tullock talked about a lot of these things on the severance podcast ep she was on, and also a lot of my opinions were informed/solidified by He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother by cassiandor on ao3 and i think everyone who loves devon should read it.

[huskyscc]

lacy

pairings - jenna ortega x g!n reader (no pronouns specified)

wc - 2100+ (not proofread)

warnings - none

summary - you thought jenna was someone with the perfect life, she seemed happy enough. you just didn't know how bad she was struggling with everything.

masterlist

» [Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo now playing] «

1:45 ────〇── 2:57 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

for the longest time, all you could remember was her talent and carefree nature.

you remember a lot about her, actually. how she would laugh over stupid things and not have a care in the world. when her natural talent was brought up, she always remained humble about it and even made small jokes about it. you loved her confidence, but you yearned for it. at least something along those lines.

it started ever since you were kids, seven or eight years old at least. you and Jenna were best friends, stuck together like glue at the hip 24/7. there was never a day where you two would be separated or apart. it drove your parents crazy.

You two would spend everyday hanging out together, and as you grew, so did your bond... though, your play dates and sleepovers were always canceled early because Jenna usually had to do something along the lines of acting or of some sort.

It was just a few times every few weeks at first, then almost every week, then daily. it cut the time between the two of you, causing your distance to become thicker as she spent more and more time away from her childhood era.

some days, you would just spend sitting on the sidewalk along Jenna's home as you waited for her, knowing she wasn't going to show up. the feeling never went away, the yearning for her to return. you were 13 when she came back.

by the time she did come back for more than a few days, she was... different. not in a bad, mean way, no. she was different in her demeanor and how she acted.

she was especially different with how she talked towards you. her eyes roamed you experimentally, as if studying you for a moment before she spoke. you finally went to cut the silence, though she beat you to it.

"You've... grown." Jenna spoke softly in a soft murmur, her eyes still glancing at you as if recognizing- no, remembering you to memory. you tried to catch up with Jenna, but her news was much more interesting than you catching a few frogs here and there and crashing your bike.

you wanted to be a good friend, listening intently as she spoke so highly of her new career that she enjoyed. you saw the way her eyes sparked - the way they hadn't sparked like that since before she left made your stomach turn in anxiety.

it was a small grow in your belly at first, though you ignored it with the feeling of success for Jenna. you showered her constantly with affection and amusement.

you continued to push the feeling away, though it only seemed to gnaw harder at you as you both continued to grow.

───

Jenna was leaving for the night. she had told you previously a few days back that she would be hosting SNL monologue, which you were impressed about.

"It's a bit weird, don't ya think? I mean, not this place. I love being here," Jenna gestured to the comfort of the shared hotel between the two of you.

"you mean weird as in...?" you perk, your mind curious as you glance at her. she looked up at you and gave an awkward smile, "uh.. not being home?" she took a breath before slumping beside you on the couch.

you nod in agreement, sniffing as her perfume hit you. "yeah, but not too weird. I like being here with you, anyway." you say in a lighthearted tone, to which Jenna gave a warm smile to.

"are you gonna watch my monologue? what if I forget it? what if someone else forgets their part?" she started rambling, her brain working 100 miles per hour as each what if theory grew within.

"Jen." you say in a gentle yet firm tone, trying to ground her once more. she gave a look of slight embarrassment but nodded in question.

"yeah..?" she inquired. you chuckle slightly as you move a stray strand of hair from her face. "you're overthinking this. you know how great you are!" you say with a soft expression, honesty gleaming in your eyes.

Jenna gave an honest, lighthearted smile at your words as she slowly nodded her head in agreement. "yeah," she took a deep breath in. "I probably am just overthinking this," she laughed it off.

Jenna was always on the more talented side of things when it came to remembering and acting out things. you were just... there. you weren't excellent at anything, you were just there for Jenna and she was there for you.

as Jenna prepared to leave, she gave you a small hum of goodbye. she stammered out the apartments as you call out to her, "see you! and i'll watch it, promise!" you promised her, to which she gave a warm smile of gratitude before she finally left for the night.

The glow of the TV was bright against the dimly lit room. you were slumped into the couch, wearing a pair of shorts and a hoodie that you found on your floor. most likely Jenna's.

you had watched Jenna's monologue, to which she did amazing with, no doubt. you just... felt that pit in your stomach once more.

you wanted to excuse it, trying to convince yourself that you were feeling excited for your friend as you watched her grow into the woman she is today... but you would be lying if you said that.

that was far from the truth. it's not that you were jealous of Jenna and her success, you were jealous of how carefree she seemed to be and how at bay she looked 25/8.

you, on the other hand, were almost always stressing about your job and if you'd get fired based off something as small as forgetting to move a box from one place to another.

Jenna loved her job from what you had heard, and it even gave her more opportunities. way more than you ever got. Jenna just seemed more talented than you in everything.

It seemed that she poisoned every little thing that you did with her own charm, causing you to have no effect on anything or anyone.

you didn't know how to handle it, you just wanted that ache in your stomach to disappear.

you give a long exhale, pressing your back into the couch cushions with a hum of contentment. you turn the TV off, slipping a blanket up to your chest as you got comfortable whilst waiting for Jenna.

It wasn't much longer until she came, giving a small yawn as she walked through the door. she seemed tired. you turn your head in an instant, humming at her presence. "hey! I told you that you'd do good." you say.

Jenna gives a hearty laugh, her dimples evident before she threw her bag aside and crawled onto the couch with a slump onto the cushion. "I'm so exhausted." she murmured.

initially, you took it as a more rhetorical statement than serious. you figured she was just tired from doing so much today - you didn't consider the fact that it might be her expressing how mentally drained she was.

you give a small chuckle at her words, turning your head to look at the brunette girl as you toss the blanket over her, as well. "is that so?" you perk an eyebrow, as if not believing her. "you're naturally talented. surely, it can't be too hard?" you offer.

Jenna gives a shake of her head, her expression puzzled as she eyed you. "too hard?" she scoffed slightly. she gave a small huff, her brows pinched together in confusion as she glanced at you. "i'm exhausted." she empathized the word now, her eyes softened in a drained way. she gave a small frown.

you glance at her frown, then back up to her eyes. "...you mean, like, mentally?" you perk quietly, as if afraid to say the wrong thing to the girl, who nods her head. your expression falls flat as realization hits you like a train. was being naturally talented and pursuing it really that hard? your stomach churned.

"this is so tiring. I feel like I don't get to hangout with you anymore because of work- even if we live together!" she carries on her words with a small droop of her shoulders. she shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, and you could see the sadness building up inside her.

you gave a small puzzled look, not expecting this from her. talented, carefree Jenna... maybe you should have expected it. I mean, no one is perfect? "but-" you began, though, your mouth remained stuck open as your throat dried and your words died out.

Jenna looked at you, curious as to what you were going to continue saying with hooded eyes. it was just then you took notice of Jenna. real notice. you took in her appearance at once, your eyes flickering with concern and empathy.

her eyes were worn and seemingly empty, showing little to no expression as the eye bags under her eyes are evident when her face is studied. her hair is ruffled and there's a bit of torn skin on her bottom lip, indicating her anxiety getting the best of her.

"oh, baby..." the words slipped from your tongue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Jenna gave a small wince as you moved, her eyes tired. "c'mere," you breathe softly as you open your arms up for her, your chest burning with sympathy for the brown haired girl.

Jenna looks up at you before crawling within your grasp, her heartbeat staggered as she rested against you. you open your mouth to speak, your words coming out softer and weaker than intended. "i'm sorry- I had no clue you were so... tired." you say gently.

Jenna shakes her head against the fabric of your hoodie, her gaze unwavering as she looks up to you. "y/n," she sniffled. "I- I didn't know how to tell you. I thought living together would be the perfect solution but-" her voice chokes out as it creeps away.

"perfect solution to what, Jen?" you asked softly, trying to grasp an understanding of how her mind exactly worked and how her thought process brought her to this moment.

"the perfect solution for feeling so... empty and lost." she exhaled. she brought her gaze to the ground below, messing with her fingers in an anxious state whilst hiding from your gaze, as if scared.

you frowned at her honest words, rubbing her back softly as she choked out her words. "I should've noticed. don't feel bad, Jen." you coo gently, trying to calm her nerves. yet, she still shook her head, her eyes brimmed with tears.

"I am so tired. all the time. I want to be the best for you and for everyone else who's looking up to me, like my fans! but, i-" you cut her words off with a sigh. "Jenna." you say, a bit stern.

She gives you a hesitant look, her gaze curious as she glanced up at you. "yeah?" she said in a breathy voice, her eyes softened as her gaze met yours.

"you don't have to make anyone the happiest besides yourself. if you aren't happy, you shouldn't push yourself until you're emptied out... you should take a break." you whisper softly, as if nervous that if your tone was a bit higher, she'd be scared off.

Jenna nodded slightly in understanding, her movements slow as she took it into thought. "but, my fans-" she started. "forget your fans. just for now. worry about yourself so your fans don't have to, yeah?" you say with a small, reassuring smile.

Jenna listened with an intent glare, taking every word to heart. "yeah... yeah, okay." she muttered quietly at last, her gaze soft as she looked up at you.

you give her a ruffle of her hair as you pull her beside you, allowing her to be enveloped whole by the blanket. you wipe her eyes of her damp tears, giving her a concerned yet caring glare.

Jenna looked at you once more before taking a small breath, inhaling and exhaling deeply before nuzzling into the side of the hoodie. she took in a whiff of your scent, her body easing against yours as she closed her eyes. she was tired.

you whisper sweet words, small promises, and even heartfelt comments as she drifted off. you toy with her hair for a bit longer before moving your fingers away, holding her against you like a lifeline as you closed your eyes, as well.

oh, how wrong you were about someone who seemed to be made of perfect angel dust.

[beautifulhigh]

The smallest of looks is the loudest moment in the room

Just a little one from me to save me from going insane and to sate my followers...

ZAHRA: How long has this been going on?

Alex is focused on Zahra, Henry is staring off into the middle distance until Alex answers her.

ALEX: Since New Year's.

And it's that Henry reacts to. Have a close up.

Henry's gaze flicks to Alex. In this exact moment (1 hour, 5 minutes, and 41 seconds), he looks at Alex for a few seconds.

This is the moment Alex has put a start date on this thing between them.

It's a little more certain here than it is in the book:

"How long has this been happening?" "Since, um, New Year's." (page 233)

The placement of that "um" holds meaning for me - in the book Alex is hesitating before he pins a start date on him and Henry. He's trying to figure it out and that's what he goes for. Because how long has it been going on? Since they started sharing intimate thoughts and fears? Since they increased the benefits they had added to their friendship? Since the Red Room?

Nope. Alex goes for the moment when the possibility between them changed and he completely ignores the weeks of silence that happened straight after. The period of time in which Henry was full of fear over what he'd done, what Alex might do. In the book we know he runs scared, going on a public date and being photographed.

If there was a prince, and he was gay, and he kissed someone, and maybe it mattered, that prince might have to run a little bit of interference. (page 125)

We don't have anything like that in the movie but we do have the silence. We see Henry's fear when he comes into the Red Room. Not just because of the line he crossed with Alex but because he has exposed himself and his most closely guarded secret, a glimpse of his true self.

He will know that Alex isn't going to out him - they've spent long enough talking and getting to know each other for that to not be Henry's fear. And if he was then it would have happened long before the State Dinner. Henry's fear is about losing Alex, losing the friendship, losing that connection with the boy he's wanted since the Olympics/Climate Conference.

I'd put money on Henry promising himself, once upon a time, that he would never do anything to risk losing what small pieces of Alex he could have in his life. And when they start up this thing he goes in thinking that this is all he can have, all he will get.

"I thought I could have some part of you, and just never say [I love you], and you'd never have to know, and one day you'd get tired of me and leave, because I'm--" (Page 272)

Henry didn't think he would have all of Alex, at least not anything of import, that Alex wouldn't be as far in as Henry is. And yet here he is in this hotel room, declaring they have been this thing since that kiss. Since before they properly made out in the Red Room, went down on each other in Alex's bedroom, talked about "keeping things casual" before embarking on the most insanely devoted shag fest known to mankind.

Alex has been in since New Year's and he tells Zahra just that.

In the movie he is more decisive. (Just like the instant "No" when Zahra asks if it would make a difference if she asked them to stop.)

Since New Year's. Since the moment Henry kissed me and I became unable to think about anything else except doing it again. And doing other stuff.

And even though Henry ghosted him right after, even though the next thing Henry said to Alex after his apology and disappearance into the night was another apology for his behaviour, Alex has labelled that moment, that kiss, as their start.

The moment when Henry was brave.

And in the movie we get to see Henry's reaction to that. They've been discovered, things are about to blow up in a way they can't control, and Alex says that as far as he's concerned this thing between them has been going on all year.

Before the emails. Before Paris. Before the State Dinner. Alex has been Henry's since New Year's and this is the moment he finds that out.

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Word Count: 1588

Chapter 10:

You approached Jen, who was trying to think.

"What ingredients do you need?"

You had not been around a lot of Potion Witches but you knew Jen would need certain things to start making the potion.

You merely prayed you would find them soon enough in this huge house, for enough time had already been wasted.

Jen thought carefully for a moment. "I need frankincense and the gut of a eusocial insect."

Alice extended her hand, grabbing Teen's lower arm. "We'll handle that first part." She said and, along with the boy, rushed to find the two ingredients.

Jen took a deep breath, trying not to overthink or let the ticking sound of the clock distract her. She needed to be concentrated, for there was no room for error.

"I need a corpse that's been decaying for at least 30 million years."

Your eyebrows went up, not expecting that such a thing could actually be part of an antidote. It was in those times you really hated potions and was reminded how complicated they were.

"Is that something that's available? Cause I don't know what you're talking about." Agatha commented, anxiously waiting for the swelling to go away.

"Why do I have to translate? It's zooplankton." Jen explained, but that did not seem to ring a bell to any of you. "It's in petroleum products."

Suddenly, Lilia seemed to get an idea. "That we maybe can do."

Agatha nodded. "Lilia, let's go."

You watched the two women go and you glanced at Jen, feeling odd to be left with her.

"You help me find a cauldron or something to use!"

You could only nod as you both started to search the kitchenware, but nothing seemed fitting enough or your cause or big for that matter.

Your eyes went to the square sink, and a crazy idea popped into your mind. It was crazy. It was perhaps wrong, but right now, you were literally fighting for your life.

"The sink!" You pointed out, earning her attention.

"Huh?" Jen exclaimed.

"The sink is big enough, and we can clog it, so the water remains."

Jen looked at you for a moment, wondering if you had gone mad, but then she looked at the sink, and she could somehow imagine it that it could work.

"Okay... I can work with this," she agreed and once again focused on you. "I need one more ingredient. Eye of Newt, " she explained, but you only ended up staring at her for a little longer, blinking slowly. In the end, she gave up. "You fill the sink, I will go get it"

"Sounds like a good plan" you agreed.

You would not really point out that potions was your weak spot, though by now it might have been obvious enough.

Choosing not to comment, you watched her leave in search of a spice pantry while you placed the tab in the sink and let the warm water flow.

The clock next to you kept counting down, making your heart race faster due to the poison but also due to worry. A constant reminder that your chances of survival kept getting smaller was not helping keep you calm.

You placed your hands on the kitchen bench and leaned slightly forward, head hung low. As you felt the hot steam coming from the pooling water, you closed your eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths.

You sure did not remember the trials being that stressful the last time, yet centuries had passed ever since.

The sound of the clock seemed to slowly go away, blending with the background noises until it was a deep but weak echo at the very back.

The sudden change made you open your eyes, wondering what was going on. To your surprise, the house seemed dark and with barely any light present.

The faint sound of multiple steps came from a door to the very left, and you found yourself slowly walking towards it, leaving behind the kitchen and the sink that was halfway full.

As you kept walking, the sound of steps grew louder, and as you took a turn to the left; you could not help but gasp silently.

The hallway or room or whatever was meant to be there seemed to have expanded and was covered in darkness. The only thing visible was the light of torches, casting shadows on the faces of some familiar men.

"Get the witch!" One shouted, lifting a heavy object with both hands.

"Grab her!"

"Demon!"

"Kill her"

Your instincts told you to run away, to get as far away as possible but sudden fear clouded your mind; paralysing you.

You could only stare as the angry men kept shouting, the sound of chains triggering dark memories within you.

"No... no, no...no..." You repeated again and again as you brought your hands in front of you, forming an X in a futile attempts to protect yourself from the hits that were about to come.

Your white magic glowed in your palms and around your fingers, your instincts about to use it to protect you against the old enemy that had been brought back.

Before it could, however, it was stopped.

A strong pair of arms grabbed your wrist and shook you faintly as a muffled voice barely reached your eyes.

Gathering the courage, you dared to open your eyes only to see yourself with one knee against the wooden floor.

The angry men from before were gone, the lights were back to normal, and Agatha was holding your wrists; having almost gotten hit by your magic.

"You are with me, sugar?" She asked, bending slightly as if trying to ensure you would not fall; her grip on your wrists strong.

When Agatha was coming back with Lilia, she felt triumphant. She knew she found the ingredients into Jen's products, and she would use that as a chance to expose her dirty secret about her "natural" products.

However, before she could; Lilia seemed to get trapped into some sort of illusion or nightmare; one that actually worried Agatha, mostly on what the old witch had seen to terrify her that much.

Once this was over, she had made her way towards the kitchen when she saw you; staring at nothing. She called your name but her smile had disappeared once she realised you were also fighting an illusion, one to make you beg.

Her instincts kicked in and she handed all of the products she had right into Lilia's hands, not caring if the older witch would be able to handle the new load and quantity.

She rushed towards you, worry evident in her eyes. Your white magic seemed to flare when she approached but she managed to grab your wrist and shake you slightly, hoping this would help you snap out of it.

When you opened your eyes, she could barely find the strength to stare into your pained and terrified gaze. She had never seen that look on you, and it worried her of what could have taken place while she was away from you.

When you finally calmed down, a deep breath left your lips, and you could finally answer her. "I... I am, " you replied as you stood up with her help.

She did not seem to truly believe you, but as the sound of a ticking clock reached you, you were reminded there was not a lot of time for small moments.

You moved back to the kitchen just in time to meet the others, seeing them almost all as terrified and shaken as you; with the exception of Teen, who had not drank the wine.

Wasting no time, you cleaned the bench of any unnecessary items and placed all the ingredients on the marble top. When Jen had seen her products, she parted her lips to argue but chose not to; and only instructed you to add the ingredients in the proper turn.

Then, another obstacle showed up.

"Any bright ideas on how to set this sink to boil?" Jen asked, since the warm water you had filled the sink with was mot enough.

Agatha looked at her. "You didn't think of this before?"

Jen held back the need to snap at the former dark witch. "In the middle of a traumatic hallucination? No, Agatha, I did not!"

She took a deep breath as she tried to ignore the sound of running water. Because if it wasn't enough the poison and the timer, the Road had chosen to flood everything outside.

And thanks to the crack Agatha made before, saltwater was entering and you all feared when the time was up; that crack would stop holding resistance.

Thankfully, Teen seemed to know of something.

"Is there a sous vide?" He asked, and Jen smiled, a passive congratulation in his quick thinking.

Agatha arched an eyebrow and looked at you and Lilia, the ones standing closer together.

"That's something people know about?" She asked, and you only shrugged your shoulders, as clueless as the others on the topic.

Potions were never your strong suit, and neither was cooking, pastry, or anything having to do with a kitchen. You were a descent gardener, but your talents, unfortunately, laid elsewhere.

"It's a super fancy cooking tool. It heats water to a specific temperature, so you can cook your meat evenly." Teen explained, coming back with a weird object in his hand.

The clock let ouf a louder ticking noise, a reminder that you were almost down to the last minutes.

Chapter 11

[heartstringsduet]

(ignore me accidentally unfollowing you while trying to send an ask)

for your prompts:

"Why are you following me?"

Hi Jen <3 Don't worry, I accidentally unfollow peeps too sometimes haha. We all do I think. Thanks for your prompt. I tried not to overthink it and it might be half-baked (not Ben&Jerry's ;)) but I hope you still like it. "Why are you following me"

His father might have been the one to tell him to trust his gut, but it was Tía Lucy who taught Carlos about the sixth sense. Her sixth sense told him when he had pulled out some of her herbs to chew on them when he was a toddler, his father’s seemed to be when Carlos got reprimanded at school and even later at work, his mother’s seemed to be knowing when he needed a hug even when he tried everything to appear like he didn’t.

Carlos’ sixth sense tingles as he rounds the corner of the candy aisle — and stops.

As expected, someone crashes right into his back. So he had been right about being followed. Sixth sense, gut, intuition. Whatever it was, it didn’t disappoint.

“Sorry!”

He’d only seen the stalker from the corner of his eyes, so to turn around and be faced with someone that walked right out of his dreams congeals Carlos momentarily.

What he didn’t expect to blurt out when he reinhabits his frozen body is, "Why are you following me?" 

It is true. This is the third aisle he’s felt the eyes on his back, the third aisle the stranger had stayed the exact same distance, the third aisle Carlos had had enough and tested his theory.

It’s one thing to think it, another to ask it straight out but Carlos stays cool. Even when he sees the slight flush of the man’s cheeks and the way he licks his lips and leaves a sheen. He stays totally cool. Unaffected and not lost in the slope of high cheekbones. 

“Uhm…I’m not?” the stalker says.

“I’m a cop, I know when I’m being followed.”

The stalker’s eyes widen — light green irises in full glory — before he quickly schools his face. “No you’re not.”

Carlos tilts his chin up. “Wanna see my badge?”

He gets a raised eyebrow and a smirk as a response that makes his stomach do a full loop. It hadn’t been an innuendo but the reaction makes his face feel hot.

The stalker’s tongue pokes into the corner of his mouth as he seems to think on what to say. “Okay.” He blows out a breath. “Okay. I followed you because you got the last Mexican Hot Chocolate ice cream and, frankly, I need it more. So if you don’t mind, could I buy it from you?”

Carlos frowns into his basket where he picked up both a tub of Cookies & Cream and apparently the reason someone followed him through the store for the past ten minutes.

A part of him doesn’t really care about the flavors, knowing the nephew he was planning to buy it for isn’t picky, but a bigger part prompts him to ask, “Who says I don’t need it the most?”

It seems to stump the other guy just like it stumped Carlos before. “Believe me, there is no way you do.”

“Unless I see concrete evidence for that need, I’m afraid I can’t give my tub up.”

It’s impressive how lowering his eyebrows makes the guy’s eyes look like a stormy sea, glistening as he blinks and suddenly Carlos gets washed into sadness with him. It’s there and it’s gone as the guy pushes past him.

“Nevermind.”

Carlos watches the rigid back retreating, the hands turn into fists and release. Before the man can forever stay a stranger, Carlos calls, “Wait!”

The guy turns.

Carlos jogs the few steps toward him, compelled to bridge the distance quicker. “It’s already pretty melty. Do you want to share it in the parking lot? I promise not to ask about your awful day again.”

He holds the guy’s stare again, like he will all night on the curb of the H-E-B, half a tub of ice cream long melted against he bamboo forks. A few years down the road, Carlos will think of that moment and realize his sixth sense hadn’t been about being followed. It had been a sign of his soulmate being close, giving his heart no chance to miss him.

[chiaraanatra]

Hurricane

Request: I was wondering if I could request a fic after Hurricane by Luke combs??? - Anon

Summary: Jake comes back to Texas for his sister's wedding where is greeted by an old flame and a new spark.

Warnings: swearing, kissing, wedding, you wear a purple bridesmaids dress, use of Y/N.

Word Count: 1.2k

AN: This took so much longer than it should have! I greatly apologize for the wait! I am not sure if this was what you were looking for Anon, but this really got me back in the writing sprit. I hope you enjoy!

As always feedback is always appreciated! Please don't repost my work!

《 m.list || ao3 》

Jake grabbed another cup of coffee as his phone rang. He pulled it out to see that it was a facetime call from his sister, Jen.

Oh, shit the dress…

He answered the call, greeted giggling and a black screen. “Hello?”

“Jess found the perfect dress!” his mother practically screamed into the phone.

Jake couldn’t help the smile on his face, excited for his youngest sister’s wedding.

“Jake, you will not believe how perfect it is,” Jen’s voice rang out.

“Well, are you going to show me or am I just gonna stare at a black screen?”

“Mom, give me the phone.” He was quickly met with the view of his sister in her white gown. It suited her style and personality perfectly.

“Okay what do you think? You see the dress, right?” the youngest Seresin gave a twirl.

“Yeah, I see, and you look beautiful, sis.”

Jess grabbed the phone from her sister’s hand and turned it so he could see her face. “You see how happy and excited I am.”

Jake gave her a slightly confused look “Yes… where are you going with this, Jess?”

“All this to say that I don’t want to freak you out but… I invited Y/N and she’ll be the second in my wedding party next to Jen. David wanted you to be the second groomsmen next to his brother and all of this is to say that you and Y/N would be paired when walking down the aisle. And I know you two have a past but she’s my best friend and it’s been years and- “

“Jessica!” Jake cut her off before she could spiral completely, overthinking every decision she's made to this point. “It’s okay. She’s your best friend. If she’s fine with it, I’m fine with it.” Jake gave her a smile that assured her that everything would be okay.

That conversation was months ago, and it was just hitting Jake now, as his plane was about to land in Austin that not only would he have to see you, but you would be partnered with him for his little sister’s wedding.

Before he knew it, he was standing in the wings of the chapel watching as David prepared to walk down the aisle to take his place. He had yet to see you, somehow avoiding it until the very last minute. He watched as the other bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way into the center and down the aisle before he was greeted with the sight of you. You were breath taking, hardly changing since the last time he saw you. The lilac dress hugged your curves and fit perfectly. A gentle wind from the open doors blew through your hair.

In a flash every memory he had ever shared with you came rushing back.

When you looked up to meet his gaze you could feel your cheeks become warm. He was just as handsome as you remember. You were met with his signature smile and couldn’t help but let your eyes linger over his body. His tailored suit emphasized his muscles, ones that had been their prior but had become more prominent during his time with the Navy.

You stepped towards one another and placed your arm through his before making your way to the front of the chapel.

He leaned his head ever so slightly towards you, “You look beautiful.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Lieutenant.”

Jake had to stifle a laugh at your comment.

Once at the altar, you removed your arm from his and he watched as you took your place.

Jake couldn’t take his eyes off you the entirety of the ceremony. You tried your best to pay attention and watch as your best friend married the love of her life, but you couldn’t help stealing quick glances and thinking back to the memories you shared with Jake. The man you thought at one point was the love of your life, and at times, like right now, still believed that might be true.

You always believed Jake Seresin was your 'one that got away.' The two of you had dated in high school before reluctantly and amicably breaking up after you got accepted into college and Jake got accepted into the Naval Academy.

After the wedding you found yourself walking around the reception before resting your eyes on Jake, who was sitting at the bar drinking a whiskey on ice. He looked up from his glass to be greeted with the sight of you.

Before you knew what was happening you found yourself taking the seat next to him and ordering your drink of choice.

The two of you found yourselves talking about everything, your work, the navy, the wedding. Neither of you could help it as the conversation turned to the two of you and how things used to be.

As the reception came to a close and people began to part ways, Jake turned to you. “Need a ride home?”

You took barley a moment to think about the offer, “yeah… that would be great. Thank you.”

After saying your goodbyes, the two of you made your way towards his truck. He opened the door and offered you his hand to help you steady yourself. Once you were seated, he gathered any remanence of your dress and placed it beside you before closing the door and making his way to the driver’s side.

The 30-minute drive back to your house was spent in silence except for the soft sounds coming from the radio.

Then you rolled in with your hair in the wind

Baby, without warning…

Halfway through the drive, it had started to gently rain. But, right as he pulled into your gravel driveway it began to pour.

Just as you were about to put your hand on the door, Jake placed his hand gently on your shoulder. “Put this on.” He handed you his suit jacket before running out and making his way to the passenger side door. You quickly put his jacket on before he opened the door.

“Jake what are you doing?” He smiled helping you down from the truck before scooping you up into his arms carrying you up the driveway and onto the porch. “You idiot, you’re soaked!”

He gently set you down, “I couldn’t have you running up your gravel driveway in heels in the rain.” He gently removed a soaked strand of hair off your cheek. “Knowing you, you would have fallen flat on your face.” His hand lingered on your soft skin that was bringing back a flood of memories.

You stared into his eyes; they held a sense of longing. Before you knew it your arms were wrapped around his neck and your lips were on his. His lips were warm and soft, bringing you a sense of familiarity you had thought to be long forgotten.

He was the first to pull away ever so slightly, resting his forehead against yours, “I missed you… I thought I was okay but seeing you today… Y/N you hit me like a hurricane. I have never stopped loving you and I never want to let you go again.”

You pulled him in closer, arms wrapping around him, resting your head against his chest, “Then don’t.”

“But I have to go back to base and-”

Before he could spiral, you kissed him again, then every so slightly pulled away to look him in the eyes, “did you mean it when you said you never stopped loving me?”

His eyes said it before the words came from his lips, “With everything I have.”

“Then we’ll figure it out.”

Tags: @callsign-viper @luckyladycreator2 @saturnsbabe69 @desert-fern

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[dormiloncito]

NEW GODZILLA MOVIE COMING SOON?!

[hannahssimblr]

It’s just us and the man picking up rubbish here, on the grass by the small stage where I met Weed Alison. I don’t tell Evie I’ve been here before, because telling her the story requires so much explanation, and will lead me back down a winding path that ends with me bickering with Jen before the Foo Fighters gig. I wish I could erase almost every moment between the last time I sat here and this one. It’s been a day and a half fraught with poor decisions and even worse behaviour. 

I still hear the rave tent thudding, but it is so distant now, mostly replaced by the wind shaking the leaves above us. 

“I like it when it’s quiet like this,” Evie whispers. “I feel like I’ve forgotten what quiet is.”

“Right. It can be hard going, a festival. It takes a lot out of you. I hope that you’re having a good time, like, I hope it isn’t overwhelming, despite that… thing at the rave.”

“I’m having a good time,” she says, adding hastily, “today was honestly a little weird, but the festival has had its moments.”

“Yeah, today was a bit weird for me too,” I hesitate, as my excuses catch in my throat. “I’ve… had a lot on my mind, I think.”

“Do you get like that a lot?”

I huff out a laugh. “What? Like, have stuff on my mind? Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then same.”

Her eyes do a quick tour of me. “Jen said you’re a scorpio, and that’s why you’re moody.”

“Oh yeah? What else does she say whenever you two are apparently gossiping about me?”

“Rich of you to assume we talk about you at all.”

“Do you?” 

She shifts self-consciously, but her eyes remain playful. “Well, do you talk to her about me?”

“Yes.” Obviously. 

“Oh. What do you talk about?”

I smirk. “None of your business.”

“Well then,” she says, “I’m not telling you either.”

“Bet I already know.”

“You think?”

“I bet she tells you I’m secretly a boring, moody dickhead under all the facade or something, doesn’t she?”

“She didn’t say ‘boring’. You’re not boring.”

“But she did say ‘moody’.”

“‘Sour’, I think, is the word she used. Which, like, I never thought of you like that. You always seem happy to me. Well, mostly.”

“Maybe because when I’m having a particularly sour day, I just stay in my room.”

“Hm. And you couldn’t stay in your room today.”

My stomach sinks. “No. I couldn’t. Sorry, I didn’t think it was, like… that obvious.”

“I thought it was.”

Again, the words I want to say seem to get trapped. Why is so hard to express myself? Why is it I have such limited understanding of my own feelings? I want to express regret, to tell her I’m sorry if I hurt her by avoiding her, but I feel like I keep opening my mouth and uttering nothing.

“Sometimes thing pile up,” I manage. “I overthink. And… and maybe I’ve been overthinking too much this summer.”

Oh, great, yeah. Good job. That’s perfect.

“Are you overthinking what happened last night?”

“Yeah, maybe.” There I go again, picking at the grass. The bits that I pull from the soil are so dry that they’re like straw, and I take my time examining them while Evie sits and waits for me to say something with any kind of substance at all. She probably wants to hear all about how I don’t regret kissing her, and if I had any sense, I would say just that, but I can’t lie to her face. It’s not who I am, so I just pick at the ground. 

“Hey,” she says. “I know I’m a bit younger than you, and I’m sorry if that freaks you out, but we’re really not that different when you think about it. Like, yeah, for sure, I have a good bit less experience than you, but-”

“It’s not that,” I say. “That’s not what I’m overthinking about. It isn’t you, or your age, or your experience.”

“What is it then?”

Christ, what is wrong with me? I can’t even look at her. With the shrug of one shoulder, I say, “I don’t think it’s a good thing for you to like me like that. I don’t really want you to.”

“It’s hard not to,” she says.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“How could I not, Jude? It’s you.”

I frown. “Mm.”

“Can you just look at me for a second?”

So I do, and her face is determined, her eyes steady, before they drop to my cheeks, my nose, my mouth where they linger. 

Oh, she’s going to kiss me.

I know it seconds before she plucks up the courage, which gives me ample time to stop it, but I don’t. I don't want to. She leans in, and I let her.

She goes in carefully, with her hand on my neck, and her head tilts to the side before she dots one little kiss on my lips. Two. As though experimenting, she turns the other way, three, four… 

I slide my hands around her waist and kiss her back.

Other kisses don’t make me feel the way I felt last night, as though she’s thrown a match on me and set my body alight, so I can justify doing it again by deciding I am too weak to resist it, that they day is long and that I deserve to surrender to something good.

Moving my hands to cradle her head, I glide my tongue along her bottom lip and she opens her mouth to me, soft and hot and slow, as my thumbs stroke her cheeks. I bite her bottom lip, and her top, as into my mouth, she moans against my gentle onslaught. The moment she makes that sound, I’m gone. 

I kiss her cheeks, then her nose, and angle her head so that I can kiss her neck, where she smells like sweet perfume, and against her skin I whisper, “fucking hell, Evie.”

Her voice vibrates under my lips as I trail hot, hungry kisses along her throat. “If you want to go back to my tent, we can.”

Yes, I think. The tent. It would make sense to be in there. She lifts my face to hers.

“I can get Claire to sleep in with Shane. We can have it to ourselves.”

I fall back to my body the second we mesh gazes, crashing down, along with the common sense, the guilt and the shame I shed as I kissed her. In a second I have released her and carved distance between us again. “Evie, no,” I say firmly. Tomorrow, I will be impressed by my self-restraint under challenging circumstances. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s okay, I want to.” She has so little conviction that I can’t help but laugh. She screws up her face. “What’s funny?”

“Evie, it doesn’t really matter if you want to. I don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to… do it. With me?”

“No. Is that okay?”

She blinks, eyes a bit wild, and I swear I can pinpoint the moment when her brain jumps to her conclusion. “Is there something wrong with me?” It’s barely a question. Somewhere between that and a statement of the obvious, a confirmation of something she already believes. 

“No. Of course there isn’t. I’ve just been thinking about it, and I don’t think it’s the right thing to do. Look, I got carried away last night, and I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I was… a bit drunk, to be honest.”

“You’re not going to break me,” she persists, “if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t mind. I have to do it eventually, and I’d rather if it was with you.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Not really.”

“I would.”

“It would make things complicated.”

“Jude, I know you don’t want me to like you, but I already do. Honestly, I’ve never really felt this way about anybody else. It’s different with you. I don’t care about any other boys, this is why I couldn’t be with Liam-”

“God, Evie, please.” I put my head in my hands. What she does she want from me? What does she expect? She knows as much as I do that there’s no chance for something to work between us, not when I’m going away in two weeks. Can’t we just have left it all unsaid? “Please don’t make this harder on me.”

And to my utter horror, my face heats, and my eyes prickle with tears. I am about to cry. In front of Evie Kilbride. I think I’d rather be dead than do this, but here I am, with nowhere to hide. 

She rests her hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s just that… like, um, I heard you were thinking of staying in Ireland, and that when you get your college offers next week, you might decide to do a course in Dublin, and I just thought-”

What? My head snaps up. “Evie, what are you talking about?” 

“Jen said-”

“I told you I was leaving. As soon as I met you, I told you I was leaving.”

“But Jen-”

“What about Jen?”

Evie shrinks away. “She said that you might stay. That she thought you might decide not to go to Berlin, because you didn’t seem that excited about it.”

The blood roils. “I don’t know why the fuck she would have said that to you.”

“You not staying?”

“No!”

“But…” her mouth opens, then shuts again. The air thickens between us. “But Jen told me.” She insists, one more time, like it's true as long as she continues to say it. 

“Whatever she said to you is a lie, Evie. I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have told you anything about me. I know it’s unfair…”

“But maybe if things… If I… maybe you’ll still decide to stay.”

I swear I can see that last glimmer of hope in her eyes, and it kills me to squash it, but it’s honest, and it’s right. “I won’t.” I make sure she is looking right into my eyes as I say it. “I am moving to Berlin in two weeks. It’s done. It’s happening. I don’t know why she- I can’t believe that’s what she said. That’s insane.”

“You’re really going? It’s confirmed?” As her voice cracks and she fills up with tears. I have a moment where I wish I was blind, just so that I wouldn’t have to watch her cry. 

“Yes, I’m really going. I was always going to go.” I pull her to my chest, and there, in the circle of my arms, she breaks into shoulder-shaking sobs, while all I can think to do is smooth my hand over her back and press my cheek against her hair. Her hands fist in my t-shirt, face boiling. “Oh, come on Evie, please don’t cry. I’m sorry that you ever thought otherwise. I tried to make it as clear as I could. I didn’t think that Jen was telling you that stuff.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, I know.” I wrestle back my surging emotion with a hard swallow. “Well, maybe it won’t work out, hm? And I’ll come back after a while.”

For some reason, this makes her cry harder. 

“Shh, shh, come on.” I whisper. She turns her head and leaves a stamp of black makeup on the cotton of my t-shirt. “God, sorry,” she blubs, mopping at it ineffectually. “I’m a mess.”

“I don’t care about the t-shirt. It’s fine, it’s just a bit of makeup.” I hook the strand of hair stuck to her cheek behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing a good enough job of staying neutral, keeping my distance. I really never meant for you to have feelings for me.”

“Of course I do,” she sniffles. “You’re the best person in the world. You couldn’t have stopped me from liking you.”

“I probably shouldn’t have kissed you yesterday, should I? It didn’t help.”

And she sits up out of my arms and wipes the grey streaks of wet makeup. “Do you wish you didn’t?”

“It was really selfish. I was only thinking about how badly I wanted to, the way you looked under those lights. You’re so pretty when you’re smiling. I wasn’t thinking about whether it was fair to you to do it.”

Her laugh is watery. “You think I’m pretty?”

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