#side note: with these glasses his dad looks so much like one of my fav profs

[scarefox]

interesting choices were made in the subtitles for translating "huh"

[nevernonline]

✧.* what’s your number?; kmg

synposis: after finding an online article about the number of sexual partners a woman should have, your day with your neighbor turns into him being lucky number eighteen.

paring/s: model! mingyu x afab! reader, ft. little brother! chan.

genre/s: humor (sort of lmao), neighbors2lvrs vibes, fuckboy&girl reader and gyu.

warning/s: alcohol consumption, sexual content (minors - dni), talks of broken bones, oc has female genitalia

word count: 3.8k

content: seggsy times, idiots being besties, reader loses her job, all the vibes.

note/s: loosely based on one of my fav movies, what's your number with anna ferris. lmao enjoy. also def unedited so srry. xo.

“Miss. Y/L/N. I’m very sorry but we have decided to let you go.” 

Your boss put down a brown cardboard box that once held wine from a staff party about a week ago. You stood in silence, why were you being fired? You’re one of the only executives who does their job. All of the other employees sit around and drink whiskey and flirt with the other women on your floor on company time, go home to their wives, and make six figures. 

“Sir, can I ask why?” 

“Budget cuts, sorry honey.” 

Honey of course. Not only is he himulating you, he’s also being condescending. 

“Why not fire Ted? He does nothing but use his company card for ‘business expenses’ like taking his different fucks to exotic vacations and restaurants.” 

“Our female clients like Theodore. Sorry it has to be this way. Here’s a check to keep your rent underway and for any troubles. Good luck.” 

You picked up the brown cardboard he handed it to you and dumped the white envelope into your bag as you stormed out of his glass chamber. 

Perfect timing, your brothers getting married and you’re getting fired. Your mother will surely love to hear about this. 

After gathering the contents of your desk you found your way back to your white and gray covered apartment, sinking down into the perfect couch you bought yourself as a reward for your first month in the job. 

Pulling your laptop from the pocket of your work bag, you scrolled through the news on your side widget . Coming across an article written in some stupid lifestyle magazine about ‘the appropriate number of sexual partners for women.’ 

“Okay, so society is regressing.” 

Curious enough you scrolled through to a small section with a quiz, childish, but probably suitable for women over 50 or under 21. 

Following your finger down the various categories that pertained to you until it came to the bottom of the page pointing out your result. 

“15 and over, women with this number often have difficulty finding a spouse and are unlikely to ever settle down. Are they fucking serious? Men can fuck 50 women and still are fine.” 

A vibration came from your phone, a text from your neighbor. 

[3:44pm]. 

Mingyu: Mind helping me out? New girl won’t take the bait about my “emergency” 

Y/N: what’s the issue with her this time? 

Mingyu: nothing, just too clingy. I’m expecting you in five, say our dad fell in the shower. Thank you, owe you. 

Y/n: got it see you in five. 

Mingyu and you met often when you were ushering out hook ups or crazy exes show up to your door. You didn’t know much about his life, other than he’s a model, and obviously has bad luck with women. 

Pulling yourself up off your couch and throwing a blazer back over your shoulders you strode off down to the other end of the hallway. 

“Mingyu? Mingyu seriously answer your phone? Hello!” 

The door opened revealing a semi-naked girl, she was pretty sure, blonde, tall, nice eyes, but boring. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“Mingyu’s sister, who the fuck are you?” 

“Oh my god! So sorry, hi so nice to meet you, I’m Ailee his gir-“ 

“My friend, y/n. What’s wrong?” 

Letting yourself passes the bra sporting blonde you looked Mingyu straight in the face and pulled out your best crying face, it was easy today being that you’re pissed about work and that stupid fucking quiz. 

“It’s dad, he fell. I don’t think it’s good, we have to go.” 

“Oh. Okay, let me change.” 

Mingyu pulled in his jeans and a white t-shirt, grabbed his fancy leather wallet from the counter and pulled you through the front door of his condo. 

“Ailee, let yourself out okay?” 

“Call me?”

“Uh, maybe it sounds like this is bad, maybe we should stop seeing each other? I’ll call you.” 

The truth is Mingyu was never going to call her, he said that to all the others. Yet, you never saw them again. 

Silently you open the door to your place and shut it behind you. 

“She seems nice.” 

“Yeah trust me, she’s not.” 

“Noted. But, better than that crazy red headed girl, Cass was it?” 

“We don’t have to talk about her.” 

“Missing that jacket still?”

“Yes.” 

Mingyu took his place on your leather armchair and sipped the coffee you had initially made for yourself. 

“What is this? What’s your number?”

“Oh my god. Stop looking at my shit.” 

You whipped the lid of your laptop close and stole it out of his hands

“Do you really think anyone cares how many people you sleep with? Isn’t that kind of fucked up?” 

“You can only say that because well, one your a man and two you’ve fucked basically half the women in this city.” 

“Not true, we haven’t fucked.” 

“Right and we will not.” 

“Sure, sure keep telling yourself that. So what is it? 12?” 

“Do you really need that answer?” 

“Yes. And I will bother you until you tell me.” 

“17.” 

Mingyu laughed, not because he felt bad for you or that you were going to hell for fucking 17 people, but because he didn’t see the big deal. 

“Oh come on, that is not that bad.” 

“What’s yours?” 

“Maybe 20?” 

“We are way too close in number for me to not feel weird about it now.” 

“Because it doesn’t matter, why do you think you couldn’t get a husband or boyfriend or whatever the fuck you want because of that?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t until today I guess.” 

“Bad day?” 

The dark haired man’s head nodded towards the unpacked cardboard box sitting on your dining table. 

“Weird day. And now I have to go see my family at an overly fancy party and sit around clutching cocktails and lie that I didn’t lose my job, just until their precious boy is married off.” 

“Ah, the black sheep of a rich family huh?” 

“Shut up, no. They’re just judgmental is all. Well, my mom is anyway.” 

“I see. What are you wearing?” 

“I don’t know? What’s wrong with what I have on now?” 

Mingyu looked you over in your semi unbuttoned dress shirt and oversized trousers, sexy and sophisticated, but a little boring for a party. 

“Actually you look good. But, it’s not exactly giving a cocktail party for the sister of the groom. Especially if your mom is as judgmental as you say.” 

“Okay, go in my closet then. Work your weird model magic or whatever, Mr. Jeans and white tee.” 

“Anything for you, rich girl.” 

You walked Mingyu through your bedroom into the oversized walk in closet, filled to the brim of clothes, half of them with tags still on. Gifts from boyfriends, friends, your mother. 

“Wow, I didn’t expect this.” 

“And what did you expect?” 

“A closet turned into an office and like five pairs of the same pants, maybe matching pajama sets. But not this.” 

Sitting down on the small stool you let the man rifle his way through the various colors of fabric. 

“Okay, so this black dress. It’s tight but not overwhelmingly, it’ll show your figure and still make you appropriate. These tall black boots, sexy to show off your long legs and make you look even taller, a nice bag, maybe.. this red one? Or the green, just for a pop of color. Put it on.” 

“You finish quickly .” 

“Never had a woman say that to me before. Hurry up.” 

Smirking, you run back into your bedroom, out of sight from the man tapping his fingers on the marble countertop of your dressing room, sliding into the outfit he picked out. 

“Okay, I look-“

“Beautiful.” 

“Really? Don’t you think this is a little much? I mean, for this?” 

“Not at all, it’s actually really simple. May I?” 

He held up a silver chain necklace in his hands and waited until you nodded as he strung it around your neck. 

“Perfect. Now, leave your hair up. Maybe a nice bun and curl the front pieces? You look nice without makeup on, but do that cute winged liner look you do with a nude lip.” 

“Okay, since when did you become a stylist?” 

“I’m a model, I know what I’m talking about. Come on, chop chop.” 

“Okay, mom. Jesus.” 

“Dad. Daddy, actually.” 

“That's never happening.” 

Doing his instructions as he asked, you curled the front pieces of your hair letting it softly dangle in front of your face and placed the rest up on the crown of your head in a loosely tied knot. 

“Okay. So maybe you’re good at this.” 

“I know. If you need my help further, you know where to find me.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

Holding up your phone you realized how much time has passed and grabbed your keys. 

“Right. Thank you.” 

“My pleasure. See you soon, y/n.” 

“Bye, Gyu.” 

Walking up to the front steps of your parents luxurious brown stone, you felt the cold sweat under your armpits before walking in the front door. 

“Y/N holy shit, where have you been? Mom is going to kick your ass.” 

“Sorry, Chanie. I had something going on. Where is she?” 

“In the dining room with Marnie and Seungcheol. Talking about wedding stuff, please save us.” 

Coming to your brother's rescue was part of the job of being an older sister. Seeing him settle down and get engaged to a girl like Marnie was amazing for you, she was everything he needed, and it was nice to have another girl in your family. 

Grabbing  a glass of champagne from the silver tray of a waiter, you strode up to your mother in your childhood home, still as nervous as you would have been as a little girl to be under her gaze. 

“Aw, my baby. Finally arrived. Hello.” 

“Hi, Mom. Hello, guys.” 

You mom hugged you giving a kiss on both of your blushing cheeks passing you along to greet your brother's future wife and his friend Seungcheol. 

“Y/N, you look amazing. Where did you get this beautiful dress?” 

“Thank you. My friend helped me pick this out actually, I don’t remember where it’s from.” 

“Friend? Which friend is this, darling?” 

“His name is Mingyu, he’s my neighbor.” 

“Gay? He has wonderful taste.” 

“No, not gay mom. He’s a model.” 

“Oh wow, can I see a photo? Why didn’t you bring him?” 

“Maybe next time.” 

After downing the first glass of alcohol you quickly look for another, Seungcheol already holding a glass in his hand for you with a wink. 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Y/N, can you go find your father? Now that you're here we can start dinner.” 

“Yep.” 

Strolling throw the various rooms full of priceless knickknacks and photos of your youth, you stop at the open oak doors of your fathers study, looking at him for a moment, behind his desk, glasses on, reading his book. 

“Hello, Dad. May I come in?” 

“Y/N, yes of course. Just hiding out here until I can eat some dinner. How are you?” 

“I’m okay, mom sent me to get you to come eat. What are you reading?” 

“Oh, just some Orwell. Relaxes me.” 

“Shall we, sir?” 

“Yes, my girl.” 

You held your arm out for your father, he was always your best friend, someone who no matter what supported everything you wanted to do. He was stern, but even after parenting you he would end it with a hug and a piece of candy, seeing him grow older had your heart in pain. 

Searching the table for your placecard, it sat you right in between your brother and Seungcheol, his best man and best friend for longer than you could ever remember. 

“Are you coming to his bachelor mixer?” 

Seungcheol’s long eyelashes fluttered in front of your face and you noticed how much more mature he looked, he was always cute, but it’s grown on you now. 

“Are you going to embarrass me?” 

“I’m not the one who got drunk in college and broke her arm trying to dive into the fountain.” 

“Ouch. At least I haven’t shit myself drunk as an adult and embarrassed myself in front of the girl I liked.” 

“I did not shit myself. It was a fart.” 

“A fart with a little poop, a shart if you will. What did they call you? Shart Seungcheol?” 

Your mother interrupted the light flirting you two were enjoying and gave a speech about how lovely it is to see her baby marrying a second daughter and so on and so on. 

After everyone downed their salmon and fancy finger food, you got into the silly party bus along side the rest of the bridal party, moving on to the night of drinking ahead of you. 

“Guys let’s play a game on the way to the bar.” 

Your brother's fiancé spoke, turning down the music and passing around multiple bottles of tequila and glasses. 

“Everyone right down a confession on your paper. If we guess whose it is, they have to drink, but if you get it wrong you drink.” 

Looking down at the small pink sheet of paper you wrote about your day, your sex number, and you losing your job. Maybe nobody will get it, maybe nobody will care because they’ll be equally as drunk. 

The game went on as your anxiety grew and nobody had chosen your confession yet, that was until your brother pulled one of the last sheets of paper out from the bowl. 

“Today I lost my job, I let a stupid magazine article tell me how women who have sex with more than 15 men means they’re unloveable and unwanted. I can’t wait to get fucked up. Congratulations! Well that’s my sister.” 

“What? How did you guess that?” 

“I know your handwriting dumbass, drink, everyone drink.” 

Your night continued, nobody mentioned your failure as a person, they just celebrated the happy couple. 

More and more drinks in, maybe the same amount of people you’ve had sex with. You took it upon yourself to get people on the dance floor, when you felt a pair of hands coming up on your hips, turning around to curse them out, you recognized the eyes staring back at you. 

Mingyu. 

“What the hell are you doing here!?” 

“Birthday party, we always come here. What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Mixed sexes bachelor party.” 

Mingyu's hands were still resting on your hips, on top of the very dress he helped you pick out hours before. 

“Exciting. Want to get a drink with me?” 

“I have one.” 

You held up the half empty glass of your Negroni and Mingyu snatched it from your grip, downing it for you. 

“You’re paying.” 

“Yes. That was the plan.” 

His hand pulled out off the dance floor and back over to a pair black leather bar stools, waving the bartender over. 

“Two whiskey sours please.” 

“No, one whiskey sour. I’ll have a whiskey neat.” 

The bartender nodded working his magic for the two rocks glasses. 

“Here you go, tab Mingyu?” 

“Yes, thanks John.” 

“Wow first name bases?” 

“I told you we like to come here. Who’s the pale dude staring at us?” 

You turned around to look at your brother, cheering you from across the bar. 

“My brother, Chan. His wedding party.” 

“Yes, I remember. I meant the one next to him?” 

“Ah, Seungcheol. Best man.” 

“He wants to fuck you, maybe he’s lucky number eighteen.” 

“Maybe he was lucky number ten back in the day.” 

“Do you remember his number?” 

“No, but I’ve already fucked him. In college.” 

“Ah, I see. Still on the hunt?” 

“Not at all actually, I’m celabte now.” 

“No way, I bet you could find many dudes who’d want to fuck you here.” 

“It’s a matter of if I want to fuck them no?” 

“Touchè” 

“What about him?” 

Mingyu pointed to a tall blonde, long hair, and pretty lips. 

“Gorgeous. But not my style. I’m not really in the mood to get laid.” 

“And let my work go to waste?” 

You smiled, sipping your drink and feeling the warm liquid enter your body. 

“You didn’t give me my beautiful face and fat ass, you just put it in a dress. And as my dad says, leave them wanting more.” 

“You’re a very funny drunk, she shocks me even more.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Do you ever get tired of having me save your ass from all those girls? Don’t you want to settle down and not have your neighbor coming over to rescue you all the time?” 

“Maybe the reason I do it is so you’ll save me.” 

“Shut up.” 

“No. I’m serious. I like hanging out with you, I enjoy seeing you, and you’re very entertaining. I like role play.” 

“I see, you have a kink.” 

“All jokes aside, I like seeing you.” 

You were surprised by his gentle voice and nature, you always knew him from the outside, a beautiful guy who has bad luck getting girls out of his apartment for whatever reason. 

“I like seeing you too.” 

Mingyu's hand rested on your thigh as he looked towards the same dance floor he pulled you from before, basically begging you with his eyes to come back out with him. 

You agreed, holding his hands through various sweaty bodies, some you knew and some you didn’t. Dancing along with them to the rhythm of the song, holding yourself up on Mingyu's large frame 

“Surprised to see you in something other than jeans and a tee.”

“You like?” 

“If I say yes are you going to fuck with me over it?” 

“Maybe. Are you going to let me be your lucky number eighteen?” 

“If you promise you don’t have some random girl barge in your door tomorrow to get me to leave?” 

“She’ll be tied up.” 

“Let’s go. I have to say bye to my brother first. Come on.” 

Walking towards the door you spot Chan playing darts with Marnie, who was obviously kicking his ass. 

“Hey! I’m going to head out, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Is this Mingyu?” 

“Oh shit, yes Marnie, Chan, this is Mingyu. Mingyu, this is my brother Chan and his fiancé Marnie.” 

Mingyu outstretched his hand to the couple, shaking it kindly. 

“Nice to meet you man, my sister talks about you a lot. Be good to her.” 

“Chan, shut the hell up. Love you both, mwah mwah.” 

“Mingyu if you’re free tomorrow, y/n has a plus one. We’d love to have you.” 

Smiling and whisking Mingyu out of the front door, you began to run together through the light rain falling, two blocks to your apartment. 

“Sorry, my brothers, an idiot.” 

“He seems nice, his wife to be too.” 

You felt your hands shaking in nervousness riding up the elevator to your shared floor. Stepping off and standing in the hallway between your two front doors. 

“Your place or mine?” 

“Well, I picked you up didn't I? Come to mine.” 

Mingyu led you through his familiar front door and helped you out of your wet clothes, throwing them in his washing machine. 

Now standing in his living room, just in your black lace bra and panties, feeling like all those other girls before. Almost in fear of someone knocking to kick you out of his dimmed apartment. 

“Come on.” 

You giggled as he picked up your half naked frame and carried you into his bedroom. 

“Lay down. Off the edge of the bed, trust me.” 

You didn’t say anything just followed his instructions as his fingers came and wrapped themselves around your lace underwear, blowing on your clit with his soft breath as he pulled them down your freshly shaved legs. 

“Fuck.” 

His lips came in contact between your heated center, splitting his kisses between your aching parts and your thighs. 

Your hands working their way through his hair as he used his tongue to work his way around your clit and between your folds, pushing you closer and closer into your own euphoria. 

Maybe you understood why girls didn’t want to let him go, if this was his head game, you can’t even imagine what could come next. 

“You taste so sweet, I should’ve known better to be careful, I might get addicted to you.” 

“Stop with the niceties, Gyu. Can you please fuck me?” 

“Eager are we?” 

“Yes.” 

Mingyu pulled you up by the back of your neck, forcing your head near the top of his dick, waiting for you to wrap your mouth around it and get it sopping wet so he could enter in between your legs. 

“Oh, baby, that feels so good. I love watching you on my dick, but we have to stop before you get me going too much.” 

Your head turned up at him, mascara slightly spilling under your eyes, as you opened your mouth searching for the feeling of his lips on yours, before he planted in on you he spit into your mouth, and inserted himself between the same thighs he was kissing before, slowly entering inch by inch, making you wait to feel him fully inside of you even more. 

“Comfortable, baby?” 

“Yes, faster please.” 

“So polite, but as you said before, leave them wanting more and more. I want you to get riled up.”  

“Yes, sir.” 

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” 

His thrusting became more rapid with your soft moaning, kissing your neck in the process, riding out your high with you, you felt him begging to slow down as his teeth wrapped around your hard nipples, sucking softly at them. 

“You’re so delicious, I don’t think I can last much longer.” 

“Me either, but it’s only round one.” 

“Do you want to do this again?” 

“Eighteen has always been my lucky number, now fill me up.” 

With your final words, Mingyu rode the rest of his high before finishing inside of you, placing a soft kiss on your perfectly pink lips, and dipping his head back down to your center to clean you up with his mouth. 

“Want to stay?” 

“Is that alright?” 

“Yeah, come on. Let’s shower.” 

The tall man led you into his beautiful marble bathroom and turned the water on in his shower built for two. 

“I meant what I said at the bar, you know. I like being with you.”  

Your long arms reached up to his hair, massaging his scalp with shampoo. 

“I meant what I said too, lucky eighteen.” 

“So I’m your lucky number?” 

“Yes, don’t tell my mom tomorrow.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell her that you called me sir and the ass she gave you is indeed perfect.” 

You planted a soft kiss on his lips, before pushing him back under the warm water of the shower head. 

“I dare you.” 

[cider-est]

The full lineup is almost done!! (just needs some touch ups and a Chunsik design👍) FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APRECIATED!!

Design process under here (whole lot of yapping)

General thoughts: Ive given them in my previous design sheet (you can find it in my blog)(tldr: designs match characters but still childish, 8-12 years old). Only thing different here, is that these eggs were eggs who I had less of a clear idea of what I wanted to do with them (though I still really liked where I ended up!!)

Empanada: Didnt want to go for the full sweet lolita route, mostly because I thought it'd take away the "little kidness" of it all, but something that still resembles the aesthetic. She's wearing "carneirinhos" (idk the name in english) which is very cute little girl to me, and shes also a demon! Her tail resembles a frying pan!! Though I might change her fringe (it was supposed to be baby hairs but now that I think about it, her type of hair probably wouldnt have them) and put some argyle pattern in her sweater vest. I just forgor💀 to do that...I also wish I had made her shorter, but unfortunetely I drew this before the eggs did the height check (YES ITS BEEN THAT LONG).

Sunny: My beautiful baby girl. She means the world to me. I love this minecraft egg with all my heart. Shes wearing Light up sketchers and some fairy wings like Pomme, and shes actually wearing a swimsuit, she just put a tutu over it. The diamonds they're always holding are rings, they have a "terere" in their hair (idk name in english😭😭) and the beads were inspired by an artist on twt (@\BLUETOMATOSODA). Also if you are wondering why her hair looks like tentacles, its because I had originally made it puffy, but changed my mind after doing the lineart, so i had to get creative with me covering it up. Just pretend she has a fan, shes a star after all!

Pepito: Basically, he is very smoll. Chiquito even. He has strawberry hair and MASSIVE glasses that take up his entire face. Hes wearing a swimsuit aswell (dont ask how it works idk either), and has floaties since he cant swim. Hes got crocs, since flip flops hurt his toes, with a spider man charm on them! Also hes got a sunhat, mostly cause I wanted some other accessorie but didnt want to go with gas mask since it'd kinda kill the whole swimming vibe (since his model is wearing a swimsuit). sorry if its not too accurate to his character. Side note: Him, Em and Sunny all have freckles! Him and Sunny all over their bodies while Em just has on her cheeks.

Leo: Cute sporty vibe, love her shorty spiky hair. Wanted to try to make her face spiky aswell, for the whole shark dad thing. Shes got a necklace with a shark tooth (I guess she got it from Foolish??). He changes tshirts randomly, and opens and closes his attack on titan hoodie depending on the tshirt's expression (basically my version of Leo changing her player heads constantly). His trainers have dragon wings and also: whealies!!

Dapper: Im gonna be honest: did not expect to like his design THIS much. The colouring really elevated, with the long blue hair (the same colour as the ghosties!). Wanted to make them, y'know, dapper, so I had to sacrifice some of the "little kid vibes" unfortunetely, but I think it fits her still. The hat has part of the helmet that they used to wear a lot, demon horn to match Pomme, and a suit that is VERY inspired by Death the Kid from Soul Eater (very fitting for a reaper in training imo). Might be my favourite design!

Ramon: Jesus fuck you'd think designing your fav egg would be easy BUT NO. I struggled long and hard. Again, he doesnt have that much "little kid" vibe whatever man😭😭 Im just happy that I even managed to make SOMETHING. Hes got Create googles, his meathead is a massive hat that completely hides his hair. Very simple, very Ramon, though I will probably end up making a version with an ugly sweater just like he likes instead😔. I still like it but. man...

ANYWAYS IF YOU READ ALL THAT MWAH, YOURE A REAL ONE, THANKS FOR ENTERTAINING MY THOUGHTS🫶🫶🫶

[sleepsentry]

for the ask game, number 8: unpopular fandom opinion(s) regarding gravity falls. also, love your work. ^_^

Thank you! ^^

Of course these are based on my assumptions about what's popular and these are takes I haven't seen around in the wild.

This kinda just devolves into a headcanon list towards the end. haha ^^'

OK so hmmmm oh boy there's a lot:

Gravity Falls is NOT the best thing ever it just had a bunch of really talented people working on it who made it super fun. But it's far from a golden standard and I don't think it should be held up as a standard, that idea is reductive and creatively stifling.

I don't like comparing Amphibia, Owl House, Duck Tales (2017), Inside Job and many others to Gravity Falls. The similarities are superficial and those shows shouldn't be living in Gravity Fall's shadow. They deserve to stand tall and cast their own.

On that note Alex Hirsch is just some guy and I don't like his stuff on its own that much. He's not that funny or interesting to me, but he is just some guy. Hope he doesn't turn out to be a shitty dude. *shrug*

Stanley is overrated (I love him but jeez guys. He's not that endearing.)

Rick and Morty x Gravity Falls is a terrible crossover, tonally, technically and thematically. (I also am just very unimpressed by rick and morty in general)

Stanchez is bad. Rick can eat my shorts. Stan "deserves better". Obviously the fan creations are good. But they don't change my mind about the base idea.

The stans both did nothing wrong ever and I love them deeply without comparing them. (joke I know they fuck up, but they fuck up together.)

Fiddauthor is mid and boring. It comes off as amatonormative and people overall are very exclusionary over it wich is just being a dick and using a ship preference to justify it. (I dont mean to be mean but yeah, you guys are doing fine you can take some salt.)

Ford and Fidd are more like siblings than a couple.

Ford and Fidd both dismissed eachother and the miscommunication was on both of them. (Similair to stan and ford it's no one character's fault)

Ford and Fidd's relationship has more emotional weight viewed through the platonic lense of fidds being older than ford by two or three years and "adopting" him as a "little brother" in college, and how that followed them into their 30s even when the age gap had long become irrelevant. Rather than just "gay sad nerds have marital issues" as fun as that sounds.

Fiddleford is a crazy, scary, adorable, kind, stupid, genuis. This man contains multitudes, I try my best not to flanderize him into one over the other. He can be all those fun things.

Fiddlestan is inherently more funny and compelling than fiddauthor. (To me, to me.)

Fillbrick wasn't the devil incarnate he was just a shit dad, wich fair enough is very bad. Haha (idk there isn't enough of him for me to truly hate and I'd rather not assume the worst, I deal with abusive parents enough in my day to day I don't need to add one to my fav silly show haha)

Billford isn't "toxic" it's too bizarre for that, and much is left to be inferred about both characters and their dynamic. (Again, assuming the worst instead of something more fitting and fun) It's obviously bad for ford but I thought everyone hated him when he isn't nice to stan or being shipped with fidds so it should be cool. (Sarcasm)

Dipper and mabel fuck up equally and mabel is generally more empathetic and aware of the world around her than dipper who hyperfocuses. (Been there pal.)

Mabel is more similar to Ford and Dipper is more similar to Stan

Dipper is a good boy but a bit on the boring side for me. He's fine. I like him well enough.

Mabel is more relatable to me, but I relate to dip's anxiety disorder so bad.

Dipper would NOT grow up to look like Ford. He'd look like shermy or stan.

Mabel would grow up to be bigger and broader than dipper. She'd also be the one to get glasses and look more like ford. She's already halfway there with the hair and jumpers (sweaters)

Jokes about ford failing to impress girls are cringe, heteronormative and bad. And ford doesn't like anyone. (Bill is his own can of eldritch worms)

Dipper doesn't like girls in the way he thought he should and that's why his crush on wendy played out the way it did, it was never really about her, it was about his relationship to her. How she helped him find someone to admire, and was kinda his first real friend who he felt was cool and understood him, heteronormativity made him think he liked her romantically. He so obviously didn't that it hurts my soul.

Mabcifica is underrated as hell and more interesting than dipcifica. That being said.

I do ship dipcifica but in a queer way. You guys don't get it. They're queer.

The cis/heteronormative takes where pacifica and dipper have children together and dipper looks older but Pacifica is just her kid face on a sexy lady bod make me uncomfortable.

And that's why Dipper, Mabel and Pacifica could grow up into a polyamorous "Vee" relationship. [When one person is dating two people who aren't dating eachother, in this case obviously cause they're twins. It forms a "V" from Pacifica to the Pines twins ^^]

What was this ask originally about?

[angelisverba]

thinkin’ bout you

in which harry owns a flower shop and has a major crush on a girl who comes in to buy flowers every once in a while (and he’s too shy to ask for her number) 

word count: 17.3k

paring: florist!h and y/n

warnings: just some pinning and lustful yearning. m for mature...

author’s note: i’ve been working on this forever. not to pick fav’s but i think florist!h comes second to sl23... hes just so.......well, you’ll see!!

*    *    *    *    *    *

When Harry was given the option to go on a playdate with his car-loving and dirty-nailed schoolmates or spending the weekend at his nan’s house, he would often pick the latter. 

He preferred to spend his afternoons frolicking with her Siamese kitty in her wild-flower filled garden, sunbathing in the open grass, or napping on a quilted blanket under the large, round oak tree, with the kitty nestled into his tummy, keeping him warm. When he woke in the arms of his nan as she carried him inside the house for a glass of cool lemonade, he bore a band of pink sunburn over his button nose, and the blue and white striped Mickey shirt was sticking to the areas where his furry friend had provided an extra heat. 

So, it was safe to say that from the start, Harry’s tastes weren’t what could be considered ‘average’ or ‘normal’ or ‘straight’ for a heterosexual male of his age in current society. 

Not that he ever valued those opinions, but their impressions rang in the back of his loving head when the women who he brought to the comfort of his home made hurtful ‘joking’ comments on how ‘peculiar’  his choice of decor was or giving him prolonged strange looks before shaking their heads and yanking their clothes off so that they landed in a forgotten heap in some unimportant corner of his room. 

Granted, he still got a good shag, but it wasn’t enough to fulfill his desires regarding any actions associated with relationships. He wanted someone warm and soft and kind. Someone who wouldn’t judge his home, his music choices, his clothing, or anything else about him. A girlfriend, not a fuck. 

Long ago, he’d stopped caring about what others said about him. Adopting this mindset had given him some of the happiest and healthiest moments of his life (albeit occasionally, doubts merged with the ghastly shadows of his loneliness). Business at his flower shop increased as his charm increased with positivity, and a new life within him bloomed like a baby rose bud when he accepted that being single was okay. The ribbons of his bouquets bouncing with an added umf and the mist that landed on his skin when he changed the water in the flower buckets only enhanced the golden hue of his skin. 

Harry even took to renovating his home a bit. 

 Coincidentally, his apartment was located on the floor above his flower stop, and contained a significant amount of singular flowers in vases or bouquets in empty corners to prove it. An array of pastel colors smeared on the once blank walls. Bambi pink in his bedroom, sage green in his kitchen, and a French blue in his living room. The couch was a suede papaya three-seater with black and white checkered pillows, and the coffee table was an emerald-tiled piece standing on top of a geometric lavender carpet, a soft contrast against the dark oak of his floorboards. Harry’s taste in pop-culture, art, and literature was displayed on the frames hanging off his walls. Pictures and posters of his favorite pieces like Matisse’s Blue Nudes and Goldfish and The Dance II. An enhanced, enlarged photo of maraschino cherries and a raven haired pin-up girl. Another glass table by the end of the couch held a silver candlestick and a small statue.

Sometimes, the miniature Greek statue he bought at a thrift store of a man with his nakedness pure and unobscured to the viewers' eyes made his dick bloat against the seams of his pants. If he stared at it for too long, his eyes drawn to the softened cock between thighs that looked so flesh-like even though it was carved out of some clay or ceramic material, his mind would travel to sensual, honey-red places that he hadn’t been in so long. Harry’s imagination explored- as cheesy as it sounds- the sexual aspects of the male genitalia, and therefore his own sexual expeditions and how much he missed giving or receiving a good fuck. More often than not, he ended up with himself in his fist, forehead sparkling with perspiration under the candle lights in his room as his thighs and abdomen clenched with every buck of his yearning hips. 

The doorknob of his room was in the shape of an eye, the iris colored a brilliant blue. His king bed- no, frame, just a minimalist white base, pushed up against the wall with two tables on either side, both of them loaded articulately with vintage trinkets and ceramic ring trays shaped like seashells to hold his jewelry. His bedsheets were a stylish combination of pastel colors; lilac comforter, mint and sky pillows. Previously, they had been snow white sheets with strawberry print, but a woman he brought over said they looked like the sheets her five-year-old niece had. 

He changed them the week after that.

On the windowsill, a pot in the shape of a white, blue-eyed kitty with vines of string of hearts kissing the floor. A mirror in the shape of a heart with a pink trim besides the lightswitch, above his brown dresser. In the corner, a bookshelf stuffed with books that spilled over the seams, and perpendicular to it, the home of his pet chameleon, Owen (he wanted a cat, but when he went to the pet store and saw the dehydrated creature, he couldn’t leave him there). A 16 x 16 x 30 inch tank filled with a branch that cut across halfway. It was full of all the things he might need, maybe even too much of it, but it didn’t matter because when Harry was home Owen spent most of his time hanging off the collars of his shirts or snuggled in the ruffles of his hooded sweatshirt on his shoulder. The small, color changing friend adored his owner, and only morphed into a mild red color when Harry didn’t feed him more mango. 

The renovations occurred in his bathroom; a cherry-red covering the walls because it looked boring before (at least in his opinion).  The gold piping of the sink accentuated nicely with the darker color, and the sun seemed brighter when it streamed in through the window above his ceramic claw-footed tub. Owen particularly liked the misty showerhead stall in the corner, and as long as he kept his eyes to himself, Harry didn’t mind it if his green friend wrapped around the showerhead and enjoyed the mimicked tropical atmosphere. 

For awhile now, it had been just him and his chameleon (and maybe his mum’s cat if she was going out of town and needed a sitter) but he didn’t mind it. 

He got to meet new people everyday within the parameters of H’s Garden, and they all tended to overshare when it came to buying a bouquet. ‘My wife just had our son, want to see a picture?’ or ‘my boyfriend and I have our anniversary on Saturday’ and even ‘my sister had plastic surgery so me and my dad need something that says ‘congrats you look like Kim Kardashain now’ how ‘bout it?’ 

Stories ranged from sweet, to grotesque, to sad, to funny, and sometimes even evil- Harry didn’t like customers that gave flowers as a ‘fuck you’. He thought it was a waste of beauty and sacrifice. Flowers were living things that had their lives cut short in order to provide momentary satisfaction and life long memories to the receiver, not bitter feelings of revenge. Although it was still business, it pained him that such a pretty arrangement be misused. It was one of the cons of his work. He created what he considered to be masterpieces, and had no control over where they would end up, whether it be as a centerpiece for a candlelit dinner, or in the trash after the apology for a strong argument hadn’t been enough. 

However, Harry couldn’t deny that he didn’t love his job, because he did. 

When he turned 16, he’d determined that he wanted a peaceful life with a job that wouldn’t bore him. He wanted to be as stress free as possible, with his spirituality as a prominent highlight in his lifestyle. When he turned 18, he had determined that he wanted to be a florist, and began to save up to open his own shop with the occasional help of his friends and sister. He refused to take anything from his mother because he wanted to be the one giving her gifts and money and everything good after all of her sacrifices in raising him. Call him a momma’s boy. Harry loved his mother. 

Online seminars and college classes became his best friend, teaching him everything he needed to know about accounting, stocks, and how to keep his business going. He was a businessman first, florist second. During the slow seasons (the start of winter and an awkward half-week between summer and spring) he relied on his investments to triple-ensure that he had enough money to stay afloat. 

On his 22nd birthday, as a gift to himself, he signed the lease to the building that housed all of the pretty plants in temporary buckets full of flower food and water, and hired a graphic designer to design the cursive, golden letters that spelled out the name of his shop above the front door. 

 Now, three years later, he lived as happy as can be. 

And he wasn’t lonely anymore. 

Well, if you wanted to be technical, his relationship status was still a checkmark over the box labeled ‘single’, but his heart couldn’t be fluttering any harder at the sight of one of his regular customers, and she was there, creeping around in his brain to keep him company. 

She was the complete opposite of every girl he’d ever been with. She was sweet, kind, funny, and didn’t judge him for the way he dressed, or his profession. In fact, they bonded over things that previous women had… slyly berated him for. The color of his nails, the lace of his collar, the pattern of his flared pants,  and even the sheep on his baby blue sweater vest.  

She stole his heart the moment she walked through his door with a soft smile on her face, a sparkling gleam in her warm eyes, and placed it in her pocket the moment she said, “it smells lovely in here!”

Harry, awestruck and blushing because well, she was pretty and wore a shade of purple that somehow made her hair look so soft. Two strands of hair were pinned at the back of her head, essentially keeping the rest of it away from her face save for the few baby wisps that rested gently against her cheeks like a lover’s caress. The stuttering, stumbling cupid’s-bow-struck fool replied with, “thank you. It would be my pleasure to help you with anything you’d like,” and that had been his name, signed on the dotted line of a soul contract. Only she was not the devil. She was an angel. 

But even then, it wouldn’t matter. If she was the devil, if she was an angel, something in between or something new entirely he wouldn’t care because he was half gone for her already. 

“In that case,” she smiled, and Harry’s heart sang a melody it never had before. It was like the sun beamed from the spaces between her teeth and tickled the fuzzy spot beneath his earlobe. She had the most amazing voice, tranquil and clear and ethereal. “I just moved into a new apartment and wanted the place to feel like home. I thought maybe flowers would give it a little life.” 

He vividly remembers that the color of her cheeks changed to that of what is called a ‘blush’, but he didn’t know if it was a trick under the light, or a product of his wistful imagination. Her fingers gently skimmed the petals of a rose from it’s bucket near her hip, and one of the straps of the tote bag on her shoulder disrespectfully dropped away from her shoulder. He wanted to simultaneously rush over and fix it for her, and yell at the inanimate object for not being grateful of the fact that it had the opportunity to cling to her shoulder.

But, before either of these inner-conflicts met a sound resolve, her delicate fingers righted what was once wrong, and Harry cleared his throat, embarrassed because he’d stared for a little too long. He wanted so badly to ask for her name and how she liked her eggs in the morning, but instead he said, “there’s nothing like a bit of something pretty to brighten your day. Did you have something specific in mind?”

He hoped that the meaning of his words wasn’t caught on her, or that would be totally embarrassing and ‘loser’-like. 

When she walked out the door with a content smile on her lips, his own heart was beating faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s tender wings. He was sure that he had never laid eyes on a pair of lips like hers, neither the feeling that blossomed in his chest at the thought that she might be smiling just for him to see and enjoy. 

Of course, it was a silly crush. One that clawed and gripped onto his sweaty palms with no sign of letting go. Maybe, Harry thought, it was because he hadn’t wet his wick in so long, and the interaction he’d had with her had sparked irrational, poem-inspiring feelings within the love cavern of his ribs. Because how could he fall head over heels with someone he didn’t even know? Surely, the swarm of hormone-pumped butterflies in his stomach was the beginning of a dead-end infatuation. 

Right? 

Harry went that entire day, appalled at the apparent angel he had the fortune of being in the presence of in her short fall from the tender heavens. He wondered where she placed the flowers she bought (an arrangement he was particularly proud of, full of lilac, delicate stems of lavender, and puffs of baby’s breath wrapped with a white bow) and where that tiny extension of him was. At the entrance of her home, right below the place she rested her hand against as she tugged her shoes off? At the center of her table? Maybe besides her bed? Where she would see the purple petals and white of him as he wrapped it every time she woke up or went to bed? He hoped- as much as it was a romantic thought- that it wasn’t the last one. He’s been so awkward, so pink. A blush on his cheeks he hadn’t remembered being there since the time he yelped, startled, at the unexpected pain of a tattoo needle, the artist pointedly peeved. Acting like such a boy. 

Right before crawling up the steps of his apartment, heart still bleeding with love-blood from the deadly tip of Cupid’s arrows, he made himself a mini version of the bouquet he’d made her, and placed it at the center of his tiled coffee table. 

*********

A few days trickled by, and the memory of her face drifted in and out of his mind like a giant sway of fabric slowly billowing in the wind. He was just so… struck by a slab of awe, stunned by her kind of beauty. Natural, the kind that hooks you in it’s purity, like the golden beams streaming in through transparent curtains on a warm spring afternoon. 

Her strawberry lips curved elegantly under her nose, and displayed a smile that leaked some sort of heady drug into the air because the air was sweet when he breathed it in. And when he handed the bundle of flowers over to her, the pads of her delicate fingers skimmed the rough ridges of his knuckles. He wondered immediately what kind of moisturizer she used, and if it smelled like honey or lavender or peaches. She smelled sweet. Sweeter than all of the flowers in his colorful soul shop put together. The colors that belong to her, on her person and worn by her, were more captivating than any of the tones that painted the petals on his plants. 

Owen got a kick out of this whole ordeal, though. Harry’s passionate mood had him divulging in munching and nibbling on things that tasted the way he felt; ambrosial, fresh and pure. It resulted in the purchasing of endless amounts of fruit, with many bites given to the tiny chameleon. Mangoes, strawberries, oranges, grapes, pears (Asian pears, if the store carried them, they were Harry’s favorite), peaches and guavas. The sudden craving for fruit might be explained as just a casual craving, but deep deep down inside, Harry knew that it was because he wanted to replicate the feeling that coursed through his golden veins when she giggled at something she happened to find funny. 

He wished that he had caught her name. The girl had paid in cash (and left a five dollar tip Harry fawned over), so he couldn’t have read it on her card, and he was halfway between charming and awkward that he didn’t even think of asking for it until the minute the door closed behind her, bells tinkling in announcement of her exit. He wished for a hundred different things, but he was not the type to live in regret. Not anymore. So after about a week of floundering in her memory, he meditated for an hour, tropical incense on one of his bedside tables, and cleared his mind as best he could. 

The next morning, he did the same thing. Woke up with heavy limbs, plopped himself down on his blue mat and stretched in various positions, his white boxers hanging low on his hips. His lips and eyes were sticky with sleep, and the back of his nose ached with cold air that he must’ve breathed in throughout the night after forgetting to close the window (again) but the pleasurable twinge of stretching aches between his joints were the perfect way to start his day. They urged his mind to transform into the still surface of water, clear and collected from any unproductive-pinning thoughts towards a girl he would most likely never see again. 

Even his clothes reflected his refreshed mindset.

Harry donned his favorite pair of flared  trousers in an earthy brown color, nestled snugly on his slender hips and around his thighs. The tight fit accentuated the way his back tapered into his waist, glutes shapely and sculpted. A maroon sweater vest that had a teddy bear embroidered on the middle of his chest, the small latte-toned stuffed animal seemingly childish, but on him it only directed attention to the spotlight daze of the velvety heart sheltered underneath his breathless plate. Underneath, a mustard long-sleeve shirt with tiny cherries printed on them. Some straight, some tilted or lopsided. His shoulders and biceps were hidden in the floofy bunches of cloth, anonymity given to the true thickness of his ink slathered skin. 

He looked like a corduroy dream. A thick milkshake of patterns and colors, but he managed to pull it off.

A tiny gold hoop on his right ear gleamed under the morning sun coming in through the windows and a pearl necklace rested against the downy skin of his throat. Slender fingered tipped with a coat of pure white, with his ring fingers accented in a shimmery pink. Chunky rings adorning the base of his digits; a silver rose, a band of dancing teddy bears (a running theme with him), two gold rings with his initials H and S on one hand, and a simple ruby stud from his graduating class. 

He looked good, he knew that he looked good, and was ready to begin a bright, healthy, non-pretty-girl-thought-polluted day. Even the old woman had pinched his cheek whom he had been assisting- a regular-had said he looked like a proper ‘nice boy’ along with ‘when are you going to her a lovely girl to help you run this place, Harry?’. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had momentarily sworn off women until his broken sentiments healed, and they had a long way to go. 

In the middle of wrapping a smashing set of tulips and fern stems with a cherry red bow, the bells adorning the top of the door frame dinges, announcing the entrance of another pleasant customer and giving passage to a gust of chilly air. Harry looked up to greet the customer with his usual pleasantries of ‘welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment!’, but the words died on his throat in a desperate hussle, just as the little mermaid had given up her voice to meet her gallant prince.  

It was his own personal little slice of heaven presented to him on the black and white checkered floors of his shop. Hair loose against her shoulders again, eyes cast downwards to inspect a bucket of fresh daisies that tickled the space above her bare knees. How she could wear a skirt in this biting weather, he didn’t know, and it partially prevented him from continuing his pursuit of admiring her because the first thought his caring mind jumped too was, ‘is she cold? And if so, does she need a sweater? Because I will gladly give her one.’ His second thought, however, was ‘how could someone be that beautiful?’. The third was something along the lines of ‘all my yoga has gone to shit, and I’m okay with that’. 

He cleared his throat, tightened the bow around the stems of the flowers in his hands and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment, love!” His head bowed, looking at his work because he wasn’t sure he could afford the medicals for the paralysis that was sure to take over his meek self if they made eye contact so soon. Harry needed a moment of homeostasis, his soul adjusting to her dulcet presence. 

The woman he was assisting, Edna, spoke, drawing him out of his daze, but he had been so deeply in thought that he had not heard what she said. 

“What was that?” He asked her. He grabbed Kraft paper from the roll by the register to wrap up her arrangement. 

“The girl. You like her?” She was smiling at him, wagging a finger the way his nan used to do when she caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t lie to me, I recognize that look. I’ve given and received that look many times throughout my life.” 

The woman was not wrong. With age, comes wisdom, Harry thought, smiling to himself at being caught. A dimple carves itself into his cheek, nestling onto the space above the corner of his mouth as if he had no choice in the matter. The apples of his cheeks were shadowed with a dusky pink, and the tip of his nose was twitching like a rabbit when it stood on its rear and sniffed the air, only he was coy after just being caught and wanted to avoid the question as much as possible. 

“I’ve got no idea what y’talking about,” he chuckled, keeping his voice low so that the intriguing stranger in the store didn’t hear that their topic of discussion was her. He moved over to the register to ring her up, and even slid in a discount he applied to customers he liked. 

“Next time I come in,” Edna said, passing Harry her debit card, “I hope to hear that you got her number, dear. Don’t let these opportunities pass you up. Life is short. And who knows? She could be the one.” Harry gave her the card back after charging her, and handed her the flowers, too. All the while Edna was grinning at him, shaking her head like she knew something he didn’t. 

“Take care, Edna. And don’t forget to change the water every 2 days with the flower packets I placed at the stems,” he reminded her, sweetly wiggling his red-lacquered nails at her retreating woman as butterflies awakened in his stomach in a furious flood of nerves. The girl was looking around, her hands hovering over the up-turned faces of a bundle of lively sunflowers, browsing and quietly humming to herself as she waited. 

There was no backing out of this, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t! He didn’t want to back out. The girl was a customer, and he would have to approach her no matter what. But she was so pretty it was also intimidating. He doesn’t remember ever being this nervous while approaching someone, especially one he harbored feelings for. His heart was pounding so loud, he was sure it was audible. 

“Hello,” he wanted so badly to add ‘love’ at the end of his greeting. “Are y’finding everything a’right?” He asked her, his hands wringing themselves, palms moist with sweat from his unyielding need to impress her. The pink tip of his tongue poked out to swipe across his full bottom lip, and soon after that his teeth sunk down into it, nibbling with uncertainty. Harry made sure that he was standing straight, body aligned to face hers because in that psychology course he took once, he learned that it was a subconscious tactic to engage interest and pleasant replies to attempts at wooing another. 

At the sound of his voice, the girl jumped, startled at the sudden vibrations of Harry’s husky voice. Her delicate feet, he noticed, skittered on the floor from her tiny jump, and her doe eyes widened, shouldered rising and falling at a quicker pace than before from the new rush of light fear. When she realizes that it’s just him her hand flattered over the base of her neck and her collarbone in attempts to soothe her racing heart. 

“M’s sorry,” he whispers, his hand clamping over his mouth, and then lowering to his chin when he speaks again, “didn’t mean to scare y’love.” This time he can’t restrict himself. It comes so naturally, like the endearment was meant for her, and when a flush covers the bridge of her nose his first instinct is to coo at her for looking so cute. The second is a surge of guilt for having scared her to such an extent. 

“It’s okay,” she says, a little out of breath. The blush on her face was partly because she was embarrassed at her own reaction, while the other was that she had let herself act so freely and uncoordinated in front of someone that looked like him. Handsome and sweet and eyes so green they refreshed you upon first glance. Like the cool burn of water going into a mouth that had just chewed a stick of minty gum. “I want to buy these flowers.” 

God help him. Her voice alone was enough to make him melt. The lilts and melodies of her voice swarming all four of the ventricles in his heart with warmth, and every blood cell that passed contained a glowing heat, buzzing with her energy. 

She points to the sunflowers, her gaze lingering on them with longing. A soft smile toying on her mouth, and Harry could see the tendons in her throat stretch as she inhaled to add another thought to her sentence, “Do you sell vases by any chance?” The girl looked at him shyly, her eyelashes almost twinkling as she blinked, and his heart soared, “I had a really nice one in the shape of a big Coca-Cola bottle, and I accidentally knocked it over, so now I have nothing to put them in.” 

Harry is incredibly enamoured by subconscious gestures that take over her hands as she speaks, fiddling as if the vase she spoke about was in her hands, all in one piece before it was broken. He’s quiet throughout her tiny ramble, listening and taking note of her enticing antics. She’s looking down at the floor or the flowers or her hands, and when her eyes dance over to his steady gaze, “I’m rambling aren’t I?” she murmurs bashfully. 

“No, no it’s a’right. I can look in the back for something if y’like?” He suggested, arrowing a thumb to the ‘back’ he mentioned. “Did y’want anything in particular?”  

“Oh, I don’t wanna be a troubling customer!” She squeaked, concerned with becoming a nuisance she didn’t want to be. 

“Y’not a bother, love. M’promise. I’ll go look f’you. What color did y’have in mind?” He asked her, tone calm and soothing to reiterate his sentiment. She was not a bother. The only thing about her that bothered him was the fact that he did not know her name, and even that was his own fault for not asking her. 

His hands rest on his hips, tattooed cross momentarily hidden by the bunch of his sweater vest  as he waits for her to respond, his eyes locked on her mouth, her own tongue subtly licks her lips, adding a sparkly sheen to it that only drove him crazy. Ever the jilted fool, his mind jumps to what it would feel like to kiss her, or what it would feel like if she kissed him in other places. What fruits she tasted like, and what kind of kisser she was. A timid one? With a patient mouth waiting to be broken open with the force of his own? Frugal? Opening her mouth and giving him everything she had to offer. 

“Something pink, please. If you have it.” That smile again. One that told a million apologies it didn’t owe, with her eyes pinching at the corners with whatever nonsense culpability she felt. Her voice was sweet, Harry thought, like wind chimes on a summer morning. 

Feeling guilty for allowing such dirty thoughts to gallop through his mind when she was so… so pure. Like an angel. Even her way of presenting herself was shy and sweet, yet he was thinking about kissing her. Was that perverted? She was a customer he had seen twice, and his mind was already running wild with luscious assumptions; a sunday topped with a red cherry of sensuality. How awfully dirty of him. 

But! But those were not the only thoughts he had. He wanted to ask her what happened to cause her to drop her vase, and where she had bought it. If it was vintage, considering it was a Coca-cola bottle, and if she had any accidents while cleaning up the mess of broken glass. He wanted to hear her thoughts. No, better yet, he just wanted to hear her talk. He wanted to get to know her. To know if she was as nice as she looked. 

“‘Course,” he mumbled, his eyes shamefully downcast to the floor. “Be righ’ back.”

Harry stalked off to ‘the back of the store’. Truth was, there was no back of the store containing vases. There was only a small closet with boxes of items he might need around the store, like flower food, rubber bands, and decorative paper for the bouquets. A crate of bottled water for when he got too lazy to climb up the back stairs and into his home. 

His home. 

Plucking the keys from his pocket, a ring that held a ceramic swan his closest friend Mitch had gifted him with a humble admission of ‘saw this at a thrift store and thought about you, H, I had to buy it’, and five keys: one to the front door of his shop, one to the cash box in the register, one to the mailbox, another to the front door of his apartment, and one to his car. The one to his front door was painted at the head with pastel pink nail polish, so it was easy for him to pick out when he was dead tired after a long day of being on his feet (spunky shoes that he liked to wear sometimes didn’t help ease the ache on his back, and neither did his posture). 

The back door that led to the stairs had locks on both the inside and the outside. A deadbolt and chain on matching sides of the door to ensure comfortable sleep at night, and peaceful work time during the day. Not having to worry about curious children opening doors or nosy customers relieved him. It was a little amatuer, but the door made a loud noise when opened because it wasn’t quite level, and he had a tiny key so he could lock it from the outside, too. 

A loud shucking noise resonated through the store as he pulled the door open, and then again when he closed it behind him. The delicacy of his dainty yet large hands were nearly comical around the tiny golden pin stud that hung from the chain, almost slipping from his hands with nerves as he slid it in place. Harry didn’t think that she was nosy or anything like that, bit if he was going up to give her a vase of his own personal collection, he didn’t want her to find out and feel even more intrusive that she already did. 

He was a huge giver, and upon hearing her say that she broke her flower pot, his mind was already thinking about the perfect one to replace it. It just so happened to be sitting on his shelf with a bundle of dying lavender. Climbing up the stairs (the ache in his thighs was a mere twinge compared to what it was when he first moved here), Harry huffed and thought to himself all the ways he could ask for her name and number. 

Listen, I really like y’and would like to have y’number?”

Do y’wanna have my number so we can go out sometime if y’feel like it?”

“Is it alright if I get y’number so we can go out sometime?”

“Hey, love. What’s y’name?”

Nothing’s making sense to him. The pick up lines he had stored in his head for the rare times he would flirt with a girl were slipping from him. None of them seemed worded right to use with her. Too abrupt or too brisk. Not sweet enough. He wanted to treat her gently and to be worthwhile of her time. Plus, it also had to be smooth enough that it made her forget she was paying him for flowers or it would be awkward. He was a twenty-six man for crying out loud, not a twenty-one year old smile at the bar looking for a good time. This wasn’t a ‘good time’. This was… a courting. An inquiry to a relationship. A rose rose in a candlelit room. 

Harry opened his front door and moved in a quick jog to a table besides his hi-fi that held a translucent pale pink glass, fat at the base before twirling and widening a few inches at the lip. An image of a nude mermaid puffing out at the front like an engraving. Cuddling it into his breast, he grabbed the lavender, speed walked back to his kitchen where his toe banged against the metal of the trashcan as he pressed on the lever to open it. He hissed fuck under his breath and shucked the dead lavender into the bag before turning back to his door, closing it behind him, but not locking it because he didn’t want to keep her waiting. His feet moved quickly down the stairs, the one hand not holding onto the vase cupping a hand over the side of his hips that held his keys so they didn’t make much noise. 

The button on the chain slipped from his fingers a few times from their repeated clamminess, and when he was ready to finally twist the knob, he paused to take a breath and collect himself. Harry ran a hand through his hair, fixed his collar, and dusted off his pants legs. He wanted to look perfect for her. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he murmured to himself. He had a good feeling about this. About her. And if he messed this up because he looked bad or said something weird he would kick himself into a muddy ditch. 

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and calmly walked back, “I’ve got the last one,” he said, tapping the tip of the vase with his pointer finger. It was a lie, right through his teeth, but he was happy to tell it in return for the way she was looking at him in that moment. His eyes rounded out as he approached her, like the curves of hearts that made up the heart-eye emoji, or the puppy-dog face. Just another physical display of his growing affinity towards her. 

“Oh my god!” She said,  “It's so pretty!” The trapped crystals in her irises twinkled with bewilderment at the treasure Harry’s presented her with.  She’s got a smile on her face, and he can’t help but think, ‘wow, she looks like a freshly bloomed white lily’. 

There’s a vintage print hanging in his corridor, a ‘flower language chart’ with different types of flowers and a sentence beneath them describing the messages they send. For example, red carnations= my heart aches for you. The description beneath white lilies reads ‘my love is pure’. 

She asked him if it wasn’t too pricey, and he made up some fake sale he had going on about a hybrid BOGO in which if she bought an arrangement she would get a vase included in her purchase (he added “I’ve got a shipment of new ones coming in an I need the space cleared out before they get here�� just to make sure his fib is believable.) And he explains this so shyly. Harry can’t keep his eyes locked on hers because she’s staring at him with an intensity that lets him know she's really listening, and it makes him squirm.  The tips of his fingers tap against the vase, and he’s tripping over his tongue, which is ridiculous because he already talks so slow. 

“I guess I was right in waiting then,” she said casually, waiting for Harry to finish ringing her up. 

His finger froze over the touch screen of the sleek, modern device (he wanted nothing but the best for his store) and listened to the exciting roar of blood through his eardrums at her words. I guess I was right in waiting then? What did that mean? That she was planning on coming back to see him and didn’t? Of course, it could also mean that she was going to buy something else somewhere else, but he couldn’t stop the vine of ripe hope that swelled around his chest. And she looked so apprehensive while saying it. As if she was walking on glass and was looking for cracks as she stepped. As if she was waiting on him to catch on to something.

Harry cleared his throat and looked at her through the corner of his eye, trying to be as discreet as possible as his fingers continued their deliberate work on the screen, “What d’you mean, love?”

“I was going to stop by sooner, but I just got in my head about it,” the girl shrugged, and adjusted the ends of her cardigan so they wrapped around her torso. She had a different bag this time, one of those reusable market bags that was made up of holes, and it was filled with two books and a can of green tea from the vegan store down the street. Harry thinks he can make out one of the titles on one of the spines, which looks suspiciously similar to something that he has on his own shelf. 

“Why would y’get in y’own head about coming to m’flower shop, hmm? It’s hardly that intimidating,” he chuckles to play off the dashes of pink and red that are painting themselves across the bridge of his twitching nose, “I don’t bite, either.” 

And he hopes that his wistfulness isn’t meddling with his vision because he swears that he can see a matching reaction on her own doll face. “I know! I know, it’s just that I can’t help it sometimes. Talking to other people makes me nervous.” 

Harry could coo at her right now. He doesn’t, though. He nods and smiles at her before reading her total out to her, “That I get, too. But y’doing just fine with me, love.” 

Waiting patiently as she digs through her bag for cash, he tries to not stare. However, it’s impossible. His eyes had a mind of their own dragging against the forces of his will to feast on her image again. Her hands and the tip of her nose. The base of her neck and gentle swell of her clavicles. The swoops of hair that hung in a curtain from her shoulder as her head tilted in search, and the how her teeth bit down into her lip in concentration. Harry counted the amount of times her eyelashes met her waterline in those few seconds of comfortable silence. Three. 

“I thought I had cash on me today,” something in her bag clicks, and she pulls out the rectangular card Harry’s become familiar with, holding it out to him between two deft fingers, painted with red hearts on a white base. “I guess I used my last twenty at the organic food store down the street,” she said. 

“It is pretty easy to get lost in there, isn’t it?” He took her card from her, and tried not to make it obvious that he was eager to read her name off of it as he inserted it into the machine. The embossed letters into the plastic read y/n y/l/n, and when he turns back to look at her, he can’t help the smile that spreads across his boyish features.

Y/n. 

Y/n, y/n, y/n.

This is what it must feel to be let in on a secret that’s worth millions of dollars. It must, because Harry’s heart is soaring with a closure he didn’t know he needed. Y/n, y/n. Her name tickled him. Stroked him. Lathered him with the honey smoothness of the beeswax shampoo he bought at that fateful organic store. It was a fitting name. Sometimes, one could tell a person ‘you know, I actually thought you were a Amy or a Jessica’, because their looks and style just didn’t match the strength or modesty of their name. But not y/n. It fit her like a glove. There was no other way to make sense of the way Harry’s brain was thinking. The name was her. 

“What?” Her lips quirk up into a smile and her eyebrows dip in confusion. Why was he looking at her like that? Did she have something on her face? Here she was, opening up to a cute stranger and she had something on her face? This, she thought to herself, is humiliating. Her finger dusted off non-existent crumbs from the corners of her mouth, “do I have something on my face?”

“No! No, no.” Harry’s careful beam simmered down from it’s previous brightness, and his hand nervously filed through the swoop of chocolate curls sitting on his head like a cinnamon roll. “I just think y’name is pretty thas’ all.” 

He murmured the last part so that it was practically incoherent, and lowered his gaze as a searing heat stretching like saran wrap around his head and the divot on the nape of his neck.  Oh, God. He was fucking blushing. Great Harry. A normally favorite among the ladies had been reduced to murmurs and thick, uncoordinated movements. 

Like dropping her card when she piped up again. 

Voice as small and quaint as his had been, "you think my name is pretty?” Her fingers are wrapped around the frail straps of her bag, tight enough that her knuckles were white and Harry was scared that she’d bury her fingernails into her palm. 

“I think y’very pretty.” He whispered back. He can’t even bear to look at her in fear that he’s totally fucked himself over once and for all. His logic was this: what girl wants to be told by the guy they’re buying flowers that they’re pretty after he reads her name from her debit card? Especially one who (if outside female sources are to be believed) dresses “the way my mother did when she was a girl in the seventies”? Jesus, fuck. He must’ve looked ridiculous. 

Harry opened his mouth to backtrack and apologize for being so unorthodox in his workspace, a breath sitting on his tongue with words ready to spew out, but the bell began to chime and it yanks his head from the register to the front and instead he said, “welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

Flustered and full of regret, the flower connoisseur returned his wired gaze back to y/n, who… was smiling at him? The kind of smile that said ‘oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that. Now please say it again’? Was he… dreaming? Did he have to pinch himself in order to verify that he wasn-

“Thank you... what’s your name?” Y/n looked at the card from his hands and sunk her hand- carefully, as to not get her fingers stuck in any of the tiny holes- and there was another clicking noise before she took her hand back out. That angel-like smear of girlish happiness was still on her, decadently radiating positivity and secret affection. Goodness leaked from the seams of her bones; through the cracks of her breastplate, radiating from her chest to Harry’s. He could feel it now. He could feel that his previous assumptions about her nature were true. She was altruistic and tender, like the inside of a bird’s wing. 

“Harry. M’name’s Harry.” This time, he didn’t hide his happiness. Even his eyes shone with a heightened, clear and sparkly shade of liquid evergreen. The joy that bounced inside of him like ricocheting metal balls in a pin game machine. His slender hand, fawn-skinned and graceful like the legs of a deer, stretched out between them. His mother had taught him that along with the first introduction of his name, a handshake must be present, always. Dipping his head slightly, and his words spongy with love-ditz, Harry rumbled, “Nice to meet you, y/n.”  

She placed her hand in his, and was practically swallowed by only his palm. He curled his fingers around her, thumb and middle finger overlapping around the clammy center of hers. So she was nervous, just as he was. Y/n was trained on their embracing limbs, and he could feel a spot on his neck where the skin palpated from the rush of blood as she observed their entwined digits. Their hands moved up and down, up and down between them for longer than necessary until her chin twitched back up to meet his, and she blinked mawkishly, slowly, like the videos of rehabilitated barn owls Harry sees on his Instagram. 

Then, suddenly, as if she remembered she was not the only one present, y/n jolts upright and shakes her head dazedly. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Harry. I like your nail color,” she added. 

He’s cheesing. A shit-eating grin too big for his face and it carves dimples into the flesh of his cheeks. His name on her tongue had never sounded so appealing, like it was made for her and only her to say. Not even the turtle-doves that cooed outside his window in the mornings sounded as beautiful as she did saying his name. And she complimented her nails! She hadn’t scrutinized him like others had, instead, she displayed her admiration for them. No one- well, actually he can’t say that without offending Mitch- no female of his age had ever received him with such open-mindedness as hers. If he didn’t have any self-restraint, he would giggle. Instead, Harry pulled his hand back so that their perfect moment wasn’t sullied with bouts of bad timing, “thank y’love. I like yours, too. You’ll have t’come over sometime and paint mine, yeah?” 

Y/n laughed, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been too bold, “I’d love too!” With glee frozen on her, she turned to look over her shoulder at the customer who was browsing the flowers Harry had in buckets, “I don’t want to hold you back from a customer for so long. I’ll stop by again soon, Harry. Thank you so much for your help.” 

The moment her hands reached for the wrapped bundle of sunflowers and the mermaid vase, a metaphorical grey cloud of rain and thunder manifested in the space above his head, and blocked all of the sunshine from spanning across his toned, lithe body. Did she really have to go? He wanted to whine. Maybe even wrap himself around her ankles like a child that refused to leave the park. They were only just getting to a mutual spot of comfort! Forget the other customer, he wanted to shout. Harry would kick them out and flip the sign to ‘closed’ if it meant only a few more minutes in the presence of her candy-coated charisma. 

But he knows that’s unrealistic, and settles with, “it was my pleasure, y/n,” a flirty wink (at least he hopes it is), “I’ll be waiting f’your next visit.” His taffy lips wrapping effortlessly around his smooth words, fueled by her welcoming receptiveness to his advances. It would be easy to be himself in the future, a little smoother and eloquent in his language and feeling. He was usually clear with what he wanted from anyone, and made it a pleasurable experience in all aspects for both parties involved (once it was three). Harry wanted to sweep her off her feet, and he wanted it to be an enjoyable experience for the both of them. Revel in that feeling of blooming emotions in a new relationship. A healthy one, in which he wasn’t receiving back-handed compliments all the time. 

He wasn’t superficial enough to push anyone off the table based on looks alone, but it did help that y/n had the disposition of an angel. An ethereal voice, supple lips that looked so silky and soft they had to feel that way, too, and hands that felt so tender in his. Perfect for holding on a late night stroll, or over the center console of his car when -if they go out on dates. 

What really hooked, reeled, and sinked him, though, was the fact that she was so nice to him. From the start, she’d been nothing but polite and sweet with him. Don’t even get him started on the way he swooned at the tone of her voice when he said that her name was pretty! So quiet and velvety, careful and calculated like she wanted him to know that it was okay. That she wasn’t thrown off by his comment. He nearly toppled over, clutching his heart with his legs jutting straight up into the air like a frightened goat. 

It wasn’t until the bells stopped ringing the sad notice of her exit that Harry realized he passed up the perfect opportunity to ask for her number, and as he kicked himself over it, he walked with the perfect customer service face he could muster to help the other person in his store. 

***

Harry was having a shitty morning. 

Not the kind of morning where every aspect of his routine is a terrible mishap, but like the water being too cold and the stove not working or the bottle of oat milk in the fridge being empty so he couldn’t make coffee. No, everything was fine and rolling smoothly, as it should. 

His water was the perfect temperature and ran down the toned bumps and divots of his muscles like the relaxing thrums of a lover’s caress in the midst of prowling heat. As soon as it hit his back, he released a sigh of contentment, his shoulders hunching and head rolling back and his hands roamed his shoulders and the back of his neck, rubbing away any aches that existed. The branch of eucalyptus that hung from the golden pipe of his showerhead fused a thick minty scent into the steam that fogged the glass wall, and the calming aroma helped the tendons loosen like the deflating limpness of untied shoelaces. He spent a few minutes just standing there, inhaling and exhaling deeply and feeling his lungs open and stretch beneath his rib cage. 

It almost made him wish that he’d opted to use his tub for a hot bath instead. 

He was able to cook an egg just fine on his stove, with dashes of Everything Bagel Seasoning with a side of avocado and a slice of toasted cranberry walnut bread, the same thing he had every morning. The carton of oat milk was brand new from his trip to the market the day before, and his coffee tasted the same as it always did. But… he was just... sad. An melancholy soreness that eroded against the insides of his body, consuming him slowly but surely and leaving him with a lost feeling of emptiness and unimportance. 

He thinks he might know why he’s feeling this way. 

While he’s stirring his scrambled eggs, he’s wondering how y/n likes hers. Over easy? Sunny-side up? Scrambled, like him? Did she even like eggs in the morning? What did she eat in the morning? He knows that some people ‘aren’t hungry’ in the mornings, though that’s only because they’ve gone hungry in the mornings before for an extended time period, and after so long of not feeding their growling stomachs, their brain discontinues the signals of hunger. Harry hopes that isn’t the case with y/n, and that she’s eating the proper three meals a day every day. 

And while he dipped a mini vegan chocolate croissant that he got at Whole Foods, he also wonders what she likes to dip chocolate croissants into, or if she even likes chocolate croissants. If she was a person who likes sweet treats, like strawberry tarts with powdered sugar over them or something lighter, like fruit cut into small squares in a bowl. When Harry was younger and would visit his nan on the weekends, she would pick fresh strawberries from her garden and cut them up for him when he’d woken from his nap. Sometimes, she would even sprinkle half a tablespoon of sugar over them. He wonders if she’d ever eaten strawberries like that. 

It’s been a week and a half, he still hasn’t seen her, and his heart is yearning. 

Harry knows he’s not in the correct headspace to assist other people with a cheery disposition about an hour before opening time, and decides it’s best if he writes a note on the door about how the shop wouldn’t open that day because he didn’t want to taint the reputation of his business by snapping at a customer for the only bundle of sunflowers he had, or dissolve into a puddle of love-sick tears in the middle of ringing someone up. Though really the notice just says ‘H’s Garden will not be opening today. Sorry for the inconvenience!’ followed by a frowning face and a lopsided, filled-in heart. 

Harry drags his feet back up the stairs, his lower lip jutting out in a discreet but depressing pout, and grabs Owen from his tank so that the chameleon could curl into the shoulder of Harry’s hoodie while he moped on the couch to sappy rom-coms that would only make him think about her more. At least there was someone there with him, even if his small green friend only used him for mangoes and papaya. They sit together for the entirety of Romeo + Juliet, and when it’s over, Harry’s sniffly and standing up to return Owen to his enclosure and to clean because the riotous emotions that whirl within him are too much to process while sitting down. 

Cleaning wouldn’t help him solve his problems, but it would help him cram all of his worries into a tight corner at the back of his mind- sort of like when dirty laundry began to overflow in the hamper and it requires extra force to shove it all in, only to come all back out like a memory sponge. His tormented thoughts on y/n could be compared to a dramatic inner monologue, very similar to how Romeo feels about his Juliet. But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and y/n is the sun. Harry has the play on his book shelf (the one with the side-to-side modern English translation because he was never quite gifted in the English department) and as he reaches for a bandana to tie his hair back, he finds himself resonating with a particular line: parting is such a sweet sorrow.

There was no need to change any of his clothing, since he was already dressed in one of his more impromptu outfits; grey sweats and a white t-shirt that read ‘women are smarter’ in black across his chest. He tied the red bandana into a knot at the back of his head, and lifted it over his chin so that it settled on his forehead, sweeping his hair back with a final push back. It doesn’t get in his way when he crouches to clean his various tables, spraying cleaning products with his shirt pulled over his nose, another organic product that’s supposed to be less harmful and smells like cinnamon and sandalwood. His shoulder blades begin to ache because he’s being a little more aggressive than he has to be, but the green tiles were sparkling so he was content. 

He washes the dishes, mops the kitchen floor, vacuums the carpets, cleans Owen’s habitat, and tidies the mail that piled up on the table when he finally calls it quits. Scouring his brain for something to do, to keep him busy- his brain busy, Harry settles on the floor with his back to the edge of his bed. He’s shirtless now, and is in need of another shower but he’d rather not because he knows he might end up crying over the possibility that he’s scared y/n off. There’s a book in his hands and a Frank Ocean record playing softly in the background that mentions something about ‘I've been thinkin' 'bout you, do you think about me still?’ and it’s not helping his case at all.    

It’s no use. 

There’s a plague of darkness buzzing like cicadas in his ears. He fears rejection and criticism. That maybe, she was only pretending in order to make the situation more pleasant so it ended sooner. Most of all, he feared that it would always be this way. That he would never find someone who embraces who he is as a person. Always met with mean side-eye glances or second looks of displeasure and confusion. It isn’t always that way, though, because then that would mean he gets absolutely no action, and that isn’t true. 

Harry is very… well-educated in matters that concerned sexual intercourse, but it was always a one-night stand ordeal. It was never ‘I really like you we should go out sometime’. In fact, he noticed that only time his approaches were well received were those in which he was dressed in a calmer manner. Simple, solid colors with sneakers or a t-shirt. Girls would flirt back, make good conversation, allow him to buy them a few drinks, and when he’d take them to his apartment they’d ask why he lived on top of a flower-shop, and if it was his sister or female-friend’s palace that he was crashing. Sex would ensue, but his heart wouldn’t be as present and engaged as he wanted it to be. 

Wrong. It was always so fucking wrong, and God, if he didn’t get out of this apartment he’s going to breakdown and cry and there’s no one to call to come over because Mitch is on a trip with his girlfriend, Sarah, and his other friend Jeff is on his honeymoon in Sweden. They were the only two on his mental speed dial list during the rare occasions he had a crisis, as they were the two that Harry had ever really opened up to. Mitch was a bit closer to his heart. They’ve known each other since their school days and practically grew up together (at one point they had small crushes on each other, which were confessed years down the line). Jeff was the owner of Winsome where… where y/n had mentioned spending her last twenty dollar bill. He didn’t have an issue opening up to them. He liked opening up to them, but he didn’t understand why they were the only two that ever truly opened their arms to him. 

A walk, he decided, would help him… air out his brain. Calm down. Breathe a little deeper, a little easier. 

He threw his white shirt back on, and a forest green sweatshirt that donned the emblem of the school he went to earn his business degree that fit him wide around the shoulders and felt like a marshmallow. Putting on a pair of beat up shoes, he shoved his keys into his pocket, hobbling and nearly losing his balance because he was moving way too fast. The door closed behind him with a slam, and even though he was still wearing the bandana around his head, wispy stray curls framing his face in a wild mane, his distress palpable through his appearance, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out and feel the cool air against his skin. 

There’s a backdoor behind the stairs that will take him to a small alleyway that leads to a back parking lot where other shop owners that live at the top of their stores on the same side of his street parked their cars. He unlocks it from the inside, and throws his shoulder into it, desperate to her out. When it shuts behind him, he doesn’t turn back because it’s the kind to lock from the outside when closed. His fingers curl into the ends of his sleeve so that the tips of his fingers (nails now changed to a sparkling silver color) are the only parts of his hands visible. 

Rounding the corner, he whistled the cheeriest tune he can muster. His lips are puckered and his cheekbones high with the extension of his mouth. He’s not very happy on the inside, though he remembers reading something somewhere that if you pretend to be something long enough, you’ll eventually become it. If he pretends to be happy, then he’ll actually be happy. 

Right?

Harry rounds the corner of the parking lot and turns on to the main street. It’s only two in the afternoon, so there's people crawling in and out of shops anywhere. He even sees a man and a woman peeking into the window of his store, and he would feel bad if he wasn’t in a shitty mood already. He’s so out of it, that he nearly yells ‘get your hands off my windows!’. He doesn’t though, because for a moment the woman becomes y/n and the man becomes him, wrapping a ringed hand around her waist and whispering in her downy ear ‘they’re closed, darling, let’s go somewhere else’ and she straightens dejectedly, pouting playfully and standing up and her tippy toes so that she could press a quick kiss to his lips. 

That image fades though, and the couple continues with their stroll, hand in hand, and his heart is wrenching, writhing and trying to yank itself free from it’s place in his chest because it hurts too much to stay. 

Cars whizz past, and he skirts in and out of people on the sidewalk, keeping his pace fast and focused. There’s no intended destination, he’s just moving with the intent to forget the pretty girl who haunts him. Her voice is all he can hear. Her smile is all she can picture. And the rest of her is all he can imagine, which is exactly what hurts the most. Imagination only goes so far, fulfils so much with uncertainty of what the truth was and what wasn’t. Harry could imagine her with her feet up on the lip of a bubble filled tub, a glass of wine in her hands, but then…what kind of wine did she like? Or did she even like wine? And did she even have a bathtub to stretch out in after a long day? 

He curses the crimes he may have committed in past lives to deserve this torture. This unbearable pain that felt like he was being dunked in a slow-acting acid. He can do nothing about it but keep walking with labored will power. He passed his shop, and a bakery and a small thrift store that sells used clothing for way too much money. At the propped open double-doors of Jeff’s Winsome, he decides to talk in and browse. There’s so many items that smell good and taste good, that it was fun to just walk in and look. 

“Back again so soon, H?” 

Spinning on his heel, Harry comes face to face with Niall, a brunette, fit, Irish bloke with a chummy smile and a killer sense of humor. The two have brokered a sort of friendship, considering the amount of time (and money) that Harry spends there. Niall has even started calling him ‘H’ in silent homage to his flower shop. 

“Y’know I can’t stay away,” Harry attempted to joke, his lips pulling up in a weak smile, “plus, I think I needed s’more of the peppermint essential oils f’my diffuser.” 

“‘Course ya do! You're worse than the bloody vegan mums that come in asking for gluten free baby powder!” Niall cups a hand over his mouth and loudly whispers to so that only Harry catches his verbiage. There was a woman in the back of the store, looking through soaps in the limited kid’s section, the same exact kind that Niall was speaking about. “Go on and look around then, I’ll be here when you’re finished.” He said. 

Harry only nodded his acknowledgement, and moved in between wooden walnut shelves. The entire store had a caramel brown color scheme, with only the inventory adding color to it. Macramé potted succulents and plants added to the natural, outdoorsy feel. Winsome had an interesting mix of smells from all of the aromatherapy based products it housed, but it only added to the appeal. 

Currently, he held a packet of four lip balms that advertised to be ‘100% all naturally derived ingredients with no artificial additives' infused with ‘healing power of crystals’, two of them ‘citrine cherry' flavored, and the remaining ‘garnet guava’. The brand name is something in Italian that he can’t read, packaging thick and a triangle made of arrows in the corner signaling it can be decomposed and/or recycled. He had the same exact ones at home, only they were all misplaced and- 

“Harry?”

A small, timid voice called his name from behind him, and he froze. He knew that voice. It was the same one he had repeated over and over in his head for the past week, waiting for her promised arrival with a hopeful heart. 

His eyes go wide with recognition, body still and stiff like a deer caught in headlights. His heart begins to rump at a furious speed, loud in his ears like a million stampeding hooves. The packaged products in his hands shake, and then she speaks again, “Harry, is that you?” 

Is this really happening right now? He’s embarrassed at having been caught with lipstick in his hands of all things, but he can’t put them back now. It was too late for that. He lets them hang at his side, and turns around. He hopes there isn’t perspiration dripping from his temples because all of a sudden he wants to yank his sweater off. 

Harry turned, slowly. He feared that if he moved too fast she would fly away like a startled dove. 

“Y/n…” He’s breathless, but he manages a pitiful quirk of the corner of his mouth, which he licks over right after, “hi.” 

She’s wearing a dress this time, frilly at the hem which fell just above her knees. It’s pink and covered and lined with blood red trim at her forearms. A string of pearls glistens at the base of her throat, and her lips are covered in a sheen of lipstick. Her hair, however, is a tousled mess, pieces of it framing her face and untucked from her bun as if she had been jostling around. Her cheeks are flushed with the cold, and clearly that thin beige cardigan hanging off her elbows is doing nothing to keep her warm.

Y/n smiles at him, with the same shakiness, “f-for a second I thought I was talking to the wrong p-person.” 

 It’s quiet again, and they’re both fidgeting. Y/n’s knees knock together as she shifts her weight from foot to food, and Harry idly rubs his finger under his nose and sniffs boogies that aren’t there. She’s staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on her heels and he can’t think of anything to say because he’s so paralyzed by the fact that she’s actually standing in front of him, and looks as gorgeous as ever. Had he somehow manifested her presence? 

While she’s hiking up the ends of her sweater so that they’re situated properly on her shoulders, he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Aren’t y’cold?”

Her head snaps up and she peeks at him from under her lashes while flattening a hand at her thigh, “a little bit.” 

Harry watches her tuck her hair behind her ears and wonders if she came walking from her apartment again. In the cold. Dress as she was. Not that he had a problem with the way that she was dressed! He understood that sometimes when people grew bored they used the smallest occasions to dress up and have some fun and get out of their homes. He did it too, sometimes. To clear his head. Hell, isn’t that what he was doing now?

“D’you need a ride home?” He stumbled over his tongue to backtrack, not wanting her to think that he was a wierdo or anything like that, “t-that is if y’walking, I wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything like that. S’bit chilly out today.” 

Y/n smiles shyly at him, a blush on the highest points of her cheeks, and rubs the side of her face against the fabric of her cardigan, “thank you, for the offer, but uhm… it’s my friend’s baby-shower-gender-reveal thing today and I came with my other friend to some last minute gifts and some flowers. I was going to buy some stuff from here because she’s crazy about the whole ‘no preservatives’ and all but, and I was also going to stop by your shop to buy some flowers, but I saw you were closed so I…I’m rambling again.” She sputtered out the last bit, and pressed the tips of her three middle fingers to her lips to stop the words from coming out. 

Harry smirked at her antics, but it’s more of a repressed smile, and the rest of his humor gleamed in the sea-glass of his eyes like a message in a bottle. 

“S’alright, love.” He’s still holding the lip balms in his hand, and he can feel the moisture that’s collecting on his palms dampening the Kraft like material as he gestured to her dress with the tip of his chin. “Y’wearing pink. I take it y’want the baby to be a girl?”

“Actually, I know it’s a girl. She told me,” y/n pips, shrugging smugly. 

Harry laughs at her this time, “Did you finish with all your purchases here? I can make an exception and open up f’you.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t wanna bother you! Because if this was your day off then-”

He lifts a hand to get her to stop, and uses the opportunity to twist around and put back what he had in his hands. The conversation is flowing so smoothly now, that all of his previous worries are gone. He can only focus on her and the way her eyelashes fluttered and the crystalline sparkly in her voice. 

“Y/n, it’s fine. D’ya finish here? We can head over to the shop now if you’d like.” Harry points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. 

“Uh, no. I just got here so I still have to go grab some things,” she said, pushing her hair past her ears again. He thinks that she can probably tell the disheveled state her hair was in, because she begins to pop off a pin in her hair to readjust it. He doesn’t mind it, though. He thinks she looks cute. Angel-like. 

He nods, rolling his hands into fists within his sleeves so that the cuffs hang over his knuckles, and tries not to trip over his legs as he backs away. “A’right. I’ll wait f’you in the front, then. Take y’time, love.” 

“‘Kay,” she gleams at him, biting down on her bottom lip, and Harry turns away fully before he starts whining about how cute she is or before there’s a dent in the heather grey fabric of his sweatpants.  

At the front, Niall has his chin at the palm of his hand, and as he gets closer, Harry lifts his head to see that the brunette is wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. There's a shit-eating grin on his face that clearly points to a mountain of teasing in the near distance. 

“A little love-struck, mate?” He said, as soon as Harry was within hearing distance. At least he had the decency to keep his voice down, he thought. 

Harry flips him off, “oh, bug off.” 

Silver glitter sparkling on his nails, and his gaze strays to the floor, bashful of how clear his affection was. He turns to rest his bum against the counter and pulls out his phone to appear busy as he waits for y/n, mindlessly opening Instagram to have something to do (and to stop him from glancing at her ever two seconds).    

“Yup. I knew it. Have y’asked her out yet?” Niall doesn’t stop to let Harry refute his question, “y’know she comes in sometimes, after stopping by your place? And she just will not stop talking about how nice yeh were to her.”

Harry’s head snaps up from his screen so fast, something at the back of his neck creaks with the force. Instagram is long forgotten.

“What? Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” He doesn’t mean for his words to come as aggressive as they do, but the thought of her speaking to someone else about him is… well, it’s thrilling. 

Alarmed, Niall’s hands come up near his face in the motion of surrender, “no, man! Dead serious. Think she likes yeh, honestly.”

He can only say: “Fuck me.”

Niall is about to respond when a quiet voice breaks their stares, “I’m all finished.” 

“Already, babe? I’ll rig ya up, then!” 

He’s quick to slide the few products over the scanning square, and y/n and Harry stand beside each other silently, their height difference laughable. Niall’s gaze flickered between them with no commentary, and his lips pucker with a wiggling smile when he finally announces her total. A bit too much for a small changing blanket, oatmeal-based baby lotion, pacifiers with a lavender infused towel attached to ‘aid with goodnight night’s sleep’, and a bamboo hairbrush with a tuft of soft bristles. 

Nonetheless, she provides the money with a pleasant smile. Harry can see a bit of tightness around her eyes that suggests discomfort, but he doesn’t say anything. Niall hands her a paper bag with her purchase, “there yeh go! Have a good day now, y/n! And be good, to Harry!” 

Harry’s eyes widen at Niall’s last comment, and it takes every bit of self-restraint in him to not reach the other counter and whack him in the back of the head. Instead, he shakes and ducks his head in near shame.

Y/n, however, quips back with “I’ll be nice only if you’re nice,” and bumps her shoulder against his before walking towards the door, looking over her shoulder at Harry who’s smiling wide now, and trailing after her with no regard to Niall at all. 

He shouts something after them about being rude lovebirds, but Harry doesn’t care. He’s floating after this heaven-sent like cartoon characters being led to a freshly baked pie with their nose on the scent. His rump high in the air like the Lorax disappearing into the light in the clouds, utterly ignorant to everything else. 

When they’ve both stepped outside, they speak at the same time, 

“Let me just-”

“Do y’wanna put-” 

Harry and y/n giggle at each other, 

“You go first.” 

“Y’speak first.” 

And then they laugh again. Harry pretends to zip his lips and throws away the key, and she says radiantly, “I’ll drop this off in my friend’s car really fast and we can walk to your flower shop.” 

Watching her approach a car parked two spots away, a girl with blue, pink, and brown hair leans over to the passenger side, seat belt straining against her throat and when she sees Harry, she waves and it makes y/n push her back to her spot behind the driver’s  side. Whoever this girl is, she and Niall have to meet, seeing as they can’t mind their own business. He chuckled and waved back, that girl laughing along with him and it made y/n cover her face with her cardigan covered hands. 

“I’m sorry about Charlotte,” she said when she got back, “she doesn’t know how to mind her own.”

“A bit like Niall, it seems.” Harry said. He waits for her to catch up before beginning to walk down the street. Side to side, shoulder to shoulder. They’re so close, Harry can feel the warmth of her body heat through the fleece of his sweatshirt. It’s cold, and she’s still this warm? 

“Maybe,” her eyebrows raise, and her head tilts towards him, “they should meet.” 

“Tha’s exactly what I was thinkin’!” His voice rises with his excited agreement, and the tip of his nose wiggles as he scrunches his nose. 

As they get closer, to H’s Garden, Harry reaches into his pocket for his keys, fingering through them so that they wouldn’t have to stand in the cold for so long. He didn’t want her to get sick. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I feel really bad about this,” she whispered beside him, looking up at him with doe eyes as she worried her lip between her teeth, the sheen of gloss adding an extra allure to her image at that moment. “It’s your day off, and I’m bugging you.” 

They stood in front of the door now, underneath the green umbrella cover that extended from the top of the door and down the side of the window. Harry waited for her to step into the little alcove created by the indent of the door before stepping in after her and jiggling the key into the lock. He resisted the urge to pull his lips down into a cooing frown at the look on her face. She really was worried about disturbing him. If only she knew that he spent the entire day moping (and nearly crying) over her. 

He sucked on his teeth, “oh, love, please worryin’ about it. Don’t wanna see that frown on y’pretty face anymore okay?” His confidence was slowly coming back, “s’not my day off, I just didn’t feel like speaking to customers today.” 

Shrugging, he opened the door, and took a step back to allow her to step through first. Y/n ducked her head as she passed him with a murmured ‘oh, okay’, and he followed right after her, wanting to get away from the cold too because he knew that his nose was probably pink at that moment, but what he didn’t anticipate was for y/n to stop right after breaching the threshold, and bend over at the waist to pick something up from the floor, causing Harry to bump into her at such an awkwardly sexual angle with all of his momentum. 

Considering he was half twisted away from her and in the middle of pulling out the key from it’s slot, the amount of force in Harry’s push from behind was enough to cause her to nearly fall forward, a surprised whimper slipping from her lips. Harry, determined not to see her fall, lets go of the key and reaches out just in time to grasp her hips on either side, pulling her back towards him mid-fall so that she doesn't collapse on her face. 

However, in the midst of all of this Harry forgets himself and uses a bit too much force. Not to mention, the implications of their position makes him hyper aware of every single place their bodies touched, her small frame against his lithe, tattooed body. 

This moment only lasts for a few seconds, but he can feel everything. 

He can feel the easy give of the skin of her hips underneath each finger that touched her, the softness of the flesh on her thighs against his sturdy knees. The fabric of his sweatpants is suddenly non-existent, and it’s almost as if he felt every taught tendon of her legs, frozen with efforts of helping catch or brace herself. The heat of her groin is flush against his, and it makes him want to scream with a sudden sensitivity. Her ass is practically seated on him, full and malleable against the points of his laurel covered hip bones. Harry’s semi-hunched, as her weight also pushed him back, and the position is doing nothing to help his frenzied mind settle. He feels like shit because he’s being a horny, pubescent kid instead of asking her if she’s okay, but then y/n moves back into him to straighten fully and their centers grind. Her dress is semi-bunched at the halfway point of her bum, and he can feel heat emanating from her, radiating back on his bloating cock. He has to stifle a moan when she pushes herself up with the tips of her fingers. 

Just as quickly as it started, it’s over. Y/n is dusting her bum off so that her dress falls and covers her modesty, and she’s beet red in the face, not looking at him. Which was fine by him, he was too ashamed to look into her eyes. 

He clears his throat (something he’s doing a lot around her) and asks if she’s okay. 

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. This was on the floor,” she squeaked, holding up a neon yellow notice sheet in her hand. That damned thing was what caused all of this?

It’s a notice from the delivery men that said, ‘sorry! We missed you!’ with a time and date messily scrawled on the dotted lines. Harry had forgotten that he was getting a shipment of several plants that morning. 

Cursing, he takes it from her, “t-thank you. Now how ‘bout those flowers?”

It’s awkward, obviously, but y/n is severely silent. Harry’s still stuffy in his pants, but he ignores it and doesn’t add any fuel to the fire because there’s more pressing matters at hand than a boner. Y/n is the most quiet she’s ever been around him, considering all of her word vomits and ramblings, and he’s suffering. Definitely beating himself up in his head for having ruined the moment. He held onto her for a second too long, frozen. She must feel so embarrassed, and he was self-endulging like a fucking asshole. 

Harry asks her questions on what flowers she’d like, and she answers by pointing or bringing a stem to him, laying it on the counter without a word. A mixture of dahlias and baby’s breath with a handful of feverfew to make the pink in the dahlia’s stand out. He lays them out on his work table, cutting the ends at an angle where they need to be cutted and laying them out on a sheet of clear, dusty rose paper. Three packets of flower food are strewn at the corner, and y/n busies herself by fidgeting with them. He grows concerned when he makes a comment on the kinds of ribbons he had stored and she doesn’t say anything. Not even a nod or a hum. 

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of her neglect, and pauses his work to devote her some attention.  

“Love, I’m sorry about what happened,” he said softly, trying to catch her eyes, “I know it probably made y’uncomfortable, and I didn’t do much to make the situation better, but I just didn’t wanna see y’fall.”

Y/n’s head is already dipped, so he can’t see her face, but when her shoulders begin to shake, he knows he’s utterly fucked. She starts to sniffle, and his eyes go wide. The paper crinkled as he set down the baby’s breath he’s holding in his hands. He hates seeing people cry, not because he didn’t know how to deal with it, but because he often ended up crying along with them. Also, he just didn’t want to see her cry. Harry wanted her to be happy, glowing, and smiling. Not dull with dollops of woeful distress in liquid form.

He rounds the corner and spares a look out to the street, wanting to make sure that there is no strange onlooker eavesdropping on their interaction. His hand reaches out to stroke her back or shoulder comfortingly, but he thinks better of it and drops his arm. She most likely would not like to be touched, considering what just happened between them. He drops his head, seeking face-to-face interaction, and speaks as gently as he can, “y/n, what’s wrong?” 

She avoids his search, and turns the other way while sniffling, “you probably think I’m weird now or something after that.” 

“No!” Harry exclaimed, jerking his head back as if he’d been struck, and her words practically had. He can’t believe that she would think that and even go as far as verbalizing her thoughts when he worshipped the ground she walked on and didn’t even know her that well, yet. “No, no. I don’t think that. Y’tripped, that’s all. Happens to everyone. If anythin’ I’m the weirdo for grabbin’ y’the way I did, and I’m really sorry about it.”

Y/n dig the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, “that was so embarrassing, I should’ve told you I was gonna stop or something. I always embarrass myself in front of cute boys and I never know what to do. I just-” 

Harry interrupts before she can dig herself further another hole. He highlights a segment of her words, dropping everything else in hopes of changing the conversation and taking her discomfort away, and mostly because he was bursting with relief and happiness. She had said that she thought he was cute, just how he thought that she was adorable, and nice, and everything good. They were on the same level, their minds in sync. Did that mean…

His voice is airy and light because of what she had just admitted, “y’think I’m cute?”

She stills with awareness of what she’s just said, and a puppy-like noise seeps from the back of the throat before her hands sink further into her eyes, embarrassed. Harry tenderly wraps his fingers around her small wrists and pulls her hands away from her face, murmuring about ‘don’t rub y’eyes anymore, love, y’gonna hurt’ with nothing but kindness. A millisecond of distraction speeds through his mind at the softness on the inside of her wrists. 

There’s a trickle of blubbering in her part, her bitten lips bumping against each other as she attempts to backtrack, “I mean- I- I-”

Harry decides that it’s now or never. It was a bit inconvenient, perhaps, but with her revelation his confidence soared and he was more prepared now to ask than he ever had been. So, he goes for it, “can I have y’number?” 

A moment of semi-uncomfortable silence as the unknown tips the scale. Would she say yes? Would she say no? His head was spinning and he hoped his nose didn’t start bleeding or something because y/n nods slowly, smiling, and then, “okay.” 

He’s elated. He was the polar opposite of what he had been that morning. If only Owen could see him then. He doesn’t waste any time reaching into his back pocket and handing her his unlocked phone. They don’t share any words, only coy glances and flirty quirks of the lips as the tips of her fingers move on his screen. Harry can’t believe that he’s finally getting her number, after nearly a month of pinning. 

When she’s finished, she clicks it off and sets it next to him with an added pat to the back of his suspiciously clean white phone case while he’s tying the flowers together with a loose rubber band at the ends to attach the food packets. He’s fine with working in silence now that she's not crying anymore. He throws occasional glances in her direction, and catches her watching his hands while fiddling with her own. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth was twitching. 

“Will you text me?” She asked him. 

He’s careful not to bruise any of the petals as he sets them down again, pausing with his ministrations to pick up his phone. He wiggles his eyebrows at her and types a quick ‘Hi. It’s Harry :)’. He hits send, “until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” She shakes her head, and Harry’s reminded Rachel McAdams in The Notebook while she’s in complete denial of her feelings for Noah. The comparison makes his heart flutter, considering the romance of the onscreen couple. “How much do I owe you?” 

Harry waves her off, “it’s on the house.” She begins to argue, but Harry stops her before she starts rambling again, “y’better go or you’ll be late, love.” He holds out the arrangement to her, tufts of baby’s breath poking out from between the vibrant dahlias like fluffy clouds, the feverfew looking like miniature white daisies in the center. 

She looks at it, and back at him before huffing, “fine, but you’ll have to let me return the favor.”

“Of course,” he smirks, “with dinner, maybe?” 

They’re both gleaming at each other now, “okay.” Y/n takes a step back, her body half twisted as she walks away, but it remains like that for a moment as her eyes rake him up and down, a murmur following, “bye, Harry.” 

His veins charge with electricity, and his dark taffy lips part at her actions. Had she just checked him out? He doesn’t recover quick enough to return her goodbye because the previous swirl of arousal in his navel was bristling back to life at the implications of that look. Calm, slow, steady, and her eyes remained doe-like and innocent. 

She had to have known exactly what she was doing, whispering his name the way she had, looking over her shoulder and under her eyelashes the way she did. Deviously provoking his thoughts to begin a new with a reinspired fervor. The space in his underwear was growing tighter by the second, a blissful ache swelling. 

Before any other customer stepped in after her, Harry locked the door, and jogged up the stairs to prepare himself a nice, hot bath, simultaneously cursing and thanking the stupid fucking delivery men.  

********

Harry can’t stop thinking. 

Obviously, this is a huge issue for him. He was constantly thinking, and well, who wasn’t? The process of thoughts wisping around in his brain was one that he often put an unnecessary amount of energy into because he had no one to filter these thoughts onto, releasing them through a conversation to prevent the exhaustion of his brain and heart. A prime example of these mishaps being the depressing slump that occupied his demeanor that very morning. 

This?

This was different.

As soon as the apartment door was shut behind him, Harry pulled the suffocating sweatshirt off of his upper body, fingers hooking in at the collar and yanking it off with a swift tug. It landed somewhere on his kitchen floor, and he didn’t stop to take note of its final destination. Instead, his legs instinctively took him to his bathroom. 

Chest heaving, Harry walked to the small window leaking sunlight and rolled the stick between his fingers to close the blinds. His thumb dipped into the waistband of his boxes and dragged them down lopsidedly, the tiger tattoo roaring as it became exposed. When the blinds are fully closed, the white extension clangs against the shutters from his aggressive release. His body was slowly being consumed by a raging fire stoked by the illicit images his brain conjured of the innocent, unsuspecting y/n.

His inner turmoil consisted of guilt for using her image that way and justification from the conspiring rake of her eyes along the upper half of him that was visible behind the counter. He was so fixated by her, that her look alone felt like a tempting caress along his skin. And it all happened in a matter of fucking seconds. That’s how gone he was. That’s how fucking gone he was. Harry guesses that the easy excitement also had to do with the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while (he only ever gets lucky when he goes out to the bars with Mitch or Jeff, and they’d been gone for a significant amount of time) and the strong affinity he had for the girl who bought flowers from him.  

Explanation or not, he had to do something about the problem in his pants. He was painfully hard, and when he shucked his pants off fully, his underwear dragged with the movement and pressed against the tip of his swollen prick. A darkened patch of moisture bloomed where the head was, and he saw stars at the short pressure. He wouldn’t take his pants off just then, though. He liked to stall his pleasure as much as he could so that when he finally did cum, his stomach muscles contracted and his toes remained curled for more than ten seconds. 

He twisted the golden knobs of his tub so that the water would come rushing out at a borderline scalding temperature, and opened the small cabinet above the toilet for a bottle of almond and coconut shea butter bubbles. He uncapped it and bent over the edge of the tip, the cool, porcelain lip touching his crotch and provoking a choked whimper to leave him. Jerking his hips back, he poured the soapy liquid into the spot where the water cascaded, and retracted his hand when the beginning of froth formed along the surface. 

The heady sweet smell permeated the air with the rising levels of bubbles, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. Because he liked to torture himself, he closed his eyes and slowly dragged the hell of his hand over the outline of his cock, a groan ripping though the silence. It’s so painfully good, that he does it one more time, and he jolts forward. He removes his hand, slips his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, and lugs the fabric down his hips at an excruciatingly slow pace. The head of his member smearing precum all along as he moves and when he gets caught in the ripples of his boxers the muscles in his thighs flex at the ripple of pleasure that zips into his nerves. 

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. His mind was a spinning vintage reel of slideshow images of y/n. Y/n on bruised knees, her mouth wide open and her own drool on her tits, the tip of his cock flat on her tongue as she pleads with weepy eyes for him to cum down her throat. When he finally springs free of his underwear, a hefty slap rings out as his dick collides against his abdomen, right on the space underneath his belly button. 

There’s a stripe of liquid on the trail left by the mushroom head of his prick, and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throat straining as he hovers over the bathtub. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this hard over a girl before, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to last as long as he usually does. As he swings a leg over the edge of the tub, the hot water encasing his calf, he’s thinking about how soft she is. The inside of her wrist and the palm of her hand. If she’s that soft on an external part of her body that’s used everyday, he can only wither away at the idea of what the inside of her thighs feel like. 

Bubbles are swarming up now, swathing his thighs and buttocks as he sinks into the sloshing water. When he’s completely seated and satisfied with the belly-button level of water, he clumsily throws a hand in the direction of the knobs to shut them off, and reclined his head against the curved end of the tub with his eyes shut. 

He hikes up his knees so that they’re resting against the porcelain walls, and mindlessly ruts up into the water at the filthy images he’s picturing, white foam collecting in sparse clouds over the math on his chest. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s as if his body is being transported back to the moment his hips clashed with y/n’s. At the recollection, his mouth drops and his eyebrows pinch in a silent moan. The feel of her flesh underneath his fingertips has him bobbing in the water, and the next ideation has him gripping the base of his cock. 

Vividly, he pictured her on all fours, keening back onto him as her pussy enveloped him in warmth, a warmth that is almost replicated by the temperature of the water, dripping and making a mess of him but what’s turning him on most of all is the easy flushness of their bodies. He had felt the way her bum gave way under his hold, and he imagined the bounce of her flesh as he thrusted into her. 

He moaned a broken call of her name with his eyes still shut, and heard the trickling of water as his fist rolled up his stiff prick, squeezing at the tip so that a few more droplets of precum dribbled out. With his thumb, he rubbed over the red mushroom head and lathered it in slow, leisurely circles, a throb pulsating with the beat of his heart as he returned to flicking his wrist over himself. 

The way that he looked at him and the sound of his name on her lips seared into his memory. Airy and willowy, similar to it resonated in his brain with the fantasy of sinking into her for the first time, stretching her and having her preen and arch with desperate whimpers of his name for more. Harry considered himself to be ‘well-endowed’ and his size was a factor of what sent him careening over the edge as girls mewled over his size after he’d bottomed out. He wanted y/n to mewl under him, both of them falling apart at the seams at the mutual pleasures because if Harry’s this broken over just the thought of her, then he’s sure he’s going to lose himself beyond recognition after he’s buried himself into her velvety walls, slick with her arousal and so fucking warm. 

Just as she had been earlier that day. There had been two layers between them- the fabric of Harry’s pants and her panties- yet, he was still able to feel an immense heat from the apex of her thighs against his cock. He needed more than this. He needed her, not just his hand driving him closer to the edge. 

His jaw clenched as he bit back on a particularly loud moan, for no reason other than he enjoyed self-sabotage from time to time, and the speed of his jerking hand increased. His other hand gripped the side of the tub, and his legs flexed as he began to thrust up into his own fist, a trail of bubbles sticking to the tanned muscles. The cut rectangles of muscles of his abdomen glistened like freshly chopped cubes of apricot with the droplets of water that remained clinging to him. His breath came in labored, strained puffs as the palm of his hand twisted, tightening at the tip and loosening at the base. 

For a moment, he paused and cupped his balls, massaging them as the fantasy in his head continued. His mouth wrapping around y/n’s nipples, her eyes glazed over from previous orgasm that he wanted so badly to give her. She’d whine something soft and quiet to match her personality, ‘please, Harry, please I want more. Need another Harry, please’, and he’d speed up the movement of his hips, driving deep into her and cooing into her ear about, ‘c’mon, darling. Give m’another then. Y’want it so bad, yeah? Give me a’fucking ‘nother’, and she’d release a peircing moan that explodes in his eardrums while arching into him. She’d squeeze impossible tight around him, gushing with her own cum. 

The water in Harry’s tub sloshes around his ankles, and the muscles of his abdomen clench so that he’s closing in on himself, sputtering on an outrageously loud cry that he can’t contain and his hand increases the speed of his filthy ministrations because he’s right on the edge. He’s about to fucking cum and the back of his eyelids burns with the possible variances of y/n’s face in ecstasy provided by him with his nose deep in her cunt, lapping at the sweet honey that spills with every whimper of, ‘please let me cum, Harry. I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please let me cum. 

He tensed violently, his face contorted painfully as white ropes spurt from the tip of his cock over his fist and onto his chest, blending with the white almond foam. His feet are braced against the edge of the tub and his head falls back and his stomach tenses even further, the final leaks of his cum dribbling out. 

With the fuzziness that comes after an orgasm, his body melts back into the water that’s still warm, and his jerks with a pant as he allows his softening prick to sink into the water. The head on his hair is matted in a chocolate smear across his forehead, and his lips are a raging heart of cherry blossoms, parted with arduous gasps of recovery breath. His hands fall into the water at his sides, and with the lapping movement of the liquid against his sensitive member, he ruts into nothing again. 

Reclined with his eyes closed and heartbeat slowing, Harry murmurs a final, “fuck me,” at the extreme sensations that had raked through his body. 

Somewhere in the muffled distance, his phone dings with the notification of a text message, and with a tired noise of resentment, he sits up and reaches for his sweatpants that lay in a messy puddle besides the tub. His fingers drip darkening spots onto the grey material as he rummages for his phone, and then he finally clicks it on...

It’s her name, lighting up his screen, and the text reads: 

y/n <3 : so… dinner? 

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever crushed on a girl this hard before because even though he’s just completely physically spent himself, there’s something stirring in the depths of his tummy just at seeing the heart she put next to her name. 

He couldn’t be happier. 

*    *    *    *    *    *

and here he is!! what do you guys think?? pls pls pls leave your feedback in my askbox! i’d love to hear your thoughts! and if you really really loved it, don’t be afraid to press that reblog button <3333

[behindyourbarrette]

Star Light, Star Bright

summary: The team goes camping on a long weekend. Turns out, it’s really easy to tell someone how you feel when you’re under a starry night sky. 

pairing: spencer reid/reader

category: fluff, start to finish

warnings/includes: mention of food, a mild burn

work count: 4.1k

a/n: this is my fav thing i’ve written in a HOT SECOND. enjoy! pls reblog if you feel inclined, it helps me out a ton!

check it out on ao3

---

You’ve never found chicken pox to be more of a miracle.

In truth, you are a little saddened that Jack’s Boy Scout troop all got sick and their camping trip had to be postponed. This does not change the fact that you’re elated at the opportunity to nab Hotch’s campsite reservation. The team jumped at the chance for a vacation, the promised long weekend only truly promised in places without cell service.

You pick Spencer up early, the first of many people you’ve offered to drive out to the mountains. After tossing a very heavy-sounding duffel bag into your trunk, he clambers into the passenger seat. He strikes you as a little nervous—he won’t quite look at you as you wind your way out of D.C and towards the countryside.

“I’ve never been camping before, actually.” He says it quietly, mid-conversation about Boy Scouts and the safety of camping with children. There’s a 5-mile radius around Quantico where work is the only thing you can really think about. As you turn onto the highway, hands flexing against the wheel, you’re glad to be free of the office.

“Really? Never?”

It makes sense, the longer his sentence sits on your tongue. Vegas isn’t the most hospitable environment to camp in. You make a mental note to thank your parents for raising you on the East Coast, where the forests are frequent and the soil is actually fertile.

“Yeah. I’m not sure, I’m, uh, really suited for it.” You look at him now, the slight sadness in his eyes, and there are a thousand things you’d like to say. Instead, you reach across the center console, squeezing his hand in yours. Before he can say anything, you’ve returned your hand to the wheel, eyes fixed on the horizon. 

---

You’ve lived in Virginia for a few years, but somehow you’ve never found it this breathtaking. You have no idea how you got roped into driving, given that Derek and Emily usually take the wheel, but you’re far from complaining. As you wind through the forest, the canopy of leaves casting a filter of sunshine over the ground, you’re left speechless. The trees part in favor of the dirt road, and you find yourself absorbed in the surplus of green and foliage as you drive.

“There’s over 15,000 acres of this. It’s the largest protected land preserve in the tri-state area.”

You turn your head to watch Spencer murmur, still absorbed in a book. For the first time, you notice that he’s wearing a polo shirt and a beanie that Penelope knit him for Christmas. The whole sight is so...un-Spencer like that you’re torn between finding it endearing and concerning. You gulp down everything you want to tell him, swallowing all of the unidentifiable feelings in your throat.

“I’m excited. I love camping. My dad used to take me here all the time.” He perks up at this, and closes his book. You nod, pursing your lips into a smile. You steal a quick glance at the backseat, where Penelope and Derek have fallen asleep.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You have Spencer’s attention now. He nods so vehemently you laugh, tearing your eyes away from his in favor of focusing on the road.

“I wanted to be a park ranger when I was younger.” You’re only a little embarrassed of this; the jump from environmentalist to federal agent is just laughable enough to warm your cheeks. Spencer’s eyes widen.

“Really? How did you—I mean, when did you decide to be a—actually, I take it back. Hugging trees is beneficial for your health, after all.” He smirks, and you reach out to punch him on the arm. He rubs the spot absently, a grin forming on his face as your blush deepens. You try to portray yourself to the team as someone who’s a little tougher than the little girl who cried when she found out that people litter in National Parks. With Spencer, it’s different. Still, you can’t bank on what he will or won’t tell Derek.

“If you tell anyone, I will kick your ass. Forget it.” You get the sense that you are not going to live this down. To your advantage, it’s Spencer who blushes this time, his cheeks warming a delicate pink.

“I can’t forget it, actually. I have an eidetic—ow!”

---

The campsite is glorious.

Or, as Penelope would put it, rustic. It’s the perfect happy medium between the forest and the lake nearby, with a trail leading to the beach just a few feet from the site. The trees filter out just enough sun so that it’s pleasantly warm out. There’s ample space for a few tents, and a bear locker. You’re seated at a picnic bench with the girls, unloading the food and cooking supplies as the boys attempt to put together tents. From what you can see and hear, it sounds like Derek is muscling his way through it, much to Spencer and Hotch’s chagrin.

“You’re glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Emily nudges you in the side, a sly smile on her face as she screws the propane line into the campstove. You flush, and shrug your shoulders.

“I love camping. I’m just excited to be here with you guys.”

Penelope reaches across the table to hug you. She’s dressed perfectly for the occasion: you don’t think you’ve ever seen bedazzled hiking boots before, but there’s a first time for everything.

“You know, I’m surprised Spence came. He normally skips out on these kinds of things.” JJ looks back at you from the bear locker, where she’s stacking cans of soup and Hotch’s cooler. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but you look towards Spencer before she can say anything else. He’s managing to put up his tent surprisingly well; he’s only struggling with the final few posts as he stumbles around the uneven ground. You turn back to JJ, shrugging.

“I mean, I think he can appreciate the outdoors. He’s probably read Walden.”

Emily laughs, and you feel as though the conversation has finally let up. JJ has a point, but as soon as you had asked Spencer if he was coming, he had agreed. He doesn’t look particularly out of place, either. Over the course of the past hour, he’s somehow inherited a pair of sunglasses and a red flannel. You look away, pursing your lips.

“Okay, I think we’re done.” Derek calls, waving his arm to catch your attention. There are now five small tents, only a little crinkled and trampled over. Emily nods in approval, nudging one of them with the tip of her boot. It only shakes a little.

“Good job, guys. They look...structurally sound.” Hands on your hips, you bend to inspect the guys’ handiwork. Spencer winces as you tug on a tent’s zipper, and it whines in protest. You shrug, smiling as you straighten.

“We should check out the lake.” Derek gestures to the blue expanse of water in the distance, and Penelope squeals. You hear the sound of metal clinking together, and turn.

It’s Hotch, holding what you assume to be a fishing pole. While this should be very surprising, you can’t come up with anything funny to say. Emily makes a joke about the catch of the day, and Hotch doesn’t laugh.

“Are there canoes involved? I didn’t bring a suit.” JJ asks, arms crossed over her chest. You nod, pointing to the rental shack on the eastern side of the lake.

“You guys ready to get some sun?”

---

“You look cute in hiking boots, princess.” You should not find this as funny as you do. Maybe it’s the fact that Derek definitely had Penelope apply some sort of oil to his biceps while they were in a tent; there’s no way that he just naturally glistens like that. You squint up at him, shrugging your shoulders. While your outfit is a little unorthodox—you remembered to bring a bikini, but forgot water shoes—it’ll work just fine. Spencer enters your peripheral vision, wrinkling his nose in Derek’s direction. You resist the urge to smile at this.

“Spence.”

You get his attention, catching up to him in just a few steps. The beach is pretty, lacking in sand but perfectly cool and sunny. He’s wearing too-big sunglasses and, surprisingly, Bermuda shorts. You trudge along the rocky path, handing him a bottle of sunscreen.

“Come on, I need your help. Sunscreen me.”

He seems shocked, fiddling with the bottle. You turn your back to him, raising your arms as you walk backwards, waiting to hit him before you stop.

“Is sunscreen a verb?” His voice is a little hoarse, and you smirk.

“Would you prefer lotion? Massage?” You tease, and you can practically feel him tense up.

“N-no, I wouldn’t. Hold your hair up.”

You oblige, and it takes everything in you not to sigh as he rubs the cool sunscreen into your back. He has really, really big hands and nimble fingers. Biting your lip, you conjure a mental image of them. You feel a little silly for imagining his hands when he’s right there, but you don’t want him to stop touching you. He coats your skin, movements deft and purposeful. You turn, reaching for the bottle.

“Take off your glasses. Your turn.” You like being a little bossy; he flushes as you reach up to spread the lotion across his cheeks, dabbing gently. He exhales slowly, relaxing into your touch.

“Let’s go. You’re my canoe buddy.”

His mouth falls open in surprise, and an evil part of your brain wonders how it would feel to kiss it. The thought is gone before you can act on it, though, and you wave him towards the shore. He stands still, lingering by the campsite.

“I was going to read on the beach, actually—”

“Nope. Come on! I need a partner.”

—-

The lake is cool, and you make yourself busy by being a very unhelpful canoeing partner. Spencer is rowing surprisingly well, scooping water from below and propelling the boat forward. You, on the other hand, are focused on stretching out in the boat. The sun is deliciously warm on your skin, and the occasional splash of water is heaven to the touch.

“You know, there are two sets of oars. We’d get the most momentum if you rowed, too.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll row. I’m not any good at it, though. That’s why I needed a partner.” You pat him on the shoulder affectionately, reaching for the other oar. The motion tips the canoe forward a little, and panic flashes across Spencer’s face.

“Don’t do that again. I do not want to end up in this lake. Do you know how many bacteria are in most man made lakes? You don’t want to know.”

You are many things, but you are not a quitter. Testing the waters, you lean forward again as you row, a little out of sync with Spencer’s strokes.

“Please don’t capsize,”

Hotch calls out from the shore, and Spencer shoots you a look as if to say listen. You shrug, continuing to row and occasionally shifting your weight. The look on his face is worth it.

“You know how to swim, right?”

You ask, voice low and as inconspicuous as you can manage. This backfires—Spencer turns around to shake his head, unbalancing the boat. He lets go of his oar, tightening the strap on his life vest. You cling to the sides, laughing as you try to steady the canoe.

“Not funny. You know, boating related accidents are incredibly common.”

His voice drifts off as Derek and Emily’s boat passes by. Their sportsmanship is admirable; they’re working as a perfect unit, quickly propelling their canoe forward with quick rowing and a lot of effort.

Spencer is scolding you half-heartedly when you get caught in their wake. You couldn’t have steadied the boat if you tried; and before you can react the canoe is upside down and you’re cast into the cool blue.

“I’m going to contract a brain-eating amoeba.”

Spencer coughs, bobbing to the surface. You emerge a few moments later, laughing, and reach for him.

“Worth it. You have plenty of brains to be eaten, genius.”

You watch him try to contain his smile the entire way to the shore.

---

You’re drying off as the sun sets, splashes of pink and purple coating the sky. It’s incredible; over the lake you can see the entire expanse of fields and forest, laid out like a painting.

“You guys brought food, right?”

Emily calls out from the picnic bench. She’s toweling off, sunglasses in her hair as she jokes with Morgan. You nod, turning back to Spencer.

He’s thoroughly drenched. You feel a little guilty for tipping the boat over; he’s spent a decent amount of time wringing out his clothes, and as night falls a chill builds in the air. After pulling a jacket on, you toss him a towel.

“That was fun.”

Your eyes widen a little, genuine surprise lodging itself in your throat. He takes in the look on your face, smiling lightly.

“Better than reading on the beach?” You offer, but this is too good to be true.

“Marginally.”

You frown, suppressing a smirk as you catch the scent of propane drifting through the air. You both head in the direction of the camp stove, where Hotch is fiddling with the gas tank.

“That looks...unsafe.” Spencer mutters, brow furrowed.

Hotch shoots him a look, and you both back off in favor of finding Morgan and Garcia, who are attempting to start a bonfire.

You don’t expect this to happen.

Spencer is arguably your best friend. He’s been there for you through thick and thin. For better or for worse, you’ve had each other. This trip was supposed to be unifying, and a small part of you had even hoped that maybe, just maybe, it’d give you the bravery to say what you’ve been thinking for a while.

“I cannot believe you intentionally burn your marshmallows.”

Spencer is looking at you like you’ve committed a crime; you are very familiar with this expression, but being on the receiving end of it is new. Thankfully, you’re ready to defend your stance to near-death. A somewhat maniacal grin on your face, you stab another marshmallow onto a skewer and shove it directly into the fire.

“I’m with Pretty Boy on this one. That’s just cruel. It doesn’t even heat it all the way through.” You scowl in Derek’s direction, turning back to your now on-fire marshmallow. You pull it out of the flame, watching it sear as the group murmurs in distaste. It only took three hours to start a fire, and by that time Emily had managed to heat a can of soup on the campstove. Spirits were relatively high, all things considered.

You watch in wonder as the marshmallow curves, melting just how you like it. Before you can stop it, it falls straight down onto your leg.

“Shit. That’s like, on fire.”

You say, your voice rising in pitch and volume as it becomes increasingly clear that not only is the marshmallow very, very hot but it is not coming off. The group springs into unsure action, voices loud and panicked as you push away from both your chair and the fire. The physics of melting sugar be damned, Derek manages to scrape it off with his skewer, and you’re left with a very attractive hole in your pants and a patch of tender skin.

“How do you love camping?” JJ asks, eyes wide as she watches you brush yourself off. Stabbing another marshmallow onto your skewer, you shrug.

“It’s all part of the fun.”

This time, you don’t set your marshmallow on fire. You mimic Spencer, who is carefully rotating his marshmallow. There has to be a system for what he’s doing; he’s laser-focused on the fire, his entire face lit up by the flickering red and orange light. You lean in, and before long you fall into a rhythm of roasting a marshmallow to golden-brown perfection, then pressing it into a graham cracker. Emily is incredible at assembling s’mores, and by time the fire is just a few crackling embers everyone has a little chocolate smeared over their faces.

“I’m really glad we did this.” JJ’s voice is just above a whisper. She’s leaning against Emily, the two of them sharing a blanket as the fire slowly fades. Hotch nods sagely, a rare smile on his face.

“It’s nice. A break. Some fresh air. Trees.” You gesture to the forest around you, unable to contain a sheepish grin. When you look to your right, Spencer’s smiling too. Penelope squeezes your hand. As you watch the last log burn into ash, you wonder how you got so lucky.

---

Later, everyone is too tired to stargaze.

This fact wounds you deeply. Stargazing is your favorite part of camping; there is absolutely nothing that parallels the experience of driving away from the city and looking up into the constellations. To your dismay, everyone is in their tents by the time it’s dark enough to see the winks of light overhead.

You begrudgingly get ready for bed; stepping around the campsite, it’s clear to see that everyone has mostly turned in for the night. Derek and Penelope’s tent is dark. Emily, Hotch, and JJ are all snoring at varying volumes. Spencer’s light is on; you can see his shadow, leaning over to peer at a book. You brush your teeth, swatting bugs away as you stumble towards your tent.

You manage to spend thirty minutes in your tent before you lose your patience. This entire camping trip has been a dream; no work, no cell service, and the people you care about. You’ll be damned if you let it pass you by without checking absolutely everything off your list. You step, a little wobbly, towards the front of your tent. You tug the zipper open, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

On shaking legs, you tug your hiking boots on, the evening cold nipping at your ankles. Despite your attempts to lessen the noise, you watch Spencer’s shadow waver.

“Spence!” You stage-whisper, praying to every deity you can think of that he’s awake and the rest of the team isn’t. To your immediate relief, you watch him tug the zipper of his tent down and emerge, swatting at a few lingering mosquitoes. He looks a little cold; his cheeks are pink and he’s rubbing at his arms. The sight of him in a hoodie and flannel pajama pants is more endearing than you’d expect, and you exhale to clear your head.

“What’s going on?”

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and you point to the sky. He takes a cursory glance up, and you watch his jaw fall slack as he takes in the starry skies.

“Come on. We can see better from over there.”

You wave him towards the beach. You know exactly where you’re headed; while you’ve never camped in this specific spot, you know how to reach your favorite place to stargaze. Spencer looks at you with something between curiosity and admiration as you lead the way with a flashlight. The forest is still awake and responsive at this hour, crickets chirping and leaves rustling as you step through the greenery.

You find it quickly; the boardwalk is unmistakable. It’s a field, like the ones you’ve been surrounded by all day. Spencer identifies the leaves as rhubarb plants as you step onto the wooden pathway. While any field would work, this one is ideal; the sky opens up as far as the eye can see, the trees parting to admire the world above.

“Here.” You turn off your flashlight, allowing your eyes to adjust to the low, blue moonlight. Spencer follows you as you crouch, laying with your back to the boardwalk. This is what you came for.

“Oh my God.” Your face splits into a grin once you hear Spencer’s voice, low and gravelly against your ear. The sky above is endless; all you can see is the expanse of the stratosphere, stars bright and darkness vast over your heads. You tear up a little; you always do. It feels like the universe is leaning down to meet you in the middle, pressing its face to yours.

“Tell me what you see. I know that you know what we’re looking at.”

You scoot a little closer, trying to absorb a little of his warmth. Eyes still fixed on the sky, Spencer begins.

“There’s so little light pollution. I...I’ve never seen this many stars at once.” His eyes narrow a little, and you watch as he absorbs the world above him.

“That’s Orion.” He points to a collection of stars to your left, a few brighter than the others.

“Those three in a row, that’s his belt. You might be able to see his bow, too, to the right.

The brightest one is six hundred and forty light years away. Betelgeuse.” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and you follow his every word. You can see the warrior above you, the stars winking at you as Spencer describes them.

You fall quiet after a few minutes, and the only sound is that of your slow, synced breaths. You feel as though Spencer has peeled the sky open and revealed it to you; with him, you can see another world entirely.

“We’re looking into the past right now.”

You turn to look at him, a laugh ready to bubble past your lips. You look back up at the sky, where he’s pointed to the Big Dipper.

“That’s Dubhe. We’re seeing light from before we were born.”

You nod, a tear sliding down your cheek and cooling before it reaches your nose. There is so much you would like to tell him before you are both light, visible in this moment from somewhere far away.

As you stare up into the starscape, you gasp. There’s a shooting star, dragging across the Pleiades and heading towards the western skies.

“Make a wish,” You breathe. Before you lose your nerve, you reach out to Spencer, lacing your fingers together. Turning your head, you watch as he grins up at the sky. His features are softer when drenched in moonlight; the slope of his nose, the arch of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw all bathed in a dreamy quality.

After the shooting star winks out, trailing across the dark and blinking into nothing, the silence feels heavier.

“What did you wish for?”

You’re sure that he can hear your heartbeat. The steady thrum of your heart against your ribcage is a drum, urging you forward. You watch his brow knit in consideration, before his gaze finally meets yours. His eyes are more hazel than you’ve ever noticed, each fleck of gold striking you as a star.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

His voice is soft, laced with something solemn beneath the surface. You nod, stealing a glance at the sky before you swallow your fear.

"I wished for you." You say quietly.

You don’t know who moves first, only that there’s a brief shuffle before you’re holding each other. He reaches to cradle your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally reaching your lips. Your hands ghost over his jaw, trailing down his neck as he laces his fingers into your hair. You can’t quite breathe, nor think, only repeat a simple refrain over and over, a prayer passing over your lips and into the dark.

Spencer.

---

The sun rises lazily, pink and orange brushstrokes against a blue sky. You’re awake early—to put it lightly, Spencer’s tent is cramped—and it feels good to breathe in the morning air. The team is still asleep, a few yards away as you stretch and take in the cool dawn.

You think maybe, this is all a dream. You’re not sure how else this would exist, so perfectly and wholly true. The universe is a benevolent thing, after all. There is no other explanation for Spencer Reid, the man the world got right.

“You have pancake batter in your hair,” You say, a little mournfully but still laughing. Still layered in jackets and hats, you feel as though you’re being warmed from the inside out. Spencer’s eyes widen, and he reaches up with a batter-covered hand to feel his hair. You laugh again, a little too loudly this time, and he shushes you between chuckles.

The campstove is quiet, the gas running blue as Spencer flips a pancake over. You neglected to tell him that folding the pancake mix in slowly would prevent...explosions. If you had warned him, you wouldn’t have the chance to kiss the flour off of his face, smiling against his cheeks. With a mittened hand, you brush the powder off of his eyelashes.

“Chocolate chips, right?”

You smile, nodding. He remembers how you like your pancakes. Turning away from him, you rifle through a storage bin for something you packed.

“Are you looking for syrup? It’s over here.” He calls, his voice soft against the hushed sounds of morning. The birds have begun to chirp, calling to each other in alternating duets. You shake your head, and present him with a contraption.

His eyes light up, and he looks at you with something a little wild and entirely resembling devotion. You reveal with your other hand a bag of coffee grounds from the coffee shop near your house, grinning up at him.

“I can’t believe you brought me a French press.”

You grin, turning your face as your cheeks burn. Maybe you had hoped this would happen, in slightly different words. After you both tuck into your pancakes, leaning over a plate on the same side of a picnic bench, you watch the sunrise. A bundle of puffy jackets and intertwined hands, you press your back into Spencer’s embrace.

As you watch the moon recede into the horizon, you hope that your past is standing hand and hand, gazing at you fondly.

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom season 2, eps 1-5 thoughts! opening the new season with episodes like these kinda blew me away. we had multiple serious episodes INCLUDING a two parter!! also, valerie :)

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-I don't know what I expected s2 to open with. but danny portal incident in more detail was not it. (also, I hate to break it to you, sam, but danny's parent's bigass ghost hunting rv def chugs more gas than those vehicles, lmao. unless it runs on ectoplasm or something...)

-WHY WAS DESIREE IN THE SEWER? HAVING TEA WITH IT DOWN THERE?? Her making the giant cow come alive is a boss move, we've almost had all of my fav animals as ghosts now <3 I also don't like how sam was expecting danny to just, haunt the place so the cars wouldn't get sold? I KNOWWW I know she's 14 (and I had a very annoying phase like this, I think I mentioned in a previous post, I GET IT) but they're HIS powers, and messing with (1) dealership will not really put a dent in sales overall because they can just move the cars to another sales lot, and it certainly wont change the industry anyway, it's more of a minor annoyance for (1) location. Also, usually people who work at car sales places work on commission, so if they dont make a sale, they don't have money to pay bills, or eat. sam baby if u wanna be an activist you need to like, actually look into these things. with as much money as her parents have, she could be doing a lot..more useful things for causes she cares about? it's frustrating to see someone with resources who doesn't know how to use them. but shes 14 so again. cannot be really upset :/

-IS THIS A PREDATOR VS TERMINATOR VS FREDDY KRUEGER MOVIE BUT THEYRE ALL WOMEN?? you know, sam is so right to be excited about this. /I/ want to see this movie. that rules

-paulina inviting danny and friends to her quinceañera, aw! even if it is just to get phantom to show up :') and there'll be a meteor shower, and we KNOW danny wants to be an astronaut!! there's not a meteor shower every night!! the tickets are non-refundable, but..she's rich? like. gotta agree with danny, they never get invited!! I KNOW it's the principle of keeping promises, but if she was that upset, she should've said something. directly. I hated how she was like, passive aggressive about it through the episode, like you SAID IT WAS FINE, THAT YOU'D GO TO THE PARTY TOO. MOVIES SHOW FOR A FEW WEEKS IN THEATERS. IF YOU HAD A REAL PROBLEM YOU NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT. WE'VE HAD THIS PROBLEM BEFORE, SAM. YOUR FRIENDS. ARE NOT. MIND READERS.

-MR. LANCER GOING AFTER THE GHOST WITH THE FIRE EXTINGISHER LMAO

-this outfit is everything . anytime the show does an over the top cutesty pink outfit i WANT IT. it looks like shit I wear JKASDHF I HAVE a bow like that and a pink sweater. I need leg warmers </3

-SAMS GOTTA RE-HALF-KILL HIM??? thats fucked up. but also, he finally got his logo!! it took until s2!!! this episode was lowkey very fucked and I felt like it glossed over a lot. does sam have guilt about like. kinda KILLING HIM?? I know, he also agreed and walked into the portal. but. she made the choice to redo it SO quickly (even if it was because someone had to beat desiree) and danny, during their fight, brought up a lot of stuff sam's done in the past, meaning he was holding onto those memories and resentment was building. (I KEEP SAYING HE LOWKEY NEEDS THERAPY, BUT I THINK MOST EVERYONE IN THIS SHOW KINDA DOES) which...is a red flag? and then they didnt even GO to the party URGH I know she tried to make up for it, but it really felt like Sam fucked up and barely faced any consequences and got everything she wanted in the end. I KNOW it's a kids show obv they aren't going to go too in depth, and she undid the damage, kinda, but...I DUNNO how to articulate it but it rubbed me the wrong way.

-but on a note about desiree, her powers of wishes were STRONG ENOUGH TO ERASE NOT JUST THEIR MEMORIES, BUT DANNY'S POWERS?! fuck, if I was danny I'd be like, trying to make friends with her. I know they always have horrible side effects as most genie-granted wishes do, but...c'mon, I'd at least TRY to be like 'I wish no ghosts would hurt anyone in my town' or 'I wish vlad would lose his ghost powers forever no matter What and also forget about my mom' LIKE. SHIT DESIREE IS SO POWERFUL. rewriting reality powerful, basically!! appreciate her. respect her.

-aww, sam helping tucker pass the nurse's office so he wouldn't see because he's afraid of medical stuff? very sweet. I also don't like medical stuff, I've gotten a lot better at handling it tho. but seeing blood and needles still makes me feel lightheaded x_x

-FOLEY, BY TUCKER FOLEY. I want to make my own perfume, that's so cool. even if his first attempt isn't good, he's pretty consistently shown to have an inventor/entrepreneur streak in the show, so like. I can see him inventing or making something (or several somethings) that make him $$$ when he grows up :) proud of my creative son

-I know the 'creepy abandoned hospital on the edge of town' is a joke and the creepy hospital trope is so Worn Out, but in my town we actually DO have a hospital like that! my dad was born in it, but its not in use and hasn't been for, like, 20 years! it needs to be torn down but I think the city doesn't wanna pay the money. the inside is horrible, spray painted and broken glass and shit everywhere. but there's still like, rusty equipment and fucking DOLLS all over the place. the cops drive by it pretty frequently to make sure no one is like, breaking in. (because of water damage, some of the areas really aren't safe. also, asbestos, but people still go in anyway) but also, some of my town was used in a filming for a stephen king show. So it's lowkey spooky all over. just a fun personal tidbit :) to lead into saying, any hospital abandoned for any period of time is NOT safe to quarantine these kids in JKSAHDKF like I KNOW it's a ghost trying to do this, but NONE of these parents are even like, 'well, why dont we keep them in the regular, working hospital'....YIKES. this hospital looks pretty accurate to the one in town. grungy and spooky.

-fentons are tax evaders confirmed by jack's fear of being audited, lol no one is surprised

-ghost sickness via ghost bugs. horrifying concept. I actually expected it to be a new villain, not dr. spectra again! this is a very elaborate scheme. her new form rules, love the new costume. the way none of the bg kids seem to recognize her as their old school councilor. did we just forget about that completely?

-dash watching romance movies in the fucked up ghost hospital. same.

-'oh please, you're ghosts, do you have any idea what YOU smell like?' no, tucker, what DO ghosts smell like? I genuinely didn't know they would even have a smell, I actually want to know now.

-it feels like a while since we've seen jazz!! i was happy to see her again, even if she was a head in a jar for most the episode. I want another jazz-focused ep!!

-we finally see danny doing space-related stuff!! him and his friends stargazing to open ep 3 of s2. cute :) until, GHOST PIRATES!!!!! ...ghost pirate captain is a small child?? VOICED BY TAYLOR LAUTNER???

-oh, the easy listening is ember's song instrumental slowed. 'vapor drone' THEY VAPORWAVED HER!!! ember in a pirate outfit tho >>>>. and the cruise being called m.bersback JKASDHJK. ember adopting a little pirate brother is also pretty cute. concerning this teen and little kid have such bad opinions of adults, like, who hurt you?? (how did you DIE ALSO?? im always lowkey curious about that. we know desiree died at an old age, but her ghost form is young, probably mid-20s, so I wonder how that sort of thing works...its a more mental thing, isn't it?) but ghost team-ups are always cool to see, even if ember bailed after danny took her guitar. I guess she probably thinks youngblood can handle it (which, he's been owning danny this far in the ep, so...fair)

-tucker got that sponsorship from nasty burger for their radio!!! again, opportunistic money maker king, love to see it!!!

-danny taking control of the kids SO FAST. he makes a pretty great leader. no one is surprised, im pretty sure I said I think he's the most mature of the trio, once again, correct, because he's taken on so much responsibility already. all the teens suiting up in the jumpsuits to go save the adults and taking the ship over with a BLIMP. OKAY LETS GO. this feels like it should be a mid finale or straight up finale.

-...speaking of finales. why is ep 4-5 of s2 combined into a 50 minute episode? I havent even clicked play and im concerned. weird placement, like, this season JUST started and we're getting a two parter? okay...why are the episodes placed like this? why not put this at episode 10 or something, for a mid-season thing?

-this is also a cute dress. possibly my fav dress so far. can her parents give ME cute dresses, I'LL wear them.

-it turns out the castle fright knight was in is called pariah's keep and there's something worse than fright knight in there! lovely! fuck off vlad wtf are you doing <3 your hubris <3 is going to literally get you killed <3 'ring of rage' and 'crown of fire' are great names tho. ...vlad turning into a super polite guy when he was scared of mr. pariah was hilarious. and fright knight doing the same...I mean, it makes sense, he's a knight, he serves a king? happy to see fright knight again either way :) vlad telling him to call him tho, lmfao. you WISH HE WOULD. (I wish hed call me, too. 😔)

-so...jack being genuinely concerned about vlad...maddie really didn't tell him what happened at the cabin, did she. damn. if I was her id immediately come home and be like 'YOU WONT BELIEVE THIS SHITTTT THIS CREEPY GUY--' like, I feel like that stuff you need to tell your partner!!! I know she didnt want Jack to think she was an irresponsible parent putting danny in danger at that time, but STILLLL. maddie spilling boiling tea on him. get his ass. how is jack this oblivious to his wife's discomfort with vlad!! ughhh

-fenton wipe (tm). trademarked toilet paper.

-DANNY AND VALERIE BEING FRIENDS??? :D that was a cute moment. 'hey val <3' and 'if you like him like him, make a move, or someone else will ;)' at sam...damn!! I love her. valerie go for it girl!!! I hate how sam and tucker treat val also, like I GET IT YOURE PROTECTIVE AND DONT TRUST but if anything him befriending valerie will help when she finds out or he tells her like I feel like she'll be more understanding that they think! ALSO I feel like her reason for not liking ghosts is valid, like you haven't really explained the full story to her anyway! she doesn't seem to have any other friends after being booted from the a-listers so im like :( but seeing them kick butt together again was nice <3

-the ghosts all RUNNING FROM PARIAH DARK IS NOT GOOD, I thought he sent them to attack or something, but no. why doesn't someone just tell desiree 'hey i wish pariah dark would die' lol. once again I think she can solve every problem <3 but seeing all the enemies in one place, being civil and hiding together? love it.

-you just know danny's gonna have to clean up vlad's stupid mess. also, jack being willing to put on the ectoskeleton pants to help maddie, as soon as vlad heard it could kill him, he suggested jack do it instead of helping maddie himself? this is why jack got the girl, my man.

-ghost skeletons. how do you end up as a skeleton ghost in your afterlife instead of a humanoid like most the ones we've seen? lmao

-the ghosts just making new homes in various stores. I'd totally be setting up in an expensive clothing store if I was a ghost.

-valerie's dad is possibly the most useful adult so far, with that ghost shield expansion!!! and valerie saving vlad and danny, even tho shes been thru it already, shes still so good!!! this family rules.

-danny: *gently caresses valerie* :)

-*then he immediately TELLS HER DAD ON HER. and his first response is 'are you okay?' :'( such a good dad...

-*me every time fright knight breathes* youre doing SO great sweetie :)

-the fenton suit thing is so silly looking. does anyone take this thing seriously

-ALL THE GHOSTS FIGHTING WITH DANNY <3 AAAAA. and the fact that pariah isn't perma-defeated, but just locked away again. yikes. he'll probably get out again, won't he? it wasn't too clear, but if vlad DID make a pact with fright knight, I am rabid. I will beat vlad to death with the fenton bat (tm). YOU DONT DESERVE A COOL KNIGHT.

-valerie being direct with sam and challenging her? kinda love that, even tho I normally don't like 'catfight' type situations. because sam has been very passive aggressive about it which is annoying. valerie knows wtf she wants and wasn't even embarrassed to tell sam, but she did tell her, giving sam time to make her own move! and sam denied it and got embarrassed/mad! and sam did have a chance when danny was about to go off and fight, and she hesitated and didn't tell him. I feel like she's hesitating because they're friends and it might make it weird between the trio (poor tucker would be third-wheeling) but if u snooze u lose, u gotta GO after what u WANT girl. smh this is a No Tsundere Zone. 😤

[kyber-crystal]

Maybe It’s Meant To Be

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.7k

Summary: Sometimes, love finds people in unexpected ways. In this case, fate has extra special plans for America’s golden boy and one of SHIELD’s best agents in history. And you know there’s no running away from fate once she’s set out your futures for you. 

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood, angst, and once again, soft steve :)

A/N: I haven’t attempted a soulmate AU in over a year. this is one of my fav works but it’s really poorly written rip. The age gap between you and Steve is ~3 years. 2017 AU where they made up after the Accords :) Steve’s back with his WS look bc that suit was hot af

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more​ this is for you! THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS BEING SO ACTIVE ON MY BLOG AND FOR YOUR SWEET AND SUPER ENCOURAGING WORDS. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. AND @marvelsswansong BECAUSE YOU'RE MY IDOL AND I LOOK UP TO YOU YOU'RE AMAZING

Soulmates.

You'd heard plenty about them growing up. Seeing your parents' perfect relationship blossom over the years piqued your interest, and for the longest time, your only wish was to find someone who could love you with their whole heart and soul and mind, like the way your Mom and Dad loved each other.

Unfortunately, as all stories must come to an end, love stories had to find their ending. And not all of them ended on a high note.

Their jobs should've kept them apart from the beginning. Your mother was head surgeon at one of the best hospitals in Brooklyn, and your father was head of SHIELD's navy division. Constantly out and about, they were rarely granted any time to rest. Yet they still found a way to make things work; and it all started because of a run-in at a café around the corner.

Then when you were fifteen, you got word that your father had been deployed overseas again, but this time, he wasn't coming back.

You had to stand there and watch your mother slowly fall apart, breaking down a little more each day until she fell gravely ill. A mere week after her diagnosis of cardiomyopathy, she passed away in her sleep.

A person's soulmark didn't appear at a specific time. It could show up at any point in their lives, when the Gods believed the time was right for them. When those Gods felt the time was right for you to find out who it was, you'd feel a slight tingle where the mark was etched into your skin.

Some people didn't receive the soulmark at all. Along with this came a sense of freedom to fall in love with whoever they pleased, but often times it would end in a loveless relationship. But they were additionally granted the ability of being able to carry on by themselves.

If your soulmate got injured in any way, you would feel the same pain that they endured. And if they died, you would carry a weight around with you for the rest of your life that slowly progressed into a disease. So ultimately, those left in the world without their soulmate would also die in the end, further proving the claim of humans being unable to live without love.

One by one, you watched your friends find their match. They would excited come up to you, goofy grins on their faces as they showed you their marks. You were happy for them in the beginning, of course. But as years went by, and you passed adulthood with still no sign of your designated soulmark, you slowly began losing hope. There was no point in looking forward to the future when you watched one fall apart before your very eyes.

Maybe it was because of your job. None of the Avengers had received their soulmarks either, asides from Tony and Pepper. But they were an exception. Everyone could see it coming from the day they first met, judging by the way they lovingly gazed at each other from across the room. It was a match made in heaven.

You believed that maybe, just maybe, you were destined to be alone. So when you woke up one morning with the burn mark on your wrist, you were taken completely by surprise.

"Hey, Tony? Bruce?" you asked, walking into the lab with a frown. "I need to ask you guys a quick question."

"Ask away, Killer," Tony nodded, using the nickname he'd given you years ago when you first joined the initiative. "What's on your mind?"

"So, um..." you fiddled with the sleeve of your sweatshirt for a moment, before pulling it up to reveal the mark, "this happened."

"That's a soulmark," he stated.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," you rolled your eyes. "But why would it appear now? I don't see any sign of me meeting them anytime soon."

"When did it appear?"

"I don't know. I woke up this morning and saw it."

"Let me take a look at that," Bruce carefully took ahold of your wrist, squinting as he adjusted his glasses to peer at the mark, "huh. So it appeared last night...have you felt any side-effects?"

"Not that I know of yet, no..."

"If you start feeling any severe symptoms, I can prescribe you some medication to deal with the pain, though I doubt that's going to happen. In the meantime, we need to figure out who this could be."

"Imagine if it was someone who already died, and I'm slowly dying right now," you joked.

"No, if that were to be true, you'd be lying in a hospital bed right now."

"Does the symbol have any specific meaning?"

"That I'm not so sure about," Tony shrugged.

Bruce was silent as he began typing away for a bit, before turning the screen over to you.

"I've checked out over a dozen different sites about this, and..."

"And what?"

"Well...once both people discover their mark, they have a week to find each other before both of them disappear off the face of the earth, forever."

"Sounds like a damn time bomb to me," you muttered. "What the hell? I thought that the point of this whole thing was the gods trying to push us with someone else! Not the other way around!"

"I don't know, Y/N," Bruce sighed. "Feel free to do your own research, but everything I've read up on so far says the same thing."

"So basically, what you're telling me is I'm gonna die if I don't find out who the hell has this same mark as I do," you repeated.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Well, I'll have to worry about that later. Got a briefing with Cap, Bucky, and Wilson in five. Fury's gonna kill me if I'm late again," you breathed out as you tugged your hoodie's sleeve back down. "See ya."

"Agent Y/N," Nick Fury gave you a curt nod as you burst into the meeting room, breathless. "I hope you slept well last night."

"Of course."

"I need you four to track down a weapons dealer in Skagway," he explained as he handed Steve a black manila file folder, "shut down the base, download the intel onto the flashdrive. You’ll be staying at a safe house in Juneau afterwards for about a week to keep things on the down-low in case something goes wrong. Simple in-and-out job."

"When are we leaving?" Sam questioned.

"You're taking off in half an hour. Suit up."

You sighed. Finding your soulmate would just have to wait, then.

...

"Y/N, look out!"

You quickly whipped around and narrowly missed a bullet whizzing past you, as Steve tugged you around the corner, an arm wrapped firmly around your torso as he hid you both behind his shield.

You gasped as you felt a sharp pain in your chest, and Steve immediately pulled away from you in alarm, gripping your shoulders worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you panted, trying to steady your rapid breathing, “I’m fine. But we’re gonna have to split up from here if we wanna get the job done faster.”

“Y/N, I can’t-”

“Steve,” you interrupted, the firm tone of voice making him immediately shut up. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Go find Sam and Bucky, and I’ll meet you guys by the rendezvous point as soon as I’m done. Okay?”

“Alright.” He looked around for a moment before stepping away, as if he was hesitant to leave you on your own.

Ignoring the slight ache in your chest, you parted ways, darting down the hall with your guns up and ears alert. 

From there, it was easy to fall into your usual routine. Keep all eyes and ears open; don’t hesitate, shoot on sight unless ordered otherwise. If necessary, engage powers but if not, use your fists or bullets. The mantra repeated itself over and over in your head as you followed through with your job.

You hid behind a tower of wooden crates, back pressed up against the steel walls. “Sam. Status update?”

“Controls room with Barnes, disabling all security systems. Steve’s retrieving intel from the north wing. You?”

“Outside on standby,” you murmured, keeping a finger pressed to your ear. Three technicians were loading equipment onto crates as the other six stood guard several yards away. “I make nine hostiles on the load dock straight ahead at twelve o’clock. Three dozen in total scattered around the area. Most likely preparing for an overseas arms trade. We’ll have to stop them.”

“And...done. We’re heading your way,” Bucky reported. “Be there in three.”

“Roger that.”

Exactly three minutes and two seconds later Bucky showed up, with Steve and Sam in tow. You came out from your hiding spot and began making your way towards the loading dock where the agents were stationed. They were quick to stop what they were doing and noticed the four of you approaching, whipping their snipers out and proceeding to open fire.

...

Your breath came out in white wisps of fog as you got caught in between a fistfight with one of the three dozen men on the docks, the freezing cold slowing all your movements and making them feel more sluggish than usual. If it weren’t for the thick material of your suit and your enhancements, you would’ve succumbed to the harsh weather hours ago.

The man captured you into a tight headlock with his thick arm but despite your frostbite you were too fast; you quickly whipped around and grabbed his wrist, twisting it to the side. His eyes widened slightly as he cried out in pain, the sickening crunch of bone echoing through the frigid Alaskan air as you swiftly dodged each one of moves as he attempted to come at you, countering with a sharp right hook to his jaw. 

His body slumped to the ground with a thump. 

“Why the hell do you even carry around a sniper if your fists do all the work for you?” Sam yelled over the cacophony as he released Redwing, swooping down from the rooftops. “Seriously, you don’t need guns! You’re strong enough as it is!”

“I prefer versatility in fights, Wilson!” you yelled back, grunting as you dodged a blow to the stomach, sweeping out your attacker’s feet from underneath him as his head smacked against the wall, before sliding down to the ground with a dull thud. 

“Y/N, look out-” Bucky called out, but it was too late. You didn’t get to hear his warning in time before you felt something cold and hard hit your lower abdomen. A yell of pain ripped through your throat as you felt a sticky warmth spread across your skin, your knees hitting the ground as you clutched the wound.

At that exact moment, Steve felt a sharp pain flare up his side as well. “Shit,” he cursed to himself, “Buck, cover me so I can get to her.”

You were barely clinging on to life by the time he reached you. Your breathing was heavy and labored, your eyes beginning to roll back as you struggled to stay awake. Everything hurt. Your arms and legs felt like they were weighed down with bricks. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t open your mouth to scream, either - you had no energy left to do so.

“Come on, Y/N, stay with me, please stay with me,” he muttered as he began carefully applying pressure to your wound. You let out a hiss of pain at the same time he did. “Just hang in there for me, please. Sam’s getting the Quinjet ready. We’re gonna get out of here in just a few minutes, okay? Please don’t die on me.”

“Look, if I don’t make it-”

“Don’t say that,” he spoke in between clenched teeth while fighting back tears of his own, “you’re not going to die. Not today, not tomorrow, and certainly not on my watch.”

“Steve…” you croaked out, the stinging from the wound almost becoming impossible to bear. Your eyes were becoming heavier by the second, your body throbbing painfully now that all the adrenaline had worn off. It was a struggle just to take in a single breath and to stay awake. "I'm so tired, I can't do this anymore..."

He disappeared from your line of sight as your began seeing spots at the edges of your vision momentarily, before reappearing and pulling you into his lap, trying to put pressure on the area of injury again in an attempt to stem the bleeding. But it didn’t seem to work. There was so much blood. So much of it, coming out so fast. There was no way you’d last out here for longer than ten minutes before bleeding to death.

"Stay with me..." he murmured as he looked up around him. "Hang in there for a few more minutes, please…Damn it, Sam, how much longer is this gonna take? Y/N’s down. We gotta get her to the safe house as soon as we can. She’s bleeding out.”

"Three minutes, tops. I’m circling the perimeter as an extra precaution," Sam replied. "You guys hang tight for a sec."

"We don't have time!" he raised his voice. "Just hurry the hell over here."

"I'm so sorry," you choked out before going into a coughing fit, blood dripping down your lips and chin much to Steve’s alarm. "I'm sorry for everything, I'm sorry for being reckless and not keeping a look ou—"

"Shhh, it's okay," he soothed, "There’s nothing to be sorry about. Just save your energy for later, okay? You're gonna be just fine."

"Hold my hand," you begged hoarsely.

"I already am," the super-soldier answered, but his look shifted to that of an alarmed one when he realized you couldn't feel it. "Y/N—"

"I'm cold," you said weakly, already feeling your limbs grow heavy and numb and your vision growing blurrier with each passing second. "I'm so tired, Cap, I just wanna sleep—"

"No no no, please don't leave me," he pleaded as he felt his head begin to spin as well. Where had the sudden wave of dizziness come from? "Hang in there for a little longer, please, I l—"

You didn’t get to hear the rest of his sentence before your eyes fluttered shut and everything went dark.

...

When you came to, your throat felt dry and raw, the metallic taste of dried blood around your lips and chin overwhelming your senses as you adjusted your eyes to the harsh bright lights streaming into the room. It looked like you were in some sort of antique coastal house, strangely void of belongings with the only decoration being a plain floral calendar hung on the wall opposite you, above the fireplace.

You were still in your suit, but your wound had been treated and wrapped up in a thick set of bandages. The couch you were on was old but extremely comfortable, so you found yourself not wanting to sit up at the same time you wanted to get up and look around.

The blinds were drawn shut, but the sunlight still managed to shine through. It was light outside, but you  weren’t sure what time it really was. The walls were a dull grey, and if you listened hard enough you could hear the faint ticking of a nearby clock and probably Bucky or Sam talking on the phone upstairs with someone in hushed whispers.

You finally pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing around at your surroundings. Someone quietly entered the living room and you looked up to see Steve. His shoulders sagged in relief upon seeing that you were awake.

“Hey,” his voice came out so softly it took both of you by surprise. You moved over slightly to make room for him to sit. “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” you groaned lightly, feeling a dull ache in your stomach where you’d been hit. “But other than that, I’m fine. What about you? Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“Body aches that come and go, but I’m fine. It isn’t your place to be worrying about me right now though, Y/N. You got shot.”

The curtains fluttered and a cool breeze rushed in, making you shiver. Steve took notice and stood up to go light up the fireplace, then sat back down and wrapped the fleece blanket around your body. You let out a small sigh of contentment. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? You knocked out for over twenty-six hours .”

“I’m fine, Steve, just tired...hey, how’s Bucky and Sam?”

“Sam’s upstairs radioing Fury on the mission status. Bucky’s taking a nap in the guest room.”

“Oh. Okay. So, I-” you were interrupted by a sharp stabbing sensation in your wrist. “Ow. Fuck.”

“Language,” he joked lightly, but when he saw the obvious pained expression on your face, his face fell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just...I get those random pains from time to time. I don’t know why, but...they’ve gotten worse since we took off for Skagway and then came here...”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, eyes glassy with unshed tears, “I should’ve kept a closer watch over you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine...I should’ve watched my own back better.”

You both fell into an awkward silence for several minutes before he spoke up again, the realization finally dawning on him. 

"Y/N."

"What?"

"Your wrist."

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked down and saw the star glowing brightly, sending a white-hot pain down your arm. "What about it?"

Steve pulled at his shirt's sleeve for a few seconds before lifting it up to reveal the same exact symbol.

"We're soulmates," you breathed out, the realization hitting you like a flash flood.

"Yeah, I guess we are, huh," he smiled softly.

“W-when did yours appear?”

“Monday afternoon.”

“Mine appeared in the morning...I showed it to Tony and Bruce and they said I had a week to find who it was or both me and my soulmate would die. So I guess we got lucky, huh? Only four more days, then...”

“Yeah, we did,” he exhaled. “I’m glad you’re the one. I can’t imagine living out the rest of my life with anyone else.”

“But Peggy...”

“She found her soulmate decades ago,” he explained, “which explained why our relationship was so short-lived. I didn’t expect to find mine...especially not after coming out of the ice. Maybe I had this coming from the get-go, I’d wonder...”

“Then how come they’d appear now?” Your brows furrowed together in confusion. “I don’t get it. We’ve known each other for years.”

“Because it was only this year that I accepted it.”

“Accepted what?”

“That I’d fallen in love with you, and I kept that inside for far too long.”

“You...what?” You were officially rendered speechless. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, face breaking into a gorgeous, million-dollar grin before turning serious again, lowering his voice. “Y/N, I’m in love with you. You are my infinity and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my present and my future, and I hate that I couldn’t see that sooner. I should’ve known from the start that Peggy and I wouldn’t work out, but I never understood why...until I met you. I didn’t believe in the concept of soulmates because I felt I was undeserving of that love, but then you came along...and I started hoping and praying I’d find someone who’d love me as much as I love you. So now that I know for sure it’s you, that it always has been and always will be...I couldn’t be more happier that you’re my soulmate.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he reached forward to brush your hair away from your face and wipe the stray tears that fell, before wrapping an arm around you and gently pulling you towards him.

“God, I made you cry, I’m so sorry,” he choked on a sob of his own. “I’m the worst.”

“I’m not mad at you, Steve,” you sniffed as you wiped your nose with your sleeve, and looked up and cracked a small grin. “You’re just so cheesy.”

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, so quiet you almost didn’t catch what he said. 

“You can kiss me any day, Captain,” you smiled.

“I love you more than you know.”

“I know. I love you too.”

He then brought a hand up to cup your face, allowing his thumb to lightly skim against your cheek, his warm breath fanning against your skin.

When his lips met yours, it was like you were turning back the clock. Everything in the world stopped and held its breath,  and all the hurt, all the sadness and heartache and pain bottled up inside your body, washed away.

...

BONUS

“HOLY SHIT, Y’ALL ARE SOULMATES?”

The sound of Sam’s screeching made you finally break apart for air. You could’ve been like that for two minutes, two hours, or two weeks, you weren’t sure.

You blushed and quickly averted your gaze. 

Steve’s face was as red as a tomato. “Yeah. We are.”

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GONNA HAPPEN BETWEEN THEM SOON! PAY UP, BARNES! YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS.”

“Come on, man,” Bucky groaned, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “We’re gonna head back home soon, anyways! And you’re not even poor.”

“A bet’s a bet, Barnes.”

“Of course you two bet on it,” you groaned. “Classic Sambucky activity.”

...

NINE MONTHS LATER

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Captain Rogers,” Fury announced, a rare smile gracing his normally stoic features. 

Steve did his best not to break down sobbing as he slid the ring onto your finger. With the backdrop of the waves gently crashing against the shore and the sun slowly sinking lower and lower into the horizon, he leaned down and cupped your face in his hands, passionately pressing his lips to yours. Your soulmarks glowed brightly in tandem, lighting up in a brilliant gold hue. 

Needless to say, there wasn’t a single dry eye in the house. 

[oingo233]

I am loving how much thought you're putting into these ship requests ❤ so I thought I'd ask too!

I'm a heterosexual Ravenclaw female. I like to read and write. I used to peer tutor. I like to laugh. My sense of humor is pretty sarcastic. I like to play board games and watch movies and TV. I like being outside but just to relax and enjoy the weather. No camping or serious hiking for me lol. I have green eyes and dark blonde hair. Think you could do a ship for both ears? If not whichever you want is fine. 😊

You sound so awesome!  (Total side note: but yall or too cool for me wtf I just adore you) I kinda went off with the marauders ship, and since I wrote so much for it I decided not to do the Lightning Era ship, which I hope you don’t mind, but if you really want one just let me know and I’ll get to it.  Also sorry this took me forever, I’m the worst at posting/writing.  But I hope you enjoy it! <3 

Anyways, based off of everything here is what I think....

Marauders Era

I ship you with James Potter...

- He saw you were giving peer tutoring lessons so he lied and said he needed “loads of help.  Please, you’d be doing me a huge favor.  I’ll pay ya back?” he’d say with a wink, you’d roll your eyes and fight your smile because truth be told him and his friends always made you laugh with their pranks and you were always a little curious about this charming and handsome boy.

- You agree, in the name of education and graciousness of course.  No other reason... none at all.  Definitely not because he smelled good, and you knew he was passing that class with flying colors and so he had to be into you too, right?

- He was, oh god he was so into you.  He spent more time staring at you than the books you used to study.  It was often you’d look up to see if he was “registering” the information and he’d just be gazing up at you through his glasses, mouth slightly agape in a smile.  You’d blush and ask him an on-topic question, he’d answer correctly and you’d only blush more.

- He always made you laugh till your stomach was in knots and the two of you were kicked out of the library.  It was one of those time when he asked you out on your guy’s first “date”.

- The two of you were standing outside the library doors, cheeks flushed and eyes alight with humor.  He told the worlds best story about his first time on a broom, and how he thought he could fly into outer-space and bring back a star for his mom. (he was very little and didn’t know any better, his dad of course was right next to him and raced after him, but James was so fast.  Afterwards at dinner they scowled him, but knew he would be just great at quidditch.)

- “But it’s all true, all of it,” he says, laughing as you shake your head in disbelief.  He is walking beside you as you two wander the halls, not sure where to go but not wanting to part from one another. “But I’ll tell you, nothing has ever made me feel so free.  Just flying like that, nothing can hold you back.” he says, a large smile on his face.  You smile up at him and his heart nearly drops.

- “Sounds nice,” You mutter, only half paying attention to your own words because James looked so kissable then.  He smiled wider and walked closer to you, blushing as his nerves took over.  “I could teach ya?  If ya want, of course.” He asks you.  Without hesitation you say yes.

- That weekend you spend the whole Saturday together, learning, it seems as though he was the tutor now.  You nearly fell off the broom from laughing so hard, and James’s face would genuinely twist with worry when you would try new moves, he wouldn’t want you getting hurt.  The weather was just wonderful and the brisk breeze caressed your skin, yet the sun kept you warm.

- It was on that beautiful day, that you two laid back on the field of grass to rest and enjoy the weather, he leaned over and kissed you.  You were in shock and he almost pulled away, ready to apologies and die from embarrassment but then you started kissing him back and he found something he for sure liked more than flying...you.

- You two fell in love and have been dating ever since.  His sense of humor is both terrible amazing puns, and sarcasm so you two are always laughing your hearts out with the rest of the Marauders or even just alone.

- You two play board games a lot because he actually started to like them around the same time he found out you did (coincidence...I think not). When you two played together he’d get so into it, he’d just stare down at the board and figure out his next move, giving you perfect time to admire him in silence.  He truly was beautiful.  You’d see his glasses inch down his nose, and he’d slowly push them back up, still focused.

- Whenever you let him win (rarely) he’d would boast about it all day, but it made him so happy you learned to sit there and take it, you knowing the truth about your mad skills was enough.  Sirius and Remus knew it too.

- He’d always watch movies and TV with you, but only if you two were cuddled up.  It’s the only thing that helped him stay still long enough to really get lost in and take in the film.  His fav cuddle positions were when you’d lay in-between his legs, ontop of him, and cuddle your head on his chest, you were so warm and he’d play with your hair and give you forehead kisses .  

- Or, his all time fav cuddle was when it was switched, and he was laying atop your chest.  He loved how he could hear your heartbeat, and feel when you laugh.  You also just run your hands through his hair and if he isn’t careful he could just fall asleep like that, zenned out and warm.

- Since you like being outside so much, but no hard activities (gurl, same!) he would always set up a picnic for the two of you.  Outside on nice days, he’d cover your eyes and lead you across campus to this spot beneath a nice, shady tree.  Lying underneath it would be a blanket, your favorite book and foods, and some pillows.  He’s let you lay your head in his lap and he’d read aloud to you.  He’d put on voices for the characters and make sarcastic commentary that always made you laugh.

- During quidditch matches he gave you his spare jersey to wear and begged you to “Just for one day, be a Gryffindor.  I’ll give ya me jersey, splash some face paint on ya, and no one will tell the difference.” because he’d want for you to sit with Remus, and Sirius and Peter and cheer him on, because then he wouldn’t have to look all over the stands for his favorite group of cheerleaders.  You always kissed him before a match for good luck, he swears by it.

- But he also loved that you were a Ravenclaw.  He admired your intelligence, wit and creativity the most and it wasn’t like you were lacking the Gryffindor traits that he took so much pride in.  He also liked the different perspective you could give him on situations considering your different houses really shaped you both individually and he spent a lot of time with fellow Gryffindors.

- He’d pull the best puppy eyes to convince you to let him read whatever you are writing.  He adores every word you put on paper and even asks to keep his favorite story of yours that you’ve written so he can read it over summer.

- Overall, you both love and support one another so much!  And it was a match made by cupid himself aka me

I hope you liked this!

[freddiesaysalright]

The Most Dramatic Season Ever - Week 6

Summary: It’s your time now! You are ABC’s new Bachelorette and this is your journey! All these men (including our fav BoRhap boys and then some) are competing for your heart! Will you find love? Will you get engaged at the end? Or will you end up heartbroken? Find out, on the most dramatic season ever!

Word Count: 10.1k (this one’s a DOOZY)

Tag List:  @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @moon-stars-soul​, @danadeacon​, @deacyblues​, @thesundrop​, @cupidben​, @lostlittlenerd​, @delilahmay39​, @timmvrphy​, @queenmylovely​, @loveandbeloved29​, @free-pool-trash​, @fairestkillerqueenofall​, @local-troubled-writer​, @babyalienfairy​, @littlecarowrites​, @allthethingsicant​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @squishy-gay-astronaut​, @sherlollydramoine​, @butlegendsneverdie​, @dogmom2014​, @rocketrhap917​, @26-7-49���, @lelifesaver​, @frozenhuntress67​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: A note on the names in this chapter! So, I went with Ben’s family name being Hardy since we all know him with that name. I understand that in reality, his parents would be Mr. and Mrs. Jones. And with Rami’s sister, I couldn’t get a confirmation on whether her name is spelled Jasmine or Yasmine so I went with the J spelling because that was what I saw first.

Warning(s): Mentions of racism.

Night 1  Week 1  Week 2  Week 3  Week 4  Week 5

Week 6 here we go!!!

Your first hometown date was with Ben in Sherborne, UK. You met him at the center of the town, which was small and quaint. But you liked it. Especially once you saw Ben walking over to you. You ran to him and leaped into his arms. He caught you with a laugh and a sweet kiss.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, shaking his head. “In Sherborne.”

“I can’t believe it either,” you replied. “But I’m so happy that I am!”

“Me too,” he agreed as he set you down. “I thought I’d just give you a bit of a tour so you can see where I grew up before we head to my parents, yeah?”

“Sounds perfect!” 

He took your hand and started down the road. At the end of the street was a vintage car. It was a black convertible, like you’d seen in old movies. It looked glamorous.

“This,” Ben said, walking up to the car. “Is our ride for the day.”

“Are you serious?!” you cried. “Oh my God!”

“Glad you like it,” he chuckled.

“I love it!” you told him.

He opened the passenger side door for you and you slid in. Then he walked around to the driver’s side and got in beside you. He looked at you, smirked, and then started the engine. He looked so sexy behind the wheel you had to turn your attention to the road so he wouldn’t see you blushing.

He drove slowly. There wasn’t much traffic, anyway, so you really could see all the places he was pointing out to you. He showed you the church he attended as a kid. Where he went to primary school. The tree under which he had his first kiss. It was all so sweet. It was all so Ben.

“I wish you could be here in October sometime,” he said. “We’ve got the Pack Monday Fair, which is always a great time.”

He told you about the fair and all his fondest memories, especially attending with his father. You were melting.

“So, how often do you get here to visit your family?” you wondered.

“As often as I can,” he said. “I’m all the way in London, and it’s not like I’ve got weekends off. But I definitely get here for special occasions and holidays.”

“Do you think you’d want to settle down here?” you asked. “When you’re ready to start a family?”

“As much as I love it here, I’d rather stay in London,” he said. “There’s more opportunity there and more diversity, which is something I want my children to experience. But believe me, they’ll be coming here to visit Nan as often as possible. My mum can’t wait for me to have kids, so she’ll be all over them.”

You giggled. “I like that. I want an involved family.”

“You might regret saying that one day,” he joked.

You drove on, and by the end, you felt you had seen almost the entire town. You stopped at the store to pick up a bottle of wine and some flowers for his mother, before at last going to the house. It was a cozy little home, and it looked inviting. You took a deep breath before starting up the driveway.

“Nervous?” Ben asked.

“A bit,” you admitted.

“Don’t be,” he said and kissed your cheek. “They’re gonna love you.”

Before you could argue, he reached out and opened the door, allowing you inside first. 

“Hello!” Ben called.

Seconds after his voice rang out, a swarm of people were upon you. All rushing to hug Ben and get a glimpse of you. He introduced you to his mother and father, and then to his aunts and uncles who were there. His grandmother remained seated on the couch, so you all made your way back to her so Ben could say hello.

“These are for you,” you said to Mrs. Hardy, handing her the wine and flowers.

“Oh, thank you, darling,” she replied. “They’re beautiful!”

You smiled as she disappeared into the kitchen to put them in a vase. Then Ben’s father approached you. You smiled and shook hands again.

“Y/N, right?” he asked.

“Yep, that’s right,” you told him.

“Come on, let’s get you a drink,” he said.

“Won’t say no to that,” you replied.

You followed him into the kitchen. Mrs. Hardy had already set out the flowers on the counter, and she was fussing around the food, which was evidently almost ready. Mr. Hardy poured you a glass of wine and handed it to you.

“Thank you,” you said.

Ben’s parents were surprisingly easy to talk to. You offered to help his mother with dinner, but she insisted you just relax. His father was a lot like Ben. A bit reserved, but friendly. So you chatted with them for a bit while Ben got caught up with the rest of his family.

When dinner was ready, you all sat around the dining room table. Mrs. Hardy served up a delicious meal, and then told you all to “tuck in.” You had a great time during the meal. His family was funny and warm. They welcomed you with open arms. You felt comfortable with them immediately.

“So, Y/N, can we have a chat?” asked Mrs. Hardy once the plates were clear.

“Of course,” you agreed.

You followed her to the sitting room. You sat together on the couch, and she gave your knee a maternal pat.

“How’s it all going?” she asked. “With Ben, that is.”

You smiled. “Ben and I have something really special,” you told her. “He told me that he’s falling in love with me, and I feel the same. Which I’ve told him.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “Has he told you that he’s never been in love before?”

“He has,” you said. “And I’m still a little worried about that.”

“Worried? Why?” she asked.

“Well, because I don’t want him to feel like there’s more out there,” you said. “Or to get confused. I don’t want him to wake up say, ten years from now and wonder if he made a mistake because he didn’t really know what he was doing.”

“I don’t think you need worry about that,” she said. “Ben is...a unique man. He’s struggled to find love because he’s quite aware of his feelings. He has told me about girls he’s gone with and expressed things like ‘Mum, I liked her, but I don’t think she’s the one,’ or ‘Mum, she’s beautiful, but I can’t go forward just because we’re attracted to each other.’ If he’s falling in love with you, then he means it. He isn’t confused.”

“That’s a relief to hear you say that,” you said. “Because I just wasn’t really sure if he knew. But you’re right, Ben is a self-aware person, and I have faith that what he’s telling me is true. I did promise him I’d never doubt him.”

You explained to her what Luke had once said about him.

“That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed. “Ben’s honest and kind. And, Y/N...he’s ready. He’s ready to find his partner and settle down.”

“I think he’d be a wonderful husband,” you told her. “And I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

She giggled and took your hand. You smiled at each other.

Meanwhile, Ben was talking to his father. They stood out on the back patio, each smoking a cigarette. You didn’t like that Ben smoked, but he did it pretty rarely since he was an athlete. And he also told you it was his goal to quit by the time he had children.

“So, Benny,” Mr. Hardy said. “How’re you feeling?”

“It hasn’t been easy,” Ben said. “I’ve...well, I’ve fallen in love with her.”

“Has she fallen in love with you?” Mr. Hardy wondered.

“She says she’s getting there,” Ben told him. “But there are still three other guys.”

“They good blokes?”

“Yeah, actually, I like them a lot. Consider them friends, even.”

“That’s good, it shows she’s got taste,” Mr. Hardy joked.

Ben chuckled. “Yeah. I’m just worried. I want to tell her that I love her. But I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

“There’s no way to fall in love without taking that risk,” Mr. Hardy said. “If you love her, love her with everything you’ve got. Pursue her. Let her know why she should choose you.”

Ben smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

You switched parents, so Ben went to speak to his mother, and you went to speak to his father. You looked at Mr. Hardy and saw Ben’s features in his face. It was like looking through time and seeing Ben as an older man. Only, Mr. Hardy had brown eyes. Ben got his eyes from his mother.

“Can I ask you how you feel about Ben?” Mr. Hardy asked.

“I care a lot about him,” you said. “He’s probably the sweetest person I’ve ever met and...well, I’m falling in love with him.”

“He’s not hard to look at, either,” he joked.

“Well, he gets it from somewhere,” you returned, pointing at him.

He laughed. 

“You seem like a nice girl,” he said. “I think you’d be a good wife to Ben, if that’s what you both want. I’m just happy if he’s happy. And he seems quite happy with you.”

You looked at Ben through the window, where he was sitting with his mom.

“You guys must miss him a lot,” you said.

“Terribly,” Mr. Hardy said. “But once again, he’s happy.”

“I’ve so appreciated you welcoming me into your home,” you said. “A home as loving as this shows me what I can expect from Ben. Thank you.”

He opened his arms to you, and you gladly accepted them.

Inside, Ben was telling his mother exactly what he’d told his father. That he was in love with you and was nervous about telling you.

“I agree with Dad, darling,” Mrs. Hardy said. “I think if that’s what you’re feeling, you should be honest with her.”

“It’s just scary since...well, I’ve never done it before,” he said. “How do I…” he trailed off with a sigh.

“Do you think it matters to her how you say it?” she asked.

“No, I think she just wants me to be honest,” he returned.

“Then there you have it, love,” she said.

The night wound down and it was time for you to go. You said fond goodbyes to Ben’s family and he walked you out to the van already waiting for you.

“Today was such a great day,” he said. “They really seemed to like you.”

“I really like them,” you told him. “You have a great family, Ben.”

“I hope you come back,” he said.

“Me too,” you replied.

A beat passed. Ben pulled you into a tight hug. Then he lowered his lips to your ear.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and gave a small squeeze. 

“It means so much to hear you say that,” you said.

You desperately wanted to tell him that you loved him too. Because you did. But you knew it was a bad idea. All you could do was convey how you felt through the embrace. And then when he kissed you...it was nothing like the way he’d kissed you before. This was something else entirely. It felt more like a promise.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” you told him.

With that, he opened the car door for you. You slid into the back seat and smiled at him once more before he closed it. He stood on the street and watched you go, feeling like you were taking his heart with you.

Your next hometown date was with Gwilym. Like Ben, he currently lived in London, but his hometown was Sutton Coldfield, where much of his family still resided. Gwilym had told you a little bit about his hometown, so you were excited to see it in person. You met him at Sutton Park.

He looked dashing where he stood waiting for you, despite only wearing a sweater and jeans. You ran up to him and he caught you in his arms. He planted a warm and welcoming kiss on your lips. You held him a little tighter.

“I’m so glad you’re here, cariad,” he said as you parted. 

“I’m glad to be here,” you replied.

“I figured I’d show you Sutton Park,” he said. “It’s a staple of the town and quite lovely on a day like today when we’ve got nice weather. Fancy a walk?”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed.

He offered you his arm, which you took. It really was a pleasant day, with a rare bit of sunshine. As you walked, he told you who you would be meeting that day. His family kept it small, so it would just be his parents and siblings. Gwilym was the youngest. It was difficult for you to picture him the youngest sibling, since he always struck you as mature and grown up. He assured you that his childhood was normal, and that he and his siblings were very close now that they were all adults.

You walked together in the park for about an hour. Then he told you there was another stop to make before going to his parents’ home. You emerged from the park, walked another fifteen minutes or so, and then you saw it - a library.

“Since you saw my personal collection, I thought I’d show you where I first gained an appreciation for literature,” he said. “Right here at the Sutton Coldfield Library.”

“I can’t wait,” you told him.

He smiled, took your hand, and led you inside. The library looked fairly typical. It wasn’t grand or beautiful, but it had some charm to it. You tried to imagine young Gwilym poring over the books, trying to decide the one he’d like best. You smiled at the thought.

You were just about to tell him so when a distraction in the shape of a little girl came hurtling over, throwing her arms around Gwilym’s legs. She was maybe six years old. Her blonde ringlets settled against her face.

“Mr. Gwilym, you’re back!” she cried, clutching a handful of his jeans. “We’ve missed you!”

You blinked, shocked at the sudden appearance of the girl, but even more surprised that she knew Gwilym and was comfortable enough to hug him so tightly.

“Hello, Rosie,” Gwilym replied, patting her head. “I’ve missed you all too.”

Suddenly, more children emerged from a section you saw was the children’s library. Their little faces lit up at the sight of Gwilym, and they all followed Rosie’s example of throwing themselves on him. He laughed and then saw your bemused expression.

“I come home twice a month to read to the kids,” he told you. “To give back to this place.”

A little boy had clamored onto Gwilym’s back.

“Where’ve you been, Mr. Gwilym?” he wondered with a pout.

“Well, you see, children,” Gwilym said, nodding toward you. “I’ve met someone very special.”

In a swarm, they detached themselves from him and walked over to you, staring. You bit back a laugh.

“Hey, kids,” you said kindly. “I’m sorry for keeping Mr. Gwilym away.”

“You’re pretty,” Rosie said. “Are you Mr. Gwilym’s girlfriend?” 

“I am,” you told her.

“Are you gonna get married?” asked another girl beside you.

“Maybe!” you said. 

You met Gwilym’s gaze as the children demanded more information and you did your best to answer them. A future with him was suddenly much clearer.

“Alright, everyone leave Mr. Gwilym and his friend alone,” said the librarian, an elderly woman with her silver hair in a long braid down her back.

“Hello, Joan,” Gwilym said warmly, bending down to kiss the woman’s cheek.

Joan smiled at you as Gwil introduced you and she asked how everything was going. You told her it was all wonderful, and Gwilym agreed. Then Rosie returned and tugged on Gwilym’s pant leg.

“What are you going to read for us today?” she asked.

“Oh, Rosie, I’m sorry, we just popped over to say hello,” he told her. “We don’t have a story today.”

Tears shone in her big, blue eyes and you nearly started crying yourself. 

“Please,” Rosie begged.

“Please!” the other children echoed.

“Read them a story, you monster,” you teased, punching his arm lightly.

“Alright, I’ll read you a story,” Gwilym said. “If Miss Y/N reads it with me.”

“Please, Miss Y/N!” they cried.

You laughed. “Alright, then,” you agreed. “Story time it is.”

They all cheered, returned to the children’s library, and settled into the back corner. It was a cozy little set up, with bean bag chairs and cushions and stuffed animals everywhere. A wide bench was placed under the window, where the reader would sit. The kids picked out a story while you and Gwilym took your places. 

He started off the story, and his enthusiasm was not something you had seen him yet. He did voices, he made faces, anything to amuse the children. They giggled and snickered, enjoying themselves to the fullest, and totally riveted by him. You were too. You knew you were reading the words and doing your best to be convincing, but your mind was on Gwilym and how impressed you were with him. It showed you how much he valued learning, and the kind of father he might be.

When the story was over, you had to say goodbye and head to the Lee household. The kids were sorry to see you go, but their parents were arriving to pick them up. Gwilym even knew their parents, and said quick hellos before guiding you out and down the street.

“That was….” you trailed off. “So amazing. I feel like every time we’re together, you show me a new side of you. And I think that one is my favorite.”

He chuckled. “I just want to give back to the next generation,” he said. “Maybe they’ll go on to be great writers or professors. Maybe they won’t. But no matter what, they’ll support their local library.”

“You’re the actual sweetest, you know that?” you said.

He only laughed before throwing his arm over your shoulder and leading you away.

For the evening, you went to his parents’ home. It was a bit larger than what you were used to seeing in the UK, but looked inviting. You met Gwilym outside, and he hugged you tightly. You did your best to return it with the flowers and wine in your hands.

“Are you ready, love?” he asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied.

“Let’s go in.”

Together, you walked across the threshold as Gwilym called out to his family. The first person to round the corner was his father, who wrapped his son up in the friendliest bear hug. His brothers and sister were not far behind. His mother approached you first.

“Hello, dear,” she said kindly. “I’m Ceinwen. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied. “I’m Y/N.”

Gwilym introduced to his father, Tom, his brothers, Geraint and Owen, and his sister, Rhiannon. They were all very friendly and gave you hugs as they met you. You followed them into the kitchen, and as you walked, you observed your surroundings. This family was undeniably Welsh, and proud of it. Gwilym told you that both his parents were from Wales, and he connected strongly to that heritage. Seeing the home, you understood why. You envied that connection a little bit.

“You have such a lovely home,” you said to Ceinwen. “Thank you for having me.”

“We’re glad to have you,” she replied. “Come, sit down for dinner.”

It was already on the table when you arrived, so she said you had perfect timing.

“I’m relieved,” Gwilym said. “We got a bit delayed at the library.”

“Oh, did you take her to see the children?” Ceinwen asked.

“I did,” he told her. “We had a wonderful time with them, didn’t we?”

He looked over at you and took your hand. You beamed.

“We really did,” you said. 

They asked how your day was overall, and you were excited to tell them that it was great. You always felt like you could gush about Gwilym. His family exchanged happy glances at your every word.

After dinner, Rhiannon asked to speak to you. You happily agreed and followed her into the sitting room. You each took a seat on the couch.

“How’s this whole process been for you?” she asked.

“It hasn’t been easy,” you told her. “I’ve had to make really difficult decisions, but I’m just following my heart the best I can.”

“How many men are left?” she wondered.

“Including Gwilym, there are four,” you said. 

“And how are you feeling about him as compared to the other three?” she pressed.

You swallowed. “That’s difficult to say. I sort of have to compartmentalize each relationship and evaluate it on its own strengths or weaknesses. I know that Gwilym and I have been strong since the beginning. He’s really opened up to me, as I have to him, and we’re falling steadily in love.”

“And has Gwil expressed his feelings for you?”

“He’s told me that he’s falling in love with me,” you said. “Which made me so happy because I’m falling in love with him too.”

“Have you told him that?”

You shook your head. “I haven’t. But I plan on letting him know soon.”

“As long as you’re honest with him, he’ll be honest with you,” she said with a smile. “Gwilym’s reserved, but not afraid of the truth.”

“I definitely see that about him,” you agreed. “We’ve always been totally honest with each other.”

You smiled at each other. You spoke to his parents next. His mother sat on the couch beside you and his father in a chair across the coffee table.

“Can I just start by saying what a wonderful man you have raised?” you began. “Honestly, Gwilym has been such a dream and completely unafraid of the risk involved in this. He’s great.”

They both grinned.

“Thank you,” Tom said. “We hope that means you’re feeling strongly for him.”

“I am,” you assured him. “I told Rhiannon that I’m falling in love with him.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ceinwen said. “He told us the same about you.”

“Now, there are still other people involved in this,” Tom said. 

“I know,” you said. “But believe me. I care so deeply for Gwilym. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt him.”

“You must understand,” his mother said. “As his parents, that’s our worst fear. After he lost his fiance, he was a wreck. I don’t want him to return to that.”

“I understand,” you assured her. “I will do what I can to keep him from that. But please understand my position as well. I can’t make any promises right now.”

“Right, of course,” Tom said. 

You chatted a little longer, and you once again told them how much you admired Gwilym. Meanwhile, he was talking to his siblings.

“So, how are you feeling about her?” asked Owen. 

“I’m falling in love with her, for sure,” Gwilym answered. “I really could see her being my wife.”

“But you’re not completely in love?” questioned Geraint.

“I dunno if I could say that with other men involved,” Gwilym replied. “I want to be down on one knee before I give myself that completely.”

“She seems like a great girl, Gwil,” Rhiannon added. “You two seem compatible. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. But are you sure you could propose after just a few weeks?”

Gwilym looked at his wine glass and swirled the deep purple liquid around, just for something to do while he considered this question.

“You all know how seriously I would take an engagement,” he began. “I think, if within the coming weeks, Y/N and I find ourselves at that point, then yes. I could see myself proposing.”

The siblings all exchanged a look. If he was that serious about you, they would support him.

Overall, Gwilym’s hometown went well. It wasn’t as smooth as Ben’s, but given Gwilym’s history, you understood his family’s skepticism. Even so, they seemed genuinely happy for him. As Gwilym led you out, you swung your clasped hands with joy. He smiled at you.

“Gwilym,” you said. “You told me back in London that you’re falling in love with me.”

“Yes, I remember,” he said.

“Well, I just wanted to tell you that….I’m falling in love with you too,” you said. “Hard and fast.”

His smile widened.

“I’m happy to hear it, cariad,” he replied.

With that, he turned you toward him and pulled you in for a kiss. His lips pressed into yours with a need you had not felt from him before. His gratitude for your validation was deeper than you thought. Perhaps his feelings were as well.

When you broke apart, you coiled your arms around his neck and held him close. You stood there for what felt like hours. Despite everything you had been through with him, and the beauty of that moment on the London Eye, this was the most romantic moment you felt with Gwilym. Just you and him. Outside his childhood home, knowing each other without even speaking.

“You need to get going,” he finally said.

“I wish I didn’t,” you replied.

“I do too,” he agreed. “But there’s more to this journey.”

You stood on your toes and kissed him again.

“I’ll see you soon,” you whispered.

“I can’t wait,” he replied.

He walked you to the car and opened the door for you. With one last kiss, you got in. As you drove away, you felt your heart breaking without him.

After Gwilym’s hometown, it was time to leave the UK and head back to the states. Your first stop was in New York for Joe’s hometown. He was from Hyde Park, which you knew nothing about. You were excited to see it though and understand Joe better.

You arrived at Hyde Park and met Joe on what appeared to be a random street. You sprinted to him, eager to be in his arms. You had missed him desperately while you were apart. He caught you and spun you around with a laugh before he kissed you.

“I’ve missed you so much, baby,” he said. 

“I’ve missed you more,” you returned.

“Wanna bet?” he shot back.

You laughed. “What are you going to show me today?”

“Hyde Park isn’t exactly known for tourism,” he said. “We’ve got the Vanderbilt Mansion, sure, but other than that we’re just your average town.”

“So, are we going to see the mansion?” you wondered.

“Actually, I thought we’d do something better,” he said. “Come with me.”

He took your hand and began to lead you down the street. This community was clearly close-knit, as several people stopped Joe to talk to him and catch up. He introduced you as his girlfriend and they all smiled happily for him. Finally, you stopped outside a restaurant. The name on it was Mazzello’s. You grinned.

“Your family’s restaurant!” you cried. “I’m gonna get to see it?!”

“Absolutely!” he returned. “My brother, John, has been handling things since I’ve been away, so he’ll be the first family member you meet.”

“I can’t wait!”

You followed him inside. A wave of voices overtook you as Joe walked through the door. It seemed his whole family had surprised even him by showing up at the restaurant. His mother was there, as were his brother and sister. His nieces and nephews raced to hug him and he miraculously scooped all of them into his arms. 

There were hugs all around. The Mazzellos had spared no one in coming to meet you. Joe’s grandparents were there. His aunts and uncles. Family friends. Even restaurant regulars. It showed you how well Joe was loved in his community. It made you love him even more.

Joe introduced you first to his mother, Virginia, his sister, Mary, and then his brother, John. They were all thrilled to meet you. As you made your way through the crowd to meet everyone else, you felt there was a missing piece. When you looked over at the counter you realized what it was. A picture of Joe’s father hung behind the register.

You turned your eyes to Joe and saw that he was looking at it too. He shook his head and then looked at you.

“Come on,” he said with a small smile. “Let me show you the kitchen.”

“Alrighty,” you agreed.

You walked with him behind the counter and into the back of the restaurant. The kitchen was huge, with everything you could ever need to make Italian food. And it was authentic. Joe showed you where they made dough, how they turned it into noodles or pizza crust. The massive cooler for all the fresh vegetables. They also had a garden behind the restaurant where they grew their own herbs.

“Joe, this is incredible,” you said, still looking around in awe.

“My dad was dedicated to being authentic,” he said. “So we’ve kept it the way he started it.”

“You shouldn’t change a thing,” you told him.

You were alone together in the kitchen, so he took this opportunity to pull you into his arms. He held you for a long moment, and you felt him shake as he released a breath. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him gently.

“Thanks,” he sniffled. “Being back is just bringing up a lot of emotions.”

“I’m here, baby,” you said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come on,” he said. “I’ve gotta show you how to make all this.”

“We’re gonna cook?” you asked, surprised.

“Course,” he said with a wink. He tossed you an apron. “You gotta learn if you’re gonna be a part of the family.”

You smirked. Then you tied the apron on, rolled up your sleeves, and got to work. His family joined you to help out as well, and Joe took every moment he could to flirt with you. When he showed you something, he stood behind you and put his arms around your waist. If he helped you get something, he reached over you, putting his chest to your face. If he was passing you and no one was around, he gave you a light pat on your ass. You had never had so much fun.

Together, you and the Mazzellos prepared a huge meal for everyone there to see Joe and meet you. Joe’s family was just as fun as he was. They poked fun at him - in the most loving way possible - and welcomed you warmly. As you all sat down to eat, Joe said a quick prayer. Then you dug in to the food.

“Oh my God,” you moaned as you took the first bite. “This is delicious!”

They laughed with you. Sharing a meal with them was like nothing you had ever experienced. Everyone at the table got a say in any discussion, even the children. In fact, Joe frequently consulted them. It seemed that Uncle Joe was a popular person. Many people had questions for you, and Virginia made a special effort to make you feel included. Not that she had to try too hard. You already felt like one of them.

After your meal, they opened a bottle of wine. When the glasses were distributed, you made a toast. Then, Virginia pulled you aside. You followed her to one of the small tables on the patio and sat across from her.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said. “Joe’s been talking about you since he got home and we were all so anxious.”

“I’m glad I don’t disappoint,” you replied.

“Never,” she said. “All I want is for Joe to be happy. He’s been burned in the past and I just want to protect him.”

“Of course you do,” you returned. “You’re an amazing mother. I can’t promise you that Joe and I will end up together because I’m not sure how this will go yet.”

“How do you feel about Joe?” she asked.

You took a moment to form a response. There were so many things you admired about Joe. His humor, his wit, his good heart. The way he made you feel understood and loved. The way you could rely on him. Tears suddenly stung your eyes.

“Oh!” Virginia gasped when she noticed. “Well, then. That tells me all I need to know.”

“I love him,” you choked out anyway.

It felt good to say it to someone. You were in love with Joe. But he hadn’t said it to you, so you weren’t sure about saying it to him.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said graciously. 

She paused a moment before continuing.

“It’s funny, seeing you two together,” she said. “I’m reminded of myself and Mr. Mazzello. The way you seem so at ease with one another and have fun. But behind all of it...I see the depth of what you feel. I know you’d be there for him when things got rough, just as he would be there for you.”

“Joe has been the most solid connection I’ve had,” you said. “He’s never let me down. Truly, Mrs. Mazzello, I see a future with him. Especially after today.” You took a moment to take a breath since your emotion was threatening to overwhelm you again. “I see it so clearly.”

“I’m touched that he means so much to you,” she said, opening her arms. “Come here, Y/N.”

You melted into her and let out a small sob. It hit you so suddenly how much you loved Joe and it had caught you off guard. When you settled down, she wiped your cheeks before kissing them. You beamed at each other.

Joe spoke to his mother next, while you went to chat with his siblings. Virginia took her son in her arms and held him for a quick moment before they sat down together.

“So, how’d it go with Y/N?” he asked.

“Wonderful,” she replied. “She cares for you, Joe.”

“I hope so,” he said with a chuckle.

“No, listen to me, honey,” she said. “I asked her point blank how she felt about you. And she started to cry. You mean a great deal to her.”

Joe flushed, both pleased and distressed by his mother’s words. He hated that you had gotten upset, but he was also touched by the sentiment. He had confessed that he was falling in love with you. Was now the time to tell you that he was there? He was so madly in love with you that he’d do anything in the world for you?

Inside, you had begun talking to Joe’s siblings, but his nieces and nephew quickly interjected.

“What’s your favorite thing about Uncle Joe?” you asked them.

“He’s fun!” his oldest nephew cried. “He always plays with us when the grown ups are being boring.”

“What’s your favorite game to play with him?” you asked.

“Tickle monster!” they all agreed.

“Do you want him to get married?” you wondered.

“Yes!” said his niece eagerly. “That way he can have babies too, and we’ll have even more cousins to play with!”

“Do you wanna have babies with Uncle Joe?” asked his other nephew.

You blinked, a bit taken aback. Then you smiled.

“Very much.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw John and Mary grin at one another.

All too soon, the sun went down and it was time for you to go. You said warm goodbyes to everyone before Joe led you out to the car that was waiting for you.

“What a great day,” he said, before leaning forward and kissing your forehead.

“It was wonderful,” you said. “Do you think if we asked nicely, they’d let us do it again?”

He chuckled. “Afraid not, babe. But hey, I’ll see you again soon.”

You looked into his eyes. He felt the brutal urge to tell you now that he was fully in love with you. He opened his mouth to let it out, but then closed it again. Something in his heart was telling him to wait.

Your brow furrowed. You were hoping Joe would say “I love you.” When he didn’t you were a bit disappointed.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said absentmindedly. “Yeah, I just...I had such a good time today and I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too,” you said.

You rested your head against his chest, not ready to let him go. You got a sudden burst of bravery.

“Joe, I -”

You stopped yourself. Why were you hesitating?

“Yes?” he pressed.

“I...I really am gonna miss you.”

His face fell, and you felt terrible. Why was this so hard to say? Perhaps because it meant so much.

“I’ll see you at the rose ceremony,” he said with a smile.

He kissed you once more. Then he opened the car door and you slid inside. You whispered a tearful goodbye to him, which he returned. Then he closed the door. The driver started down the street. You hung your head in your hands. 

“That was stupid,” you said to the camera. “I should have just told him.”

Little did you know, Joe was giving himself the exact same lecture. His only regret in the journey so far was not telling you just then that he loved you. He hoped it didn’t cost him a rose.

From New York, you flew back to Los Angeles for Rami’s hometown. The first three had gone so well, you had high hopes for the last. Rami’s family lived in Sherman Oaks. Most of his extended family was in Egypt, so - like Gwilym’s hometown - you would just be meeting his parents and his siblings. You were a bit nervous going in, since he had mentioned that his sister was protective.

All nerves melted away when you saw him. You surged forward to get to him and planted an enthusiastic kiss on him. He laughed into it, and held you tight.

“I’m so glad to see you,” he said. 

“I’m glad to see you too!” you returned. 

“I know you’re familiar with Los Angeles, so I wasn’t sure what we could do today,” he said. “But I thought of just a tour of where I grew up.”

“That’s perfect,” you said. “The whole idea is to get to know you better.”

“Awesome, let’s get started!”

For your tour of Rami’s corner of Los Angeles, you had scooters. They were ridiculously fun, even though frightening at first. Rami took you all over Sherman Oaks. He showed you his high school, where a few big name actors had also attended. He took you around his neighborhood, pointing out houses where his friends once lived, and the times they had together. You stopped at a park, where you got some ice cream and sat on a bench together.

“So, it seems like you enjoyed growing up here,” you said.

“I did,” he replied hesitantly.

You frowned. “What is it?”

“Y’know, growing up here was amazing,” he said. “But after 9/11, things changed. People say California is so progressive and welcoming, but after that happened, my family was treated differently, even here.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, taking his hand. “That’s terrible.”

“We stopped speaking Arabic in public,” he said. “We tried even harder to assimilate. My father took down the Egyptian flag we used to hang outside. Even though we aren’t Muslim...or from the country that attacked that day...we were Middle Eastern enough for people to suddenly suspect us.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” you told him. “That’s just...horrible. And so brutally unfair.”

“It is,” he said. “Eventually, things settled down again, and our neighbors warmed back up. But it was never really the same. In school, I always felt like I was struggling. Having to tell people how to pronounce my name, only to have them butcher it or say it with some offensive accent. It wasn’t easy.”

He took a deep breath.

“But I’m really proud of my heritage,” he said. “I am Egyptian. No matter the generation or where I grew up. It’s part of me.”

“That’s beautiful, Rami,” you said. “You should be proud.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he replied. “I just wanted to tell you this because my hometown isn’t all great memories. Parts of growing up were very difficult for me. And I wanted you to understand.”

“Believe me, I’m glad to listen to every part of how you grew up,” you said. “The good, the bad, and the ugly. I want to support you and help you through it.”

“You’re amazing,” he said.

“You’re even more so,” you returned.

You kissed him with a smile.

You didn’t stay out too much longer before you headed to his parents’ home. It was a decent sized suburban house, and you hoped his mother would appreciate the flowers. Rami told you to skip the wine because his parents didn’t drink. Out of respect for their home, you decided you would not partake while there. Rami told you how much he appreciated it.

When you walked up to the door, you gulped. You were always nervous right before meeting them. Then Rami kissed your cheek swiftly before opening the door. 

As soon as you were into the foyer, Rami’s brother crashed into him.

“Rami!” he cried, engulfing him into a hug.

Though he and his brother were twins, they had their distinctions. Rami was slimmer and just an inch or two shorter. Sami was broader with a more relaxed air about him. 

“Oh, this must be Y/N,” Sami said as he released his brother. “I’m Sami. It’s nice to meet you.”

You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Sami, are they -” Rami’s sister, Jasmine, came into the hall and stopped herself. “They are!”

She went to Rami and hugged him similarly to Sami. His parents appeared behind their daughter and grinned at the sight. You went over to them and offered the flowers.

“For you, Mrs. Malek,” you said.

She grinned. “Thank you, Y/N.”

His father also shook your hand before calling his children back with him to the kitchen. Mrs. Malek, whose name was Nelly, put the flowers into a vase. Mr. Malek, whose name was Said, checked on something in the oven which smelled delicious. You told him so and they thanked you.

“So, how’s it been so far?” Sami asked. “Been anywhere exciting?”

“We’ve been to Asheville, North Carolina,” Rami said. “Then we went to London.”

“Oh, I love London,” Jasmine interjected.

“It was amazing,” Rami told her. “And after that we went to Killarney, Ireland.”

“How fun!” Nelly said.

“We had a great time in Killarney,” you said, looking fondly at Rami and recalling your magical one on one date. 

“It was beautiful,” Rami agreed. “Especially the company.”

He put his arm around your shoulders and squeezed you as you giggled. You caught a disgusted look on Jasmine’s face, which discouraged you. You had the sense that she would take a while to warm up to you. Unfortunately, you only had one evening to change her mind.

Rami’s parents were incredibly kind. His mother was already teaching you some Arabic as you helped her prepare more food. It was just simple words here and there, but she told you that you were doing a great job. Meanwhile, Rami spoke to his siblings in the living room.

“Rami, I hate to be the wet blanket here,” Jasmine said. “But what are you doing?”

“Enjoying an evening with my girlfriend and family,” he replied. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve known this girl barely two months,” she continued. “All while she’s been dating thirty other men.”

“I know what I signed up for,” he said.

“I still don’t understand why you even signed up,” she snapped.

“Hey, calm down,” Sami said. “Love happens in crazy ways. Who's to say this isn’t how it’s meant to work out for Rami?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” Jasmine said. “How can she really love you if she is also falling in love elsewhere? And what about your career?”

“What about it?” Rami demanded.

“Don’t you think you should wait for marriage and a family until you’ve established yourself more as an actor?” she wondered. “This is a huge commitment.”

“We’ve talked about it,” he said. “She knows that we could balance it.”

“Probably not the way she’s thinking,” she said. “I saw her on the last season. This girl is ready to settle down properly. Is that something you want?”

“We can talk more about it,” Rami said. “Right now, all I need for you to do is be my sister and support me.”

“I am doing that,” she said. “And one day, you’ll see just how much.”

With that, she swept from the room. Rami scowled.

“She’s making some good points, Rami,” Sami said. 

“No, she isn’t,” Rami argued. “This is something Y/N and I have already discussed and worked out.”

Sami sighed. “Alright then.”

Dinner was ready within the next few minutes. It went smoothly. You liked Rami’s family and the way they interacted. Teasing and fun, but with lots of love. Rami was clearly the apple of his mother’s eye especially. 

When dinner was over, Jasmine asked to speak to you. You were glad for the chance because you wanted to be close to her if it was you and Rami at the end of this. Together, you went out to the back porch and took seats on the cushioned wicker furniture.

“Y/N, I want to start by saying that I don’t have a problem with you personally, but this process makes no sense to me,” she began.

“I understand that,” you said. “It’s difficult for lots of people to understand unless you’re in it. But it’s just a way for people to find love. Like any dating app or even the traditional stuff. It just happens to be on TV as well.”

“But the expectation is not traditional,” Jasmine said. “The idea is to get engaged after just two months.”

“It seems fast, but believe me, the feelings are real,” you told her. “What I feel for Rami...that’s real. Whether other people understand it or not.”

“But you also have real feelings for three other men,” she pointed out.

That stung. You understood why the families were concerned about this. They didn’t want their loved one to be the one to get hurt. But this was the process that you all signed up for, and you were growing tired of this being thrown in your face.

“I do,” you said. “But every relationship is different.”

“So, tell me what you and Rami have discussed about life outside of this,” she said. “You know he wants to be an actor.”

“He already is an actor,” you replied. “We’ve talked about how we would balance schedules with each other and if we have children.”

Jasmine sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Then she looked at you, a hard expression in her eyes.

“Rami is ambitious about his acting career,” she said. “Now isn’t the time for him to be getting married and starting a family.”

You wanted to flare up and scream at her, but you held back.

“Don’t you think that’s something Rami should decide for himself?” you countered.

“Y/N, listen to me,” she said. “I’m not saying this to be a bitch. I’m saying this for both your sakes. Let’s say this goes well and you and Rami get engaged. If you have to wait for his acting career to take off before you can be a mother, you are going to resent him. If he sacrifices his aspirations in order to stay where he is and be with you, he is going to resent you. He’s not ready.”

“Why would he come on this show if he’s not ready?” you challenged, trying not to let her words take root in your heart. But you couldn’t deny the truth of them.

“Probably because - like anyone - he does want love,” she said. “But he’s not ready for the commitment you want from him.”

You let that sink in. Tears welled up in your eyes. You were still falling in love with Rami, and hated the thought of saying goodbye to him.

“Excuse me,” you said, getting up from your seat.

You walked out into the yard and around the side of the house, sniffling. A tear slid down your cheek. This was the last thing you expected from his family. For them to tell you that even if you and Rami love each other, these things would get in the way. It hurt so much to hear because Jasmine was right. You were afraid of resentment building if either of you had to wait for your dreams.

“Hey.”

You turned and saw Rami standing there, a little winded and looking concerned. 

“What did she say?” he demanded when he saw you crying.

You broke down and told him. He heaved a sigh and pulled you into his arms.

“Y/N, don’t listen to that,” he said. “We can figure out how to plan our lives after an engagement. We don’t have to get married and have kids right away, we’ve got a lot of time.”

You pushed him away.

“Is that what you think I want?” you asked. “To just be indefinitely engaged? Without a plan? To basically be dating each other after this?”

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I understand you want a serious commitment, and I’m willing to give that to you if I have to.”

“If you have to?” you questioned. “Rami, I need someone who really, really wants that. I’m upset because I think Jasmine is right. We don’t want the same things going back into the world after all this.”

His eyes filled with tears too. “I want you, Y/N. I love you.”

You blinked and looked at the ground. “I don’t know if that’s enough.”

He sucked in a sharp breath at your words, and you couldn’t look at him.

“So...what do we do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

You stood there a brief moment, wondering where to go from here. 

“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” you said. 

“I’m not either,” he said.

“At least we can agree on that,” you said with a humorless laugh.

Another beat passed.

“I need to go,” you said. “I have a lot to think about.”

“Y/N, please…” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just have to go.”

With that, you walked out to the front of the house. You couldn’t say goodbye to his family like this, not when you were falling apart. Alone, you went to the car that was waiting for you and climbed into the back seat, closing the door behind you. As you pulled away, you looked into the camera.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you said. “I really just don’t know.”

The next day, you woke still conflicted. You had a rose ceremony that night, and you had to decide who to send home. Rami’s hometown date had been the least successful, but it opened your eyes to what might happen if you went down this road with him. But you also felt confused about Joe because of the moment before you left and he didn’t tell you he loved you. But Gwilym hadn’t either. The only one you were sure was getting a rose so far was Ben. His family was sweet, and you had no doubts about where you stood with him. You were absolutely ready to move forward with that relationship. The others...you had to consider and weigh your options.

You were meeting the men back at the Bachelor Mansion, where the journey began. Chris stood out front, where you had been night one to meet the men. The remaining four were arriving one by one before going into the rose ceremony.

Joe was the first to arrive. He smiled at Chris as he walked up to shake his hand.

“Joe, how are you?” Chris asked politely.

“I’m feeling pretty good,” Joe answered. “I think my hometown could have ended better, but I hope that’s not enough to lose a rose tonight.”

“Well, good luck, my friend,” Chris said. “Go ahead inside.”

“Thanks,” Joe replied.

He walked through the house and into the courtyard. He stood to one side and looked at the little table with just three roses on it.

Rami arrived next. He couldn’t smile just yet. 

“Rami, how’re you doing?” Chris asked.

“I’m anxious,” Rami said. “Things didn’t go well on the hometown date and I...I wish I had more time to talk to her before all this.”

“If the connection is there, she knows how to move forward,” Chris said. “Go ahead inside and good luck.”

“Thank you, Chris,” Rami said.

He followed Joe’s path. He finally grinned when he saw Joe and the two embraced. Then Rami spotted the roses and swallowed, wondering if he would get one.

Ben was third to arrive. He had a wide smile on his face.

“What’s up, buddy?” Chris asked as they shook hands and clapped each other on the shoulder. “You look happy.”

“I am happy,” Ben said. “I think things went really well, so I’m feeling confident about tonight.”

“That’s great to hear,” Chris said. “Go ahead inside and best of luck to you.”

“Thank you,” Ben replied.

He walked into the courtyard and he was pleased to see Joe and Rami already there. He gave them both quick hugs before taking his place in line.

Finally, Gwilym arrived. He straightened his tie as he stepped out of the limo and approached Chris.

“Gwilym, how are you?” Chris asked as they shook hands.

“I’m nervous,” Gwil admitted. “But I think everything went well enough. I just hope she feels the same way I do.”

“I hope so too,” Chris said. “Go ahead in and good luck.”

“Thank you so much,” Gwilym returned.

He too made his way to the courtyard, where the other three men stood. They all embraced him when he arrived, but quickly resumed their spots. Things had changed between them now that it was more serious. They all considered each other friends, and they respected one another, but there was some tension now. They waited.

You were the last one to get there. As you walked into the courtyard in your gown, you took a deep breath. You had made up your mind, but now you had to go through with it. You were going to hurt someone you cared a lot about - someone you loved - and that was never easy.

“Hi,” you said meekly as you looked at the four men before you. “Thank you all for being so gracious and allowing me to meet the important people in your life. I felt truly honored. I got a glimpse into what the future would be like with each of you, and it really helped me see who has the most potential to be my husband.”

Rami hung his head at these words. Then he looked at you again as you picked up the first rose. 

“Ben,” you said.

He let out a sigh and walked up to you.

“Ben, will you accept this rose?” you asked.

“I will,” he replied.

You pinned it to his jacket. You picked up the second.

“Gwilym,” you called.

His body relaxed at the sound of his name and then he approached you.

“Gwilym, will you accept this rose?”

“Of course I will.”

You pinned it on and he kissed your cheek before returning to his spot. Your heart began to pound inside your chest. Chris came out and put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, gentlemen,” he said. “This is the final rose tonight. Whenever you’re ready.”

He let go and you inhaled deeply. The exhale was slow and shaky. With a trembling hand, you picked up the last rose. You looked at Rami and you looked at Joe. Your eyes watered.

“Joe,” you choked out.

Joe’s relief was written all over his face as he walked over to you.

“Joe, will you accept this rose?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

“I will, Y/N, thank you,” he replied.

He had to help you put it on since your hands were so unsteady. Then he gave you a quick hug before returning to his spot.

“Rami, I’m sorry,” Chris said. “Take a moment, say your goodbyes.”

Rami was shaken. He had hoped that you could move past what Jasmine said and work through those issues together. Especially since you told him you weren’t ready to say goodbye. And here you were, saying it anyway.

He gave short hugs to the remaining men, who all whispered some words of comfort to him. Then he slowly walked to you. You had tears streaming steadily down your face. You tried to inhale, but you were short of breath.

“Can I - can I walk you out?” you asked through a sob.

“Yeah,” he said gently.

You took his hand and started back inside the mansion to exit through the front door. When you got to the driveway, you stopped and sat him down on a bench.

“I’m so sorry, Rami,” you whimpered. “I just...I don’t ever want to hold you back. You’re so talented and you’ve got so much to give, and I never want to stand in your way.”

“I don’t think you would…” he said.

Rami was numb. He still could hardly believe it was ending.

“I would,” you sobbed. “I want to settle down and have someone who comes home every night to me and the kids, y’know? And with what you want out of your life, that could never be us. As much as I care about you…”

He blinked and you saw a tear roll down his cheek slowly.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said.

“I love you too, Rami,” you replied. “But that kind of love isn’t enough to have a successful marriage between people as different as we are.”

A beat passed and you sniffled again.

“I want you to know that you’re amazing,” you said. “My feelings for you are so deep and so real, and that’s why this hurts so much. You deserve a successful career and someone who can be there for you through it. But that’s just not me.”

“I understand,” he said.

He began to move, as if suddenly gaining feeling back in his limbs.

“This is where we say goodbye, then,” he said.

“Goodbye, Rami,” you returned.

He hugged you. You held him for a moment, but you knew you had to let him go.

“When you win an Oscar, I’ll be cheering for you,” you teased, forcing a smile through your tears.

He chuckled halfheartedly. “Thanks. Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye,” you breathed.

With that, he opened the door and climbed in. You closed it and watched the tail lights disappear through the gate. You let out one final sob and dabbed at your eyes.

Rami, once inside the car, put his head in his hands and tried to breathe. He released a small whine, but kept his face covered. Then he took a deep breath and moved his hands to wipe his face.

“God,” he sighed. “I’m...I hate this. I really wanted to be with her and I hate that she couldn’t see a future anymore. F**k.”

He paused.

“I still love her.”

Back at the mansion, you had your makeup touched up before returning to the three men you had left. Your nose still ran and bit, and your eyes were still red and puffy, but you went to them anyway. They offered sympathetic smiles as you walked up.

“So, um,” you began, voice shaking again. “That was really difficult. But, I really am happy to be moving forward with all of you.”

Joe handed you a glass of champagne. They all already held one.

“Next week is a big week,” you said. “It’s fantasy suites, and where we’re going really is a fantasy.”

“Where is it?” wondered Ben.

“Gentlemen, we are going to New Zealand!”

They cheered and toasted to that. You hoped you were ready for the overnight dates. But you looked at the faces of each of these men and smiled. You were ready. You absolutely trusted them with your heart.

[sasuhinasno1fan]

Save a cat, get cheese buns

I have only ever written one (1) ML fic before, not counting an AU I did for a klance week, and I think it is very obvious here, but I really wanted to try @marichatmay. MariChat is my top fav of the love square and after watching part 2 of s3, I just wanted to write fanfic for this fandom. It’s also very obvious puns are not part of my every day vocab. I struggled to fit a few in there, so don’t expect more than maybe one in the rest of the month’s fics. I hope you like this anyway. I was inspired by Kiki’s Delivery Sevice. I know for this au, Chat is usually an actual chaton, but I decided to switch it up a little. Also side note, Tom and Sabine aren’t Mari’s parents in this fic. She grew up with her grandfather Fu and met the couple when they offered her a place to stay in exchange for helping out at the bakery. So, please enjoy. Witch AU

“Plagg? Plagg?” how did this happen? She arrived in this small Parisian town only about 2 weeks ago with her broom, Plagg and a fully packed bag in hand. She had gone out on her own as was tradition in her family of witches. She met Sabine and Tom who offered a place in their home in exchange for help out in front and doing deliveries – though seeing how clumsy her landings were, she could tell they were starting to reconsider that one, even though she never destroyed any orders. If Plagg wasn’t stealing cheese related pastries, he was laying all over the fabrics for Marinette’s lucky clothing. he’d been sleeping in the sun up in Marinette’s attic room and when she came back after doing a delivery he wouldn’t move for, he was gone. She hadn’t been too worried, he wondered around, getting into trouble. He lived up to his name of plague and bad luck, despite his owner being able to give good luck to her clothing items. But it became the evening and he wasn’t back. Nor was he back the next morning or that afternoon. She knew Plagg, he wouldn’t disappear like that, not when he complained about always wanting food and Tom and Sabine spoiled him with it. His disappearance didn’t make any sense.

So here she was, putting off orders she’d received for her blooming business to look for the only piece of home she had in a brand new place.

“Plagg!”

“Marinette!” the dark haired witch turned to see Luka and Rose riding up next to her. Luka had been one of the first people she met when she arrived. His calm demeanour and the way he seemed to read her – and everyone one else – helped her feel a bit more at ease. Rose was a walking sunbeam who stood out when you placed her next to her more dark loving girlfriend, but they were one of the sweetest couples Marinette had met. Ok so maybe Sabine and Tom beat them, just a little.

“Are you ok? You seem stressed. Is it creator’s block?” Luka asked.

“I wish. Plagg is missing. He went out yesterday and he hasn’t come back yet. It isn’t like him. He might go missing for a while, but then he always comes back begging for food. Have you seen him?”

“Well, it’s a little hard to miss a sarcastic talking cat.” Rose pointed out. “But I’m sure he’s fine. You said he belonged to your grandfather?”

Plagg did originally belong to her grandfather, the only other person of magic in her life. He created healing potions and balms and stood out even more as a warlock by having a turtle as his main familiar. Plagg might of belonged to her grandfather, but he’d always been hers.

“Yeah, but disappearing like this isn’t like him. I’ve already checked the cheese shop he’s always trying to sneak in to. He doesn’t like any other cheese pastries except for Tom’s, so I can’t even begin to think where he could of gone.”

Luka had a thoughtful look on his face before turning to look at Rose. “What about the guy Alya mentioned?”

Rose brighten and started to slap Luka on the back, who didn’t even flinch.

“Of course! Alya’s been looking into this guy who’s been going around taking care of all the town’s cats. Everyone calls him Chat Noir because he’s always in this black cat eared beanie and a whisker face mask.”

Chat Noir?

“He’s got to be about your age but no one has ever reported their child missing so my guess he isn’t even from here. The colony apparently lives at the old music hall, if you’ve ever seen it.” Luka threw out.

“I have! I’m going to get my broom and check. Thanks guys!” Marinette yelled as she ran back towards the bakery.

Hopefully she would get lucky and Plagg would be there. And maybe she could met this Chat Noir guy.

                                                    _________

It was strange to be on her broom without nails digging into her purple dress or a black ball of fur curled up precariously on the front of her broomstick. She just hoped Luka’s suggestion was right. She landed in front of the old music hall. Before it was shut down, she could see that it would have been the place to be, but now wear and tear had lessened it’s splendour The front doors were still attached and the bottom glass of the doors had been replaced the a flap big enough for cats to get through. She took her luck with the door and opened to the sound of cats scattering. The carpeted floors were torn up, no doubt from the many cats using it as a scratching post. There was a mild smell, but from what she could see, there weren’t any accidents anywhere. Marinette wondered if this Chat Noir guy got litter boxes for all the cats in the building. She could see a few glowing eyes in easily reaching hidey holes, but none with the unnatural green of Plagg’s eyes.

“Plagg? Plagg, are you here?”

“Can I help you?” a voice asked.

Spinning around, her heart in her throat, she stared at the guy standing not far behind her. He had to of picked up sneaking skills from the cats because she didn’t even hear him. Like Rose said, his messy blond hair was mostly hidden by a cat eared beanie and half of his face was hidden with a black face mask with white cat whiskers printed on it.

“You scared me.” Marinette said, breathing so her heart would restart.

“My apologies Purr-incess. Didn’t mean to make your fur stand on edge. Just the last person who came here was the reporter girl and she promised to come through the back entrance next time she wanted an interview. Cats are usually up front here and I hate to scare them every two seconds by coming through the door.” his green eyes took in Marinette in the purple dress and broomstick in hand. “I hope you’re not here to look for a familiar. Most of these felines aren’t great around people yet.”

“Um, no. I already have one. His name is Plagg and he’s obsessed with cheese. he’s been missing since yesterday and I haven’t been able to find him since. Have you at all seen him? His eyes are like a green glow stick, they’re really green.”

Chat Noir’s eyes lit up. “So you’re the Marinette he was talking about. Right this way princess.” he said, gesturing down the hall like some kind of prince.

She was cautious, but he did know her name, so she followed him. He opened one door and put a finger up to his hidden lips before taking her hand and leading her up the stairs. She had to guess that he was taking her to the theatre's booth.

“Ow! Stop biting me!”

“Plagg!”

she didn’t bothering waiting for Chat Noir as she ran to the top of the stairs where she saw Plagg in the middle of a little kitten playroom, getting attacked by 3 kittens, all using him as a chew toy.

“Marinette help me!” Plagg begged. Other than looking very uncomfortable, he seemed to be ok.

“Alright kittens, leave the poor guy alone. Chew any more and you’ll turn him into a Rex.” Chat Noir called, slipping out of his shoes before stepping over the barrier and pulling the kittens off of Plagg, before picking him up and handing him to Marinette.

Plagg’s claws dug into her shoulder as he clung to her. “Never let me leave the room ever again.”

“What happened anyway? I came back from the delivery and you were gone.”

“I found him running from Minnie. she’s kinda the resident leader.” Chat Noir said.

“I did not run!” Plagg defended.

“Oh, of course not. You were trembling with excitement when she drove you into a corner like she would do any street dog. Looks like your kitty likes it ruff.”

Marinette couldn’t tell if he meant that pun but she was starting to get an idea that he liked them. He wore black and was called Chat Noir.

“I don’t like him.” Plagg grumbled.

“Hey, I feed you my cheese buns last night because you wouldn’t eat the cat food I offered. That was my dinner.”

“Well I saved you the trouble of really bad cheese buns. Clearly you haven’t had a Dupain Patisserie cheese bun.”

Chat Noir’s eyes glowed in amusement. “They’re a little far from my territory, but I have had their macaroons. they’re meow-vellous.” he looked proud of that one. “He’s ok, by the way. Checked him over for as long as he let me hold him and brought him up here because the kittens don’t care much who comes up here. He makes a pretty great foster dad.”

“My first and last time!” Plagg yelled, Marinette moving her head away from his screeches.

“Well, thank you for looking after him. I’m glad to know he was in good hands.” Marinette thanked.

“No problem. I don’t know what your skill set is, but maybe you could find a way of keeping him out of trouble? Something tells me this isn’t his first time.”

Marinette looked at Plagg, who was still sulking and twitchy from being around the kittens. He was pretty good at getting into trouble. Maybe she would have to pick him up next time he wanted to be too lazy.

“I’ll do my best. I should get back. Thanks again.”

“Not a problem princess. don’t hesitate to come again.” he offered, bowing like a prince.

On their way back to the bakery, Plagg complained about the things he’d been through but she could tell it was just him complaining about everything. From what she gathered, Chat looked after all the cats himself, changing litter, filling food and water bowls, catching any sick cats to get them checked out. that’s why Chat hadn’t seen Plagg when he came wondering into the music hall when his curiosity got the better of him. He’d been bringing back the kittens from their check up when he heard the ruckus and saved him.

“He must be doing something pretty well to have the money to pay for all that. I know what a simple check up costs for you.” Marinette pointed out.

“Don’t ask me. He can’t even get decent cheese bread. They were hard.”

“Hard? Like they were stale?”

“Tom’s given me stale bread as a toy. They weren’t fresh, that’s for sure.”

money spent on the cats but old bread for dinner? Could he be spending all his money on the cats? She wanted to show him how much she appreciated him looking after Plagg. Maybe a simple cheese bun could be the key? She looked down at Plagg, who was still going on his ‘woe is me’ spin. Of course, she was going to have to steal a few before she feed her poor attacked familiar.

                                                     ____________

“Why are we here?” Plagg whined.

Marinette rolled her eyes. Plagg was obviously back to his usual self. She did noticed that he did stick closer to her on the broomstick, so he clearly wasn’t taking any chances.

“I just want to thank him for looking after you. he’s obviously got his hands full with all the other cats and he gave you his dinner.” Marinette pointed out.

Plagg pouted. He didn’t like admitting he was wrong, but she knew that he had a heart of gold.

She floated down to the back of the music hall, like Chat Noir had asked her to. A few cats watched her land, growling when they saw Plagg, who growled right back.

“Down guys. No need to growl. I’m sure if you asked nicely, purr-incess here would be happy to give you a ride.”

Chat Noir came from the back entrance, hefting a large bag litter in his hands.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon. You missed me, I’m sure. I’m paw-sitivly purr-fect to be around.”

“Ease up on the puns or I’m feeding these to Plagg.” Marinette warned, holding up the basket that was in her hand.

“A gift for me? Why princess? We barely even know each other. If you’re asking me to run away with you, just know I’ve got about 40 children to bring with me.”

Marinette got the feeling puns and flirting was this guy’s way of talking. She hoped if she dug a little deeper, she’d find something a bit different.

“Something to say thanks for looking after this one. I’m sure he was a handful.” she said, waiting till he dropped the bag of litter and dusted off his hands to hand him the basket. It had cheese buns as well as a few other filling pastries. “They’ll last you a while.”

“Dupain Patisserie? My, my, you spoil me. I didn’t mind looking after him. I’m just glad you two found each other again. I’ve got to ask though. Purple dress and black cat means your a witch right? What brought you to our small town?”

Marinette shrugged. “Most witches go out on their own at my age. There was something about this place that just drew me to it.”

“Well, hopefully our meeting didn’t make you look at things in a bad light.”

“I’ll survive I’m sure. Besides, my skill set is making lucky items. I think I’ve got a bit of protection.”

Chat Noir got close, leaning down a bit so he could look her in the eyes. “I think we lucked out with you princess.”

She couldn’t help but to laugh. She didn’t know Chat Noir that well yet, but something told her she’d be surprised with what she discovered.

[wongkarwives]

I wanna ask you pretty much the same thing you asked me lol! Mostly your favorite fics though. Also headcanons too I think that’s super interesting!

!!!!

i have so many favourite fics but they fall under so many categories

1). nice girls don’t by telanu

2). the art of seeing by ubiquitousmixie

3). the art of survival by wastedon

4). the end of all things by telanu

5). the fix by menzosarres

6). disarming athena by politic_x

7). all fics written by whitesheets i LOVE

the above are ones i have liked for a VERY long time and will probably love for the rest of eternity

here are my current fav ones, i’ve read em recently (but honestly they change often)

1). focus by elle_nic

2). when night falls on you by fewthistle

3). hold my hand by MsSir

4). her one wild precious life by awomannotagirl

5). a mean sleep by politic_x

slowburns

1). truth and measure by telanu

2). this must be the place by chilly_flame

3). five minutes by chilly_flame

4). take me to the river by spacedmuch

5). not everyone series by spacedmuch

as for headcanons, i’ve talked about a lot of em before but oh well time to go very deep even though you didn’t ask for this

miranda is either a capricorn or a taurus, andy is a cancer or pisces. miranda’s a lesbian, and andy is bi. andy’s an infp, miranda’s an istj. miranda grew up jewish, andy grew up christian (maybe presbyterian? idk i’m not religious). andy i think would be a democrat and miranda would be a libertarian, but leaning towards left? miranda’s a morning person, andy is a night owl. andy loves fish, miranda hates it.

miranda grew up jewish and her mother was polish, but miranda was raised in england. her father died when she was very young and afterwards she had to take care of her mentally unstable mother. she’s fluent in french, enjoys gardening, can play piano well. she’s a very skilled dancer and cook as well. she reads a lot, mostly morning newspapers and really likes sylvia plath and emily dickinson. she’s a closet romantic and occasionally will do shit straight out of a romance novel-- she’s the one who proposed and she REALLY went all out. miranda listens to a lot of chopin, debussy, edith piaf, peggy lee, etc. an abba and cher fan (obvs). very possessive of aux cord, the coffee ice cream in the freezer, and andy. miranda has several pairs of reading glasses because she’s Extra like that, and sometimes can be found wearing like three at a time. she really loves old movies with audrey hepburn and william holden. she’s very protective of her relationship with andy, and refuses to make public statements about them. she and the girls always read harry potter together before bed. miranda used to smoke, but doesn’t anymore. contrary to a lot of fics, i don’t think miranda would be really insecure about her age-- she might say things occasionally like “god i’m getting old” or “ah, andrea. to be young again, and know a life outside of chronic back pain. what a life you live.” miranda always keeps giving andy outfits and clothes to wear without saying anything at all, and andy just pretends she doesn’t notice that her closet gets bigger and bigger every time she looks through it. despite being happily married for the first time ever, miranda’s still scary, mean, demanding, and treats her employees (and literally everyone else) the same as she always had. she’s not a very touchy-feely person, nor does she shower andy with praise, but if you talk to anyone that knows miranda priestly personally, they will tell you with confidence that she absolutely dotes on andy

andy likes ernest hemingway, virginia woolf, jane austen, f scott fitzgerald, and is constantly telling miranda about the books she reads. she probably gets along better with her dad than her mom. i think she has an older sister and a younger brother. her grandmother is the number one mirandy shipper. andy likes sports, pasta, 90s hip hop, and has the corniest pick-up lines that always make miranda laugh. she’s a very big dog person and miranda always gets mad at her (not really) for overfeeding patricia. she likes to make fun of miranda sometimes, and is constantly @ ing her on twitter. she loves harry potter just as much as the girls do, and lets them watch all the horror movies they want, which miranda gets mad at her for. she loves helping the twins study for school, and is the one handing them their backpacks before they leave, while miranda sharply reminds them to not get into trouble at school (they pull pranks and can be disruptive in class sometimes). she’s very shitty at interior decorating. oh and also andy tops 99% of the time

they make everything, no matter how small or menial, into a fun challenge (like speed shopping or water gun wars). they each have their own side of the bed and never stray from it, even when they’re apart. they’re constantly leaving each other post-it notes around the house- miranda lines her up neatly in rows, andy sticks them all over the place. they always fight over the tv remote and the twins dread movie night subsequently. they share their hobbies & interests with each other, and both are always willing to try new stuff out. miranda cuts out andy’s articles and secretly hoards them so she can read them whenever she wants. she’s very proud of andy and whenever they go to events miranda always introduces her as “my lovely pulitzer-winning wife, andrea.” before andy, miranda would never dance at parties or events, but now they’re dancing nearly all night long. when it’s miranda’s turn to host the met gala, andy is the first person on the guest list, and miranda obvs goes ALL OUT when it comes to planning their looks. they always walk onto the carpet holding hands and people always yell at them to kiss, but miranda has only caved ONCE to the press. after that incident they were trending on twitter for quite a while. andy always gets small gifts for miranda when she goes on trips, and they email each other all the time when they’re apart. andy keeps trying to get miranda to go to pride, but miranda’s stubborn as fuck and always says no. miranda and andy unintentionally end up wearing each other’s clothes around the house-- miranda in sweatpants and tank tops, andy in silk robes. they probably try to go out for drinks with nigel and his husband as often as they can. they don’t hug or kiss much but they do a LOT of hand-holding. miranda hates going to amusement parks but is willing to go because everyone in the family won’t stop bothering her about it (ESPECIALLY ANDY). 

when andy and miranda get older, they both retire from their jobs and dedicate most of their time to travelling together. they still make a lot of public appearances for charities, organisations, and events still though. they visit the twins as often as they can, babysit their grandkids (mostly andy because the kids say that “grandma miranda is scary”). every anniversary, they receive millions of messages and happy anniversary wishes from people worldwide. when they’re mentioned in a conversation, everyone agrees that they’re one of the best celebrity couples, and wish that they had a relationship like theirs

[lovelylogans]

stings and stripes

pairings: moxiety (which is new for me, I think!)

warnings: it’s too gosh darn stinkin cute. food mentions, I think that’s it?

notes: do I have a ton of prompts sitting in my drafts? yes. do I have not one but two wips? yes. am I doing this anyway? YOU BET.

I’m at a reunion right now, and one of my baby cousins noticed one of the oldest cousins has her fav animal as a tattoo, and so now my older cousin is The Coolest Ever, and I also have a plot bunny. tagging @tinysidestrashcaptain, because obviously (funnily enough this isn’t the first little sides fic I’ve written, but it’s the first I’m publishing) ON WITH THE FIC!!!

Logan’s favorite place ever was the park just down the street.

That suited Patton just fine; it just meant that whenever he deemed that his son needed some fresh air and a distraction from his latest learning obsession, he’d propose a trip to the park and Logan was out the door before Patton could say “Get your shoes on.”

Patton wasn’t entirely sure why: Logan loved libraries, schools, an apiary Patton took him to once, but he’d never puzzled out why this park was so special in Logan’s mind. Logan’s usual ideal day was one with lots of jam sandwiches and lots of books—Patton still wasn’t sure where he’d inherited that from, but as long as Logan was happy, Patton was happy.

This was one such day: Logan had been deep in researching bumblebees for the thousandth time when Patton proposed a picnic, and Logan immediately agreed.

Logan and Patton walked hand-in-hand as Logan happily told Patton about the construction of apiaries and Patton tried his best to keep the picnic basket from whacking into anyone passing on the sidewalk. As soon as they laid eyes on the park, Logan was practically vibrating until Patton let go of his hand with a chuckle and a “go on, then,” and he was off like a shot, straight to the playground, mostly ignoring the other children. Patton watched him clamber up a ladder fondly, and with only a bit of worry. Logan wasn’t very personable—not quite shy, just uninterested in people unless he especially liked or disliked them. Another reason why the park’s idolization was a mystery.

Patton scouted out a bench, and found a decent one in the shade with a good view of the park, and he settled, splitting his attention between tracking Logan and reviewing course materials for the fall. When he glanced up from a list of books for the first semester, it was to Logan bee lining straight towards him, immediately grabbing his hand.

“Papa he has a bee,” Logan said breathlessly, tugging him off the bench, and immediately dragging Patton.

“I—who?” Patton said cluelessly.

“Him.”

That narrows it down, bud, Patton thought, before he asked, “How does he have a bee?”

Logan did not deign to explain, and Patton was about to ask him to use his words when they rounded the corner of the playground and Patton saw one of the most gorgeous men ever. Patton felt his knees go weak.

He had black hair that glinted in the sun, and a number of silver piercings that did too—in his ears, his eyebrows, his lip, his nose. The silver pointy studs on the shoulders of his leather jacket did, too, and he was smiling a little, only enough that someone really looking could see—out at the playground, at the kids running around.

Logan did not have time for Patton to gawk; another tug, and they were heading straight for that beautiful man.

“Here he is,” Logan said breathlessly. “Can I see it again?”

The really offensively handsome man smiled at Patton. “You’re his grownup?”

Patton smiled—vague enough to be inclusive, and clear that he’d asked Logan to get his grownup to make sure Logan was comfortable.

“I’m his father, yes,” Patton said, before extending a hand. “Patton Kassipoeg.”

“Virgil Sanders,” the man says with a nod, before kneeling to Logan’s height, shrugging his jacket so it slipped down his shoulders, and tilting his head.

He had a bee tattoo on the side of his neck. Amongst others, Patton noticed, seeing the swirls of color down his shirt, and stop staring Patton he could be married.

“Wow,” Logan breathed, reaching forwards.

“Ask, Lo,” Patton said, and the very pretty man—Virgil—smiled at Logan.

“It’s all right,” he said, “just be gentle.”

Logan touched at his neck, tracing the outline of the bee tattoo. It was a little doodle, yellow and black striped with dashes behind, forming a little heart. Patton could only guess there was another bee below the neckline.

“Did it hurt?” Logan asked, hushed, and the man shrugged one shoulder.

“A bit,” he said honestly. “Kind of like getting a shot at the doctor’s office. I’m kind of used to it, though.”

Patton wanted to see the tattoos. He wanted to see all of the tattoos. He immediately scolded himself for leering at a park, next to his own kid.

“Papa said his hurt too,” Logan said, and Virgil lifted one studded eyebrow at him.

“You got ink?”

Patton shrugged with a smile. “Rather not take my shirt off in the park, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course not,” Virgil said immediately. “Did you go to a studio round here?”

“Uh, Remy? Remy Spavati?”

Virgil made a noise of recognition. “I’m a tattoo artist, too,” He says. “Rem’s good. Neat linework. I’ve got a couple by him too.”

“DADDY,” a very loud little boy said, and Patton turned to see a boy—Logan’s age, he was guessing—reaching over to tug at Virgil’s leather jacket. “Show the coloring one!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Little brat,” he said, but his tone’s so fond it belied any of the harshness in his words. “Introduce yourself, please.”

The little boy puffed his chest out and held his hand out for Logan to shake. “Roman,” he said. Logan said his own name, and shook back with the kind of solemnity seen at business exchanges. Virgil shrugged off his leather jacket, revealing a tight purple t-shirt, and brandishing his (rather muscular) arms for Logan and Roman’s inspection.

Roman pointed proudly to one on Virgil’s forearm that Patton would wager was colored in with magic marker. “I colored that one,” he said to Logan.

“Meant for it to be just a black ink bit,” Virgil said to Patton, as Logan adjusted his glasses and looked closer. “Princey here has made it his personal coloring book.”

Roman gave his dad a toothy grin—Patton noticed a gap in his teeth.

“That’s cool,” Logan said immediately, and turned to Roman. “Wanna see something cool?”

“Yeah,” Roman enthused, and they dash off together, Patton blinking after them.

“Huh.”

“What?” Virgil asked, shrugging his jacket back on.

“It’s just,” Patton said, and shook himself. “Logan usually takes a bit to warm to people, that’s all.”

“Roman is the most extroverted person I’ve ever met,” Virgil said dryly, rising to his feet. “I really don’t know where he gets it from.”

“Logan’s going to be outreading me in two years,” Patton reassured Virgil, sticking his hands in his jean pockets so he wouldn’t do something impulsive, like reach out and touch the bee tattoo. “No idea where he got it.”

Virgil gives Patton that same little smile, the hard-to-find one. “None at all?”

“None at all,” Patton said with a sigh. “I mean, I’m a kindergarten teacher—“

“So that’s where I know the name Kassipoeg,” Virgil said, and then shook himself. “Sorry, sorry, I interrupted.”

“No, it’s okay,” Patton said, smiling. “I didn’t think I saw a Sanders on my fall list this year?”

“You didn’t,” Virgil said dryly. “I wish you did, though, you seem—“ he pauses.

Seem what? Patton wants to ask, but he clears his throat. “If he’s in Foley’s, he’s with Logan.”

Virgil let out a huff of air. “Okay, good,” he said.

Patton tried not to smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, and looked at him sideways. “It’ll be good to have a... friend. Amongst the parents. Sometimes they get nervous about,” Virgil said, and gestured to his whole being.

“Well, I’ll put a stop to it,” Patton said reassuringly, and cleared his throat. “Um. I’ve got a pretty good bench claim over there, if you—if you’d like to join me?”

Virgil smiled, a little wider. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

They’ve barely sat down for a minute before Logan and Roman come crashing out of the playground, skittering to a stop just short of the bench.

“Hey there,” Patton said. “Explore much?”

“Lots,” Roman enthused, and flopped down in the grass. Virgil nudged him gently with his boot.

“If it’s okay with you, Virgil, I have some extras in the picnic basket?” Patton said, digging through it. “If you like jelly sandwiches, that is.”

Roman’s head popped up from the grass as Logan settled primly on the ground. “I love jelly sandwiches! They’re my favorites!”

Logan turned to gape at Roman. “Mine too!”

“No way,” Roman said immediately, sitting up.

“Yes way,” Patton said, amused, handing each child a jelly sandwich. “Virgil, chicken salad, turkey and cheddar...?”

“I’ll take turkey? If you don’t mind,” he said hastily. Patton handed it over.

Patton learned a lot about Roman as they ate. He learned that Roman turned five just two months ago, that he’s going into kindergarten, that he’s seen every Disney movie ever, and he is VERY EXCITED! that Logan is going to be in his class.

“You should give Mr. Sanders your number,” Logan said, in the voice that meant he was trying to be sly, and took a bite of jelly sandwich. “So we can play together.”

Patton narrowed his eyes a little at his son, who’s too smart for his own good sometimes.

“Yeah,” Roman said brightly, in a voice that also probably meant he was trying to be sly but mostly sounded like he was being mischievous, “Dad, definitely give him your number.”

“You two could talk about stuff too,” Logan said, noncommittal.

Which Roman immediately ruined by blurting out, “Like how you’re both single and ready to mingle~!”

Patton felt his cheeks burn bright red. Virgil said calmly, “I’m going to kill your Uncle Rem. You spend too much time with him.”

“No I don’t,” Roman said with a wide grin, and stuck out his hand to Logan. “C’mon, Lo!”

“You were supposed to be subtle,” Logan complained, and as Roman dragged him away, he chirped, “I don’t know the meaning of the word!”

“He really doesn’t,” Virgil said, and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, I’m—sorry, about him. He and Rem both have it in their heads that I’ve been single too long, and—“

Patton hesitated, before turned to face Virgil and he said softly, “You said. Earlier.”

Virgil has this look on his face, soft and guarded all at once. “Yeah?”

“That I seemed something,” Patton prompted. “Seemed like what?”

Virgil’s cheeks tinged pink, and he coughed. “Seemed,” he began, and looked out at the park. “Seemed lovely,” he said gruffly.

Patton took a breath, took a chance, and took Virgil’s hand.

Virgil’s eyes darted to his face, and Patton smiled, felt his cheek dimple.

“Well,” he said simply, and digs out his phone, offering it to Virgil. “That sounds lovely.”

a/n: Patton’s last name, Kassipoeg, is kitten in Estonian. which I thought was a) adorable and b) a great last name. in a similar vein, Remy’s last name is sleep in Croatian.

[pinkykitten]

What is that?

Voltron: Legendary Defender

Keith x female! reader

Warning: death, planet destroyed

Specifics: romance, fluff, angst, comedy

People: Keith, you, Shiro, Lance, Pidge, Hunk (mentioned), Allura, parents (mentioned)

Words: 1,686

Requested: By anonymously Hi! Hope it’s okay for me to request here! Could you please do a Keith x reader from voltron where the reader is an alien and exceptionally good fighter but she doesn’t know a lot about earth stuff (kind of like Wonder Woman) and Keith falls her and just lots of fluff and Keith being a cute blushy mess? Hope this is okay! Thank you!

Authors Note: hello anon of course u can request here! i luv keith fun fact he was my fav the first time i watched voltron. also i luv wonder woman she is one of my fav superheros she is so amazing! i tried to make this very fluffy as possible srry if this sucks. i also added some angst cuz im depressing✌️ thank u so much for requesting pls guys advice and feedback i do luv so much so just remember that! p.s. srry again for not writing yesterday u all know why so yep srry again! enjoy!

“C’mon y/n! Is that the best you can do?” 

You placed your sword if front of you, swinging it from side to side with skill. Keith was dodging each blow. 

“I do not wished to be teased by an earthling. I know I can do better, I am just going easy on you.” You giggled, flipping, dodging Keith’s attacks.

Keith raised his eyebrow at your comment. “Try some of this then!” Keith jumped in the air, doing a flip, and landing in front of you. Unfortunately, he would of made it perfect had your leg not been out and tripped him, causing him to fall on top of you. 

“Wow, okay this is awkward,” Keith looked everywhere but into your eyes, blushing at the fact that his body was pressed onto yours. 

You smirked but as Shiro walked in you threw Kieth off of you, muttering, “Earth boys are so shy.”

You stood up to greet Shiro leaving Keith in a blushing mess. 

“Oh crap, why do you like her? I mean like why?” Keith questioned himself in his head while staring at you. 

He liked many attributes of you. You were a great fighter, you were kind, smart, gentle, and a real friend to the team. 

After your discussion with Shiro you went to go take a shower leaving the two men. 

Shiro walked up to Keith, trying to keep his smile at bay. 

“So, you and y/n, are you guys a thing?”

“What? No, ew, stop, no we’re not a thing! Whatever!”

Shiro chuckled and placed a strong hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I think she likes you too.”

Keith’s eyes bugged out, “Seriously? You think she likes me?”

Shiro nodded, “She speaks very fondly of you, about your training, your attitude, heck even sometimes the way you eat.”

Keith giggled and wiped his forehead from the sweat. “Yeah, its an alien thing.”

“You guys would make a great couple. But all I’m saying is, its not bad to want something or someone for yourself. To have something to make you happy. Keith, its not wrong to feel happy.”

Keith bit his lip thinking and stood up, “Yeah, thanks for all of this. I’m gonna hit the showers. See you at dinner.”

Shiro gave Keith a wave. 

After you struggled to turn on the shower for about 10 minutes which Hunk helped you with that. You got yourself ready for dinner. You wore what earthlings call it a t-shirt (which was too big for you), and some 80s sweats. The clothes that you had come in were ripped to shreds and then you remember.

You remembered that you wore your home planet attire when you first met Keith. Your planet was getting destroyed, your whole family perished by the hands of the Galran empire. Tears started coming down your face, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, wiping away the fog from the glass. You remembered you were struggling to fight, to stay alive. Voltron found you. They found you, all battered and bruised with nothing but the ripped up clothes you wore. They offered you to stay with them as long as you wanted. Truth be told you wanted to stay with them forever. They were like family to you. Keith was what made you smile everyday and not think about your devastating parents death. He made you feel at home, peace. 

Tears started to come out more while looking in the mirror. You heard a knock and dressed yourself up quickly. “I’m coming.”

You opened the door and there was Keith. 

“Dinner is- hey are you okay?”

You sniffled and wiped your eyes. “Yeah I am fine earthling. Do not worry about me.”

Keith gave a look of concern as you walked by him to go to the dinner table. 

As you entered the room everyone greeted you. You greeted them with your proper hello from your home planet. That just made you feel homesick. 

“Is something the matter y/n?” Allura asked eating her food. 

You looked up and gave a fake smile. “No its nothing, I think I got what you call shamoo stuck in my eye.”

Every one laughed and you shrugged. “What are you all laughing at?”

Lance, across from you, smiled and said, “silly its not called shamoo, its called shampoo! Shamoo I think is a whale!”

You laughed at your mistake, cherishing these precious moments with your friends. 

While eating dinner you picked up your spoon the opposite way and tried to pick up some of your dish to eat. Keith always sat next to you, helping you out with whatever you didn’t know. 

“Am I doing this wrong?” You grumbled in frustration. “Keith I don’t think this, spoon? Is that what you call it, spoon? I don’t think this spoon works Keith.”

Keith looked to you and flipped the spoon the correct way. “Like this.”

“Oh, I see.” You dug into your food and filled yourself up. 

During your conversations you learned some dishes that were popular to the Alteans. Your mind getting bigger with knowledge of every ones cultures. You learned Lance’s favorite Cuban dish, Hunk’s favorite dessert, Pidge’s favorite drink, Shiro’s favorite snack, and you even learned what Keith’s favorite sandwich was. You were learning so many things at the dinner table. 

“Oh my god can we just for a second remember ice cream.” Pidge almost drooled at the thought of that.

Hunk’s face grew sad knowing that they didn’t have ice cream in the ship. 

“What is ice cream?”

The whole gang put their attention on you. You looked at them oblivious to the stares and open shocked mouths. 

“Wait let me get this straight, you don’t know what ice cream is?” Lance was the most shocked. 

“Is it that obvious?”

Shiro smacked Lance’s head, and said with an annoyed dad voice. “Lance.”

Lance looked down and said sorry. Shiro went on, “Its okay y/n if you don’t know what ice cream is, I just wish we had some so you can try it. What it basically is, is its a frozen dessert, so its cold. Its sweet and its made out of dairy. There are many flavors. Ice cream is very delicious and I think you would enjoy it.”

Pidge pushed her glasses up, “you kinda sound like “How its made.”

You looked at your fingers, “that does sound very appetizing right now. I shall try it when we find it in your home town Shiro.”

Shiro chuckled and placed his utensils on his plate. “Y/n you can find ice cream almost anywhere on earth. Its that popular.”

“I am excited to try this dairy dessert. Well I think it is time for me to go to rest, but I will wake up tomorrow to train so if anyone would like to join me, you are more than welcomed to.”

Keith stood up as well and quickly, before any one got the chance to, said that he would like to join you. 

You grinned and nodded. “Alright earthling, you shall train with me tomorrow.”

As you placed your dishes in the sink and went to get ready for bed, Keith had asked you to come to his room. 

Your palms were sweating and you prepared yourself for anything. You stood up straight and walked all posh, gently knocking on his door. 

“Y/n is that you?”

You smiled hearing Keith’s voice on the other end. “Yes, its me, Kie-earthling. May I come in?”

Keith then opened the door, your face almost bumping onto his. Your faces were just a few spaces apart. Yours and his breathing shared. Keith’s cheeks began to get red again, the second time the same day. 

“Yeah, come in.”

 You slowly walked in after him. Your hands were clasped together being nervous. This was your first time being in a boys room, actually this was your first time being in Keith’s room. You felt scared, frightened. Not because of Keith but because of yourself. You were terrified you were going to ruin this moment. 

“You can sit if you want to.” Kieth pointed to his bed. 

You sat down slowly, awaiting for Keith to talk first. His bed smelled just like him. You gave a light smile at the thought of Keith’s smell, and you cuddling up to him. 

“I just, god I’m not good at this, but its about what happened-”

“What happened before dinner.” You finished his sentence for him knowing it was difficult for him to talk about others feelings. 

“Yeah. Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed and stared at your fingers. “I sometimes feel homesick. I miss my planet and miss the people there. The customs. But most importantly I miss my parents. I dream about them every night.” 

Keith nodded, his face of sadness. 

“Sorry you probably don’t want to hear any of this. I will get on my way then.” You stood up, wiping your tears that were anew away. 

“No I want to hear, please y/n. Don’t shut yourself out, don’t pretend like we don’t care about you because we do. I do.” He said the last part quietly and bashfully. 

You turned around abruptly, shocked as to what you heard. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry about what happened to your parents and your home. You can come to me when you are hurt or feel like crying.”

Your mouth grew wide open and then you ran to him, hugging his chest and sobbing. 

Keith soothed you, comforting you and rubbing your head. “Its okay, I’m here.”

He carried you to the left side of his bed and he entered in after you. You laid there crying into his chest, while he cuddled you. His protecting arms were around you, you felt warm and safe. 

“I’m here y/n. I’m here.”

Your cries became sniffles and your head laid gently on his chest listening to his heartbeat. 

“You okay?”

You looked up and saw Keith’s face. He had on a smile to comfort you. 

You smiled as well, “yes I am now. How do you say, yeah, thank you. Thank you Keith.”

[rambleonwithrosie]

Hello my lovely thirst babies! (It's what I call my followers)

For all of you new followers hi! Welcome! Enjoy the music and stay for the cute dish that is Queen's drummer.

All you previous 200 followers know that when I hit a milestone of 50 I always do a 50 questions type thing.

This one is gonna be all Queen!

(Also thank you everybody for sending a post from 0 to 500 notes in roughly one day!)

Opinion on Freddie Mercury calling himself "Mr. Farenheit"? It's adorable and almost like a little play on words with his birth name of Farrokh

Early 80's porn star Freddie or late 80's suburban dad Freddie look? Well I guess dad Fred because I'm not a stache person and the less facial hair and the shorter the better!

Stone Cold Crazy or I'm Going Slightly Mad? Tough choice but I'm Going Slightly Mad is the one I heard first and it's one of my favorites off of Innuendo. Sheer Heart Attack would be a great album even without Stone Cold Crazy

If Freddie asked you to house sit for him would you do it? Unless the cats are somewhere else no. I'm allergic and prejudiced against cats.

Satanic Prawn Onesie from It's A Hard Life music video or Disco Ball Red Devil Romper stage costume? Anything is better than the 800 eyed abomination

Get Down Make Love or Body Language? Get Down Make Love because at least musically it has some quality even if lyrically it's utter garbage (well if you chop off the first part it's not the worst)

Freddie in I Want to Break Free video or in Radio Ga Ga? Radio Ga Ga outfits always win. Plus other than the blouse I personally wouldn't wear anything Fred has on in I Want to Break Free

Opinion of Delilah? I think even if I actually liked cats I'd still cringe at it. As it is I definitely do not enjoy it

Bohemian Rhapsody or Bicycle Race? Oooh see Bicycle Race was my fav as a kid but BoRhap is legendary... I guess Bicycle Race because nostalgia and Star Wars!

Favorite 70s Freddie outfit?

Fat Bottomed Girls or Tear It Up? Ooh. Tear It Up. It's so delightfully naughty and grinds so hard. It's my dirty jam

Brian song you would really go all-out air-guitaring to? Tie Your Mother Down

Sail Away Sweet Sister or 39? I love the nerdiness of 39. But Sail Away Sweet Sister speaks to me and the main character of the novel I'm writing a lot. So gotta be SASS

"Hammer to Fall" or "Headlong"? Hammer to Fall probably. It's such a power jam. Not that Headlong isn't. It's also less dirty and it's on one of the best Queen albums ever

Favourite Brian solo? Oooh. Probably Tie Your Mother Down (I honestly can't recall if it has a solo. I just know it slams really hard and I live for that intro)

Briana in "I Want to Break Free" or Death in "It's a Hard Life"? Aghh. I love sassy Brianna but death is the only remotely sane looking one in Its A Hard Life

Favourite Brian solo song? I don't know a lot so Driven By You I guess

If you could spend a weekend with Brian, what would you do? Take nature hikes and talk about music and C S Lewis works and play with hedgehogs if at all possible

Would you rather stargaze with Brian or study in a science library with Brian? Stargaze for sure. I love it anyways and then he'd know all this brainy stuff that might put me to sleep but would still be fascinating

Favourite photo of Brian? I want his shawl thingy. Glam bastard.

Is Deaky one thicc bih in your opinion? He is certainly the thickest member of Queen. Have you guy's seen his apple bottomed ass of perfection?

If you could redo John's hair for Radio Ga Ga how would you do it? Maybe spiky with gel or something. Anything to reduce the electrocuted squirrel look

Describe John Deacon using 5 foods? Celery. Tall and kind of forgotten but essential. Onions because he's so savage at times he could make you cry. Hazelnuts because his hair and he's earthy and complex. Cheese because you are what you eat. And cherries but the tart pie kind not the sweet ones.

Where would you take Deaky on vacation? Hmmm. Some place with not a lot of people. I feel South America somewhere. Maybe a beach or to Patagonia

Favourite Deaky song? You're My Best Friend timeless and sweet

If you could give Deaky a new nickname what would it be? Salty the Hermit Crab

Favorite Deaky facial expression? His soft blushy sort of modest smile. Especially in the 70s.

Favorite photo of Deaky?

Favourite Deaky outfit?

Favorite salty Deaky face?

Which Monty Python sketch does Roger remind you of? The Encyclopedia Salesman because he could charm his way into somebody's house and sell them anything like the time he bs-ed that he was a Hoover vacuum salesman with I want to say John

Favourite harmonising by Roger? Probably Somebody to Love. He adds so much to those harmonies. And when they do it live it's even more noticeable but in a different way

What kind of car do you think I'm In Love with My Car is about? Whatever it is I see it as red. Probably a red Ferari. Or that's what I see and I'm sure Rog wouldn't have said no to one of those

You can have Roger do one of the (metaphorical) things to you that he mentions in "I'm in Love with My Car", what do you choose? Well giving him a thrill while my radials squeal does sound pleasant 😉😍😈

Favorite Roger Taylor solo work? Original composition it's probably Let's Get Crazy off of Fun In Space but if we're counting songs he covered Racing in the Street HANDS. DOWN! It's my fav song all time now. It and Brandy by Looking Glass

If Roger was an accessory, what would he be? Sunglasses of course 😎😎😎

"Modern Times Rock and Roll" or "Loser in the End"? Modern Times Rock N Roll. That song is not long enough. I love it.

You can talk to Roger for the rest of your life or have one night of passion with him, which do you choose? This is torture... but you didn't say I couldn't make out with him @squeezemylemon so trap there. I'm gonna talk to Rog and make out with him but no night of passion sadly. I'll still be happy kissing and chatting and being friends with a side of inspecting each other's tonsils with our tongues 😉😁😂

Favourite stage outfit of Roger's?

You can have a three-way with two different Rogers... 1) Do you do it? 2) Which Rogers (photo examples are encouraged)? Not my thing but I'm such a thirsty bitch for Rog that in this case hell yes. Sign me up for this sandwich right here

Brian or Freddie singing "'39"? Brian all the way baby. He has that perfect folk singer type voice

Which songs from other bands best describes each member? Brian is Bowie's 'Space Oddity'. Freddie is Elton's 'Rocket Man'. Roger's anthem has to be 'Big Spender' even if musically the style isn't him, musically he's Dancing in the Dark by Springsteen. John is Beethoven's 5th Symphony or The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel but don't ask me why

The members of Queen as characters from the Muppets? Hmm. John is one of the salty old guys from the audience. Roger/ina is miss Piggy because he's such a diva. Bri would be Kermit for somehow patiently dealing with Piggy!Rog. And I had to Google the other Muppets and found one named Pepe the King Prawn and if that isn't Freddie Mercury I don't know what is

The members of Queen as the Avengers? Brian is Director Fury (he counts as an Avenger right?) John is The Hulk, Freddie is outrageous Iron Man of course and Roger is Hawkeye full of sass quips and sex appeal

Queen as cake flavors? Freddie is Cherry Chocolate. John is Lemon. Brian is a really dark chocolate that probably has coffee flavoring to it. Roger is strawberry.

Queen as Classic Hollywood actors? I weirdly want to say Freddie as Clark Gable but I think he's more Douglas Fairbanks. Brian is Lawrence Olivier. John is William Powell. And Roger would be James Dean (he counts right?)

FMK: Rogerina, Briana, Frederika? Fuck Rogerina obvs. Briana is a suitable housewife. And as usual poor Fred gets killed. Sorry.

Which song would you have liked to have been around the composer as they created it? Well as much as I want to say a Roger song I'd be too busy distracting him for that to work so I'm gonna say Brian writing Dragon Attack

Favorite album art/cover? The Game. 1980 Rog in leather is my sexuality. Otherwise I'd probably say Sheer Heart Attack

Who or what is the (not actual) love of each band member’s life? Freddie's was the 4000 cats. Roger's amore is cars of course. John is in a committed relationship with cheese on toast. And Brian is a slut who while he's married to Red Special he goes around having affairs with badgers and faucets/taps

Thanks again @squeezemylemon and @zestysexmachinefromzanzibar for helping with all of these questions!

[felikatze]

hi i just finished ninjago art online. aka season 12. it was fun

i’m grateful for another more scifi season because i love rebooted actually. and i like everything being neon.

because of the whole (gestures vaguely) video gaminess of everything this season is really strong aesthetically. i just like the design of everything. again it’s like season 3 and i loved how season 3 looked. also yes sao jokes of course sao jokes because sao is a joke. yes

some episodes over relied on the gimmick though i think. like a dance competition episode is neat (hi season 1 dance competition) but the announcer kinda ruined it yeah? like just going “NICE” over and over. there’s a reason actual rhythm games only do it as text. and then there was one episode that was a side scroller parody which works but the design of THAT was kinda uninspired and the sequence was longer than it should’ve been i feel. i dunno man like IT’S VIDEO GAME DO YOU GET IT (just said he liked the design and aesthetic but does not like how it is sometimes incorporated and overrelied on to carry action sequences)

SPEAKING OF DESIGNS i HAVE to mention superstar rockin jay i love him. the idea of the league of jays is already hilarious enough (a bunch of gamers rp as jay for fun inside a death game) and then he just. happy tits out monday to jay walker!! congrats on the top surgery!! (officially claiming jay for the transgender agenda. the transgenda. listen if i could make myself an avatar i would also go off the shits like this and wear v cuts)

he makes group shots so fucking funny cuz everyone else is in ninja squad gear and then there’s jay. you’ve seen my character arc of accepting him as my fav of the og four. i’m gonna kill him for fortnite dancing though i’m maiming him. he’s so fucking cringe (affectionate)

continuing with jay it’s super cute how candid he is with “i love you”s. he just says it to nya whenever it’s adorable. godddd. jay and nya taking dance lessons together.... them just goofing of liking each other... working together to clear any obstacle..... take a shot everytime nya gets killed off for jay angst though.

the new sidecast were very one and done but OH BOY. i loved the npcs i love okino and racer seven. i think having one whole episode of okino being angsty was A Bit Much Tbh, but. Lloyd just telling people they’re in the matrix is so fucking funny. he just waltzes up, tells them reality is an illusion, and two NPCs use it as impetus for character development and self confidence. that’s amazing.

this is actually really super ultra neat to just take two episodes and a b plot to ask, “so how do NPCs feel about this?” because in “trapped in a video game” media, that’s typically not even a question. isn’t it horrifying that your life is scripted? don’t you want to be free? your world may not be real, but your feelings are. so follow them. ninjago actually addressed the topic of NPCs. kissing you

just like. okino basically defying his dad and racer seven the goddamn racing cpu taking home the win were incredible moments. and the two coming back in the finale.... orghrh. the finale was great more on that later.

continuing on that note. the harumi bossfight really popped off. it’s that Bit Of Horror that i love. jay and nya banging on the glass trying to get through to lloyd. lloyd reaching out to harumi, because she’s voicing his regrets. she’s saying he must regret not saving her. they could’ve been friends. and then he asks her what they did that first night and she can’t answer, because she’s a copy. a simulacrum. just the game shaping lloyd’s doubts to trick him.

harumi is my poor little meow meow excuse me i’m having a moment.

NINJAGO CONFIDENTIAL!! THE EPISODE EVER!!! JAZZ REMIX WEEKEND WHIP!!! this episode is so fucking funny oh my god. just 10mins straight of comedy gold. i can’t even decide what my favorite thing is. pixal being so fucking DONE with zane’s narration. zane downloading crime shows to solve a mystery. everyone being pissed off about zane’s narration because he keeps insulting them out loud. that one fight where he announces all his moves and is then baffled a goon predicts them. the narration being what lets pixal resolve the mystery which she only bows down to in desparation. it’s incredible.

also can you people stop fake out killing zane. stop exploding this man. he’s suffered ENOUGH. my condolences to any zane enjoyers.

speaking of the funky nindroids. i really like the conversation between pixal and dyers cuz it like, reflects a lot on how I think about robots. Dyers says pixal’s emotions are just simulated, and she responds that his emotions are just electric signals, too, so what’s the difference? and him looking at pixal, seeing her as a fully emotive sapient being, is what makes him recontextualize unagami. if pixal’s feelings are real, unagami’s are, too.

like, the attitude of, “if a ‘simulation’ of a person is sufficently advanced, does the difference matter?” because i do believe that. i don’t think we’re at that level yet, real life robotics wise, but if we ever reach it? if we ever create an AI that can think? I see no reason why it shouldn’t be human, too. That’s the general attitude toward robots in ninjago, and i like seeing it addressed like this. robots have ghosts in this series! robots are affected by curses and magic. robots are robots but also people. it’s like, “any sufficiently advanced technology is virtually indistinguishable from magic,” except with souls. kingdom hearts type beat.

UNAGAMI. he’s just a little baby boy. he’s just a lil baby boy he was just a bit confused cmon man. you cant stay mad at him. he’s baby!

once dyers realizes He Fucked Up with unagami and unagami started talking abt abandonment my mind immediatly went “wrow just like jay and cliff” and THEN the show actually brought the parallel up!! jay could talk unagami down because he gets it!! man!!! and it’s like. jay says he’s never gonna get to ask. he’s never gonna know why. but he’s helping unagami now, because it’s not too late for unagami to ask. unagami doesn’t have to miss this chance like jay did.

and i did tear up at the end when it’s like. “Unagami is where he’s supposed to be. He’s home.” i did tear up at the lego show i really did. i live for sappy happy endings like this.

milton dyers as a cliff gordon parallel is like. was cliff also “afraid of what he created?” was he also terrified of just having a new person he’s responsible for? we’re never gonna fuckin know cuz that bitch is dead. but milton does love unagami. he loves making games, and if that game is a person, once he gets over himself, he’s gonna love that person too.

unagami is just a lil itty bitty baby boy. who also perpetuated the cycle of kind of shit dads by being mean to okino. that’s so funny actually unagami gets mad at okino for following his programming cuz milton shut unagami down for also following his programming. man we’re all just like our parents fr. don’t make me think about how i take after my dad. please.

overall!! after this season i’m def sure the new studio does action scenes real fuckin good. they just look sick even if sometimes they’re hampered by being Little Lego Guys.

plot wise i’d rank this next to s7 where it was like, fun, but not overall as impressive as the top tier season, but by no means bad!! i still had fun the entire season, and that’s what counts. as you can see above, there were a lot of moments i really enjoyed here! even if the side scroller section was too long imo.

you give me any stories about robots or ai or any nonhuman being affirming its own humanity through its feelings and growing into a person and i WILL eat that shit up (<- recoded is his favorite kingdom hearts game)

the early season bored me a bit and some in the middle was drawn out but the finale slaps hard and ninjago confidental is the fuckin Episode Of All Time.

that’s all gnight.